Camellia 119

Lightning that strikes the earth has long been called the voice of the gods. It is the heavens’ unmistakable way of telling the anguished that they are not alone.

When the sky flashes with lightning, people take it as a sign of divine wrath and reflect on their own sins.

Seolyeong, watching the martial artists of the Murong clan dash off trying to predict where lightning would fall, always found himself thinking the same thing.

God, what has angered You today, that You send such a brilliant light down to us?

If I wish for that light to illuminate my own life too, am I asking for more than I deserve?

The gods had surely answered him.

As memories of his childhood washed over him, he felt the surge of sword Qi rise within.

That day, the winds and rain had raged harder than ever. The gusts were so fierce that one misstep could have sent him tumbling off a cliff.

He had climbed the mountain only because guests from other prestigious clans had visited the Murong household.

It was a gathering meant to foster good ties between families, so Seolyeong had to stay out of sight.

He had been quietly wasting time in his room, idly running his fingers along his sword. But for some reason, he felt suffocated that day, and he opened a window. That was when he saw it.

A sky thick with rolling black clouds.

‘On a day like this, the weather might be rough enough to hide me.’

The boy who had been confined to his room for days took a leap toward freedom.

As long as no one realized a blood fiend was staying at the Murong estate, what harm could it do?

Rain poured down in sheets. Naturally, no one was walking the grounds. Seolyeong raced over tall trees with light steps. For once, he preferred this ink-colored sky to a clear blue one.

When the skies were bright and peaceful, he had no choice but to remain trapped indoors.

Soaked to the bone, he arrived at the foot of a mountain. Boom, boom-boom! Explosions like the heavens were shattering shook the air.

Thick raindrops slashed across his cheeks, broken branches whipped toward him from all sides.

Anyone would have been afraid, but Seolyeong was struck with awe. The reason was simple. Before his very eyes, divine wrath had come crashing down. But it was not lightning sent to punish him.

Crash! A bolt struck an old tree the Murong patriarch treasured. Seolyeong instinctively shut his eyes.

When he opened them again, sunlight was streaming through the two split halves of the tree, piercing the clouds.

He had told only Seolhyeon of that story, and she’d simply scolded him to stop making things up.

But Seolyeong had seen it.

He had seen god rage on his behalf, seen them reach down and comfort his sorrow.

And so, the sword technique he wished to show now was the lightning sent to save the forsaken.

The fifty-sixth form of the Flashstorm Blade, ‘Divine Light with Compassion’.

Yujeong Singi, Spirit of the Sky, Moved by Mercy.

–There is human will even in the energy of the heavens. The heavens never turn away from the hearts of men. That is why the Flashstorm technique is not some swordplay that borrows lightning to punish someone.

Even the secret manual Murong Wi had smuggled to him had emphasized this in its final passage:

The heavens do not borrow lightning to punish. The Flashstorm technique must not be used out of blind hunger for power. Within that strength, one must reflect on the heart of the person wielding it.

That was why the final technique of the Flashstorm Blade, Yujeong Singi, did not maximize lethality.

Instead, it captured the opponent’s gaze with dazzling light, leaving them entranced.

To prove that true strength lies in achieving victory without leaving a single wound.

Seolyeong exhaled deeply. He repeated his breaths, long inhales and exhales.

Refined sword Qi circled his entire body.

He had chosen to suppress the color of his aura to avoid revealing his identity, using invisible Qi instead.

Even so, the clarity of his essence radiated without filter.

He began to move. The elegant merging of Lightning Crack and Divine Light.

Leaping lightly into the air, he spun once to add momentum to the blade. Warm energy surged out in every direction.

“Ah…”

The audience could only let out low gasps.

Their mouths hung open in unison, watching movements that looked both like a butterfly’s flutter and a beast’s roar.

Strength within softness. Softness within strength.

No matter what words were used to describe it, none would seem excessive.

The sword Qi that flew toward Tang Yujae glowed with a vibrant brilliance.

It was not the kind of blade meant to tear him apart.

It stopped just before reaching him, as if to say, “Look at me.” It hovered, gleaming, then turned sharply and soared upward toward the ceiling.

Boom! The thunderous sound shattered the silence. As everyone’s gaze followed the light, Seolyeong seized the moment and moved.

If he could press his blade to Sahyeol Amje’s throat, it would be his victory.

He wasn’t sure if he could truly defeat the man who had risen above the greatest warriors of the world, but, anyone could try.

─Do you really believe a sword without hatred can become desperate?

It happened the moment he thought they had closed the distance.

A powerful voice echoed inside him.

─Do you believe a sword without resentment can grow strong enough to rule the world?

Confusion flickered across Seolyeong’s face.

It couldn’t be, he thought, just as he felt the swelling force of Qi.

This power made his skin crawl. It was violent, emotional, and overwhelming, like being trapped in a swamp.

His husband’s form had already vanished like a mirage.

“I’ll give you this, your sword is beautiful.”

The voice came from above. Seolyeong looked up.

Sahyeol Amje’s sword was swinging down on him. A strike that felt impossible to evade.

“Kgh…!”

But Seolyeong forced his focus into one line and parried the blow.

The clash sent his body flying backward, tumbling across the ground.

Seonwol-do was knocked from his grip. His wrist must have broken.

Even as pain twisted his expression, he grabbed the sword with his other hand.

Another attack came. A bizarre and overwhelming slash, one even the martial elders in the audience would not recognize.

“But beauty alone won’t make you stronger.”

The head of the Demonic Sect, the undisputed strongest under heaven, was giving him a lesson.

The kind of understanding the demonic followers craved to attain.

Tang Yujae spoke slowly.

“Remember this. Your beauty is only a tool that makes you shine.”

Despite the gentle voice, his attacks gave Seolyeong no room to breathe.

Now, Seolyeong understood that Yujae hadn’t been bluffing when he said the fight could end in one strike.

It wasn’t arrogance. In fact, he wasn’t even facing Seolyeong seriously right now.

“You must’ve realized it too. A radiant being isn’t always a powerful one.”

In the world of martial arts, only the strong stood tall. The weak fell. The strong endured and carved their names into history.

“And the strong don’t necessarily become beautiful like you. Do you understand what I mean?”

“You keep saying the same thing over and over. How could I not understand it?!”

Blood rose in Seolyeong’s throat after being thrown across the stage several times.

“So you’re saying my sword only looks good, but it’s hollow inside, is that it?!”

Tang Yujae paused, giving his wife time to stand. He smiled faintly, then flicked his wrist.

A sharp burst of Qi scattered, flinging Seolyeong violently across the stage. He tumbled all the way into the audience.

─You don’t have to try so hard to be beautiful. You already are.

He never forgot to use transmission when teaching something important.

Seolyeong looked up at his husband with dazed eyes.

Tang Yujae stepped back with his left foot, as if preparing to receive Seolyeong’s strongest strike.

Then added,

─So pour all your hatred and resentment into me. I’ll take it all.

Those dark eyes tore through Seolyeong’s chest, branding his soul.

─That’s how you’ll become even stronger.