Prove I'm the 'Weakest' in a Spar -1
The Heavenly Origin Heart Method.
This was the new internal energy method I had begun cultivating today—what you might call the superior form of the Three Origin Heart Method.
The truth was, at the lower realms, martial techniques that governed weapons—sword arts and the like—were much the same whether they were third-rate or first-rate. Differences in power and depth existed, of course, but fundamentally they were not so far apart.
Heart methods, however, were a different story. A second-rate heart method and a first-rate heart method stood worlds apart.
From first-rate onward, an internal energy method gained an attribute. The famous phenomena—the scent of plum blossoms clinging to a Mount Hua disciple, the golden halo surrounding a Shaolin monk—were all manifestations of that attribute within their internal energy.
The attribute of the Heavenly Origin Heart Method was Harmony.
Harmony was not a particularly popular attribute. Its defining trait was making incompatible things fuse more easily—allowing martial arts of clashing natures to link together more smoothly. But if you only ever trained arts that already matched, you never needed to worry about linking them in the first place. In short, it was a trait for people who dabbled in a little of everything.
Most martial artists poured everything into a single weapon and a single art, so Harmony was hardly a sought-after attribute.
For me, though, the Heavenly Origin Heart Method was a perfect fit.
Moon, Fire, Water, Wood, Metal, Earth, Sun—I had to consume spiritual elixirs of all seven attributes. And since some of their medicinal potency was said to remain even after consumption, that meant I would have to contain the energies of seven elixirs of seven different natures.
To govern those complex, mutually generating and mutually conflicting energies, the Harmony attribute of the Heavenly Origin Heart Method was essential.
I could feel my internal energy thrashing about in confusion. From its perspective, it had always traveled the paths of the Three Origin Heart Method—and now, overnight, it was being told to walk the routes of the Heavenly Origin Heart Method instead. No wonder it couldn't find its bearings.
But before long, my internal energy began to move along the Heavenly Origin paths without any real trouble.
The Three Origin Heart Method's nature was to convert the qi of the natural world into internal energy with the barest minimum of processing. Being so close to natural qi, it was easily reshaped into internal energy of other attributes.
Through the Heavenly Origin Heart Method, I attempted the Small Heavenly Cycle.
Circulating qi was exactly what it sounded like—sending energy through the entire body. Why do it? To take the natural qi drawn in through breath, seize it with your own refined internal energy as the core, and grow your reserves.
Even the gentle internal energy of the Three Origin Heart Method still carried its own distinct color. Until that color was fully stripped away and it became pure Heavenly Origin energy, I would have to handle it with care.
Again and again I caught strands of energy that seemed to follow the Heavenly Origin routes only to veer off toward the old Three Origin paths, and forced them back into circulation.
At last I gathered the energy and finished the session of qi circulation and regulated breathing.
"Hoo."
My whole body was drenched in sweat. The Three Origin energy had followed the Heavenly Origin routes without major incident, but there had been minor snags—and the aftermath of those snags was the sweat-soaked wreck I was now.
Qi deviation was nothing mystical. Lose control of your internal energy, and that was qi deviation. Internal energy was a powerful force, but it was a dangerous one as well. My circulation had only been slightly unstable, and even that was enough to leave my body streaming cold sweat from the strain.
I finished circulating and released my hold on the energy.
I could feel the internal energy refined by the Heavenly Origin Heart Method slowly cycling through my body, restoring my condition. After watching that flow for about an hour, I decided that even if it remained a little unsteady, nothing serious was going to go wrong.
Maybe that, too, was one of the advantages of a Harmony-attribute heart method.
I reflected on the Heavenly Origin Heart Method's effects, then opened the window and breathed in the fresh dawn air. Yes—this cool, damp air. This was the taste. Opening the day with this flavor was what a true martial artist's life was meant to be.
The dawn air I had always drawn in on the walk home from the gambling dens tasted especially sweet today.
Hoo. Look at me. I'd gotten drunk on sentiment without even noticing. This was nothing more than the everyday I would feel from now on, and here I was getting all poetic about it... Heh.
I shook off the mood and checked my condition. Even by the most generous standard, I was nowhere near my best. The fatigue piled up on the long journey after parting from the elder of poison still hadn't fully cleared, and applying a new heart method just now had left a slight strain on my body as well.
"So you're here."
The training ground was packed with nangin, and at their center stood Jeong Sam with his arms crossed.
I glanced around. Black Cat was perched on the first-floor roof, stuffing herself with fried rice, and from the fourth floor Yu Sa-yeon was looking down this way.
"I'll grant that you've got plenty of tricks. Gambling, the little schemes—all of that. But martial arts? That's not you."
Jeong Sam fixed me with a heavy stare.
