Chapter 28
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: This is a Dog-Eat-Dog Martial World Where Only the Strong Survive!
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“Then, if you’d come in with your little brother, you wouldn’t have told me all the way to the end?”
“…Why does it come out like that?”
Number 500 stared at me with bewildered eyes and spat it out curtly.
“Still, you would’ve told me. Your little brother must’ve whined in your ear that this was something I absolutely had to know.”
“Why is your life’s standard all about your little brother? Try living a self-centered life for once. You wanna die if he dies?”
At my advice, Number 500’s face took on a strange expression.
“Anyway, thanks for telling me. I’d be even more grateful if you’d told me a bit sooner.”
“That doesn’t really sound like gratitude.”
“If it came off that way, then you heard it right.”
He picked at his ear and bounded up the stairs with light steps.
As soon as we reached the training ground, the morning wake-up drum blared out dong-dong-dong, noisily.
Soon, the trainees began appearing atop the stairs one by one.
In just a week, only 48 remained out of 500—that was impressive in its own way.
Proof that they’d been worked like dogs, that’s what.
Now, if just eighteen more dropped out of these, the entrance exam would be over. It seemed like it’d wrap up in two to three days.
Those who’d endured this far were the elite of the elites, so it was obvious the fight wouldn’t be easy.
“But when the hell do we even get to hold a sword? We’re in the sword division, but it’s just endless laps around the training ground, horse stance drills, and cliff climbing. Isn’t sword talent the most important thing for getting in?”
As I grabbed my canteen and stretched my limbs, someone grumbled.
As if he’d heard the grumbling, Uijin, who’d gathered us in the training ground, announced that today’s morning session would be sword practice—none of that cliff climbing, laps, or horse stance nonsense.
“From today, you’ll hold swords. Everyone, grab one wooden sword from over there.”
Amid kids lighting up, scrambling for the best-conditioned wooden swords, I just picked a decent one and slipped out.
A true artisan doesn’t fuss over tools.
“What the? Why’s it so heavy?”
“Ugh, my wrist is gonna break.”
In front of the guys panicking with the hefty wooden swords, I swung mine freely—whoosh, whoosh—like it was nothing. A bit of intimidation.
You can gauge talent just from simple swings.
Whether their stance is solid, if they can swing in proper sequence, if they can execute complex forms.
Most of the trainees had some sword experience, so their postures were decent enough.
That made Juyeong stick out all the more, fumbling awkwardly as she gripped her sword and tried to assume an iaido stance.
‘First time holding a sword?’
Her grip on the hilt, her slightly spread legs, the angle of her arms—all of it was off.
A skilled one stands out among the unskilled, but conversely, an unskilled one among the skilled stands out just as much.
She’d endured the physical stuff through sheer grit, but sword posture couldn’t be fixed with grit alone.
Juyeong must’ve felt the eyes on her, because she clamped her mouth shut, glanced at those around, and started correcting her own form.
‘Is she a real genius…?’
Just by glancing at others’ postures, her form was coming together nicely. I was impressed watching the process.
Her downward strike started sloppy but got cleaner with each rep.
“Focus.”
I guess I was too obvious glancing at Juyeong while swinging. Doseon clicked his tongue, warned me, and swept past.
Downward strikes? I could do them blindfolded—or half-asleep. I’d done them to death since I was four.
Since they were only teaching basic swordsmanship, no sparring today. So, picking thirty out of forty-eight was up to the supervisors’ discretion?
They’d select those showing sword talent—the promising sprouts. Guess my passing was a done deal then.
The other kids either hadn’t noticed or were griping about just doing basics like downward strikes, thrusts, and slashes.
“I thought we’d learn Six Harmonies Sword. Tch.”
“No sparring? If there is, I wanna go with Juyeong. Sparring her’s a guaranteed brawl.”
Pretending not to hear the mocking laughs aimed her way, Juyeong kept swinging her sword even during break time.
And that continued into the evening break after mandatory training ended.
“You really gonna go train now? Resting would be better.”
“…I was the only one who’d never held a sword. I can’t fall behind.”
I teased Juyeong as she kept rubbing her right shoulder.
“If you wanna drop out tomorrow ’cause you can’t even hold the sword, then go train.”
She bit her lip, hesitating at the door.
