Chapter 47: The Wind Begins to Blow (2)
Pa pa pa pang!
Fists clenched with power burst through empty air in rapid succession. This was no mere fist technique practice without internal energy. Each punch, infused with formidable inner strength, was a lethal weapon in itself. These were the strikes of a peak-level master—fists that could pierce logs and shatter boulders with a single blow.
Sweat poured down in streams, yet the merciless training showed no sign of stopping. If anything, as time wore on, it gained momentum, the fist speed accelerating even further.
Ting!
After a long bout of fist practice, Yeon Hojeong hooked the spear fallen to the ground with his foot and lifted it effortlessly. Gripping it with natural grace, he swung it with terrifying momentum.
Poof! Poof! Boom!
The long spear spat fire. Spears were heavy weapons, suited for powerful single thrusts but difficult to chain into continuous attacks. Yet Yeon Hojeong's spearwork was different. Explosive strikes rained down endlessly—who could say how he managed it?—with barely any gap between one assault and the next.
After swinging the spear for what felt like ages, Yeon Hojeong reversed his grip on the shaft and hurled it forward.
Thud!
The spear pierced straight through a thick log and embedded itself in the ground. Terrifying power.
"Huff... huff."
It had been training so intense it nearly wrecked his breathing. As Yeon Hojeong gulped down ragged breaths, a deep azure energy flickered around his body. His labored respiration quickly steadied. Even accounting for true energy facilitating oxygen flow, the recovery was unnaturally swift.
"Hoo."
Yeon Hojeong slumped onto the flat ground. A heavy voice reached him then.
"Is your training done?"
Yeon Hojeong looked up. Far off, his father stood with hands clasped behind his back.
"You've come."
"It looked less like training and more like venting frustration."
"......"
"Regulating ragged breath back to normal that quickly is no easy feat. Extreme physical conditioning seems effective."
"I see."
It was a fine moonlit night. Beneath the bright moonlight pouring down, Yeon Wi sat beside his son.
"You're a proper master now. No one could deny you the title of peak expert."
"Thank you."
There was no sincerity in his voice. How could he rejoice at this level when the horrors of the future loomed so large?
Yet Yeon Wi expressed pure astonishment at his son's realm. At nineteen, he had surpassed even the head of the family's military force. No matter how superior the arts he practiced, this growth was inexplicable. Among the later-generation disciples of the Seven Great Families of the era, was there anyone of similar age with such profound martial attainment? Excluding Shaolin, Wudang, and Hwasan, even the Nine Great Sects would be hard-pressed to find one.
Considering his strength just half a year ago, this pace of progress was unmatched even in martial history.
And despite achieving such a feat, his son showed no satisfaction. If anything, he seemed to think he was still far from enough. He must know full well how exceptional his realm, his growth, his skill truly was.
In a casual tone, Yeon Wi said, "Is something troubling you?"
Yeon Hojeong couldn't answer. He could have lied, said there was nothing, that it was just part of his training. But he didn't want to deceive his father with this mood upon him.
"It's too much."
"Pardon?"
"Your killing intent."
Yeon Hojeong's eyes wavered.
"You sensed it?"
"How could I not, and still call myself head of the Yeon family?"
Yeon Hojeong constantly modulated his killing intent. He might leak it unconsciously at times, but he never released it indiscriminately. Yet Yeon Wi was Yeon Wi. Considering the distance from the family head's quarters to the guest hall, his perceptual acuity was beyond imagination.
"What is it that's angering you so?"
Yeon Hojeong gazed at his father. Bathed in moonlight, Yeon Wi's face seemed gentler than usual. For a moment, emotion welled up in him.
'There are those plotting against the main house.'
He wanted to say it. At least in this instant, he yearned to tell his father everything.
But he couldn't. His father might seem indifferent to others, yet he observed every action with meticulous care. He'd probe how he knew, why he hadn't spoken until now, whether it was truly real. Regrettably, that couldn't happen.
By the original history, the Myeong family's assault was less than a year away. It might even come sooner.
"I'm just frustrated."
"With what?"
"Various things."
Yeon Wi fell silent for a moment. He had words for his son. But seeing him now, they seemed unnecessary.
Yeon Wi drew a book from his bosom and handed it to Yeon Hojeong.
"What is this?"
"Take it."
The cover bore no writing. Curiosity piqued, Yeon Hojeong opened it—and his eyes widened.
Yeon Wi said, "It's a handwritten copy. Once you've mastered it, burn it."
"How can I accept this...?"
"Watching your martial arts, I pondered what you lack."
His father had thought about his martial arts. From someone who never seemed the type, it stirred strange feelings in his heart.
"Your style assumes no follow-up—one strike, certain kill. At least in momentum. There's room for more tempering, but your robust physique fuels that explosive power."
"......"
"But look. Just now, your breathing fell apart badly. The reason? Your techniques consume stamina so fiercely."
"Yes."
"You'll improve much further ahead. The issue is getting there. Giving you evasion-focused footwork didn't suit your nature—you'd never back down."
He saw through him perfectly. Yeon Hojeong could flee, hide, evade if needed. But if he deemed it unnecessary, he'd press forward relentlessly to crush the foe. His very disposition rejected retreat.
The martial arts of the battlefield: kill before being killed, securing survival. That was Yeon Hojeong's way.
"So I prepared this."
Yeon Hojeong stared at the three characters on the first page.
Reversal Dragon Palm.
