A Lesson in Manners
Because the counterattack had been born of pure instinct, it was only after the strike was fully unleashed that he registered the identity of his target.
Before him stood a flustered child—likely one of the youngsters training nearby. Though clearly startled by the sudden retaliation, no deeper emotion showed on the boy's face yet. He evidently had no inkling of the sheer peril he had just invited upon himself.
As things stood, severing his neck would be child's play. And if taking his head seemed excessive, a limb would do just as well.
Anyone reckless enough to meddle with a martial artist in the middle of cultivation should be prepared to face the consequences. Even if the boy were not prepared, it mattered little to Yun.
Pay a steep enough price in limbs, and the lesson will carve itself into your brain whether you like it or not.
Of course, taking his head would rob him of even that opportunity to learn.
Well, seeing as I intend to live as a member of an orthodox sect, lopping off heads right out of the gate is hardly ideal.
Thus, his target shifted.
The left wrist.
A swordsman needed his right hand to grip the hilt, so that was spared. Likewise, he needed both legs to practice footwork, so those were off the table as well. That left only the non-dominant wrist.
You should thank your lucky stars that I am currently endeavoring to learn righteousness and chivalry.
Had this been his previous life, such boundless mercy would never have crossed his mind.
Yet, Yun did not achieve his mark.
Clang!
His sword was violently deflected. Yun's brow furrowed at the sudden interference.
Namgung Hwan.
The supervisor in charge of this training ground. In an arena packed with hot-blooded youth, danger was an ever-present shadow, making a vigilant supervisor an absolute necessity. Though Namgung Hwan was only a few years older than Yun, he possessed more than enough martial skill to oversee the lower training grounds. And, true to form for nearly every member of the clan Yun had encountered thus far, he was a man who looked down upon Yun with naked prejudice.
Yun smoothly withdrew his blade. With the groundskeeper stepping in, insisting on severing the boy's arm was no longer an option.
Besides, the lesson has already been delivered.
His strike had not bounced off entirely in vain. A trickle of crimson was already snaking down the child's wrist. It was by no means a deep wound, but it was sharp enough for the boy to realize that his arm had just hung by a hair's breadth from falling to the dirt.
"Uh… ah, a-aaagh…!" The boy let out a bewildered whimper, clamping his other hand over the bleeding cut.
"Pung!" Namgung Hwan bellowed, rushing toward the child.
So his name is Pung.
Being a scion of the clan, he would be Namgung Pung. A fragmented memory surfaced in Yun's mind: this brat was one of the many who had taken pleasure in tormenting the original Namgung Yun.
Yun let out an internal sigh. Good grief, Yun… to let yourself be bullied by a toddler who barely reaches your chest? Have some shame.
Namgung Hwan frantically inspected Namgung Pung's wrist. Seeing his frantic fussing, Yun remarked in an offhand drawl, "No need for such theatrics. It's barely a scratch on the skin."
Hwan whipped his head around, glaring daggers at Yun. "What in the heavens do you think you are doing?!"
His voice thundered across the yard, subtly laced with internal energy—a practiced trick he used to cow unruly children into submission. Naturally, such a parlor trick was laughably futile against the man Yun was now.
"I should be asking you that," Yun retorted coolly. "What do you think you're doing?"
"What?"
Hwan froze, a dumbfounded expression plastering across his face as his wrath momentarily short-circuited. The sheer audacity of the reply was so far beyond his expectations that his mind failed to process it. But astonishment quickly gave way to a towering fury.
"Did spending a few days laid up in bed knock your brains loose?!"
"Not loose," Yun replied smoothly. "If anything, they've finally snapped back into place."
"You insolent—!"
"Why are you so worked up?" Yun interrupted before the man could finish his rant.
"Are you blind to what you just did to young Pung?!"
"I know full well what I did. I administered discipline to someone who sorely deserved to die." Yun paused, then added with a mild click of his tongue, "Though, unfortunately, I failed to finish the job."
"You… what?!"
Hwan was left momentarily speechless. Undeterred by the supervisor's bulging veins, Yun pressed on without missing a beat.
"Never approach a martial artist immersed in sword practice. Is that not a fundamental rule observed across the entire Jianghu, let alone within our Namgung Clan?"
