The Flowing Softness Softening Refinement
“Let’s spar.”
In truth, Cheon Yuhak had planned everything from the start. The sword-training method was a time-honored secret art of the Divine Thief, a scheme designed to push the senses to their absolute limit. The way movements grew softer was more of a side effect than anything—perhaps an unexpected bonus. Either way, it was secondary.
A blade could never fully replace a human hand. To overcome that limitation required exquisitely sensitive perception, microscopic control of strength, and perfect balance. So if Cheong failed and started complaining that it was impossible, Cheon Yuhak had intended to dazzle her with a demonstration and then offer her a particular martial art.
It was called Flowing Softness Softening Refinement, an external body-refinement technique whose name perfectly described its purpose: to make the body as supple and fluid as flowing silk. Unlike internal energy cultivation that built up inner power, external techniques focused on physical development. A famous example was Shaolin’s Great Prajna Diamond Indestructible Divine Art.
“Ah, um. Y-yes. That much is necessary, of course. Well, you do seem to have just a t-tiny bit of talent.”
“Oh! Really? I have talent?”
Cheong’s face lit up as she asked again. This was the first time she had ever heard she possessed talent without the help of her status window. All that relentless effort—starting from last night’s dinner, through the midnight clothes-shredding session, and continuing straight into breakfast—had finally borne fruit after roughly eight hours without rest. She felt a fresh swell of pride.
The status window, however, would have felt deeply wronged. Cheong was simply mimicking the motions through brute-force repetition backed by monstrous stats. She hadn’t grasped any real technique; she was simply bulldozing through it with superhuman physical ability. It was like running. A talented person would quickly understand optimal posture, breathing, and form, then improve. Cheong, on the other hand, was just stupidly shoving the ground away with raw leg strength. Still, if the results looked the same, observers could only assume she had talent.
“Even so, you’re still far from enough. Whether bare-handed or with a dagger, it should take the same amount of time. How long did it take you to eat yesterday? And to get dressed?”
“Um… that’s true, but won’t I improve quickly?”
“And after that, you must do it with your left hand. Ultimately, you should live with daggers in both hands. Only then can you claim to have reached the pinnacle of sword-training.”
“Ah……”
Then Cheong suddenly asked again.
“But do I really need to reach the pinnacle? I only need to learn what softness feels like.”
“Ahem. Once you grasp the pinnacle of sword-training, won’t you naturally come to understand the pinnacle of softness as well?”
“Hmm. I don’t know if that’s really necessary……”
Cheon Yuhak, feeling a twinge of guilt, tried to soothe her.
“Why, is it too difficult? The truth is, the sword-training method isn’t only about living with a blade in your hand. There’s a companion cultivation technique. If you practice them together, you’ll make much faster progress.”
“Oh, there’s another training method?”
“Indeed. It’s a divine art called Flowing Softness Softening Refinement. Hmm? Where are you looking? Is something there?”
“Ah! What’s that over there?”
Oh no. Cheong quickly feigned indifference. Given Cheon Yuhak’s profession, he had not missed that brief flicker of her gaze.
Flowing Softness Softening Refinement. External technique. Gold rank.
It was certainly called a divine art, but it was still only gold? Didn’t this uncle have any purple techniques? Was this all he had—some kind of trash?
Had Cheon Yuhak known her thoughts, he would have flown into a rage at such a heaven-defying insult. This is a divine art! What a filthy world that only respects the absolute best!
“So, will you teach me that Flowing Softness training method too?”
“Of course. Perform the nine bows of respect and—”
“I’m sorry.”
“What a wicked girl, cutting me off so sharply. Think about it just once more—”
“I’m sorry.”
“Damn it! This is a divine art! Look here! If you’re a swordsman, you should understand how incredible this is!”
Cheon Yuhak raised his hand and began bending it in every direction. The flexibility was downright bizarre. Bent backward, the back of his hand nearly touched his wrist. Bent forward, his palm came within a hair’s breadth of the same. It twisted sideways well past ninety degrees; the very range of motion transcended human limits. He extended his arm so the elbow bent sharply in the opposite direction, then rotated it in a full circle that formed a perfectly straight line with no deviation whatsoever.
It was truly a spectacle that would make any martial artist’s eyes spin, swordsman or not. With joint mobility expanded to such an extreme, the number of possible movements would easily reach into the thousands.
Unfortunately, Cheong was still somewhat lacking as a martial artist in this regard. She only knew how to use what she had; she understood nothing about application.
“Whoa. A sideshow. Last time you were selling books. Do you sell medicine too?”
“Sideshow! How dare you call it a sideshow! Who are you calling a cheap quack? Can’t you see? I’m offering to teach you this incredible divine art for free!”
“Well, even if I’m tempted, I can’t serve two masters. It’s a shame, but I’ll have to give the opportunity to someone else.”
“Aigo! Have you ever seen such a thick-headed, stubborn girl? How can a fool like this even exist in the world!”
Cheon Yuhak pounded his chest with resounding thumps. Watching him, Cheong wondered if he would bruise himself; the self-inflicted blows were violently powerful.
“You have so many wonderful divine arts. Surely you could find a disciple without needing me?”
“Hmph! Having seen you, how could I possibly choose anyone else? Who in the world would look at the most precious raw gemstone and then deliberately pick something inferior!”
“Hehe. It’s not that big a deal……”
Cheong scratched the back of her head in embarrassment. The sight only made Cheon Yuhak’s insides burn hotter. At the same time, his competitive spirit surged.
