Chapter 113
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Worries
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Visitors to So-hyang's residence numbered three in total.
A weary-faced Zhu Yeonhwa, who had come both to relay news and to see her dear friend's face.
Moon Shadow, naturally accompanying her liege as bodyguard.
And one more.
A woman in crisp uniform, hair neatly tied back, expression rigid.
A glint of interest rose in So-hyang's eyes.
A quiet aura proclaiming her rigid soldier through and through.
A body forged tough and strong, breaths and steps in perfect rhythm.
Above all, the thunderous energy emanating from her presence.
So-hyang recalled seeing a martial artist who was so similar, almost identical.
"...Pleased to meet you, Lady So-hyang. I am Gu Hye-eun, dedicated adjutant to the Southern General's Office of the Imperial Army."
Southern General Gu Yang-gyeok, supreme fist master also known by the moniker Thunder-Shattering Fist.
Even as father and daughter, So-hyang thought it rare to resemble each other so closely, and offered a small smile with her greeting.
"Nice to meet you. Have you had a meal, by chance?"
"-Pardon? Yes, I ate before coming..."
"Then come this way for some tea. Your Highness, Serho Dragon Well is fine, yes?"
"Of course. You've always said even cheap leaves taste like delicacies to us."
"Oh, thanks for the praise, but ingredients are still important, you know?"
So-hyang led the new guest to join the dean and his group, already seated.
"P-Princess Her Highness!?"
"-Dean? Park? What brings you here?"
"Oh, right, you all know each other. We got close last time we met, so I invited them for a meal."
Park Ji-hoon sprang to his feet at the sudden appearance of his patron and superior, the princess, bowing deeply and profusely.
"Enough, enough. This isn't a formal occasion, so keep the bows light."
"Yes, well then... Oh, Adjutant Gu?"
"-Instructor, what brings you here..."
Park Ji-hoon, sighing as he relaxed his posture, locked eyes with the adjutant beside her.
"My, you two are acquainted as well?"
"Ah, acquainted might be too strong... We collaborated once on emergency organ distribution."
Park Ji-hoon denied So-hyang's words, saying they weren't that close—likely out of consideration, lest the adjutant dislike being linked to an uninterested man.
"Hm, I thought we were close, though. Didn't we spend a night together...?"
But the adjutant herself thought differently, showing clear disappointment as she dropped the bombshell remark.
"-What? A night!? Hey, what is this..."
"N-No, if you put it like that...!"
"Oh my?"
The dean's voice rose at the unexpected remark, Park Ji-hoon protested his innocence, and So-hyang laughed as if it were all amusing.
Park Ji-hoon and the dean.
The princess, Moon Shadow, and Adjutant Gu Hye-eun.
And So-hyang herself.
Curiously, everyone except Park Ji-hoon was a beauty, and both the dean and the adjutant harbored affections toward him.
The princess's feelings leaned more toward fondness for a useful subordinate than romantic interest, while Moon Shadow's were a bit ambiguous.
On top of that, So-hyang herself held goodwill toward Park Ji-hoon. Not romantic, of course—just appreciation.
Whether blessed with women or fated for romantic woes, he was quite the entertaining fellow.
"Mm, interesting to see how this plays out..."
So-hyang munched on corn popped in the white faction's style, watching the brief commotion, with the princess joining her from the side.
"...Ho, nothing beats this for snacking while spectating."
"Right?"
"...S-Sorry. To show such a disgrace before Your Highness and her friend..."
"It's fine. Private gathering anyway, and it was entertaining enough. Don't worry."
"I'm fine with it too. No need to apologize."
The princess, munching corn alongside So-hyang, suddenly recalled and brought up her belated business.
"Ah, by the way. The sparring match you wanted is set."
"Ah, finally... Who's the opponent?"
Even as she asked, So-hyang roughly guessed, given the affiliation of her accompanying adjutant.
"...My father, that is, Southern General, has accepted the match with Lady So-hyang. I'll escort you to the training ground, so please follow me."
"Sounds good. Let's go!"
So-hyang beamed and immediately followed.