When one was wholly absorbed in the sword, perception of the outside world grew dull. In such a trance, any sudden intrusion triggered purely instinctive retaliation. And what was the instinct of a warrior who lived by the blade? To cut down the threat, of course.
The universal taboo against approaching someone in training existed precisely to prevent such bloody mishaps.
"Furthermore," Yun continued, his voice calm and unyielding, "this brat didn't merely wander close. He swung his leg to kick me in the shin."
In short, it was an outright attack. The boy had likely called out to Yun repeatedly, and upon receiving no reply from the deeply focused youth, had lashed out in petty frustration.
"Frankly speaking," Yun concluded with an airy shrug, "shouldn't you be commending me for not taking his head?"
"……"
Hwan was struck dumb. His scowl looked as if he were chewing on gravel, utterly disinclined to agree with a single syllable, yet he had no counter. Every word out of Yun's mouth was unassailable logic. And Yun was not finished.
"In the first place, you are stationed here specifically to prevent this sort of reckless stupidity. Tell me, Supervisor—what were you doing just now?"
"……"
The man had spent months turning a blind eye while Namgung Pung and the other brats tormented the former Namgung Yun. He had undoubtedly assumed this encounter would play out like all the rest, with Yun meekly taking another beating. But whatever excuse he might conjure, the undeniable truth remained: he had neglected his duties.
"Whichever way you slice it, I am in the right," Yun said dismissing him with a casual wave of his hand. "Now, step aside. I have training to finish."
"…Everyone, back to your stations!"
Cornered by unbending reason, Hwan had no choice but to back down. At his irritable bark, the gathered onlookers scattered. Namgung Pung, having had his acupoints sealed to stem the bleeding, was promptly whisked away to the Medical Pavilion.
If only this meant I could finally train in peace.
Yet Yun knew human nature too well. The odds of this ending quietly were vanishingly small. When a long-abused punching bag suddenly bared its teeth, people rarely paused to reconsider their actions. More often than not, their wounded vanity drove them to double down on violence.
His prediction proved instantly correct.
"Hey."
Yun let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. It was entirely expected.
Fine, he thought. Let's kick up a proper fuss right here and now, so that none of these gnats ever dare buzz around me again. It's not as though I can slaughter them all.
Turning around, he eyed the youth who had called out to him.
Namgung Geol.
The strongest among the children assigned to this training ground, and consequently, the object of high expectations within the clan. More importantly, he had been the foremost ringleader in tormenting the original Namgung Yun.
According to his predecessor's memories, the mere sound of Namgung Geol's voice had been enough to make the former Yun tremble and drop his gaze in sheer terror. Clearly, the boy had lived in perpetual dread of this little tyrant.
The current Namgung Yun, however, was a very different beast.
"What do you want?" Yun replied, his tone dripping with sheer boredom.
A flicker of hot rage sparked in Geol's eyes. To see someone who had spent his life beneath his heel suddenly showing such insolence was an intolerable blow to the boy's bloated pride.
"I heard you've made some progress these past few days," Geol said, sneering without a shred of deference toward his elder kinsman.
What a delightfully well-mannered squirt, Yun mused wryly.
"Of course," Geol continued, "it was only because In-hyung let his guard down, but knocking him unconscious is still somewhat impressive."
It seemed the clan had already rationalized the incident in that manner. Well, naturally. It was far more comforting to believe that the clan's chronic punching bag had scored a fluke through an underhanded ambush than to accept that he had genuinely surpassed their golden boy overnight.
"And?" Yun prompted.
"If you've made progress, shouldn't you put it to the test?" Geol tapped the sheath of his sword with a smug smirk. "How about a spar?"
"Fine by me."
Might as well uproot these nuisances once and for all, Yun thought. And while I'm at it, I can instill a much-needed lesson on respecting one's elders.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The disciples quickly gathered at the center of the training grounds. An impromptu match between clan members was always entertainment, and nothing drew a crowd quite like a good spectacle.
The matchup itself made it irresistible.
On one side stood Namgung Geol, the undisputed prodigy of the lower grounds. On the other stood Namgung Yun, the weakest weakling and the acknowledged disgrace of the Namgung Clan. Not a single soul in attendance expected a genuine contest.
