Chapter 37: In the Human World, April's Fragrance Ends (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 37: In the Human World, April's Fragrance Ends (8)
Lee Yu-baek taught Yeon So-wol how to hold a sword.
"You're right-handed, so you will grip the hilt with your right hand and form the Sword Secret Finger with your left."
The Sword Secret Finger was a hand sign made with the off-hand: the index and middle fingers were pressed together and held straight, while the ring and little fingers were curled inward and locked in place by the thumb.
What's this? Is it just for show? Yeon So-wol wondered.
Striking a pose with the hand that wasn't even holding the weapon seemed like nothing more than an empty flourish. But the more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Martial arts were a deadly serious business where one's life was on the line at every moment. Why add a stylish flair for no reason?
"With your right hand, you hold the sword," Lee Yu-baek said. "With your left, you hold yourself. That is the true meaning of the Sword Secret Finger."
"Hold… myself…?"
The words were both simple and incomprehensible.
"Did I not just tell you? A part of your mind must always remain awake."
"Ah."
"That is its purpose. Gyeong is a power you manifest by throwing your entire being into a strike, but even in that moment, you must hold onto your soul with your other hand."
That sounds plausible! Yeon So-wol thought. Then he reconsidered. But still, isn't it ultimately just for show?
Making a sharp shape with his left hand wasn't going to literally let him "hold" his mind, was it?
"The Sword Secret Finger is a profound and high-level teaching passed down only within the sword arts of the Daoist School. That is why we of the Pungryu Sect always practice it in tandem with our sword training."
Contrary to So-wol's skepticism, Lee Yu-baek repeatedly emphasized its importance.
"The cultivation of the Daoist School values harmony. Where there is movement, we consider stillness. When we wish to push, we first pull. We do not think of one as one, but always as a pair that combines to become a whole."
He drew his own sword to demonstrate. He formed the Sword Secret Finger and took a stance.
When the sword thrust forward, the Sword Secret Finger pointed back. When the sword rose, the Sword Secret Finger pressed down toward the front. The two movements were not separate; they were a single entity from the very beginning.
"This is the essence of the technique. When you move your right hand to strike with the blade, you must always leave a piece of your mind with the Sword Secret Finger of your left, keeping it anchored. The movements of the right and left hands combine to form a single sword path. This is how you keep one part of your mind always awake."
"Ah…!"
"Do you understand?"
What came to Yeon So-wol's mind was the way a falling cat always lands on its feet.
For instance, if you dropped a human from the sky upside down, an untrained person would struggle to right themselves. If they tried to twist their body by focusing only on their upper half, their lower half would simply rotate in the opposite direction.
The conservation of angular momentum.
But a cat folds its body, alternately tucking and extending its front and back paws to control its movement against that momentum, allowing it to land stably.
This example, a favorite among scientists, aligned perfectly with Lee Yu-baek’s description. Just as a cat coordinates its paws to right its posture, a martial artist coordinates the sword and the Sword Secret Finger to maintain control of body and mind even while unleashing Gyeong.
If being thrown upside down like a cat was the practice of Gyeong… then landing correctly was the practice of the Sword Secret Finger.
To always practice these two things together meant…
This is… incredibly kind, isn't it?
Yeon So-wol was astonished. He had only ever known training where success meant getting stronger and failure meant death. But this Sword Secret Finger was a method built into the martial art itself to increase the user's chances of survival. It was a technique that drastically reduced the risks inherent in unleashing Gyeong.
It was a safety belt—one that let you throw yourself into an attack without throwing your entire life away.
Who first came up with a sword art like this?
To think that such a compassionate heart existed in this barbaric Jianghu.
It's warm.
So much so that his eyes welled with tears.
So this is why they call the Daoist School the Orthodox Faction.
The sword arts of the Daoist School prioritized stability, even if it meant a slight reduction in raw power. Having fully grasped the concept, Yeon So-wol spoke.
"The sword arts of the Daoist School must have a defensive foundation."
Lee Yu-baek's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"
"Instead of throwing your whole body into an attack, you use the Sword Secret Finger to protect yourself, so the power must inevitably be lower. Therefore, when facing other styles, you would need techniques to handle a stronger force—whether by deceiving the opponent, deflecting their power, or staying a step ahead. I thought that could be called defensive."
But Yeon So-wol wasn't finished. He was lost in thought for a moment before exclaiming, "Ah!"
"Our Pungryu Sect's sword arts must incorporate various principles. They would flow like a willow tree to deflect force, deceive like a fluttering leaf, and be as swift as the wind."
"…I thought I had grown accustomed to your comprehension." Lee Yu-baek let out a hearty laugh. "But I wonder. We shall see how much that incredible insight of yours contributes to your actual training."
He strode to the center of the training ground and took his position. "Come and stand here."
It's starting…!
Yeon So-wol steadied his breathing and stood before Lee Yu-baek.
"Hold your sword. Just as I taught you."
