Chapter 118

Kiggiggiggiggigg!
With a friction sound, Nan Gonggale knocked away the fluttering sword in front of him, but the vicious tip of the sword still moved as if it didn’t want to let go of him.
Namgungal was about to crash head-on into the flexible kite sword and crush it.
Kaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
At the moment of impact, Namgungal had to feel a strange sensation. His parrying sword was meant to be a combination of a parrying and heavy sword. Therefore, he felt that he could never be outmatched in strength and heaviness.
However.
‘The feeling of being sucked in, and.
With a thud, Namgungal’s insides were shaken by the repulsion and counter-elasticity felt from his fingertips.
It was as if the paddle and heavy sword had been returned directly to him.
In that moment, he felt a burning sensation.
He felt a crude blade, made of a different material than the katana, slide across his left forearm.
A katana on the left.
A halberd on the right.
Mo Yonglu gripped the different blades and unfurled them freely. The dazzling and extreme pleasure-oriented swords were strangely compatible with the sword of Namgungal.
“Hahahahaha! Ugly, ugly, ugly.”
Mo Yonglu sneered at Namgungal’s sword, which couldn’t even parry a single blow.
Namgungal narrowed his eyes.
“For once, I hit it right. It didn’t even spill.
But why?
What’s going on?
His strength hadn’t dried up to the point where he was at the peak of his powers.
He must have spent years mastering the fast and medium techniques of the Heavenly Wind Sword Technique.
However, each sword he unfolded seemed to stick to Mo Yongru’s kite sword like a sticky glue, unable to shake it off, causing it to swing wildly several times.
Furthermore, the semi-elasticity that made his grip tingle was causing his insides to shake.
Aah!
The crude and rough blade of the sword, the blade of the Bokdo, wounded Namgungal whenever he was focused on the katana.
The combination of the skillful swordsmanship and the crude, straightforward style of the blade made him dizzy and nervous.
“If that’s all you learned at the Southern Palace, I’m disappointed. I think your grandfather oversold you.”
I didn’t understand, but there had to be an answer. Mo Yonglu’s history, Mo Yonglu’s power, all of it, was known. It wasn’t too much to keep up with.
As he pondered the mysterious numbers, Mo Yong Lu’s lighthearted expression hardened.
“That’s because you don’t know about the Mo Yong Family. While you grew up as a plant in a greenhouse under the shadow of the Southern Palace, I was locked away in a cave, not under the shadow of Mo Yong, and cultivated over and over again.”
His voice had cooled, and now held a strange mixture of resentment, amusement, and something in between.
“The path of the Southern Palace, the middle way of the Southern Palace. I have learned and learned and learned the things you boast of. The tricks of your trade.”
The weariness of the past day seemed to turn into anger in the gruff voice, and it was directed at Namgungal. Namgungal shook his head at the anger in his face.
He had come prepared for the Fengyun Council, prepared to prove himself.
That would mean that the anticipation of the Mo Yong family’s patriarch and Mo Yongbi filled Mo Yongru’s eyes.
“Every day was hard work. There were days when I didn’t eat a single meal or get any sleep. It was terrible.”
He was determined to defeat the Namgung family at all costs.
“But I made it through. I mastered everything and learned enough to meet my grandfather’s expectations. Unlike a half-wit like you.”
Namgungal listened for a long time, then looked at Mo Yonglu and sighed. The years had taken their toll. Like the old me.
At the same time, Mo Yongfei, the patriarch of the Mo Yong Family, instinctively felt that he had been pondering and waiting for this moment. To demonstrate his power, or perhaps something more.
The maternal grandfather he knew would be able to do that, and he smiled bitterly.
You’re really out of your mind now.
But.
“Is that enough?”
I wanted to ask, is it enough?
Now that he had finally found his way, Namgungal wanted to let Mo Yonglu know.
Kaang!
Even as he spoke, he felt the clattering blade of a kite sword aiming for his shoulder, and Tadadak!
Mo Yonglu’s sword struck Nam Gungal’s thigh as he drove into the corner of the arena, unwilling to allow the distance between them to be more than a few strides.
Kagagagagang!
Namgungal felt that Mo Yong Lu’s thrusts against his defenses lacked the same bounce and repulsion as before.
“What nonsense are you talking.”
“I’m asking if that’s all there is to your existence.”
Looking at Mo Yonglu, his cousin, his own age, Nangong Gal sheathed his sword. Namgungal had never encountered such a miracle before: two swords, two swift and different martial arts in one body.
Even if I were to come back from the dead, I would not be able to perform such a skill.
Tuung! Pow!
After blocking Mo Yonglu’s blow, Namgungal leaned down and closed the distance, aiming for an opening.
Thud, thud, thud.
Mo Yongru, who had taken a few steps backward, had a distorted expression.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What you’re trying to say is a contradiction in terms. It’s garbage.”
