Chapter 12
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Tang Woman in the Infirmary
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Sword Telekinesis was indeed one of the rarest and most difficult techniques among the myriad martial arts of the murim world, but its lineage had been steadily passed down through history.
For instance, among the seven S-rank hunters under the U.S. Department of Defense—known collectively as the North American Seven Stars—even one was a master of Sword Telekinesis. Narrowing it down to Korea, there was the Moonlight Sword Queen, an absolute master of the Manifestation Realm who dominated the 1900s.
She was a co-founder of the Wind Moon Sect and the wife of Wind Duke Son Dae-geon—Son Ha-rin's own grandmother.
Son Ha-rin, the young leader of the Wind Moon Sect, used footwork from her grandfather Wind Duke, dubbed the Fastest Man Alive, but her swordsmanship was the Moonlight Sword Queen's unique style, the Moonlight Sword Art.
It was impressive that the supreme art handling the profound mysteries of Sword Telekinesis had been passed from the Last Greatest Sword of Joseon to the world's top prodigy of later generations. Yet, those who gained fame wielding Sword Telekinesis historically always faced one persistent doubt.
The suspicion that a Sword Telekinesis master would be weak in close-quarters swordplay with their own body.
In conclusion, utter nonsense. Assuming a Sword Telekinesis expert lacked talent in physical techniques was nothing but vain wishful thinking.
Son Ha-rin's sword strikes were, in fact, superior to any master's I'd seen across my past and present lives—even those of higher realms.
Though her inner energy and body weren't fully refined yet, her sword sense alone transcended her current level, aiming for even greater heights.
She was just one tiny step short of matching Lee Soo-young, who was accustomed to battles among supreme experts.
The fight looked fierce, but victory clearly tilted toward Lee Soo-young.
Lee Soo-young stood still, effortlessly blocking every one of Son Ha-rin's attacks.
She caught slanting sword blades with qi-wrapped fingers and flicked them away.
With kicks, punches, elbows, and palm winds, she deflected the blades' trajectories. She yanked incoming strikes to disrupt balance and drove in knee kicks.
A military boot's ground-stomping foot technique shook Son Ha-rin's core with the Striking the Cow Beyond the Mountain method, and a close-range punch briefly severed the dantian area.
It was a crude acupoint strike, but effective. The momentary blockage of qi flow at the Sea of Qi point caused the sword, moving by Son Ha-rin's will, to lose momentum and hesitate.
A true master skilled in qi control could shake off such a makeshift strike easily, but that split-second gap was enough to decide victory in a battle of experts.
Lee Soo-young's right hand formed a pistol shape.
It looked like a child's playground finger-gun, but no different from a real gun in its ability to punch holes in flesh and kill.
Puk-puk—puk!
Mozambique Drill. Two strikes to the pressure points, one to the blood points—a subduing acupoint technique that ended the fight the moment it hit Son Ha-rin.
'As expected, A-rank lives up to its name.'
I nodded to myself in thought when Park Jong-myeong, my group partner, spoke up.
"...Hey, you okay?"
"Huh?"
"No, your eyes."
Park Jong-myeong pointed at my eyes, trailing off.
I pulled out my phone, checked selfie mode, and saw my eyes were bloodshot red. Probably from focusing too hard on their duel. I rubbed my dry eyes.
"Time's up. As I said, this assignment remains valid until break ends. Class dismissed—return to your classrooms."
Lee Soo-young clapped once and announced.
"Group 2, including Son Ha-rin—reflect deeply on the assignment's meaning."
With that, she grabbed a whiteboard from the training ground's corner and left.
The kids exchanged glances over who should carry the limp Son Ha-rin—her arms sealed—to the infirmary.
A few who knew Veronica Lionheart lived with her glanced over, but she growled fiercely.
"What."
"Ah, nothing..."
Veronica's place was a Wind Moon Sect safehouse in Seoul too—yet these two who lived together seemed on such bad terms.
"I'll do it. She's my partner. Hey, Jong-myeong."
"Yeah? What?"
"Next class, tell the teacher I stopped by the infirmary."
"Uh... sure."