Though Namgung In had suffered a humiliating defeat days prior, and Namgung Pung had just been nicked, no one attributed those outcomes to Yun's actual skill.
"Pung was just being careless, like always, and got ambushed."
"Still, to take a hit from Namgung Yun of all people… how pathetic."
"It'd be one thing if Pung were the first, but he already knew what happened to In-hyung! He should've been on his guard."
"Serves him right for slacking off on his training."
The murmurs rippling through the crowd painted a crystal-clear picture of Yun's standing in the clan.
Yun and Geol faced each other across the dusty dirt ring. Both drew their weapons, leveling the tips toward one another.
"Begin!" shouted Namgung Hwan, stepping in as the referee.
The instant the word left his lips, Namgung Geol exploded forward. The boy's eyes burned with undisguised contempt.
Delusional coward.
Geol hadn't genuinely expected Yun to accept the challenge. What on earth had happened to the pathetic wretch over the last few days? Had a blow to the head scrambled his wits? Or had he genuinely deluded himself into believing he could reinvent who he was?
It made no difference.
He might have toppled In-hyung, but that was nothing more than a cheap trick.
In had undoubtedly dropped his guard completely, never imagining for a second that a coward like Yun would dare retaliate. Still, the fact that In had been knocked cold had caused Geol's respect for him to plummet drastically.
Geol's eyes locked onto his opponent.
Watching this pathetic fool—who used to hunch his shoulders, lower his head, and tremble at every glance—stand tall and rattle off excuses was grating on his last nerve. But a few heavy blows would set things right. Beat him until he whimpered on the ground, and he would crawl right back into his miserable shell. Then, Geol and the others could laugh at him just as they always had.
It wasn't an honorable mindset, and deep down, Geol knew it. But within these walls, an unspoken creed had taken root:
The strong are permitted everything.
Geol adored this law of the jungle. And to reap its benefits, one had to seize power and flaunt it relentlessly.
I was due to remind everyone where they stand anyway.
In that sense, Yun's sudden bout of madness was practically a blessing. Not that Geol had any intention of going easy on him.
Closing the distance in an instant, Geol unleashed a fierce, sweeping slash. Whether the blade carved flesh or Yun scrambled desperately to parry, the end result would be the identical.
Yet reality refused to follow his script.
CRACK!
Geol's vision plunged into pitch darkness.
Thud!
Just before his knees kissed the dirt, Geol barely clawed his consciousness back from the abyss. Scrambling backward, he dug his heels into the earth to stabilize his balance, instinctively raising his sword in a defensive guard. Whatever his flaws as a human being, the crispness of his stance proved he had not neglected his training.
Inside his skull, however, pure pandemonium reigned.
What… what was that?!
A scorching, throbbing pain flared across the entire side of his head.
Did I just get hit? When? By what?!
His wild eyes snapped toward Namgung Yun.
Yun was standing there casually, holding an empty scabbard in his right hand. His live steel had somehow migrated to his left, gripped loosely in a reverse hold.
Did he hit me with the scabbard?!
That would explain the dull, bone-rattling ache in his cheek. But that was the only piece of the puzzle that made any sense.
When the hell did he move?!
He hadn't seen Yun pass the sword to his left hand. He hadn't seen him swing the scabbard. He hadn't seen him strike at all. He had failed to track every single movement from start to finish.
In the martial world, that kind of blindness occurred only when the gap between combatants was a chasm wide enough to swallow mountains.
No… this is impossible!
This was Namgung Yun! The spineless braggart, the cowardly disgrace of the family who let himself be mocked even by toddlers! The idea that such a pathetic creature was more skilled than him was something Geol's pride could never accept.
"Oh? You managed to stay on your feet?"
Yun lightly tapped the scabbard against his shoulder, looking down on Geol like an adult humoring an unruly pup.
"I suppose that proves you really are the top dog among the toddlers. Seems I should have held back a little less."
Toddlers? Held back?
Geol felt as though the blood vessels in his temples were about to rupture. His heart hammered violently against his ribs, and blistering heat rushed into his brain. In all his life, he had never tasted a humiliation so burning, so utterly intolerable.
I'll kill you!