Pointing Blood and the Patriarch's Command
Yeon Jong-ho reluctantly backed off, withdrawing his strength, but his face was filled with dissatisfaction.
"Patriarch, this guy is a traitor to the family."
"Make that judgment after you've become the patriarch. Otherwise, would you already be the patriarch?"
"...I'm sorry."
"Get out."
"Yes."
Yeon Jong-ho shot Yeon Mu-jin a fierce glare, as if the scolding had been because of him, then stormed out of the recovery room.
Yeon Mu-jin, who had barely managed to sit up, dropped to his knees.
"P-Please kill me."
"The sword has returned to its master."
"...What do you mean?"
"It means you didn't betray the family. You just got greedy. Which warrior of Yeon Ga wouldn't covet the Cheonroegeom? And if you think about it, you could even say you're the sword's rightful owner. After all, you're a direct descendant of Chung-jae."
Yeon Mu-jin had been relieved by the patriarch's words but jolted in shock.
"N-No! The Cheonroegeom is Yeon Ga's treasure. How could bloodline make someone its master?"
He bowed his head low, cold sweat trickling down.
He knew exactly what kind of man the patriarch was. He seemed like a benevolent elder with a broad mind, but he crushed any hint of challenge to his authority without mercy. The only way to survive before him was to grovel flat.
"Rest well. You'll have work to do soon."
"Thank you, Patriarch."
Yeon Mu-jin kept his head bowed until the patriarch vanished from sight.
As Patriarch Yeon Un-jae descended the stairs to the training hall, he smiled warmly at the sight of the five lanterns.
Yeonhyangcho.
This restorative incense, crafted from various dungeon cores, countless herbs, and nourishing oils using Yeon Ga's secret methods, was hugely popular not just with Raiders but with ordinary people too—it sold out as fast as they could make it.
The decline of the once-mighty Yeon Ga had begun with Yeon Chung-jae. Prioritizing himself over the family, he'd acted recklessly and met his end in a dungeon.
And there, he'd lost the Cheonroegeom.
As the successor to the Cheonroegeom style, his death had taken the latter half of the family's signature sword techniques with him.
Whispers spread everywhere: Yeon Ga was finished, they could never reclaim their former glory.
"It was I who broke their arrogance and placed the family on solid ground."
Yeon Un-jae walked to the center of the Yeonhyangcho and sat.
Closing his eyes, five scents blended and seeped into his nose. The inner energy in his lower abdomen surged. Opening the gate to his danjeon, the energy he'd built through the Cheonnoe Heart Technique flowed out, circulating through the Du-myeok.
The Du-myeok ran from the danjeon up the back to the crown of the head and to the lips.
Sparks crackled around his spine and back.
Pak-pak—each flash lit the entire training hall like a lightning strike.
Reaching the end of the Du-myeok, the energy turned to the Im-myeok, descending to his chest and back to the danjeon.
No sparks or flashes this time. The smoke gathered around him swirled into his body. He'd absorbed every bit of energy from the Yeonhyangcho.
The circulation through Du-myeok and Im-myeok completed three times. By then, the incense had burned out.
Nearly three hours had passed.
Opening his eyes, Yeon Un-jae reached for his phone and pressed a button.
Moments later, a black shadow slipped soundlessly into the training hall.
"You've come."
"Am Yeon Samsa, at your command, Patriarch."
"There's work to be done."
"Give the order."
"Find out where the Cheonroegeom is."
The Legio Yeon Un-jae tossed flew toward the black shadow.
"As you command."
Am Yeon Samsa tucked the Legio into his sleeve and melted into the darkness, vanishing.
Yeon Un-jae smiled faintly and reached out; the scabbard on the wall flew to his hand.
The moment it touched his palm, sparks flew from it.
"Throwing a tantrum, are you? I've waited so long. I've finally found your true master. Just a little longer."
As if in response, the scabbard vibrated and flashed.
