Chapter 108
Chapter 108
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: Father's Counsel
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“You came quickly.”
It was already night by the time his father and Steward U arrived. Wi Ju-seok scowled at the sight of his son lying in bed, waving his hand.
“Seeing that glib tongue of yours still wagging, you must not be in too much pain.”
“It hurts. I’m barely managing to speak right now.”
“Is that so? Then I’ll have to believe you.”
Wi Ju-seok said this as he seized Wi Seongcheon’s hand. Wi Seongcheon stared back at his father without showing any sign of pain.
That calm gaze made Wi Ju-seok feel a twinge in his chest.
“It’s all right to say it hurts if it does.”
“What’s the point now?”
“I’ve always told you since you were little. Say it hurts when it hurts.”
“If it hurt that bad, I would have said something. It’s not that serious, so I didn’t.”
Wi Ju-seok clicked his tongue softly at his son’s answer, delivered with a sly smile. He gently stroked his son’s hand, wrapped tightly in bandages, for a moment.
“Tomorrow, don’t use your right hand.”
“You’re not telling me to forfeit?”
“If you were the type to listen, I would have said it, but my son takes after someone and never listens.”
“Maybe I take after Mother.”
“Jua was a good woman. Then you must take after me.”
Wi Seongcheon grinned at that.
“No elixir this time?”
“You shameless brat. Even if I wanted to give you one, I don’t have any left. The last one I had went to you already. Don’t you think it’s weird for a guy whose dantian got shattered to be hoarding elixirs anyway?”
“You should’ve saved some for your son.”
“Son, you have no idea how much I struggled raising you alone when you were little. Back then, we weren’t flush with elixirs, but I gave you what I could.”
Wi Ju-seok glared as he vented his grievances.
“Who said otherwise? I was just curious if you had more stashed away. But Father, where did that Small Return Pill from back then come from?”
“Who else? Master Won-gwang Buddha gave it to me. Don’t pry too deep into why.”
Wi Ju-seok issued a stern warning. It was obvious. It hadn’t come from Master Myeong-jin, the current Shaolin abbot.
“You should’ve gotten a Great Return Pill while you were at it.”
“You idiot, do you think Great Return Pills grow on trees? It takes decades to make just one. I’m not even sure if Shaolin has any left.”
Indeed. So the top prize for this Eui Cheon Festival wasn’t a Great Return Pill but a Small Return Pill. There were also various weapons, manuals, and elixirs as prizes, but for Wi Seongcheon, who didn’t use weapons, the elixirs were more appealing than master-forged blades.
‘Though it’s just lingering greed now.’
Wi Seongcheon slowly clenched and unclenched his fist. His right hand... As his father advised, he had no intention of using it in tomorrow’s match against U Ha-yeon. Even if he did, he wouldn’t win. It was different from the fight with Jin-u.
Could he wage a psychological war against U Ha-yeon?
Could he use his right hand as bait to limit her awareness and exploit an opening?
Could he close the distance into her guard?
Could he beat U Ha-yeon by fully sacrificing his right hand in a mutual destruction play?
‘Impossible.’
He thought it over again and again. Recalling U Ha-yeon’s sword from the preliminaries, he pondered how he might fight her.
Wi Seongcheon had picked Hwangi Seong-u and Jin-u from the Young Phoenixes because they didn’t use weapons.
The Hwangbo Clan was famous for fists. Shaolin had arts for all manner of weapons, but Jin-u didn’t use them.
That’s why he chose those two. If they didn’t wield weapons, they would close the gap themselves without him needing to breach it.
But if the opponent used a weapon, breaching the interval was the first hurdle. After endless deliberation, he concluded it was impossible.
Wi Seongcheon lacked confidence in breaking through U Ha-yeon’s sword.
‘If only it were Senior Cheong U-bin or Senior Jeong Mi-ju, or even Mu Yeon-jun...’
No, that would be tough too. Wi Seongcheon smiled bitterly. He’d studied their arts. Cheong U-bin, heir to the Verdant Forest, wielded flashy sword-gang techniques.
Mu Yeon-jun was the same. He’d seen how fierce and precise their sword-gangs were back in Gansu.
And Jeong Mi-ju.
As her moniker Flame Flower suggested, Jeong Mi-ju practiced an extreme yang art.
The intense heat she emitted without even moving burned everything that approached.
‘Either way, it’d be rough. If it were anyone but a Young Phoenix, maybe.’