Yeon So-wol carefully assumed the stance. With his right hand, he gripped the unsharpened training sword. With his left, he formed the Sword Secret Finger, holding himself. Deeply feeling the wisdom of the ancient masters, he tightened his grip.
The moment he locked the Sword Secret Finger and aimed his sword…
CLANG!
The sword vanished.
"…?"
Yeon So-wol stared at his empty right hand.
Drip, drip—
Red blood trickled from his torn palm.
I didn't even lose my grip when I parried Seo Mu-ryang's Finger Flicking Art…
A chill ran down his spine in a delayed reaction. Just how much sword power had Lee Yu-baek put into that strike?
Weren't Daoist swords supposed to be a little… weaker?
"So-wol."
"…Yes."
"Why didn't you hold the sword?"
"…"
As Yeon So-wol stood there, dumbfounded, Lee Yu-baek gestured with his chin. "I told you to hold the sword."
"…Yes."
Yeon So-wol realized his arm was trembling violently. The Gyeong Power from Lee Yu-baek's sword was belatedly rattling his bones and muscles.
"Hold the sword."
"Yes. Yes."
So-wol had to circulate his True Qi just to shakily pick up the sword from the dirt. His palm felt paralyzed; he gripped the hilt with his bleeding hand, barely feeling the sting.
R-Right. Still, I can't… I can't let go of the sword.
Gritting his teeth, Yeon So-wol once again formed the Sword Secret Finger and settled into his stance.
CRAAAAAANG!
"Kuhk!"
This time, his body spun and nearly folded in half. A loud crack echoed as his bones seemed to twist under the pressure.
"Cough! Keuk!"
It was the price for stubbornly refusing to let go. Since the sword didn't fly away, the shock was transmitted directly into his frame.
Am I… alive?
Yeon So-wol patted himself down. Looking down at him, Lee Yu-baek spoke.
"Why didn't you hold yourself?"
!!!
"I told you, the Sword Secret Finger is for holding yourself. You have to properly calculate whether you can receive this force or not and only take as much as you can handle. Because you didn't hold yourself, you ended up tumbling about so pathetically."
Lee Yu-baek clicked his tongue. "I told you to hold."
"Um. Did you not… suffer an internal injury?"
"This much is fine. You weak little brat, worrying about all sorts of things."
"…"
"Hold."
"…Yes."
*
Gyeong was the manifestation of one's internal and external martial power, aligned according to intent through painstaking effort.
Lee Yu-baek had given various warnings—not to get drunk on Gyeong Power, to always be able to read that power—but in truth, that was all for after one had learned to manifest it in the first place. Controlling it would take time, but his goal was to have So-wol manifest it as quickly as possible.
Lee Yu-baek had his own methodology for this.
Gyeong must be learned through Gyeong.
Its weight. Its devastating, overwhelming pressure. Only by feeling it with one's entire body could one truly understand.
Ah, so this is Gyeong.
Only by being crushed by it would one's spirit devise a way to resist. That was how a martial artist awakened. It was how Lee Yu-baek himself had learned from his master.
The crucial part of this training, however, was to precisely control the sword power to a level that wouldn't permanently harm the disciple. A miscalculation could lead to disaster, so it wasn't a method just anyone could use.
But Lee Yu-baek was confident. Of course I can match it perfectly.
It was a well-founded confidence, solidified by the countless hours he had spent swinging his blade. His training was not so shallow that a minor internal injury could shake him.
Indeed, his control was flawless. Each time, Yeon So-wol felt a shock so great it felt life-threatening, but he was never actually crippled. His eyes merely grew unfocused and his face paler with each blow.
And yet…
He's picking up the sword again.
With a face that looked like it had surpassed its limits several times over, he would get up and assume his stance. He would force himself to gather fire and draw up his True Qi, preparing to receive the strike. He wasn't just mindlessly taking the stance; he was learning from his previous failure, constantly adjusting his posture and the alignment of his power.
Only his complexion had gone slack. Yeon So-wol's mind had not loosened in the slightest.
With his right hand, he held the sword. With his left, he held himself.
CRAAAAAANG!
Screeeech!
Yeon So-wol's feet carved furrows in the dirt as he slid back a full ten feet.
Drip, drip, drip—
Red blood fell from his palm. But he did not lose his grip. Nor did his stance collapse. He had raised his True Qi to its optimal state and received Lee Yu-baek's strike.
"…You've produced a power similar to Gyeong."
In a single day. Lee Yu-baek swallowed the rest of his words. He's grasping the essence of Gyeong at an absurd speed.
The most talented martial artist Lee Yu-baek had ever seen had taken a week to get this far.
"So-wol."
"Yes."
Yeon So-wol looked up, his face half-dazed. The sight made Lee Yu-baek feel an even greater sense of wonder. How could he, in such a state, hold his mind and his sword until the very end?
"That must have been difficult. What was going through your mind to help you endure it?"
"…I’m used to it."
"Used to it?"
