Frontal Breakthrough (3)
Paeryul's eyes widened in shock.
"What are you lot?"
Gadeuksang cupped his fists in a formal salute.
"Greetings, Martial Uncle."
The three behind him bowed their heads as well.
"……?"
Paeryul was utterly bewildered. It was surprising enough that they'd come splattered with bloodstains on their clothes, but this—bowing so deeply their foreheads nearly scraped the ground—what was that about?
'Why the hell am I your martial uncle?'
The words nearly slipped out unbidden. Paeryul barely recalled Yeon Hojeong's instructions from before they parted ways.
'We're descendants of the Mujong Sect. We're martial siblings, and you're playing the role of martial uncle. We'll set the atmosphere, so just go along with it.'
'What kind of childish game is this?'
Yet now that they were actually calling him martial uncle for real, the feeling was oddly intriguing. Paeryul cleared his throat awkwardly.
"You've arrived well."
His tone dripped with stiffness. Only then did the four straighten up.
"But what's with all the blood?"
Gadeuksang smacked his lips.
"Some petty tails were shadowing us. The second brother nearly nabbed them all, but the stragglers scattered trying to flee, so we split up and caught one each."
Second brother? Who's that...?
Dang Sang-a stepped forward helpfully.
"Sorry about that. If I'd been more thorough, you wouldn't have had to get your hands dirty."
"Now, now, little sister—don't say that. They were sneaky as hell. And who could've guessed we'd have tails on us?"
"Still, who do you think they were?"
"Who knows? From the stingy vibe, probably White Path folks, but they don't hold much sway around here."
"Must be Black Path, then."
"Likely."
Jegal A-yeon slyly inserted herself, playing the immature youngest.
"But isn't this gonna cause trouble? We're heading to meet those Black Path guys, right? What was their name again? Yang... something."
Yeon Hojeong swiftly clamped a hand over Jegal A-yeon's mouth. She pounded his shoulder frantically, as if suffocating. Yeon Hojeong spoke calmly.
"It's classified, little sister."
"Mmph-mmph!"
"I told you before—loose lips sink ships. You need to be more serious... Gah!"
Yeon Hojeong staggered. Jegal A-yeon had elbowed him square in the gut. She spat repeatedly.
"You didn't even wash your hands—don't touch me with those!"
"Cough!"
"Whoa, you okay?"
"No, I'm not, damn it!"
Paeryul eyed the four with hazy eyes. They're having a blast. In times like these, it fell to the sect elder to step in. He adopted a stern tone.
"Eyes are everywhere. Show some restraint."
"Gulp!"
Paeryul shot Gadeuksang a fierce glare. The man quickly wiped the grin from his face and coughed.
"My apologies. Got something caught in my throat."
"We'll talk separately later."
"...Yes, sir."
Yeon Hojeong scanned the surroundings.
'Not bad at all.'
This inn was quite large. Even at this late hour, plenty of patrons sat scattered about, nursing their drinks.
Ssssh.
Azure Dragon Qi trickled from Yeon Hojeong's fingertips like fine threads. Among the Four Gods' energies, it was the most sensitive—soft as Black Tortoise Qi, perfect for delicate work. The formless qi spread in all directions.
'Nine of them.'
In this spacious inn, nine people cultivated inner energy. Not as many as he'd feared. But that was normal. Even if the Black Path secretly dominated all of Hunan Province, this was a small city at its western edge. And the Black Path's ranks were thin on true masters. Nine was actually a crowd.
'We'll climb from the bottom up, steady and sure.'
Yeon Hojeong glanced at Dang Sang-a. She was giggling with Jegal A-yeon over something hilarious. The heads of their families were at each other's throats, yet these two seemed like blood sisters.
'She'll make perfect bait.'
He had no doubt her presence would make their mission smoother and more efficient.
"Alright, shall we grab some food?"
That night.
Whoooosh.
In the outer garden's bamboo grove, Yeon Hojeong sat cross-legged. The four-colored energies swirled around him like spirits.
Black, white, red, and blue—the Four Gods' qi shimmered like fireflies, enwrapping his body. A mystical sight. It wasn't as if the energies emanated from him; rather, some will of nature itself seemed to shield him.
'Perfect.'
Yeon Hojeong felt profound satisfaction.
'Balance at last.'
Upon his return to the past, he'd first cultivated Black Tortoise Qi. Naturally, it was the densest. But the Four Gods' energies intertwined organically, cycling through growth and restraint. Water begets wood, wood begets fire—it was only natural.
Once the four achieved qualitative and quantitative equilibrium, they advanced together, step by step. In the Four Gods Martial Arts, this was called the "Canonical Form"—all energies upright, unswayed.
'One hurdle cleared.'
After perfecting the Four Gods Qi, the first gateway was this form. He'd achieved it only after breaking through Mujongjibyeok. He hadn't drawn out all his energies until reaching the limits of body and true qi for this very reason—higher plateaus yielded greater efficiency and insight.
"Hoo."