“Your face looks grim.”
Wi Ju-seok spoke up. Wi Seongcheon looked up at his father.
“My opponent tomorrow is insanely strong.”
“Then just forfeit.”
“That’s the problem—I don’t want to.”
“What a pain.”
Wi Ju-seok grumbled. He knew his son’s temperament: stubborn, competitive, yet quick-witted and sly when needed.
The opponent was Sword Sovereign U Ha-yeon. Wi Ju-seok had seen her sword too.
“You can’t win.”
“I know.”
“Your right hand’s out, and your internal injuries are severe. Against the Little Buddha, you managed with partially healed wounds via reversal flow, but tomorrow you won’t be able to.”
“Still don’t want to forfeit.”
“You know that, so what’s the issue?”
Wi Ju-seok chuckled and patted Wi Seongcheon’s shoulder.
“You’ll lose. You know it, but you’ve decided to fight anyway instead of forfeiting. If that’s your choice, I won’t stop you. But as your father, I’ll give you some advice.”
Wi Ju-seok’s hand rested on Wi Seongcheon’s right hand, wrapped in bandages.
“If you want a ‘next time,’ don’t use your right hand.”
“You already said that.”
“It’s important, so I’m saying it again. It was sheer luck your hand didn’t shatter completely against the Little Buddha. If you hadn’t sacrificed your thumb, the bones would’ve been pulp. But as you felt, this opponent can’t be taken that way.”
Wi Ju-seok spoke in a flat tone.
“...My dantian is shattered.”
“I know.”
“But I’m still stronger than you. Why do you think that is?”
Wi Seongcheon clamped his lips shut and glared at his father. When he’d heard from the Black Demon King that his father’s dantian was shattered, he couldn’t accept it as true—because he’d never once beaten his father, even with that shattered dantian.
“...Lack of qi doesn’t mean you can’t use martial arts.”
“Right. I’ve trained Cheonhwa Gate arts several times longer than you, so I can still use the techniques without qi. But... without qi, even if the techniques match, the body won’t.”
Wi Ju-seok slowly raised his hand.
“When I need to, I use innate essence in place of qi.”
“...What?”
“Don’t be too shocked.”
How could he not be? Innate essence was something you were born with, unlike qi built up postnatally.
Wi Ju-seok spoke casually, as if it were no big deal, but using innate essence meant burning one’s life force.
“I know what you’re thinking, but that’s not how I use it. I’m not burning it—just using it.”
“What’s the difference?”
“It means I can use it skillfully without dying. I’ve sparred with you plenty using it and I’m still alive, aren’t I? And look at my face. No qi, yet I look this youthful, don’t I?”
Wi Ju-seok pointed to his face. Wi Seongcheon felt awkward but nodded.
True, his father looked far too young for someone nearing seventy. Not quite a rejuvenation elixir effect, but comparable to anti-aging via qi—it made him look decades younger.
“Cheonhwa Gate arts strengthen innate essence.”
Wi Ju-seok said slowly.
“Well, ‘strengthen’ might not be the right word. You’ll learn the details when you become sect leader.”
“...I don’t know how to use innate essence without burning it.”
“Of course not. This isn’t something taught through martial arts. Cheonhwa Gate arts only build the foundation for it. Realizing it is up to you.”
Once realized,
one naturally awakens to ‘power’ beyond qi.
“In Cheonhwa Gate arts, it’s called Spirit Ignition.”
“...Spirit Ignition.”
“I’m telling you this now because I don’t want you chasing pointless obsessions. Spirit Ignition isn’t taught—it’s self-realized. Learn it too early, and you’ll inevitably pursue it.”
He hadn’t planned to reveal it so soon. But he’d watched Wi Seongcheon fight the Little Buddha. His son... had grown that much already.
“When I was your age, I couldn’t do what you did.”
Wi Ju-seok murmured.
“So, you can pursue it. Remember what you said when you first started martial arts?”
To reach the pinnacle of Cheonhwa Gate arts, one must empty the mind.
Wi Seongcheon nodded. He’d never forgotten.
“Spirit Ignition is also a path to that pinnacle. Only when you fully make it your own do you qualify to be sect leader.”
“...There’s a qualification for sect leader too?”
“It’s not formal tradition, but I won’t appoint someone unqualified. Be proud, son. Hearing this means I’ve officially entered you into the trials for next sect leader.”
“So I wasn’t qualified until now?”