Sichuan nangin were men obsessed with the martial path. You could call it a kind of fixation. As martial artists, Sichuan nangin could never build the renown they ought to have earned. Why? Because they had no names. Because their faces were hidden behind black bamboo hats.
Considering how many people in the Murim staked their lives on fame, that was no small sacrifice.
They couldn't freely flaunt their martial realms, either. On ambush contracts or sparring commissions they could win as much as they liked—but everywhere else, they had to stage their own defeats.
Victory and renown were both off-limits. The only thing a Sichuan nangin could freely pursue was martial arts itself. They lived in an environment that made it all too easy to become pure seekers, grinding their arts and looking at nothing else.
"I acknowledge your martial talent as well. When you, Yeo Jinsang, and I first became Sichuan nangin, all three of us were barely hanging on at second-rate. For the two years after that, I truly felt a wall between us. You got stronger by the day. I thought you'd reach first-rate within two years."
Shing.
Jeong Sam drew his Half-Moon Blade. There was no need to explain the Crescent Moon Blade as a weapon—Jeong Sam's Half-Moon Blade shared the same edge. The difference was the length of the haft.
Spears and Crescent Moon Blades used in the Murim tended to be shorter than those of the military. The hafts usually ran three to five cheok. Jeong Sam's weapon mounted a moon-blade edge on a haft of only one and a half cheok. Hence: Half-Moon Blade.
"But you hit a wall, and then you sank into wine, women, and gambling. How many years did you throw away into empty air? It's been more than four years now, hasn't it?"
"It has."
"I'm glad you've finally come to your senses, Ho Cheon-an. But I think you need to realize just how lazy you've been."
Ah. I understood.
Half-Moon Blade Jeong Sam was, for what it was worth, one of the more capable first-rate nangin under the Wanderer Inn. And I had, knowingly or not, slipped him a tip or two over the years as a fellow from the same cohort. Not that my help was what made him what he was now—that was the fruit of his own sweat and effort.
The reason Jeong Sam was standing out here, though, was clear enough. He wanted me to experience how far a peer from the same intake had come, and to give me some motivation.
I was a little moved.
These bastards. I'd thought they only ever mocked me—but they'd been thinking about me this seriously?
"...Thanks."
"Thanks, he says... It's a bit early for that."
Jeong Sam smiled as he spoke. Looking at him and the nangin beaming warmly around him, I felt my chest swell. These sons of bitches... Why did they have to go and move a man to tears? What had they prepared that had them grinning like that?
Had they all chipped in and bought me some modest spiritual elixir?
"So that you can face reality with absolute clarity, every nangin here has agreed to cooperate."
...Huh?
"Strictly speaking, I'm a six-year Sichuan nangin, aren't I? So beating you is only natural. I need to make absolutely certain you understand how far behind you've fallen."
Jeong Sam's mouth twitched as if he could no longer hold back the smile leaking out.
"Tomorrow, a five-year. The day after, a four-year. And so on—until it's established beyond any doubt that you are the Sichuan nangin's weakest. Every nangin has agreed to help. That's what I'm saying."
Ah. So that was it.
I looked at the nangin grinning from ear to ear. Watching them, I set down the paddle I had carved into my mind's eye the day before—and fitted a steel mace into its place.
I had been a fool to think of re-educating these malignant growths. Only now did I realize they were the kind of seed that needed their heads blown clean off.
"Fine. I've taken your feelings to heart. So you lot really do think I'm the Sichuan nangin's weakest."
"Face reality! You just reached first-rate. You think you can beat other first-rate nangin who've already been tempered by real combat?"
Jeong Sam piled it on even higher.
"Today I'll make sure you understand the wall of years that stands between us!"
"Ohhh~, now that's a line! A real classic!"
Yeo Jinsang clapped and crowed with delight. Right. These two from my cohort had driven this whole mess, and they were enjoying the situation more than anyone. That much was crystal clear.
"Starting today, we'll hold a ranking match. No—a ranking war."
"A ranking war?"
I laughed aloud.
"That's right. You've all gone to such lengths for my sake, stripping off your shoes and rolling up your sleeves. How could I simply let that devotion pass?"
There were currently twenty-eight Sichuan nangin active out of the Wanderer Inn.
"I'll accept the consensus of the house and place myself at twenty-eighth—the weakest."
Only then did the nangin realize the situation was taking a strange turn, and their faces began to harden.
"Anyone who beats me moves above me. Anyone who loses to me drops below me. Keep that up and a proper ranking of skill will emerge on its own, won't it? Hahahahahaha!"
You dare form a mob, stir up agitation, and smear me with fabrications? Then I'll hammer your solar plexuses with cold, hard facts.
"Jeong Sam—if you lose to me, that would make you twenty-eighth. The Sichuan nangin's weakest, wouldn't it?"
Jeong Sam's face went pale.
"Come on, then. Let's start the spar."
You're dead today. For real.