[Eye of the Swordsman]
-Origin: Sword God
-Description: The eyes of one who takes the sword as their profession. Heightens intuition.
Allows you to see ‘things’ more accurately!
What appeared before his eyes was a briefly described passive skill.
How should I interpret this?
There were eye-related skills that awakened senses, revealed things normally unseen, or made distant objects appear closer.
Because of that, most of them were highly practical.
But this one’s effect was simply “see things accurately.” Even the “intuition” part was vague.
[Isn’t this just improved eyesight?]
Ba’al’s rough guess couldn’t be refuted.
Even Taehoo himself couldn’t find any other effects beyond that.
‘Maybe I’m just really bad at this kind of thing?’
Of all the countless great skills, to have drawn this one made that thought natural.
‘No, well, you can’t expect to be full on your first try.’
That I had such a clumsy hand.
It was just that the skills I had acquired so far were overwhelmingly broken.
Taehoo decided to think that way.
Of course, the first card draw was a dud. That was undeniable.
While Taehoo was busy checking the catalogue, all the blood relatives of the Nam Clan, except for Taehoo, Jiho, and the youngest two, gathered in the clan head’s office.
Namjin was naturally seated in the clan head’s chair, and Namgoong took the seat beside him.
Jiuk and Gyeonghwan each occupied a seat on the visitor sofa.
The arrangement clearly reflected the current hierarchy of the clan. It was a scene they had all seen every grandfather’s birthday, so it was not unfamiliar.
However,
‘What on earth is the sudden reason for coming down from the Sanctuary?’
That was Jiuk’s question.
‘Ah, I just got here and I want to leave. I’d rather sweat it out at the training grounds.’
Gyeonghwan showed little interest in the meeting itself.
‘He must have brought another storm.’
Namgoong suppressed the headache forming at the thought of Namjin, who had declared that he would test his grandson the year Jiuk turned ten.
Since that time, his wife never revealed her face to the outside whenever Namjin appeared in the clan.
Namjin, who caused that, didn’t care.
“All necessary members have been gathered, Father.”
That was a prompt to finally reveal the purpose. Namjin smiled as he scanned the gathered faces. It was his habit whenever they met in the office—like proudly watching over the clan he had built.
“We will hold Taehoo’s Coming-of-Age Ceremony earlier than planned.”
“!”
Namjin, who had forgotten the art of beating around the bush, dropped the bomb right from the start. No one’s stern expression mattered to him.
“Most of the training in the Sanctuary is complete, and the mission to assassinate a 23-level clan head-ranked Hunter was successful.
More importantly,”
Namjin’s gaze swept over his family members who couldn’t hide their expressions,
“I liked that guy. That alone is enough justification to hasten the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.”
Unlike you, who I don’t like.
That look and those words carried such meaning.
Yet no one there could deny it.
Jiuk bit his lip and mustered courage to speak.
“Grandfather, but this has no precedent. Moreover, it’s only been a few years. Although he showed some flashes at the qualification exam, there’s no way he could have grown this much in such a short time… isn’t that right, Father?”
Jiuk looked at Namgoong, confident he was on his side, and voiced his thoughts.
Namgoong sighed after looking at Jiuk.
‘The kid’s worn out.’
He could understand. The youngest had suddenly become his grandfather’s disciple and was to hold the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, meaning there would be a new variable in the succession battle.
But Jiuk’s words crossed a line.
They weren’t trying to persuade Namjin, but outright ignored his words.
Jiuk realized that immediately as Namgoong sighed.
“I-I’m sorry.”
Just as Jiuk closed his mouth, Gyeonghwan yawned without shame.
“No, no. Jiuk, you don’t understand the Sanctuary, so that’s a natural reaction.”
What stepping into that place meant. What kind of growth it guaranteed.
Namgoong stayed silent because he knew, and Jiuk spoke out because he didn’t.
(Of course, Taehoo’s growth inside was remarkable. I really want to spill everything, but I’ll hold my tongue…)
Namjin held back.
It was something that would have shocked those who knew him well, but he himself didn’t realize it.
“It’s natural to be suspicious.”
Namjin spoke with a smile, generously.
Namgoong was more embarrassed by that smile.
‘He wasn’t usually this cheerful…’
Just as Namgoong thought that,
“Thank you for understanding.”
Jiuk bowed his head. Still, Namgoong smiled this time at how quickly he grasped the situation.
With Jiuk’s words, Namjin continued.
“I understand. But the history of this clan was created by me.”
The 100-year history of the Nam Clan started with him, and it was far from over.
“So,”
“Don’t you dare challenge anything after the Constellation rose in the sky. Understood?”
There was no rebuttal. It was absolute, overwhelming influence—the words of the true king of the peninsula’s revived 100-year history clan.
“If the term Coming-of-Age Ceremony is uncomfortable, then call it the inauguration of my first disciple’s expedition.”
