Walking the Path of Chivalry
Even within the clan, debate over Namgung Yun's true talent remained fierce.
While many harbored great expectations, some still wrote him off, insisting that a mediocrity like Namgung Yun would never amount to anything more than what he had always been. On the other extreme, a select few cautiously whispered that he might possess the rare genius of a future grandmaster. After all, the Jianghu was rife with prodigies whose names once shook the world only for them to fade into unremarkable obscurity, just as it was filled with late bloomers who had risen from absolute neglect to become peerless champions. Great vessels, as the old adage went, took time to mature.
Most are withholding their judgment for now, but...
At the very least, Namgung Uncheon felt it was time to radically raise his own estimation of the boy.
"Was there anything else that caught your attention?"
"He said that if I wish to receive his guidance, I must practice chivalry."
"..."
Namgung Uncheon lowered his brush and stroked his bearded chin. "Chivalry... Chivalry, you say?"
Chivalry. A word wholly inseparable from Namgung Yun. Paired with a disposition so frail and meek that no one could fault those who branded him a coward, it had been the very reason the boy was endlessly tormented in his youth. Yet despite all the dramatic ways Yun had changed, that conviction remained untouched.
Seeing how he handled that recent Jiangshi incident, and hearing him say such things to Yeon, he clearly has no intention of abandoning that path.
With that realization, Namgung Uncheon made his decision. Even if he could not offer open, enthusiastic backing, he would quietly aid Namgung Yun along his journey.
Not that someone like me can offer much help anyway.
He was a man stranded at the First-rate realm. Though he carried the title of General Administrator, his standing in the modern Namgung Clan was practically rock bottom. He sat in on major council assemblies solely because the clan's household affairs and logistical ledgers fell under his charge. He might possess the right to speak, but the weight of his words was lighter than a feather.
"You have worked hard. You may take your leave."
Namgung Yeon bowed respectfully and withdrew from his father's presence.
Stepping out of the pavilion, the youth drew a deep breath. At last, he was liberated from the stifling stench of paper and ink he so thoroughly despised. Yet in its absence, a sharp bitterness coated his tongue.
He turned his head to look back.
There stood the Jeongmu Pavilion, the hall where his father toiled away day and night. Because of its logistical importance, it was situated right alongside the clan's core halls, yet not a single soul within these grounds treated it with genuine respect.
The memories flared unbidden in Yeon's mind: the towering stacks of ledgers engulfing his father, the suffocating scent of ink, and the contemptuous sneers cast his father's way by the rest of the clan.
"..."
Shaking the grim thoughts from his head, Namgung Yeon quickened his stride. A somber shadow clung to his heels like a ghost.
"Gaaagh!"
Namgung Geol let out a wretched howl. As he rolled across the dirt clutching his bruised thigh, a voice devoid of even a sliver of sympathy dropped coldly into his ear.
"Stop whining and get up."
"N-No, Hyung-nim! I swear I'm not faking, it really hurts—!"
"Do you want me to give you a real reason to cry?"
Namgung Geol scrambled upright in an instant. With arms crossed, Namgung Yun gave a curt jerk of his chin. Groaning under his breath, Geol raised his practice sword once more.
The forms of the Great Evolution Sword Art unfolded from his hands. As the sequence neared the exact transition where he had taken a kick to the shin moments earlier, tension seized his shoulders. He strained desperately to suppress it, remembering all too well that being wound tight had earned him that very kick for turning as stiff as a board.
Yinlingquan. Xuehai. Jimen.
Got it!
The circulation of true qi, which had drawn nothing but scathing rebukes all morning, flowed seamlessly through his meridians. The kick that usually came hurtling toward his thigh never materialized.
And yet—
Crack!
"Aaargh!"
"I told you to align the qi in your legs, not let it run rampant through your forearms! What are you, a headless chicken that thinks it escaped a cat just because it buried its beak in a haystack?"
"N-No, Hyung-nim!"
Swallowing the throbbing ache in his forearm where the wooden stick had struck, Namgung Geol hoisted the blade back into position.
He really is a demon.
