22.The Black Cloud Sword Meets a Poet

The banquet hall of the Jang family estate remained alive with conversation. Martial artists, scholars, and esteemed retainers exchanged thoughts on philosophy, swordsmanship, and worldly affairs. Yet, among the chatter, several eyes were fixed on one man: Lee Do-Hyun, the Black Cloud Sword. His reputation had already transcended the martial world and reached even the most refined circles of nobility.

Do-Hyun sat quietly in a corner, with Han So-Yeon by his side. Though she was used to navigating Kangho's treacherous roads, the refined, calculated atmosphere of the estate left her feeling oddly out of place. Instead of participating in conversation, she simply observed, her focus sharp and her instincts alert.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the soft hum of the hall.

"Black Cloud Sword… I have heard tales of your exploits. While I lack the skill to cross blades with you, allow me the honor of offering a tribute—a poem worthy of your name."

The hall fell silent. Every guest turned their gaze toward Do-Hyun, curious to see his reaction. The speaker was a man dressed in flowing silk robes, his posture poised, his demeanor refined—clearly a scholar of some renown, if not a noble himself.

So-Yeon leaned in and whispered,

"A poem? For a swordsman? That's… unusual."

Despite her skepticism, she couldn't help but feel intrigued. The poet's voice carried confidence, but not arrogance. His tone was one of genuine respect.

Do-Hyun regarded the man with a measured calm. His reputation had become a living entity—whispers of his name traveled faster than the wind itself. Was this poem merely a show of admiration, or something deeper?

"I'll listen." His voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of acceptance.

The poet stepped forward and began:

"A blade cuts not just flesh,

But the threads of destiny.

Where does your path lead,

When even shadows fear your name?"

Each word fell with measured precision, as if the poet were forging his own blade—one of meaning, not steel. The air in the room grew heavier, as though every guest felt the weight of his words.

"Fire guides your hand,

Lightning sharpens your resolve.

And yet, in victory's embrace,

Solitude lingers in your wake."

The silence was suffocating now. Every person in the hall seemed frozen, hanging on the poet's every word. His verses didn't just describe Do-Hyun—they prophesied his journey, painting a future filled with battles, victories… and inevitable isolation.

Do-Hyun closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him. A swordsman's path was always one of solitude; it was something he had accepted long before taking up his blade. And yet, hearing it spoken aloud, so vividly, stirred something deep within him.

'Why does this stranger seem to understand my path so well?'

So-Yeon frowned, her voice low.

"That wasn't just praise… It felt like a challenge. Or maybe a warning."

Across the room, Mi-Ryeong watched with a faint smile, as if the poet's words had merely confirmed what she already knew.

"A blade like his won't be stopped by mere prophecy," she murmured to herself.

Suddenly, a burly martial artist from across the hall stood up, breaking the silence.

"Black Cloud Sword, your reputation has spread like wildfire, and now even poets sing of your path. But words are just that—words. I wish to see if your blade speaks as powerfully as those verses."

A challenge—clear and direct.

Do-Hyun rose to his feet slowly, his voice calm and unwavering.

"A traveler's path isn't written by words alone. If you seek proof of my blade's worth, I'll grant it."

The crowd murmured in anticipation. Was the poet's prophecy about to unfold before their eyes?

*******************

The Sword's Choice

The banquet hall fell into a tense silence as Lee Do-Hyun stepped forward, each movement deliberate, his presence commanding the attention of every person in the room. The Black Cloud Sword rested firmly in his grip—cold, sharp, and unforgiving. But those who truly understood the depth of its power knew this was no ordinary blade.

This was the Ego Sword, a weapon with a will of its own. It did not simply obey its wielder; it judged them, tested their conviction, and only submitted to those who proved themselves worthy. Its edge wasn't just honed by metal—it was forged by intention, tempered by unyielding will.

 A Battle of Wills

As Do-Hyun held the sword, a subtle tremor coursed through the hilt. It wasn't fear—it was resistance. The lingering will of its former master still clung to the blade like an echo from a bygone era, testing whether Do-Hyun could truly claim ownership.

But he wasn't the same man he had been when he first touched this sword. His resolve had been sharpened through trials, his conviction strengthened by loss and hard-won victories.

Slowly, his will began to overwrite the remnants of the past. The tremor in the sword wasn't a rejection—it was recognition. The Ego Sword acknowledged his determination, as if asking: "Are you truly ready to wield me as your own?"

Do-Hyun's grip tightened.

 "I don't need your permission anymore. You'll follow my will now."

The Duel Begins

His opponent, a towering swordsman wielding a massive blade, approached with a measured confidence. Unlike many who relied on speed or flashy techniques, this man embodied raw power—each of his strikes deliberate, slow, and deadly. Every movement was calculated to crush anyone foolish enough to misjudge the weight behind his swings.

But Do-Hyun didn't flinch.

Instead of matching brute force with brute force, he studied his opponent:

 The rhythm of his breathing.

 The timing between each heavy strike.

 The subtle shifts in his stance before every swing.

This wasn't a battle of speed or strength—it was a contest of patience and precision.

As the heavy blade surged forward, aiming to end the fight in a single, crushing blow, Do-Hyun felt the change within his sword. The previous resistance vanished. The Ego Sword no longer hesitated—it moved in perfect harmony with him.

The Moment of Unity

For the first time since claiming the Black Cloud Sword, Do-Hyun wasn't wielding it alone. The sword had accepted him completely, becoming an extension of his intent rather than a reluctant tool.

The heavy blade descended toward him like a hammer of judgment, but Do-Hyun's body moved with effortless grace. His counterattack wasn't just reactive—it was inevitable.

 His blade met the enemy's with precision, not force.

 A sharp clash rang out—a sound not of resistance, but of acceptance.

 Sparks flew as steel met steel, yet it was clear who controlled the battlefield.

In that instant, the hall seemed to pause.

 "This sword no longer serves the past."

"It is mine now."

 The Black Cloud Sword's True Power

With newfound clarity, Do-Hyun's blade surged with energy—not the remnants of a former master's will, but his own burning conviction. The Ego Sword was now fully his to command.

When the swordsman launched a final desperate strike, Do-Hyun didn't hesitate. His blade met the attack head-on, the sound of metal crashing echoed like thunder across the room.

But this time, Do-Hyun didn't just deflect.

 His counterattack shattered his opponent's stance.

 The weight behind the man's strength crumbled under the precision of Do-Hyun's will.

 The sword's cold surface reflected a singular truth: This battle was over.

A New Master of the Sword

As silence returned to the hall, everyone present understood what had just happened. The whispers of his name—"Black Cloud Sword"—no longer sounded like exaggerated rumors.

Now, it was undeniable.

Lee Do-Hyun had truly claimed the sword—and the legend that came with it.