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[Translator - Helga ]
[Proofreader - Starfall ]
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Chapter: 04
The place they arrived at stood in stark contrast to the grandeur of the Clan Head’s Hall—a shabby, weathered training hall.
“This place…”
Though small and dilapidated, that wasn’t what mattered.
Gooooohhh—
From within, Cheon Woo-jin could sense a force of incredible depth and intensity.
The training hall’s entrance felt less like a doorway and more like a bottomless abyss—like a descent into the void.
“Focus.”
He composed himself and took a single step forward.
Kugugugung—!
The moment he got closer, the pressure intensified.
Woo-jin felt his consciousness waver.
Had he not completely remade his body through Heavenly Combat Manual, he would've passed out right then and there.
Enduring the strain, he took another step.
Kuung!
His footsteps echoed heavily, as if shaking the ground.
As though diving into an abyss, Cheon Woo-jin pressed forward toward the entrance.
Kuung! Kuung!
The closer he drew, the louder his footsteps rang.
And then—
—just as he reached the threshold of the hall, everything stopped.
Saaaaaah—
The crushing weight lifted all at once, and Woo-jin nearly collapsed.
His knees buckled; his body teetered forward. But he held firm.
Then a voice echoed from within.
“Enter.”
It was a voice dry and ancient—like bark on an old tree.
And Woo-jin knew exactly whose voice it was.
Cheon Yu-seong, the Sword Saint.
South Korea’s first SSS-rank Hunter.
The pinnacle of the global Hunter rankings.
The master of the sword—and the patriarch of the Heavenly Sword House.
The living legend stood within these walls.
Woo-jin stepped into the training hall.
It was narrow, dark, and devoid of light.
A faint silhouette stood within the shadows—an elderly man with slicked-back white hair, donned in a tattered martial robe, holding a wooden training sword.
That was Cheon Yu-seong, the Sword Saint and Clan Head of the Heavenly Sword House.
The moment Cheon Woo-jin saw him, he understood:
‘He is the sword.’
He wasn't just a swordsman—he was the embodiment of the blade.
Even with Woo-jin’s past life where he had reached the pinnacle of sword mastery, he could tell the Clan Head stood on an even higher plane.
The old man slowly turned.
His gaze was just as arid and unreadable as his voice—its depth impossible to fathom.
Cheon Woo-jin bowed deeply in the formal manner of the clan.
“I greet the Clan Head of the Heavenly Sword House.”
The Clan Head stared silently.
Then, he turned—not to Woo-jin, but to Chief Kim.
“Why did you bring him?”
Though it had been Woo-jin who requested the meeting, the Clan Head addressed Kim.
Chief Kim bowed respectfully and replied, “The young master claims to have found a cure for the Heavenly Curse.”
At those words, the Clan Head turned back to Woo-jin.
But before Woo-jin could blink—he was already standing right in front of him.
‘I didn’t see him move.’
There was no trace of motion—just a blink and the distance was closed.
With piercing eyes that gleamed like sharpened steel, the Clan Head studied him.
“You’ve already overcome it.”
He had seen through everything with a mere glance.
Behind him, Chief Kim’s face twisted in shock.
“Are you saying the young master has overcome that accursed condition on his own?”
Kim had assumed Woo-jin had found a way—not mastered it already.
‘Of course. He’s the Sword Saint. He saw through it instantly.’
He hadn’t even checked Woo-jin’s pulse—just knew.
There was no room for shallow tricks in front of a true master.
Woo-jin straightened up and met the Clan Head’s gaze.
“I have a request.”
The Sword Saint locked eyes with him, then spoke softly, “Speak.”
Even as the Clan Head’s gaze bore into him—like it might burn through his very soul—Woo-jin held firm.
“I wish to be personally instructed in the Heavenly Sword House’s swordsmanship by you, Clan Head.”
Chief Kim’s eyes widened.
To ask for personal instruction from the Clan Head meant asking to become his direct disciple.
In the entire clan, very few were even allowed to stand in his presence.
What Woo-jin said risked overturning clan protocol.
Chief Kim braced for the wrath to come—but the Clan Head said nothing.
He merely studied Woo-jin in silence.
Woo-jin didn’t look away.
The Sword Saint’s dry, hollow gaze began to expand—pressing in from every direction, like the walls of a vast abyss threatening to swallow him whole.
It felt like standing at the center of the universe, teetering over an endless chasm.
But Woo-jin didn’t flinch.
He didn’t bow.
He didn’t retreat.
Then—
“Hmph.”
With that low murmur, the suffocating pressure vanished.
The darkness that had wrapped around Woo-jin dissolved.
And the Clan Head?
He was already back—standing motionless in the same place as before, as though he’d never moved.
“Kh…!”
The tension snapped, and Woo-jin’s legs nearly gave out.
But still—he did not fall.
His sheer mental fortitude was beyond comprehension.
Breathing deeply to regain composure, Woo-jin looked at the Clan Head now standing far ahead.
“Was I wrong?”
He had hoped that by showing his transformation firsthand, he could pique the Clan Head’s curiosity and gain his sword instruction.
It was a calculated risk.
To avoid Cheon Oh-hyuk’s interference, Cheon Woo-jin needed the protection only the Clan Head could provide.
The problem was—if his bold behavior ended up offending the Clan Head, the consequences could be dire.
So far, he had been allowed to stay at the annex of the Heavenly Sword House's main estate under the guise of recovery.
But should the Clan Head so decide, Woo-jin could be transferred to a remote facility—essentially a prison—where he'd be locked away for life to prevent his bloodline from ever leaking outside.
‘If that happens, I’ll have no choice but to change plans and escape immediately.’
He had no intention of being imprisoned with his hands tied before he could take his revenge.