What Yeon So-wol meant was the experience of studying. He had a habit of always pushing himself a little further, studying to the very end, especially when he was at his most exhausted and couldn't absorb a single new letter. He knew from experience that after doing so, if he rested well, everything would suddenly click into place the next day.
That most difficult moment is the moment you get ten times the EXP…!
It was the same here. That moment when all strength had left his body and only pain remained—Yeon So-wol saw it as a moment of growth. That was why he had gritted his teeth and stood back up. It had been agonizing, but if he collapsed now, he wouldn't be able to enjoy the blessing of growth.
However, his words sounded different to Lee Yu-baek. The elder's expression hardened as he nodded.
"I see…. You must have a story. A story that would make you say you're used to such pain. You've lived a hard life, haven't you?"
Huh? Yeon So-wol realized the misunderstanding had somehow deepened.
Lee Yu-baek looked at him with a heavy gaze. "So-wol. Originally, I had planned to stop the training here for today. But I feel I should ask. Do you want to train more?"
As he said this, Lee Yu-baek steeled himself.
If he says he wants to train more, I'll scold him until he's bawling. I'll tell him he must rest when it's time to rest. That he must never be driven by impatience. Not unless he wants to die.
Now that So-wol had manifested Gyeong, the next step was to practice controlling it. In that training, greed and impatience were like poison. To control Gyeong, one had to always keep a part of the mind awake. What would happen if one pushed past their limits and trained recklessly? Lee Yu-baek had seen far too many die that way.
That was why the training of Gyeong became a wall for many. It required the time and effort of purely maintaining one's mind. Lee Yu-baek had set a trap, intending to teach him this lesson.
I have to break him of this habit once. The more pent-up feelings he has, the more likely he is to neglect his own body.
The moment Yeon So-wol took the bait, he would bestow upon him a lesson he would never forget.
Just you try and say a single word.
Lee Yu-baek smiled benevolently on the outside, but his heart was as cold as frost. Finally, Yeon So-wol answered.
"No. I'll rest for today."
"Hah!"
"…"
After a moment of silence, Yeon So-wol couldn't help but ask. "…Excuse me?"
"…Hmm?"
"Yes?"
"Hmm?"
"…Um. Is it… not okay to rest?"
"…No. It's not that. Rest. You should rest."
Lee Yu-baek hastily clasped his hands behind his back and averted his gaze. He cleared his throat. Ahem, ahem.
…What was that about? Yeon So-wol tilted his head in confusion.
His face flushed, Lee Yu-baek quickly changed the subject. "Ahem! In any case. Good. You've entered the gates of Gyeong faster than I expected…. If you keep this up, you might be able to take Seo Mu-ryang's head with your own hands."
"What?!"
The change of subject was super effective.
"Kill… Seo Mu-ryang? But earlier you said…"
"When did I say we wouldn't kill him? Killing him is a certainty. I said we needed to think carefully about how to kill him."
"Oh. Then… Uncle Hang In-woo…"
"It's fine. Seo Mu-ryang may be In-woo's friend, but I'm a better friend to In-woo. He'll be a bit sulky, but this can't be helped."
Yeon So-wol stared blankly at Lee Yu-baek. A smile crept onto his lips without him realizing it. Why does this make me so happy?
Was the decision to kill someone something to be this happy about? He felt like a stranger to himself, but he couldn't help it. It felt as if a massive blockage in his chest had been cleared away.
"In any case, I'm making a plan. If possible, it would be good for you to deal with Seo Mu-ryang yourself. Though I'll have to help a little." Lee Yu-baek looked up at the sky. "Once that bastard is dead, I won't have to worry about In-woo anymore either."
"…Thank you, Father."
"Why are you thanking me?"
"Thank you, regardless."
Yeon So-wol smiled. Even his torn, throbbing hand felt like it was pleasantly burning.
"You rascal." Lee Yu-baek chuckled and took out a water flask. "Give me your hand."
He poured water over Yeon So-wol's bloodied hand to clean it, then took out some Golden Wound Medicine from his robes, applied it, and wrapped the hand in a bandage. Yeon So-wol let his adoptive father tend to him, breathing easily.
"Father. I was thinking about something yesterday."
"What is it?"
"You said that wielding a sword for what you think is right is different."
"I did."
"But aren't there times when it's ambiguous what's right and what's wrong? A case like the Yeoljeong Sect is obvious, but living in the Jianghu, I feel there will be times when I'm hesitant to either get involved or stay out of it."
"That's right. Sometimes, you regret it for a long time. I should have stepped in then. I shouldn't have gotten involved that time."
"…Is there a good way to judge?"
"There is. It's not a perfect method, but… when you really don't know." Lee Yu-baek tied the knot on the bandage and let go of his hand. "Repay your debts of gratitude. Avenge your grudges. Do that, and you won't go too far wrong."
"Debts of gratitude… grudges…"
Yeon So-wol looked down at his hand. Wrapped in the bandage, it felt stiff yet secure.
The delicate, brilliant petals were falling, one by one, as the trees began to grow dense in silence. It was April.