Chapter 41. The Flaw in Discipline (1)
Yeon Hojeong's body faltered for a moment. The hand that had unleashed the Chain Flying Swallow Palm was flushed bright red.
In that split second, Yeon Wi had neutralized the attack with his own palm strike.
Wooong!
A faint silvery energy rose from Yeon Wi's extended hand.
'Anti-Dragon Palm!'
It was one of the Yeon family's pinnacle martial arts. Each strike carried tremendous power, but its true strength lay in counterattacks—none could match it.
Yet Yeon Wi was the more astonished of the two.
"Chain Flying Swallow Palm, was it?"
"Yes, Father."
Paak!
No sooner had he answered than Yeon Hojeong charged again. Yeon Wi braced for a frontal assault, but in an instant, his son dropped low and swept the fangtian halberd at his ankles. Even at such close range, the long blade sliced precisely toward his feet, unhindered by distance despite its weight and length.
Yeon Wi's sword scraped the training ground floor.
Kagagak! Kang!
The blade, gouging the earth as it advanced, struck the halberd aside. Once more, the weapon failed to achieve its mark.
The rebounding shaft traced a perfect arc, targeting Yeon Wi's side—faster than the initial swing.
Jjeojeong!
It was flawless. Yeon Hojeong couldn't hide his amazement. His father's martial prowess had reached the realm of perfect offense and defense as one.
Jjeong! Kwajik! Paak!
No matter how many times he swung the fangtian halberd or created openings with fist-and-kick combinations, he couldn't breach it. Not a single effective blow landed.
'To have refined it to this degree!'
Even before inner energy or sword force came into play, the martial path itself was near perfection. No more to add, nothing to subtract—a truly complete art.
'Impressive.'
During his days as the Black Dark Emperor, Yeon Hojeong's skills had far surpassed his father's. Yet even then, he hadn't achieved such seamless unity of attack and defense.
It wasn't a matter of realm, but of specialty. While Yeon Hojeong's arts maximized extremes, Yeon Wi's were like an iron fortress, tolerating no flaws whatsoever. The epitome of orthodox White Path martial arts.
'Good.'
The notion of this being his first spar with his father had long vanished from his mind. Facing a martial artist as rare as they come in the murim, Yeon Hojeong felt a burning competitive spirit unlike any before.
Paaang! Pabapak! Peung!
His movements grew fiercer. The heavy fangtian halberd accelerated further. Amid the unbroken flow, halberd techniques targeted Yeon Wi's entire body.
Jjeojeojeojeong!
All the heavy assaults were blocked. But that was fine. Yeon Hojeong trusted—his father wouldn't be harmed.
Buwoong! Bwoong!
As speed increased, destructive power surged, and with power came greater momentum in his movements.
A gleam lit Yeon Wi's eyes.
'Remarkable.'
He was stunned by his son's martial arts.
'Such ferocity and boldness.'
The core stability came from Bi-ra Jin-gyeol, yet it felt savage enough to belie that foundation.
Did that mean the balance of offense and defense had crumbled? No.
Jjee-eong!
The steel sword, swung short and sharp, was halted by the halberd shaft. Defense through offense—not mere blocking, but enveloping and smashing the enemy's attack in one motion. An extreme art impossible to criticize as overly aggressive.
Defense was offense; offense, even fiercer offense. A practical art that relentlessly hounded foes, a battlefield style bent on killing before being killed.
'And moreover...'
Papapapapang!
Yeon Hojeong wasn't limited to halberd mastery. The moment a halberd strike flew in, a kick followed; block the kick, and fists or palms struck as if anticipated. Dodge those, and the fangtian halberd returned; parry it, and exquisite footwork slipped in.
He didn't rely solely on weapon techniques just because he wielded one. It was pure combat—overwhelming not with raw power, but infiltrating gaps to topple the foe. Throwing arts.
Even more astonishing was the nature of those gap-exploiting strikes.
'Basic techniques?'
Yeon Family Thirteen Fists, Chain Flying Swallow Palm, High Empty Kick, Autumn Wind Step. All foundational Yeon family arts. They lacked devastating power but built a warrior's basics.
To wield them with such efficiency?
'Even I wonder if I could do the same.'
The master's brush knows no bounds, as the saying went. It fit his son perfectly—using foundational exercises like calisthenics to challenge the head of the Seven Great Families.
Yeon Wi's gaze sharpened.
Jjee-eo-eong!
A powerful sword strike sent Yeon Hojeong sliding back.
He had seen enough of his son's art. This glimpse revealed the heights achieved.
As Yeon Wi opened his mouth—
Paaaang!
Yeon Hojeong surged forward at unprecedented speed. Closing the gap in a flash, he swung the fangtian halberd like an axe cleaving down.
Yeon Wi was startled.
'Impossible!'