How could anyone discern the internal flow of another person's qi without so much as laying a hand on them? It wasn't as if Yun was making wild guesses, either. Every critique targeted flaws Geol had vaguely sensed himself, and whenever his circulation was flawless, Yun remained completely silent. Yun claimed he could read it effortlessly through the rhythm of the forms and the subtlest stiffness in posture.
How is that even humanly possible?
To Namgung Geol's current understanding, it bordered on sorcery.
Thwack!
"Oof!"
"Look at this peerless grandmaster we have here! A punk whose skull should be bursting with sword forms has time to daydream? Have you already attained the realm of selfless transcendence? Well then, you don't need this kind of training, do you? Since you've reached such an enlightened state, why don't we spar a few rounds right now?"
"I'm sorry, Hyung-nim!"
Namgung Geol instantly banished every stray thought.
After the brutal drill continued for a while longer—
"Haah... Haah... Huff..."
Namgung Geol collapsed flat on his back. He cast aside his sword—the very soul of a martial artist—and focused entirely on dragging air into his burning lungs. Fortunately, Namgung Yun didn't berate him for that.
"That's enough for today."
"Thank you, Hyung-nim!"
At the declaration ending their session, the last thread of tension snapped, and Geol went entirely limp.
Damn, this is brutal.
Namgung Yun possessed a terrifying knack for hunting down whatever dregs of stamina remained in a person and wringing them out to the absolute limit. It was an ordeal grueling enough to make even Namgung Geol, who was well accustomed to rigorous training, click his tongue in disbelief. And yet...
The results are absurdly good.
No matter how much advancement through the Second-rate realm depended on basic talent and relentless effort, his current rate of growth surpassed his wildest expectations.
I swear I'm progressing faster now than I did back in the Third-rate.
Namgung Geol pushed himself up into a sitting position. His limbs felt heavy, but it was a pleasant, invigorating fatigue. What was more, the spots where he had been struck didn't even ache anymore. Yun's disciplinary blows burned with blinding agony the instant they landed, yet as time passed, the pain melted away without leaving behind so much as a bruise.
When Geol had asked about it, Yun had casually remarked that such precision was child's play once one mastered pressure points and meridians.
Child's play, my foot.
Geol couldn't imagine pulling off such a feat even in his dreams.
"Rest well," Yun said. "Rest is part of cultivation. Going around stirring up trouble and getting injured only robs you of training time."
"Understood, Hyung-nim!"
Was that why he struck with such immaculate precision, ensuring no lingering damage?
He claims he pursues righteousness and chivalry, but honestly, isn't Hyung-nim the one who truly embodies Respect for the Strong?
Looking closely, every single action Yun took was singularly focused on martial growth. Even his philosophy pointed toward the same ruthless efficiency. Geol recalled a time when he had cautiously asked if Yun still harbored resentment over his past bullying. Had Yun said yes, Geol had genuinely been prepared to sever an arm or a leg to beg for his forgiveness.
Yet Yun's response had been entirely unexpected:
'I hold no grudges against you. I just think this entire clan is profoundly stupid.'
'Stupid, Hyung-nim?'
'If you're going to preach Respect for the Strong, you should at least provide the baseline environment for people to train, whether you like them or not. What's the point of beating someone into bed rest and stealing away their training time? You'd be better off driving them to the brink through forced labor and relentless drills. And if they still can't cut it, discard them cleanly—banish them, or use them as living fodder so the others can gain killing experience.'
'...'
'All this posturing about Respect for the Strong is nothing more than a shallow, gaudy facade.'
It had been a declaration so radical and uncompromising that it had left even Namgung Geol, formerly intoxicated on the law of the jungle, utterly struck dumb. Perhaps Namgung Yun was the only one in the clan who held truly unyielding convictions.
Well, it works out great for me.
Though he had resolved to pursue chivalry and justice because of Namgung Yun, it wasn't as though he had abandoned the thirst for power. He was, after all, a martial artist. Even if Namgung Yun were suddenly stripped of his strength, Geol had no intention of wavering in his loyalty.
Still, it feels a hell of a lot better when the man you revere is stronger than anyone else.
With every passing day, Namgung Geol's admiration for his elder cousin only deepened.
"Hm?"
After Namgung Geol sat cross-legged to circulate his internal energy and recover his stamina, Namgung Yun—who had been practicing basic sword forms beside him—sensed a presence at the perimeter. Sheathing his blade, he walked out of the training yard.