Hearing Park Jong-myeong's reluctant reply, I hoisted Son Ha-rin onto my back and dashed to the infirmary.
Knock knock.
A soft, gentle woman's voice came from inside.
-Come in~
Sliding open the door, the infirmary smelled of medicines and herbs.
The school nurse, nameplate reading Dang So-so, approached with a stethoscope around her neck.
"Give your friend to me and write your grade, class, and name on that ledger~."
I laid Son Ha-rin on the simple bed and wrote as instructed.
"Her name's Son Ha-rin. Hit with a Mozambique Drill during sparring. No cyanosis or eye hemorrhage, but still unconscious."
"Psh, I know all that without you telling me~. Ha-rin's such a celebrity... This looks like Soo-young's handiwork. You're Kim Hoon, right?"
"...You know me?"
"Of course~. Last sparring, that famous Baek Chan got carted off on a stretcher. You know."
Dang So-so continued with a flirtatious laugh.
"It was such a clean slice, I thought Soo-young jumped in with a bayonet or something~. Shocked when I heard it was you, Kim Hoon."
She checked Son Ha-rin's pulse and shone a light in her eyes.
"Hmm... Clean acupoint strikes, as expected from Soo-young. Trying to force-release them could tangle her qi, so best to just needle a few spots and let her sleep. Should wear off in two or three hours. Turn around a sec? Need to unbutton her collar for proper needling."
I turned without a word.
Swish—curtains drew behind me.
Rustle. Rustle.
Clothing sounds tickled my ears amid Dang So-so's playful voice.
"Kim Hoon, no peeking~?"
"...Not peeking."
I furrowed my brow and replied.
Soon, swish—the curtains parted again.
As a Tang Clan member—one of the Ten Great Sects, masters of poisons, medicines, and hidden weapons—needling took seconds.
"Ha-rin's treatment done! Now, Kim Hoon's turn~."
"Me? I didn't even spar."
"Tsk. Come here quietly."
Dang So-so sternly wheeled over a chair and patted it.
I sat, hiding my unease.
Her black-nailed fingers touched my face—cold.
She pried my eyelids up and down, shining a light.
"Ooh~. Heavy conjunctivitis. Slight nystagmus too. From using eye techniques beyond your level. Common in the Tang Clan."
"Eye techniques...?"
I tilted my head.
"Yeah. Tracking countless hidden weapons' paths naturally pushes eye fatigue past limits. Kids' eyes in growth phase are too fragile to hold qi steadily, so capillaries and retinal veins burst easily. What's your sect, Kim Hoon? Tang Clan too, but why teach kids tough eye techniques so early—crazy~!"
Dang So-so puffed her cheeks sulkily.
She rambled at her own pace, leaving no room to respond—and honestly, no good answer anyway.
First off, I had no sect teaching me eye techniques, let alone advanced ones.
I'd learned common practical ones like Night Vision Scripture from the martial arts gallery's trading board.
"Seeing all of Soo-young's attacks is impossible at your level, but you tried hard, huh? Impressive~."
Dang So-so patted my head.
But I was lost in other thoughts.
'I saw everything, though.'
Well, third-party views often catch what fighters miss. That's why big tournaments have seconds.
Of course, barely seeing it didn't mean I'd last seconds thrown into that frenzy—I'd be carted off fast.
Lee Soo-young's punch variations, Son Ha-rin's blade targets... No special 'eye technique' needed; anyone could see that. Probably what I could do, others could too.
Dang So-so seemed to underrate Korean Martial Arts Genius Academy students—Korea's top prodigies only.
'Anyway, eyes are dry.'
Pain made focusing impossible. I'd head home, browse the martial arts gallery.
After eye drops from Dang So-so, I asked for an early dismissal note. She printed one casually.
"Rest well at home~. Bad eyes— no late-night phone!"
"Yes. Thank you."
I bowed to Dang So-so and opened the infirmary door.
Rattle—as it opened, an unexpected figure stood there. Vision blurry from drops, but her silhouette gave her away.
"...What."
Vibrant hair draped over her shoulder.
And curves sharp even through haze.
Veronica Lionheart.