At first he had thought she was a girl with sharp enough eyes to recognize secret manuals. Then he learned her agility was unparalleled under heaven. But after putting her through the sword-training regimen, he discovered she possessed every single quality a Divine Thief needed, packed full to the brim. She was the perfect talent. And look at that sense of loyalty. If she could show such devotion to her original master, she would surely do the same for him.
How could he not covet her? Even if he raised another successor now, he would spend the rest of his life regretting it, forever haunted by the thought of what might have been.
“Hmph. Just you wait.”
“You really don’t have to watch…… Well then, I’ll be going.”
Cheong bowed politely and withdrew.
----
Henan cuisine was characterized by incorporating the distinctive flavors of all four cardinal directions. In other words, it was a hodgepodge that lacked any unique identity of its own. If one insisted on identifying its color, the staple was rice—though never eaten plain. It was always fried. Noodles were mostly rice noodles as well. And the region boasted the strongest onion obsession in all of the Central Plains. In short, it was rather inconvenient for eating with blades.
For fried rice to be considered premium, each grain had to remain separate, never clumping together. The onions were sliced into thin strips. Cheong carefully piled fried rice onto her dagger and lifted it solemnly above her head. Naturally, a shower of rice grains pattered onto the table. She tilted her head back, stuck out her tongue, and tried to scrape the food into her mouth. Four grains fell back onto the table, three landed on her face, and only three actually made it inside.
To be honest, Paeng Daesan had only commented once at the very beginning and stayed mostly silent afterward. It was less about respect for her dedication to training and more that watching an unrivaled beauty of the world make such a fool of herself was quite the spectacle.
But watching Namgung Sinjae do the same was simply unbearable.
“What on earth are you doing at the dinner table? Brother Namgung, why are you acting like this?” Paeng Daesan lamented.
Namgung Sinjae was grunting while wielding his long sword; the sight of the blade sweeping back and forth across the table was unpleasant enough on its own.
“Mm. I saw what my sword-friend was doing, and this training certainly seems effective. You experienced it yourself today, did you not?”
“There’s no guarantee that it’s because of that training—um. Sister. Why are you holding your saber? I-I believe you, of course.”
“It occurred to me that I have been truly lazy. I call myself Saber Crazy and claim to be married to my blade, yet I feel nothing but shame. Mm. Watching Cheong made me realize it. Every single breath should be training.”
Paeng Daesan’s expression crumpled. Come to think of it, Paeng Cho-ryo was also famously insane when it came to training. The only reason everyone treated her as an older sister was because she was the Jade Qilin’s older sister. At heart, she was a training maniac obsessed with sabers—light, heavy, straight, or curved.
“Just what kind of scene is this?”
Paeng Daesan sighed deeply and reached out with large chopsticks toward a hefty piece of Dongpo pork. At that exact moment—
“Yahp!”
With an adorable shout, a flying throwing knife suddenly pierced straight through the meat. The chunk of pork sailed into the air along the string attached to the knife and landed neatly on Dang Nan-a’s plate.
“Heh, this is why you have to choose your weapon well. See? How convenient?”
What she held was a long needle that looked no different from a thin chopstick. Paeng Daesan looked at Dang Nan-a and thought, She becomes more detestable with each passing day. Or did she? He was momentarily confused. Come to think of it, she had been equally insufferable from the first time they met, going on about legitimate wives and whatnot. Perhaps she had always been consistently detestable.
Paeng Daesan sighed again and reached out once more.
“Yahp!”
Another throwing knife flew with a thud.
“……What are you doing?”
“It’s for Cheong. Cheong, eat this. Training is important, but a person still needs to eat. Here, here.”
With impressive skill, she flicked the string and sent the piece of meat flying neatly onto Cheong’s plate.
“……I’m going to lose my mind.”
Paeng Daesan rubbed his face in exasperation.
There was one more person on the verge of losing her mind: Cheong herself. She loved stuffing her mouth until both cheeks bulged and chewing vigorously. But having to push tiny bits of fried rice with a dagger was driving her insane. Finally unable to endure any longer, she reached out with her short sword toward a shaobing.
Shaobing was one of Henan’s signature dishes, baked by sticking the dough to the wall of a tall clay oven. Cheong stabbed the bottom of the flatbread with her blade, gently lifted it, and took a huge bite. She wriggled her lips, trying to push it farther into her mouth, but the crispy exterior made it stubbornly difficult to eat.
What happened next was entirely due to her usual habits. The bread she had bitten into began tearing along the teeth marks and falling apart. Instinctively, Cheong moved to push the food deeper into her mouth with her hand—the hand currently holding a dagger. She thrust the point straight in. The famous blade, renowned for its sharpness throughout the world, slid into the shaobing without the slightest resistance.
Clang!
The sound of the dagger hitting the floor was followed immediately by—
“Ack!”
A scream packed with panic and pain.
In an instant, the sword-grunting man, the saber-grunting woman, and the remaining pair all turned to stare at Cheong. She was covering her mouth with one hand. Bright red blood streamed out from beneath it—not dripping, but flowing freely.
“Cheong! What’s wrong, what happened!”
“Hurgh, hurgh, hurk.”
It roughly meant she had stabbed her tongue. How deeply had she pierced it for the bleeding to be this severe? Yet Cheong kept her eyes lowered, her face burning with shame. It seemed embarrassment outweighed the pain.
Paeng Daesan, relieved that it wasn’t a serious injury, could no longer hold back his sigh. He let it out loudly.
I knew this would happen.