Chapter 77
The voice of the Namgung clan head wasn't loud, but it wasn't quiet either. It meant everyone in the training grounds could hear it.
Namgung Wan muttered to himself as if chewing over the words. "Good eyes?"
He tilted his head, watching Baek Ri-yeon walk away with a worried expression.
"You plan to let it continue like this? Ryu-cheong isn't the type to properly assess Yeon's physical condition."
"For now... let's see how it plays out. It seems the Namgung clan head has his own thoughts on the matter."
Baek Ri-gang replied in an ambiguous tone. Then, as if the thought had just occurred to him, he asked,
"Oh, by the way, why does Yeon call the Namgung clan head 'Grandfather'?"
"Father told her to."
The brief exchange ended, and the spar resumed.
This time, it was entirely different from before.
Watching the drawn-out match, Namgung Wan muttered,
"Just like a little rat... cough, Yeon's dodging incredibly well."
"......"
"Her footwork and lightness skill seem quite proficient? Hmm......"
Namgung Ryu-cheong thought the spar was turning out rather amusing.
The moment our second bout began, I launched the first strike.
He didn't flinch in surprise but calmly and straightforwardly blocked, gauging my strength.
Even though I'd put my all into it, the wooden swords clashed, and I nearly lost my grip.
Three times? Four at most?
Any more clashes, and I'd drop it for sure.
As I hurriedly retreated, he countered with a thrusting assault.
And that's when I could read the path of Namgung Ryu-cheong's sword.
It felt almost half in the realm of foresight.
I dodged his relentless flurry of strikes, retreating in a frenzy.
This... is working?
I widened my eyes in surprise even as I evaded.
Several factors made this possible.
For one, my recent training with Heavenly Mountain's Salt Master—getting my forehead flicked while learning to track paths visually—let me see his attacks much more clearly.
When the crisis(?) hit, I instinctively fell into the Baek clan footwork I'd practiced hundreds of times before my regression.
The Baek clan's swordsmanship and footwork were designed to deflect attacks and counterstrike.
In other words, they were built for evasion.
Finally, I'd watched Namgung Ryu-cheong spar with Seo Ha-ryeong countless times. I was familiar with his sword style.
And this was a cheat, but I'd drawn on a tiny bit of natural spiritual energy.
Just enough that my pupil color didn't change much.
Either way, it was no different from using a bit of internal energy.
Before I knew it, we'd circled the entire training ground like a whirlwind.
Namgung Ryu-cheong's breathing had grown ragged by now.
He was fighting honestly without internal energy, so it was only natural.
I glanced at the Namgung clan head, Namgung Wan, and my father.
Those three surely knew I was using internal energy—natural spiritual energy.
Since they're not saying anything... this much is allowed, right?
Namgung Ryu-cheong, convinced I was an internal energy cripple, wouldn't suspect a thing.
He glared at me, steadying his breath. "You... stop running away."
"Bring it!"
Emboldened by his rude words—something about Baek clan standards after I told him to quit joking—and my successful evasions, I shouted back.
"Catch me if you can!"
Flames leaped in Namgung Ryu-cheong's eyes.
Had I taunted him too much?
I ducked my head in a panic.
Whoosh.
A terrifying sound whistled past where my head had been. Goosebumps prickled my skin.
"Crazy, you trying to kill me?"
"You dodged."
"Still!"
"Shut up."
I fled, dodging his successive swings.
We circled the training ground once more.
"......"
"......"
I gasped for breath.
Aigoo, I'm exhausted!
I'd dodged well, but I couldn't evade every strike.
In the midst of fleeing, I'd had to block a few, and now my grip was spent.
The wooden sword in my hand felt like dead weight.
And... I could see Namgung Ryu-cheong growing accustomed to my evasion patterns.
Plus, his eyes look a bit bloodshot from anger...
This was probably the first time he'd chased someone around without landing a proper hit.
Occasionally, I spotted openings for effective counters, but my body was the limiter.
I could barely manage the dodges; attacking was out of the question.
I saw the counters, but I couldn't muster the will to exploit them.
Ha, only one way left.
I stared at the wooden sword in my hand... then hurled it straight at Namgung Ryu-cheong.
It was useless for proper swings anyway. Just a hindrance.
"......!"
In the moment he startled and swatted it away, I closed in tight.
His left hand—ungripping the sword—reached for me.
Compared to the countless blows from Heavenly Mountain's Salt Master lately, it was much slower.
I twisted my body to evade the left hand, shoving it aside with my forearm.
We were so close I could feel his widened pupils and regulated breathing.
I struck down at the acupoint on the wrist gripping his wooden sword.
Thwack!
A solid sound rang out, and I sighed.
"Ah......"
The strike landed properly, but my power fell short.
His hand loosened slightly, but he didn't drop the sword.
Naturally, his unyielding wooden sword now pointed at my throat.
The cold touch on my nape was chilling, and his bulging eyes were impressive.
"Mm, I lose."
"You......"
I took a deep breath and plopped down right there.
"Ah, I'm beat."
My head spun. Clutching my throbbing head, I looked up at Namgung Ryu-cheong.
"Ryu-cheong."
"Why are you calling me by name so casually......"
Cutting off his protest, I said,
"It's people who wield the sword."
"......?"
"Make something precious. That's how you'll surpass your wall."
By then, my father had approached.
"Yeon-ah, you lost."
"Yes."
"Young master, that was a fine spar."
"......No, it wasn't."
"I was planning to guide a few more bouts, but how about calling it here for today? You both look like you have much to ponder."
As my father spoke with Namgung Ryu-cheong, I tried to stand from the ground—only to collapse again.
My legs trembled; not a shred of strength remained.
I made a tearful face and reached for my father. "Waaah, Father, I can't get up."
He grabbed my arm with a helpless look and hoisted me up effortlessly.
Then he scooped me up, supporting my legs with his arm.
Namgung Ryu-cheong watched the father-daughter pair with an inscrutable gaze.
Namgung Ryu-cheong mechanically climbed the stone steps of the main hall.
Look at people. Make something precious.
What does she know about me?
He bit his lip.
She didn't even know his struggles.
He could just ignore such laughable lecturing.
But...
Baek Ri-yeon's eyes nagged at him. The emotion in them was clearly concern.
Who was worrying about whom? She could barely walk after a little spar, yet she looked at him with worry.
Come to think of it, her eyes seemed a bit brighter. Was that their usual hue?
A sigh escaped him unwittingly.
Just his imagination.
Even if not, what did brighter eyes have to do with him?
This was my loss.
Defeat.
He'd won, but it felt no different.
The opposite of his spar with Seo Ha-ryeong.
Even if his wooden sword had snapped, he could've continued and subdued her with the broken blade.
But with Baek Ri-yeon...
He hadn't dropped his sword, but if that downward strike on his wrist had held just a bit more power...
Instead of striking down, piercing the acupoint with internal energy and twisting would've been better... Ah, right, no internal energy. So striking was best. But letting her close in was the first mistake. Who'd expect her to throw the sword? Instead of batting it away, I should've twisted aside...
Namgung Ryu-cheong halted midway up the steps.
There, in a trance, he replayed the spar.
As he ruminated long on the bout, a stifling thought resurfaced, tightening his chest.
Sword aura.
It was strange he couldn't recreate it.
He'd sought advice from those around him, but they all said once achieved, it came with profound insight.
The sensation etched into the mind like instinct.
They couldn't explain it—only that it became as natural as breathing or blinking.
Everyone said the same.
Flames surged in his chest; anger boiled, vision blurring.
I...
His mind grew distant, a ringing sound echoing from afar like a tolling bell.