Kim Jun pressed himself as flat as possible against the cliff face, inching upward with utmost care.
He positioned his left hand gripping a protruding rock and his two feet to form an equilateral triangle, but his right arm—numb and dangling like a log—was the problem.
"Old geezer..."
The whisper escaped through gritted teeth.
The next hold was up and to the right. That meant reaching with his right hand to climb higher.
He let out a sigh.
"Dementia fossil..."
Supporting his weight with his left hand, Kim Jun turned his head to check below and jolted.
Fifty meters up with just his left arm!
Humanity wins.
He deliberately avoided looking up. Knowing how much farther might sap his will completely.
Steadying his breath, Kim Jun launched toward a distant left hold instead of the safer right one.
Clack.
Fingertips snagged the hold.
Three fingers barely gripped it. Kim Jun dangled from those three fingers. If only his right arm worked, he could've surged up in one go.
A cramp hit his middle finger.
Sharp pain spread across his palm.
Slipping fingers.
Kim Jun lost the hold and plummeted toward the sea. How many times was this? He stopped counting after ten.
Splash.
Pulled deep by the fall's momentum, Kim Jun spotted the black cave huddled far below—a black hole sucking everything near it inside.
He thrashed his legs desperately to escape the whirlpool and surfaced.
"Aaaargh!"
He lacked the strength to climb the rocks. His exhausted left hand, now cramping too, could only cling desperately.
Slap—a wave crashed over his face.
Seawater flooded his mouth, nose, and ears.
Then, he sensed a presence.
Turning, Kim Jun saw his master.
Resentment outweighed any joy. No matter how vital training was, what kind of master paralyzed an arm and tossed you into the sea?
"Can't sleep with all your yapping."
"...Huh?"
Kim Jun's gut twisted.
"Old geezer, fossil, dementia... what else was it?"
"That was just me venting 'cause I was pissed."
"So you did well?"
A proverb popped into his head—something his mom once said.
"Wasn't great, but even the king gets cursed where he ain't."
"The king? Am I the king?"
"You're higher than the king, Master."
Nam Eung-ryeol's lips twitched. He was holding back laughter, cheeks rigid.
Nam Eung-ryeol extended a hand and hauled Kim Jun from the sea onto the rocks.
"Master indeed."
Kim Jun gave a thumbs-up with his left hand.
"You rascal."
Chucking, Nam Eung-ryeol lightly tapped the jungbu acupoint on Kim Jun's chest.
A cool sensation spread from his chest to his right shoulder and arm.
Kim Jun tested his fingers, clenched his fist, rotated his wrist, bent and straightened his elbow. Swinging his arm confirmed the recovery.
"That's the jungbu point."
"Jungbu."
Kim Jun touched below his collarbone. Just a poke there had locked his arm—and caused all that suffering.
Jungbu—he'd never forget it.
"What're you doing?"
Nam Eung-ryeol said, sitting on a rock.
Kim Jun eyed him warily in a low stance. Might get acupointed and dumped in the sea again.
"Not eating breakfast?"
Nam Eung-ryeol whispered.
Kim Jun nodded and dove into the sea—for the dom fish his master craved at every meal.
Kim Jun scooped a hefty chunk of white fish flesh with his chopsticks and chewed happily.
"Master, this is delicious."
"Sweat makes the appetite."
"You didn't sweat a drop, so food must taste like nothing."
"What?"
"Heh heh, kidding. Eat up, Master."
Grinning Kim Jun.
Nam Eung-ryeol was exasperated. None of his past students—taught at others' requests—had talked like this. He'd been strict and terrifying enough to shut down any such talk.
No. I never trained anyone as harshly as Kim Jun. I 'killed' him with my own hands several times. Any normal guy would've shit himself and fled at the sight of me. This one's different.
Chewing slowly on bossam wrapped in kimchi, Nam Eung-ryeol realized something.
Bone Transformation had remade not just bones and muscles, but mind and personality too.