Depending on the Clan Head’s next words, Woo-jin was ready to bolt on the spot.
The pathways out—layered with intricate formations and barriers—had already been analyzed in detail as he came in.
If it came to it, he could easily carve out an escape route.
Just as dozens of contingency plans flashed through his mind—
“Every Wednesday. 5 a.m. Come here.”
The Clan Head suddenly reappeared beside him, placing a hand heavily on Woo-jin’s shoulder. His movement had been so subtle and swift, Woo-jin hadn’t seen a thing.
The Clan Head looked down at him and spoke, “By next week, I expect you to have mastered the movements I showed you. If not—I will cut you down myself.”
A death sentence from the Sword Saint.
His ruthlessness was well-known both inside and outside the Hunter world.
Not even blood relatives were exempt from his blade.
It was a chilling declaration—but Woo-jin smiled.
He met the Clan Head’s gaze and replied, “I’ll see you next week, Clan Head.”
* * *
“How amusing.”
Left alone after Cheon Woo-jin and Chief Kim departed, the Sword Saint remained in place, still holding his wooden sword.
He thought back to Woo-jin’s eyes—the eyes that had looked straight into his own even after being engulfed by his domain.
At first, he hadn’t planned to go this far.
The moment Woo-jin stepped into the training hall, the Clan Head had already discerned—through his breathing—that the Heavenly Curse had been cured.
He’d let the boy in out of simple curiosity, wanting to know how he had healed a condition that priests and mages alike had failed to touch.
But what surprised him more was the presence Woo-jin carried.
‘He was a sword.’
Just as Woo-jin had sensed that the Clan Head was the embodiment of the blade—
—so too did the Sword Saint see a similar aura within Woo-jin.
Though still indistinct, there was no doubt: A sword resided in him.
There were thousands of sword-users within the Heavenly Sword House,
hundreds capable of imbuing their blades with aura— but those who truly carried a sword in their soul could be counted on one hand.
That was what drew the Sword Saint’s interest.
Had Woo-jin simply possessed latent potential, he would’ve been left alone and observed.
But the Clan Head wanted to test the kind of sword Woo-jin carried within.
So, he expanded his domain to peer into Woo-jin’s depths.
But—
To his surprise, he couldn’t see it clearly.
Within the Sword Saint’s overwhelming domain, Woo-jin had held firm, guarding his own unique space.
The Clan Head could’ve forcibly invaded that space to uncover what was hidden…
But something held him back.
For some reason, he had the distinct feeling that it would be wrong to intrude.
A boy who could make one of the Hunter world’s apex predators hesitate—such a person was worthy of attention.
And so too, the sword he would one day wield.
The Sword Saint turned toward the shadows and called out softly, “Sang-hyun.”
A man stepped forth from the darkness, clad in black armor from head to toe.
“You summoned me.”
The man known as Sang-hyun knelt before him.
The Sword Saint slipped the wooden blade into his belt and asked, “What did you see?”
Sang-hyun slowly replied, “It’s certainly remarkable that he overcame the Heavenly Curse on his own… But I don’t believe he’s worth your particular attention, Clan Head.”
“It’s not about what you believe.”
A burst of raw mana erupted from the Sword Saint, rattling the entire hall.
KURURURUNG!
The oppressive wave of energy made it hard for Sang-hyun to even breathe.
With a cold gleam in his eye, the Sword Saint stared him down.
“You speak out of turn.”
KUGUGUGUNG!
The crushing mana weighed down on Sang-hyun, forcing his head to the ground like a hand slamming down from the heavens.
Then the Clan Head asked again: “Explain why you think so.”
Sang-hyun, his forehead pressed to the floor, answered, “...To my eyes, he looked like a blade nearing its breaking point.”
At those words, the suffocating force vanished instantly.
The Sword Saint stroked his chin.
“A blade that will snap…”
It had been over 20 years since he brought Sang-hyun to his side.
His loyalty was invaluable, but what the Clan Head valued most was his vision.
Sang-hyun's awakened ability, [Sixth Sense], allowed him to perceive the imperceptible.
Ignoring that insight would be unwise.
“Hmph.”
Maybe within the depths Woo-jin kept hidden, there was a fragile blade—one destined to burn bright for a moment, then shatter.
If that were true, Sang-hyun was right—there was no need for concern.
But the Clan Head pressed further, “That boy healed himself. He’s reshaped his body into one perfectly suited for martial arts. And yet you believe he’s still a blade doomed to break?”
Sang-hyun slowly rose and replied, “His natural talent was extraordinary. But talent that blooms too quickly can wither just as fast. I believe what we’re seeing is a temporary resurgence.”
Still skeptical.
And honestly, even the Sword Saint thought Sang-hyun’s logic was sound.
Woo-jin had been born with more gifts than most could dream of, all at once—even he couldn’t fully grasp the boy’s current condition.
“I see.”
In the end, deciding whether Woo-jin was a blade that would break or endure was the Sword Saint’s responsibility.
And as he had warned—if Woo-jin failed to prove himself, he would cut him down without hesitation.
He believed that excessive talent could be more dangerous than insufficient ability.
Uncontrolled power would only bring calamity.
If Woo-jin posed a threat to the Heavenly Sword House…
…it was better to eliminate him now.
With sunken eyes, the Clan Head gave his order, “Assign one of the Black Assassin Squad to shadow him. I want a report if anything happens.”
With that, the Sword Saint once again stood motionless, wooden sword in hand.
Sang-hyun bowed and melted back into the shadows.
And so, the dormant whirlpool beneath the surface of the Heavenly Sword House, began to stir at last, sending ripples across the water, all because of Cheon Woo-jin.
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[Translator - Helga ]
[Proofreader - Starfall ]
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