Yeon Hojeong exhaled lightly and opened his eyes. He picked up the long spear beside him.
'Not bad.'
After dinner, he'd gotten it from a nearby smithy. Forged from solid iron, it was no lightweight, but to the man who'd swung the eighty-plus Gwang Yong Bu, it was nothing.
He gripped the middle of the shaft and spun it.
Whooosh.
Whoooosh.
The circling shaft cleaved the air with a deep, satisfying thud.
'Well-balanced weight. Blade's a good length. Lucky find.'
The Gwang Yong Bu was too flashy. Same for the Gyo Ryong Swai. With the Wall Mountain Tiger Lord moniker shaking the martial world, he couldn't parade those signature weapons under prying eyes. Hence, the spear.
To master the axe, he'd first honed spear and staff arts. With spear and barehanded strikes, he could close the gap to his axe prowess.
Yeon Hojeong kicked off the ground.
Paaang!
Closing the short distance in a flash, he unleashed vigorous spear forms. Thud-thud-thud! The blade multiplied into a dozen shadows, carving identical gashes across ten bamboo stalks.
Surprise flickered on his face.
'Thought it'd regressed from disuse, but it feels sharper than ever?'
The Canonical Form made it possible. No wasted power—his spearwork had refined further.
Parararak!
The wind-cutting blade gleamed elegantly. His movements were looser, more fluid than usual—like dancing, not drilling. Yet the slashing, thrusting blade lost none of its lethality.
Sasasak!
Fallen bamboo leaves rose, trailing the spear tip. Yeon Hojeong's eyes blazed. Thunk! He stamped the butt into the earth, and the airborne leaves shattered into fragments.
"Hm. Good enough."
He could've trained half the day away, but tonight called for restraint.
"Martial Uncle?"
At the sudden query, a snort echoed from the grove's deepest shadow.
"No one's around—why not drop that creepy title?"
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
"You never know."
"Your senses are sharp enough, and mine aren't slacking either."
"That's why I'm saying it. To keep the tension up, just in case."
"If some master could slip past both our senses, this mission's already doomed, no?"
Fair point. Yeon Hojeong crossed his arms, spear in hand.
"Night's deep—why aren't you sleeping?"
"You stole my thunder. Thought I'd train a bit."
"I see. I'm good here. Your turn."
"First..."
Paaaang!
Paeryul's sword shot like an arrow. A flawless ambush—blindingly swift and sudden, yet devoid of killing intent. All the more terrifying for it.
Yeon Hojeong uncrossed his arms and toed the spear butt upward. Claaang! The sword grazed the shaft and halted. Whiiiing! Leaves spun around the twirling spear.
Yeon Hojeong gripped it. Whoosh. The wind died.
Paeryul sighed.
"Still no good."
"Brilliant ambush. Haven't seen swordplay that restrained in ages."
"Cheeky bastard. 'Ages,' huh? Your life's been a bloodbath."
Yeon Hojeong just smiled silently. Paeryul eyed him steadily, sword still drawn.
"Something to discuss?"
"Not really."
"Then may I go?"
"No."
"Huh?"
Only now did Yeon Hojeong catch Paeryul's hesitation. His expression turned grave.
"Problem?"
"Problematic, yeah."
"What is it?"
Paeryul fell silent again. His reluctance grew palpable. Yeon Hojeong tensed.
After a beat, Paeryul spoke.
"Mujong Sect heirs shouldn't flaunt signature arts, right?"
"Correct."
"You brought the Tang girl to counter hidden weapons, yeah?"
"Among other reasons."
Paeryul coughed.
"Take a look at this first."
"Pardon?"
Slararak!
Paeryul's sword sliced the air. Yeon Hojeong's eyes widened.
What the—?
Uncharacteristically fluid lines for Paeryul. Not lacking power, though—it lured foes in with elegance, then countered with lethal precision.
'Point Cang has arts like this?'
Great sects like the Nine Greats hid multiple arts rivaling their famed techniques.
'Less practical edge than his usual, but the swordplay's on another level.'
Paeryul sheathed his sword. His cheeks were faintly flushed—odd for such a light demo.
"Ahem! What do you think?"
"Point Cang art?"
"Well... yeah."
Yeon Hojeong was blunt.
"Outstanding swordsmanship. It tempers Point Cang's sharpness and extremes with rock-solid harmony. The counters are masterful."
"R-really?"
"Yes. Minor gaps in the chaining, but it's too captivating to nitpick. As it ascends realms, the practicality should fill in nicely."
Paeryul beamed.
"Think it'll hold up in real fights?"
Yeon Hojeong nodded.
"You grasp it deeply, like a tailor-made fit."
"Haha!"
Paeryul burst into booming laughter, delighted.
"Good enough for me."
"Huh?"
"Ahem! I'm off."
"What about your training?"
Paeryul vanished without reply. His steps brimmed with unexplained excitement. Yeon Hojeong scowled.
"What the hell? Just confesses one-sidedly and bolts like a punk?"