Moyonglu was brilliant. Perhaps it’s no surprise. The fact that Moyongi had chosen his heirs to the exclusion of others in the Moyonga family was a testament to that.
“Every Sega bloodline is born for the position of Gaju, and to be pushed out of the race only shows one’s inferiority. I am disgusted to receive such poor advice from you.”
In Mo Yongsegae, he ended all rivalries and quickly ascended to the position of Lord of Soga. He quickly put an end to the discord in the South Palace and fulfilled Moyonga’s expectations.
“In the Moyong family. Even in the Southern Palace. You have no place here, and you’re just a bunch of puppets lecturing me.”
The level of venom that came out of his mouth was different. In the past, he would have been angry, but not now.
He just wanted to ask.
“Is that really enough for you, when your life is not the life you choose, but the life others tell you it should be?”
Mo Yongru’s face twisted at Namgungal’s blunt words.
* * *
“I feel like I’m going to lose.”
“Why.”
At these words of Confucius Nam Gung-hyuk, I was staring at Mo Yong’s bald head without even turning my head.
What a contribution.
“It’s like I’m looking at your old self.”
Namgung Hyuk’s face fell and he frowned, and I turned away, pretending not to notice.
“If you want to argue, say it.”
“Not a quarrel, the truth.”
“Forget it.”
Nam Gung-hyuk clicked his tongue as he looked at Mo Yong’er’s strange number.
“I didn’t know the Mo Yong Family had such a strange number. It looks like none of his attacks are working.”
True to his word, the Southern Gargoyle’s own attacks had done little damage to the Moyonga. The impact of the blow must have been felt by Namgungal.
I can guess. I’ve heard there are others like me.
“Typically, the shaman’s taijutsu is similar to mine. It utilizes the power of others.”
“Is that what a shaman’s martial arts are like?”
“A shaman’s gentleness is different from other martial arts.”
The martial arts of the Southern Palace are straightforward and sweeping. At the same time, it is heavy and powerful.
It is inclined to confront and break through the opponent’s attacks head-on, rather than utilize them.
The Emperor’s Sword, which is both the secret season and the family’s statement season, has already followed this path, not to mention the other martial arts.
However, there are many other types of martial arts in the Zhongyuan, and many different types of martial arts.
“Mo Yongjia’s martial arts are things we have never seen, but there is no such thing as perfection in martial arts. Even a martial art that looks so solid and almost mystical must have a solution.”
At those words, Namgung Hyuk turned and looked at Namgungal. He was playing a classic.
“But look at him. He’s been in the Great Hall for seven years, just like you and me.”
Namgung-hyeok shook his head. Yes, he was. He, too, had survived seven years in the Great Hall, gaining practical experience as a master of the Southern Palace.
He was no mere greenhouse plant.
“So believe me, no, believe me.”
* * *
At first, I thought I would defeat him in a single blow. I laughed in spite of my worries as I swung my sword, trusting only in my own strength, using the fast and medium techniques I had learned from Mo Yonga.
But now, even the thought of facing him made my mouth water.
My dry tongue could no longer produce saliva, and my breathing became ragged as a result.
I feel like I’m walking in a desert, staggering along without a drink of water.
“Why?
It was persistent. It looked like it was going to collapse, but it didn’t, and it looked like it was going to collapse, but it didn’t.
I couldn’t understand what was keeping him going.
The seat of the head of the Southern Palace seemed far away. Given his prowess against Shaolin’s Eighteen Nine Hands, it seemed inevitable that the Grand Duke of the Southern Palace would have the upper hand in the competition for the position.
Of course, even he would be out of my reach.
The Thunder Sword City, that place will also be mine.
With that thought in mind, Mo Yonglu swiftly slaughtered the lesser beasts in front of him, intent on establishing Mo Yong Family’s majesty.
All of the elders of Mo Yong Clan worked hard to rebuild what had been a long-standing secret of Mo Yong Clan, which had been lost because no one had been properly enlightened.
I believe that it will make Mo Yong Family the best in the world.
Du Zhenxing.
The seven stars of the Big Dipper in the night sky change positions in the four seasons. The seven stars that change from day to day are said to revolve around the North Star, representing universal enlightenment.
Mo Yong Lu has mastered this martial art. This small realization was enough to prevent those who were in line to succeed Mo Yong from defeating him.
But now that he was holding out for so long against the man in front of him.
His heart sank.
Then, with a smile on his face and a tired voice, the bad-tempered Southern Palace Guy spoke up.
“It seems like you’ve lost some strength, that martial art, you can’t use it properly unless I attack you.”
Mo Yongru involuntarily froze at those words.
“I was never invincible, huhuhuh.”
The grin on his face beneath his weary expression made Mo Yong Lu leap forward, clutching his two swords and dao tightly.
I’ll crush that smug little brat.