Two weeks ago, during their spar, it was the counter-based art his father had used. Immensely powerful in a single strike, it truly shone in retaliation—one of the Yeon family's core techniques.
"The rivers and lakes are fearsome. Foes show no mercy based on your state. You'll manage somehow, but isn't the martial world a place where even first-rate masters fall to a third-rate blade?"
Yeon Hojeong's eyes shook.
"You knew?"
Yeon Wi shook his head. "No. Not until just now."
"......"
"I'd been wondering when to give it. A bit late, perhaps, but with your talent, you'll wield it in real combat soon enough."
Grip tightening on the manual, Yeon Hojeong felt strength surge through his hand. In truth, Yeon Wi's worry was unfounded. He had the Four Gods Martial Arts. Black Tortoise handled perfect defense, White Tiger relentless assault—leaving Azure Dragon for evasion and counters.
Black Tortoise was rarely needed outside extremes, but Azure Dragon was different. Its techniques solidly complemented his extreme nature, versatile and practical.
'......'
Yet no matter how supreme the Four Gods Martial Arts, could it outweigh the sentiment of this gift from his father?
"I gratefully accept."
Yeon Wi rose. "When do you plan to leave?"
Indeed. Yeon Hojeong intended to depart the family. Staying here would make repelling the Myeong invasion difficult. He fought best after seeing and confirming with his own eyes—that was the lesson etched into him over lifetimes of battle.
"If nothing arises, tomorrow."
"Tomorrow... tomorrow, is it."
Yeon Wi closed his eyes. Yeon Hojeong couldn't fathom his father's thoughts. After a pause, Yeon Wi spoke.
"Follow me."
* * *
Unexpectedly, Yeon Wi led Yeon Hojeong outside the family grounds. The marketplace lay quiet. Past midnight, it was only natural. Save for a few taverns still serving late-night drinks, darkness reigned.
Passing Goyang Pavilion, father and son headed some distance from the river to a small smithy.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Even past midnight, the hammer rang out. The heat radiating from five zhang away was intense.
Yeon Wi spoke. "Elder Pyeon. It's Yeon Wi."
Ting!
The hammering ceased. Moments later, an elderly man with white whiskers emerged from the smithy. Short in stature but solidly built. Despite the chill, his upper body was bare, revealing boulder-like shoulders and a thick chest.
"You've come."
Expecting a gruff tone from the raspy voice, Yeon Hojeong was surprised by the calm demeanor.
"Sorry for the late hour."
"No need for apologies. But who's the young one beside you?"
"My eldest son."
Yeon Wi said to Yeon Hojeong, "Pay your respects. This is Pyeon Il-gang, the Divine Craftsman."
Whoever he was, clearly no ordinary man. Yeon Hojeong clasped his hands in a crisp salute.
"Yeon Hojeong. An honor to meet you."
The elder smiled. A lifetime around fire and iron, yet his expression was warm as a spring breeze.
"With eyes like that, who else could be your son? Sharp as daggers—just like you in your youth."
"Was I?"
"Folks were too scared to approach. But compared to your son, you're tame. If you're the Judge Sword, he's a divine blade—razor-edged."
A faint smile tugged at Yeon Wi's lips. Pyeon Il-gang eyed him in surprise. He'd never seen even a hint of a smile on Yeon Wi before.
"You've gotten on in years, I see."
"Seems so."
Pyeon Il-gang scanned Yeon Hojeong up and down. "Odd, though. Eyes are a perfect match, but the aura's night and day. Your son isn't the quiet type."
"......"
"Not a sword—an axe?"
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flashed. Pyeon Il-gang wasn't a warrior. He practiced some internal energy for health, nothing more. Yet at a glance, he identified Yeon Hojeong's primary weapon.
'Impressive.'
Master craftsmen saw the world differently. Great artisans were warriors' truest allies. Guessing his temperament from a mere look spoke volumes of Pyeon Il-gang's skill.
"Then the order from two weeks ago?"
"Yes."
"Ha! Full of surprises tonight. Not giving your heir a sword, the family legacy?"
Yeon Wi shook his head. "How much longer?"
"As if. Finished two days ago. Just some tweaks to an existing piece."
"Hand it over."
"Wait a moment."
Soon, Pyeon Il-gang returned bearing a weapon. Yeon Hojeong's eyes widened at the sight.
"Heavy, isn't it? Wielding something like this? Must've built quite the foundation young."
Thud!
The ground trembled from the impact. It was an axe. A battle axe, enormous in scale. A six-chi-long thick haft topped with a blade the size of a grown man's torso.
Almost identical in form and size to the one Yeon Hojeong had wielded in his past life.
Yeon Wi said, "Try holding it."
As if entranced, Yeon Hojeong grasped the haft. The weight surged through his arms.
'Heavy. But...'
The grip felt perfect. A sense of unity? It was made for swinging.
Yeon Hojeong looked to his father. "Heavy weapons are more influenced by the wielder than ordinary blades or swords. Your style is too extreme—don't swing it unless absolutely necessary."
Yeon Wi nodded to Pyeon Il-gang. "You've worked hard."
"Ha! No trouble at all. If I'd known it was for your son, I'd have inspected it twice over."
Yeon Hojeong gazed at Yeon Wi with trembling eyes. Yeon Wi turned away.
"Let's go."
As his father walked ahead, Yeon Hojeong bowed deeply to Pyeon Il-gang.
"Thank you."
Pyeon Il-gang chuckled. "Sturdy as they come—won't break easily. Use it well."