Namgung Yeon.
Following his visit days ago, Yeon hadn't shown his face, so Yun had put him out of mind. Did he simply need time to mull it over, or did something happen to change his mind?
Either way, it mattered little to him.
"What brings you here?"
"Does the offer you made back then... still stand?"
"It does."
"Then please... instruct me."
"Sure, why not."
Taken aback by the breezy, instant agreement, Namgung Yeon blinked in mild confusion.
"Though not right this second," Yun added nonchalantly.
"Is something the matter?"
"I have to head out."
"If you have clan business to attend to, then we can do this later—"
"No, you're coming along."
"...Pardon?"
"I told you, didn't I? If you want to learn under me, you have to practice chivalry."
"...Are you telling me we are setting out on a chivalric act right now?"
"Well... it's hardly grand enough to warrant such a lofty title, but yes."
"What are you saying, Hyung-nim! What you do every day is more than enough to be called a chivalric act!"
Having finished his meditation, Namgung Geol stepped out from the training ground and boisterously cut into the conversation.
"Patrolling the city streets and nipping potential trouble in the bud is plenty chivalrous! The common folk absolutely adore you for it!"
"Is that so?"
"It certainly is!"
"Ha! If you insist, then so be it. Splendid, let us go perform some delightful chivalry today as well!"
"Lead the way, Hyung-nim! This foolish younger brother shall follow you to the ends of the earth!"
The two bounded out toward the clan gates with eager strides. Watching their backs, Namgung Yeon could only stare in bewilderment.
...Did I make a terrible mistake?
An inescapable sense of dread prickled at the back of his neck.
Even as they cleared the grand gates of the clan estate, Namgung Yeon's anxiety showed no sign of fading. What in the world was this nonsense? They weren't a pack of neighborhood brats playing at being street bosses. How could men claiming to tread the path of chivalry behave with such frivolous abandon?
Yet before long, Yeon was forced to reconsider.
"Oh, Young Master! You've come again today!"
"Welcome, Young Master!"
"Thank you as always for looking out for us!"
Everywhere they walked, merchants, stall keepers, and commoners bowed their heads in warm, enthusiastic greeting. In itself, that was hardly shocking. This city was the seat of power for the Namgung Clan; no commoner in their right mind would dare disrespect someone clad in the noble robes of Namgung. Yeon himself received similar deference on the rare occasions he ventured into the city.
However, the expressions on their faces were completely different.
On the faces of the folk greeting Namgung Yun and Namgung Geol, there was not a shred of the cowering dread and terror that Yeon was accustomed to seeing. There was only boundless respect, gratitude, and genuine trust.
"Has anything suspicious occurred lately?" Yun asked casually.
"Thankfully, all has been peaceful, Young Master!"
"It's all because you watch over us so diligently!"
"Naturally!" Namgung Geol chimed in, puffing out his chest. "With our Hyung-nim personally walking the beat, what cowardly villain would dare lay a finger on you good people!"
"Young Master Namgung Geol is truly remarkable as well!"
"Ah, is that so? Why, you flatter me! Gwahahaha!"
Namgung Geol's booming, self-satisfied laughter looked utterly ridiculous. Yet that was true only in Namgung Yeon's eyes. To the ordinary folk living here, even that loud-mouthed Geol appeared dependable and reassuring. He was a true righteous martial artist who had sworn to protect them.
"Pardon me, but is the young master standing behind you also a new chivalrous hero of the Namgung Clan?" a stall keeper asked, glancing toward Yeon.
"Haha! I don't know about Hyung-nim, but I'm hardly worthy of being called a hero just yet. And that fellow back there is even less of one. You could call him an apprentice of sorts."
"Ah, I see..."
The townspeople, who had been so warmly familiar toward Yun and Geol, subtly shifted their posture, widening the physical distance between themselves and Yeon. They didn't dare display overt hostility—no one was foolish enough to offend a scion of the Namgung Clan—yet the stark disparity in their treatment was palpable.
As the trio continued their rounds through the bustling avenues and turned into a secluded, deserted alleyway—
"Why don't you come out now?"
At Namgung Yun's quiet words, both Namgung Geol and Namgung Yeon stiffened in shock.