Imperial Army Southern General Gu Yang-gyeok, supreme fist master also known by the moniker Thunder-Shattering Fist.
He sat cross-legged at the center of the training ground, deep in meditation.
Not circulating energy through breath or rotating inner power.
Simply meditation, lost in profound thought.
What surfaced in his mind was one martial artist.
Her Highness the princess's friend, who had rampaged through the capital he guarded—carrying an imperial scion like luggage and fleeing about—though it was a misunderstanding.
A madman who yearned to swing his sword every which way yet harbored no enmity or killing intent.
A sword hand clad in pure white robes, flashing pure white eyes, wielding a blade of icy white sharpness.
White Lotus Sword, So-hyang.
More precisely, he recalled the utterly shocking divine feat she had displayed.
From the moment he realized the "demon disaster" called Mujoreong had evolved into a demonic realm, Gu Yang-gyeok had begun calculating gains and losses.
How far could he protect?
To save the maximum lives, whom to save and whom to sacrifice?
A natural line of thought.
No matter the supreme expert, he remained a mortal bound by human limits.
Even transformation realm powerhouses who transcended mortality were not truly omniscient.
He possessed the ability to preempt most threats in his guarded territory, yet perfection eluded him.
Over a century guarding the empire's capital, moments demanding choices inevitably arose.
Distinguishing savable lives from unsavable.
Weighing more valuable lives against less.
Dividing empire-benefiting subjects from those less so.
As the empire's general bearing the duty of protection, he was all too accustomed to abandonment.
Yes, this time too.
The disaster striking the academy would claim countless lives, and he would save only what he could, discarding the rest.
What blocked his instinctive calculations and movements was So-hyang's sword—countless intersecting white lines.
She mercilessly shredded the demonic realm's encroachment, deemed an unstoppable disaster, tearing space across a thousand-zhang radius.
As if mocking his belief that gains required sacrifices.
With overwhelming power, she crushed reality, resolving the crisis without a single death.
Shocking.
Slicing space meant she could cleave his honed body like tofu.
Sword arts severing material density, qi weave—everything at a higher order.
A sublime realm reached by few supreme sword hands, even via unique ultimate techniques.
Yet she unleashed dozens, hundreds of such strikes, sensing and avoiding people mid-barrage, adjusting collapses to protect lives.
"Hoo, haha...!"
Gu Yang-gyeok let out a hollow laugh, eyes closed.
Young transcendent realm achiever though he was, separate from talent, he neither loved nor enjoyed martial arts much.
Fists were for striking people, swords for slashing flesh to spill blood.
No matter the inner power amassed or strikes unleashed, unreachable corners persisted, and frail innocents often harmed or killed by mere shockwaves.
In short, martial prowess suited destruction far more than protection.
His identity was soldier before martial artist; force a means, not an end.
He trained because irreplaceable, yet doubts crept in unnoticed.
But such dilemmas proved meaningless.
Overwhelming disparity buried chronic limits and distinctions alike.
Extending sword to unreachable nooks, shockwaves honed to nonexistence.
The white blade seemed to declare:
If martial arts can't solve it, perhaps your attainment lacks.
Easy to say.
Decades of training might fall short, or prove impossible.
If force alone solved all, past blood wars and western fronts wouldn't demand such sacrifices.
Not even transformation realm elders claimed omnipotence—how arrogant for mortals to think force resolves everything.
Foolish delusion, childish folly, supreme hubris.
Intellectually, Gu Yang-gyeok understood, yet deep down rejected it.
"Indeed, a heart demon."
Martial artists handle heart demons variably.
Ignore and bury, shatter and dispel, surpass and subjugate as stepping stone.
Or succumb, kneel, even embrace as core essence.
But this rigid soldier wouldn't avert his gaze.
Nature and life-forged temperament.
Only confront head-on and conquer.
Most effective: face the root providing the demon's cause.
"...Must spar with her."
The reason he resolved to duel So-hyang.
"Shall we start with bare hands?"
"...What did you just say?"
The sword hand proposing fists and feet against the fist master twisted the general's face in absurdity.