“Why wreck yourself? Just like Seong Riri, take the Jungnam core disciple entrance exam next month. If you wanna join Mount Hua that bad, there’s always outer disciple spots.”
“I don’t have a next time.”
Juyeong spat it out like it burned her tongue, glaring at empty air with her usual world-weary eyes.
“Ran away from home?”
“Nah, ran away from a gisaeng house.”
Gisaeng house? The one I know?
With the courtesans and booze?
“It wasn’t hard getting to Hwaseum from one in Daeryeo. Problem is, they can catch me just as easy. Probably got ronin on payroll from the house scattered around Hwaseum?”
So that’s why she was so desperate. Drop out, and no chance at Jungnam’s exam next month—she’d just get dragged back.
“I really have no chance if not this time. I’d rather die than get hauled back and follow my big sisters’ footsteps there. I need Mount Hua’s protection—no exceptions.”
Juyeong sneered, her steel-blue eyes flashing. I noticed her battered fingertips.
I felt ashamed saying our desperation was the same. Our starting lines were worlds apart.
If I failed, I could go back to the palace. For her, it was just a cliff.
“When swinging, your shoulders tense up too much. Fix that, and the muscle pain’ll be way less.”
At my sudden advice, Juyeong blinked.
“And your form’s way better than those cocky idiots who’ve held a sword before. So don’t worry.”
“I figured you only knew how to scrape nerves, but you can comfort too?”
She tossed back words that could’ve been praise or insult at my awkwardly sincere encouragement.
“It’s all about spotting talent anyway. Show fast growth, and you’ll pass no problem. I can already spot the eighteen who’ll drop.”
At first, she was one of them, but after her story, I couldn’t let her fail.
“So if you wanna show growth by tomorrow, head to training now—”
“First, get your stance right. This genius swordsman Biyeon—who swung swords before he could walk—will teach you from one to ten.”
I handed her a lantern I’d snuck from the next rooms over and winked.
I expected her to balk, but she calmly took it and asked,
“Are you a eunuch?”
“Nope?”
“Then why’re you doing this?”
I wiped the grin off my face and answered seriously.
“You said you need Mount Hua’s protection. Mount Hua doesn’t turn away those who need help.”
I was a child of Mount Hua, who’d lived under its protection.
Extending that same protection to others—that’s righteousness and chivalry, right?
Juyeong snorted at my words.
“Talking like you’re already a Mount Hua disciple.”
“Gonna happen anyway, so what’s it matter?”
I shrugged, and Juyeong burst out laughing. The first bright smile I’d seen from her.
* * *
“Number 1, 500, 99, 327… Finally, 202.”
With Juyeong’s number last, the thirty were all called.
The eighteen not named finally shed tears.
The final thirty were set. The end of the week-long entrance exam.
I was naturally among them. My heart raced thinking of bragging to Uihyeon and Uiseong about how my endurance training had paid off.
We saw off the dropouts we’d bonded with over the week’s ordeals, right to the Selection Hall gate.
Wonder how many would return to Mount Hua.
The ones who lasted to the end—would they aim for core disciple spots elsewhere, or join as outer disciples?
Once the dropouts left, the remaining thirty gathered in the front courtyard of the hall where we’d first assembled. The 28th generation core disciples who’d lead Mount Hua’s future.
Exam chief supervisor Doseon gave a solemn congratulatory speech.
“Congratulations on becoming official Mount Hua disciples.”
Sect records used dharma names, not birth names, so as Mount Hua disciples, we severed worldly ties by discarding our names for dharma names.
Normally, masters named their disciples’ dharma names, but squabbles over giving their own pupils auspicious characters became an issue. So at some point, it changed to the Selection Hall chief supervisor assigning them.
“Number 1 is Biyeon, 500 is Bihwan, 99 is Bihun, 327 is Biran….”
I yawned as the assigned dharma names rang out.
No good names with the ‘Bi’ character, as expected. All so rustic.
I stayed Biyeon, Number 500 got Bihwan. And Juyeong held onto the end of her name.
I extended a hand to Juyeong, now to be called Biryeong.
“Nice to meet you, Biryeong sahyeong.”
“Why am I your junior sister? You’re my junior sister.”
She scoffed, correcting me, but grabbed my hand back. Seeing that, I grinned mischievously.
“Who knows? Maybe not.”
A Biryeong calling me senior politely with honorifics? Looking forward to it.