"Back in my day—your age—I sweated ten times more."
Nam Eung-ryeol chuckled inwardly. Who knew twilight years would have him talking like a kindergarten kid.
"Oh, sure."
Lackluster response.
"Don't believe me?"
"How could a disciple doubt his master? Just hard to picture you young. Bet you were born with wrinkles, crying all stern."
Imagining it, Kim Jun giggled, contorting his face in mock newborn master frown.
Nam Eung-ryeol burst out laughing too.
"Master, a question."
"Shoot."
"Yesterday, poking my chest bounced your finger 'cause of Cheonnoe Heart Technique."
"Yep."
"But Pointing Blood on jungbu paralyzed my arm instead—no bounce. Don't get why."
Nam Eung-ryeol loved the question. Pondering deeply was key to such insights.
"I'll explain simply. Stick your hand in a snake's flicking mouth to catch it? Bites. Wise hunter wraps from behind, grabs the head. Even viper grandpa can't bite then."
"Different Pointing Blood methods?"
"Right."
Nam Eung-ryeol beamed at his disciple's sharpness. With guidance, he'd grow fast on his own.
"Want to learn Pointing Blood?"
"Yes."
Disciple's eyes sparkled.
"It's advanced. Master acupoints, open Du-myeok and Im-myeok with inner energy—still years of practice for basics. Worst, misuse isn't just paralysis... it kills."
"Kills?"
Kim Jun's eyes widened.
"Yeah."
Nam Eung-ryeol saw curiosity trump fear even at "killer technique."
Left alone, he'd delve deep—and with talent and grit, master it quicker than expected.
"Young days—few years older than you—I killed a man. One finger."
"......"
Kim Jun was speechless.
So stunned, the fish between his chopsticks dropped.
"On a cozy date, thugs approached. Handled a few, but the gang swarmed—dozens, pipes and bats. To protect my girl, I used a forbidden technique.
Still feel my finger on that thug's death point. My energy sliced his qi like a razor. Telling this'll keep me up nights.
You're beyond carrier now. Training decides, but post-Bone Transformation with Cheonnoe Heart Technique, you'll outmatch average Raiders. Use that power carefully."
"Got it, Master."
Kim Jun utterly serious.
"Boat's coming."
"Master, one more question."
"So many curiosities. Go on."
Nam Eung-ryeol's smile softened.
"When's your birthday?"
"...What?"
"Birthday. You know it, right?"
"Why ask?"
"Disciple should celebrate. Who else? Tell me favorite foods too—bring some next time."
"Nonsense. Grab the Cheonroegeom. Boat's almost here."
Nam Eung-ryeol barked, but his chest warmed like never before.
Thought he'd gained a talented disciple—turns out, a cheeky, lovable grandson.
Minutes later, Fisherman Kang arrived at the island.
Kim Jun clutched the cloth-wrapped Cheonroegeom and boarded.
Nam Eung-ryeol, hands behind back, boarded too.
"Coming to Seoul with me?"
"Need mainland to call that bear."
"...Oh."
Disappointed Kim Jun.
Nam Eung-ryeol gazed quietly at the receding island.
The boat headed for land.
The bulldog-faced detective stepped out, scanned around, spotted Skyla, and hurried over.
"Reporter Seo, what brings you here? Gracing us with your presence?"
"Paying my debt."
"...Debt?"
"Not forgotten, right?"
"F-Forget? Tell me. How can I help?"
"Evidence storage."
"Th-That's off-limits."
"Got it."
Skyla turned coolly toward the parking lot, counting inwardly.
One, two, three.
"Five minutes max. No more."
"Naturally. Knew I could count on you, Detective Jo."
Skyla playfully hooked arms with Detective Jo.
Shaking her off with a sigh, he led her to evidence storage. Fellow detectives saw but pretended not to know the situation.
"Really five minutes."
"I know."
"This squares us."
"We'll see."