This strike wasn't simple. It carried explosive rebound force to push the opponent back. Maintaining balance alone should have been overwhelming.
Yet to close in at such velocity?!
Yeon Wi urgently raised his sword.
Jjee-eo-eo-eong!
The clash echoed beyond the training ground, into the patriarch's chamber. The most explosive strike yet.
Yeon Wi's sword trembled faintly.
Hwook!
Lightning-quick, Yeon Hojeong dropped low and unleashed a terrifying chain of techniques.
Papapapapa.
Yeon Wi parried his son's godlike flurry.
'I see.'
Finally, he understood why his son had pursued such extreme training.
'To attain this stamina.'
Yeon Hojeong's assaults allowed no breather. Each powerful blow embodied one-strike-kill lethality. But forging such explosive strikes demanded not just inner energy, but robust physique and endurance.
His son's art declared—no, proved it: This is me. This is the path I pursue. Extreme offensive power, without compromise.
Yeon Wi's eyes closed.
Kwaang!
With a thunderous stomp, his steel sword traced lightning's form.
Kwarung!
"Hmph."
Yeon Hojeong was pushed to the training ground's edge. A league beyond the prior rebound sword strike.
Sharp pain lanced through his hands gripping the halberd.
"That's enough."
Sreureung.
Yeon Wi, already outside the grounds, sheathed his sword.
Yeon Hojeong felt regret.
'So close.'
In probing his father's ironclad defense, he'd grasped a clue to summoning the White Tiger. Insights and formulas alone weren't enough for the Four Gods. Unleashing the attack-specialized White Tiger Qi would elevate his inner energy, body, and arts across the board.
'Regrettable, but unavoidable.'
Master two Gods through training, and the others might follow. But not White Tiger. Only mortal combat against a dire foe would draw it forth.
The Four Gods Martial Art was born on the battlefield, after all.
'Father's art is that exceptional. Even without life-or-death stakes, it nearly summoned White Tiger.'
Relaxing his stance, Yeon Hojeong eyed his father curiously.
'How did he forge such an art?'
Teong!
Yeon Wi placed his sword on the rack and asked, "What do you think?"
"Pardon?"
"In your eyes, how was this father's martial art?"
Yeon Hojeong's eyes sparkled.
"Near perfection, I believe."
"Perfection?"
"Yes. Room to grow stronger exists, yet it pursues flawlessness without weakness. No bias toward offense or defense, evasion or counter—pure Middle Path."
He boldly noted potential for growth. Yeon Wi took no offense; his son's words struck true.
"You saw through it?"
"Harder not to. Warriors have specialties, but Father shows none."
"......"
"An art encompassing all phenomena. That is Father's martial path."
Genuine surprise crossed Yeon Wi's face.
"Your insight is truly remarkable. No one pierced my path—least of all my own son."
"Is that so?"
"Indeed."
Gazing at his son, Yeon Wi sighed softly.
"I hoped you'd follow in my footsteps."
"Pardon?"
"Half a year ago, after the ancestral rite, you changed. I don't know why, but as family head, I welcomed it."
"Ah, yes."
"But now..."
"......"
"It's a bit regrettable."
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
"If I've erred, tell me. I'll correct it anytime."
"You've done nothing wrong. That's why it's regrettable."
Pride and sorrow mingled on Yeon Wi's face.
"As father to two sons before patriarch, I wished you both on my path. Call it greed or stubbornness."
"......"
"But you've taken a different road. Through your art, I faintly glimpse what you seek."
"And that is?"
"You have no desire to become heir."
Yeon Hojeong's expression hardened. Fathers pierced sons' hearts too.
From his changed demeanor, Yeon Wi had pondered this. Today confirmed it—his son's ambitions reached beyond the family, toward the world.
"......"
Yeon Wi clasped hands behind his back, gazing skyward. Cloudless heavens reflected inexplicable tenderness in his eyes, unlike his usual sternness.
"I never explained why I wanted to see your art."
"......Wasn't that just said?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"To gauge if you possess the resolve befitting an heir—through your martial arts."
"......!"
Surprise dawned on Yeon Hojeong.
'Heir...?'
A position never considered.
Yeon Wi shook his head.
"Truly regrettable. I tested your capabilities as patriarch, only to learn as father that your heart isn't bound here."
"......"
"The world rarely bends to our will."
Yeon Hojeong fell silent.
After long gazing skyward, Yeon Wi turned.
"Splendid art. Spar with this father often henceforth."
"......Yes."
"Well done."
Yeon Wi headed to the patriarch's chamber. Watching his back, Yeon Hojeong spoke.
"Father."
Yeon Wi turned.
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
"Our paths may differ, but my heart remains here. For the family, even branded demonic head, I'll point my blade at the world."
"Nonsense."
Yeon Wi resumed walking.
"If the world calls my son a demon, I'll place that world beneath my sword."
"......"
"Rest."