From Jiuk’s point of view, that was even more awkward.
In the end, Namgoong spoke.
“The Coming-of-Age Ceremony, we have no grounds to refuse it. Let it be as Father wishes.”
Jiuk and Gyeonghwan’s faces turned dark as ink.
Now was the time to settle their positions and fight to take over the clan as best they could.
They knew the influence their grandfather Namjin wielded in the clan’s affairs, but he had never cared about clan matters before.
But what about now?
The youngest suddenly accomplished an incredible feat for the clan, and the grandfather who had always claimed to be an outsider now seemed to be backing the boy.
With this, Jiuk and Gyeonghwan’s odds were crawling at rock bottom.
Moreover, if their father Namgoong raised no objections, their chances of succeeding him were practically zero.
What Gyeonghwan was thinking was unknown, but for Jiuk, the calculation was clear.
Damn it!
Jiuk clenched his fist beneath the table.
That was when Namgoong spoke again.
“However, you remember the promise Father made when he handed the clan to me.”
There was definitely a promise.
A promise made while forcing an unwanted clan onto him.
“That I could choose my successor.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“That promise is still valid, right?”
Namjin met eyes with his son.
“Of course.”
“Good. That’s enough. I’ll inform Taehoo tomorrow morning. We’ll also select a suitable dungeon and a few Hunters from the clan.”
“Good.”
Namjin left the office as if his business was done.
Jiuk, left behind, bowed to Namgoong in thanks. He knew his father had taken his side moments ago.
“You were quite something, looking like you were about to crap yourself.”
Gyeonghwan added beside him.
“What?”
Jiuk snapped sharply.
“Phew, don’t give me a headache in front of me too. Go take care of your work.”
Namgoong quickly dismissed them.
After his two sons left the office, he finally sank into the seat where Namjin had been.
He was half in disbelief.
Was the youngest he knew truly capable of such achievements?
If it was true,
“That murderous spirit wasn’t fleeting, was it? Youngest.”
Namgoong’s look toward the youngest was different from the one he had just cast in front of his father.
The exiled king was starting to move sooner than expected.
The youngest, who had begun to catch his favor, was now his disciple. Namgoong bit his lip.
Jiuk returned straight to his room.
Nervously pacing back and forth, he soon made a call. It was to summon someone.
Knock knock.
A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door. The summoned had come running despite the late hour.
A man a few years older than Taehoo cautiously entered through the slightly open door.
“You called?”
“You came, Seongcheol.”
Seongcheol, the clan’s Hunter assigned by Jiuk to Jiho, had been planted since childhood to eliminate Jiho when the time came.
“I think I need to use you a little earlier.”
Jiuk placed his hand on Seongcheol’s shoulder as the latter knelt before him.
“But the target has changed.”
Seongcheol lifted his bowed head and met Jiuk’s eyes.
“What do you mean different?”
“Taehoo. He will hold the Coming-of-Age Ceremony soon. We have to eliminate him from the clan. I’ll make sure the position is secured somehow. Just handle it the same way as when we planned for Jiho.”
Coincidentally, the timing to deal with Jiho was also around the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.
It was the moment when death during an operation would appear the most natural.
‘It’s such a help that the operation was planned around the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.’
Jiuk smiled bitterly.
Since the era of Gates, Constellations, and clans began, succession battles were no different from the past.
Brothers were rivals to be eliminated.
Jiuk adapted to that world faster than anyone.
“You can do it, right?”
“Yes.”
A short answer returned.
“Good. I’ll entrust all your family to the Cú Chulainn Clan in England. One job guarantees a lifetime of safety. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
For someone who had worried about daily meals, this was the best future he could hope for.
“Thank you.”
The answer Jiuk wanted came.
“Good. Train hard and contact me when the time comes.”
Seongcheol stood up, bowed, and left the room.
“What? Justice punishing evil? The youngest’s achievements?”
Left alone in the room, Jiuk sneered.
“Namjin, you’re so picky, yet you give him credit like that?”
The Taehoo Jiuk knew was no kid who could reach such heights. He didn’t believe it.
It was logically impossible, and knowing his personality, even more so.
It had to be exaggerated, and with Namjin’s position, not only could it be exaggerated but sculpted to his liking.
“If he had remained incompetent, I might have spared you, but you’re rushing your own demise.”
Before climbing, I’ll end it for good. The one to inherit the clan was me. No one else could interfere.
Period.
Only Jiuk’s navy-blue eyes burned in the moonlight through the blinds, casting a shadow.
“Ah-choo!”
The clan’s long-neglected grave mound, made years ago.
Taehoo, while on a walk, naturally found himself before it and let out a loud sneeze looking at the grass-covered mound.
[Isn’t someone talking about you?]
Ba’al was quickly learning human language.
‘There aren’t many people who’d talk about me.’
Taehoo thought of all those who would gossip and counted them.
There were too many.