Wi Ju-seok smiled at his son’s grumpy tone. He slowly rose.
“Think of it as a good opportunity.”
“...Pardon?”
“Your condition is in no shape for fighting. Yet your opponent is incredibly strong. And this isn’t a life-or-death duel. Chances like this don’t come often.”
Thud. Wi Ju-seok placed a hand on Wi Seongcheon’s shoulder and met his eyes seriously.
“Go learn, feel it. If you grasp something there, perfect. Even if not, the Sword Sovereign will make you keenly feel your ‘weakness.’”
Wi Ju-seok turned and left. Steward U bowed to Wi Seongcheon before following.
“Easier said than done.”
Wi Seongcheon muttered,
and Wi Ju-seok thought the same. Spirit Ignition wasn’t easily realized. Fifty years ago, Wi Ju-seok’s father, Wi Jeong-uk, had left young Wi Ju-seok behind and vanished to the Demon Realm.
At an age too young to have realized Spirit Ignition... Wi Ju-seok became Cheonhwa Gate’s leader.
He’d resented that father endlessly. Some of that resentment lingered. But he’d come to understand.
Like Wi Ju-seok himself, Wi Jeong-uk must have wanted to end it in his generation.
‘The pinnacle of Cheonhwa Gate arts.’
Wi Ju-seok swallowed a bitter smile.
‘How many past Cheonhwa leaders reached it?’
Even Wi Ju-seok himself hadn’t.
But his son might.
“Far better than me.”
Wi Ju-seok murmured softly. Unlike his father, lost to obsession and gone forever, Wi Ju-seok had ‘returned alive.’
He’d been dubbed the Lone Guest, but perhaps his son...
“It’s not just because he’s my son, but he’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”
“Why the sudden nonsense?”
“And his talent’s top-notch too.”
Steward U frowned at Wi Ju-seok’s abrupt words.
* * *
“Decisive victory.”
Wi Seongcheon grinned at Jeong Mi-ju as she returned to the waiting room. She brushed ash from her clothes and grumbled, shooting him a glare.
“When did you come down?”
“Around when Flowing Cloud Sword Wind Senior started sweating bullets?”
“Why didn’t you just stay up there? You were going to lose anyway.”
Jeong Mi-ju plopped into a chair. She gulped down the prepared water, her eyes scanning Wi Seongcheon.
Not just his bandaged right hand—bandages wrapped his body all over.
“What did you say to Ha-yeon?”
“Don’t go easy on me.”
“Seemed more than that.”
“Good to hear.”
Jeong Mi-ju let out a hollow laugh.
“You’re something else, junior. You know you can’t win.”
“Did you think I’d beat Senior Jin-u?”
“No. But this time I’m certain. Bet on it. You can’t beat Ha-yeon.”
“I know.”
Wi Seongcheon smiled back.
“No idea who tomorrow’s opponent is, but I hope luck’s on my side. Don’t want back-to-back fights. If it happens, I’ll forfeit outright.”
Jeong Mi-ju scowled. Twenty had advanced to the main round. They needed to cut it to four by tomorrow.
The ten winners today would draw new brackets, so someone would fight twice in a row tomorrow.
“Ease up, junior. Don’t be stubborn for nothing.”
Jeong Mi-ju patted Wi Seongcheon’s shoulder. He felt the worry in her eyes. Worry over his injuries... and his spirit breaking under U Ha-yeon’s sword.
‘Ah.’
He wanted to dismiss the gaze lightly.
But the moment he left the waiting room and saw U Ha-yeon standing at the arena’s center,
his body didn’t tremble, but his heart did.
U Ha-yeon stood tall, ethereally beautiful, chills-inducing. She wore a robe emblazoned with plum patterns, gently caressing the red silk-wrapped hilt. That figure was utterly divorced from the carefree ‘senior’ who’d laughed idly in the Wind and Moon Pavilion. The intense pressure—unfelt against Jin-u—crushed Wi Seongcheon’s heart.
U Ha-yeon’s aura was that sharp, yet not chilling. Quietly, like faint mist dampening her robes. It crept in slowly, pressing a blade to his heart.
“You’re here.”
U Ha-yeon looked up at Wi Seongcheon.
He felt none of the crowd’s cheers or gazes.
Wi Seongcheon swallowed dryly and met her eyes squarely.
It wasn’t plum blossom season.
Yet Wi Seongcheon smelled the clear fragrance of plum blossoms in full bloom.