Martial Arts
Martial Arts
"Before the match, I said I'd learn a move or two from you. I take that back."
Namgung Hyeok pointed his sword tip at me like an accusing finger, his voice ice-cold.
"There's nothing to learn from you."
What the...?
Compared to his Cangqiong Wuya Sword Art, my Three Powers Sword Art was basically child's play, sure. But still...
"Isn't that a bit harsh?"
"Harsh? No. Not at all."
He shook his head firmly and charged straight at me. The first offensive move since the spar began.
I spotted the upward slash rising from below and instinctively unleashed Mount Tai Crushing Strike.
Normally, a downward chop packs more power than an upward swing. And with my superior physical strength, blocking it easily—and maybe even disrupting his stance if I played it right—should be...
My train of thought shattered the instant our swords clashed.
Kaang.
"Huh?"
And no wonder. The moment our blades met, his sword and the sword qi riding atop it spun like a rising dragon, flicking my arm back with reverse force.
I barely avoided exposing a glaring opening through sheer brute force again. But I couldn't relax.
His sword, now arcing upward, came slicing down diagonally.
I tried to dodge with a half-step back, but his blade twisted at an angle, accelerating even faster.
At this rate, even if I evade, it'll still hit...!
In an awkward stance with no real power behind it, I desperately thrust my sword forward.
Kang!
Of course, I was the one flung back again.
And then his follow-up strikes rained down. Heavy Sword with power surpassing my own strength. Twisting Variable Sword that warped awkwardly right before impact. Flowing Sword that deflected my hard-squeezed counters. Blindingly fast Swift Sword that strained the eyes just to track. And all of it wielded in a mad frenzy to overwhelm me—Dominating Sword.
Sword techniques of every style, infused with endless subtleties, assaulted me without respite.
A moment ago, he'd felt like a clear, all-encompassing sky—vast and impenetrable. Now, he was a storm of thunder and lightning, wild and ferocious.
Against a force of nature, all I could do was endure. I gritted my teeth, forcing my unstable stance to hold.
Sharpening my focus solely on batting away his blade amid the ringing metal clashes and explosive bursts of sword qi, his voice cut through clearly.
"You're undoubtedly strong enough to reach this point. You know how to fight well... but that's not martial arts."
"What?"
His face twisted in disappointment amid the scattering shards of sword qi.
"Your sword holds no subtleties whatsoever."
Well, yeah, because the sword art I learned is the Three Powers Sword Art. How profound could vertical slashes, horizontal cuts, and thrusts really be?
But as if reading my mind, he denied it outright.
"I'm not talking about simple forms. Haven't you felt it while crossing swords with me?"
"Felt what?"
Kwang!
He casually deflected the sword qi I'd bloated with excessive internal energy to offset his power and continued.
"I'm not using any special forms either."
"......"
Come to think of it, his sword had never once followed a fixed pattern. No elaborate trajectories—just swings in the perfect spot at the perfect time.
Astonishingly, it matched my own fighting style exactly.
What had Hong Yeonhwa taught me, after all? Not some grand sword art. Just how to land my attacks and block hers.
Yet even swinging our swords the same way, an undeniable gap yawned between us.
Not talent. Something more fundamental...
Ah.
"...The sky."
Yes. His sword drew the heavens.
Infinitely vast, ever-changing skies recreated through his blade.
Mine? Just swung to cut the enemy in front of me.
"Realizing it now? Your sword carries nothing."
I had no words.
"You merely swing your overflowing strength and internal energy. You've never truly wielded the martial."
Something thick and sticky welled up from deep inside, clogging my throat.
"That's why I said there's nothing to learn from you."
What the hell is martial arts, anyway?
"Enough with the show of strength."
That age-old question choked me.
Martial Arts
Literally, the study of martial techniques. The effort to grow stronger, or the strength gained from that effort? Something like that, roughly.
But in this world, martial arts refers to one of the abilities that use internal energy to produce supernatural phenomena.
Unbelievable superhuman strength, deflecting blades with bare skin, felling ancient trees with a single thin sword. Doesn't it sound cool just thinking about it?
So right after reincarnating into this world, I remember excitedly swinging my sword around, trying to recreate the stuff I'd only seen in novels.
I half-gave up after hearing I had no talent, but that was before meeting Hong Yeonhwa.
Now, I've reached the Peak realm, transcending human limits to some degree. Undeniably stepping into the ranks of true masters.
But while I love martial arts, can actually use them, their principles still baffle me.
Look at my body right now, blocking Namgung Hyeok's fierce barrage. Is this really the power of human muscle and bone density?
Sword qi is the same. Not quite a monomolecular cutter, but vibrating enough to slice through damn near anything.
And don't get me started on Thousand-Jin Weights. It actually makes your body heavier—where's mass conservation go?
The most astonishing part? Internal energy bends to your will. Think it, and impossible things happen. Not like the universe helps if you wish hard enough—what the hell is that...?
Of course, I know it's not that simple in practice. Constraints, tricky conditions, all that.
But the point is, despite being familiar with, admiring, and able to use martial arts, I've always questioned their underlying principles.
People here accept qi's existence as obvious, but with memories of my past life, I couldn't.
The martial in martial arts was the same.
Isn't a sword just a tool to cut enemies? Martial techniques just efficient ways to do it?
But no. Righteous, evil, demonic—every martial art has a core imagery. Profound or shallow, none exist without it.
...And just as I couldn't grasp qi, I couldn't comprehend infusing a sword with something more.
Namgung Hyeok must have seen right through that.
Kaang.
Even lost in thought, my body reflexively parried his incoming strikes. Training built up over time doesn't vanish just because my sword lacks substance.
But limits were approaching. Stamina and internal energy had margin, but each clash eroded my defense bit by bit.
Soon, raw power wouldn't suffice, and he wouldn't miss the opening.
Losing like this? Fine, really. This spar's goal was keeping Hong Yeonhwa and Paeng Soso out of needless rumors because of me.
I've shown I've fought my best, with solid skill. Mission accomplished ages ago. Just hold out and collapse—good enough.
As I loosened my grip thinking that, my eyes caught Hong Yeonhwa in the distance, fists clenched tight, staring my way.
Our pink eyes met—hers never leaving me for an instant.
Kwak.
My grip tightened on the sword without thinking.
Beating Namgung Hyeok now? Impossible. Better to admit defeat cleanly, no ugly struggling. Fits the original goal perfectly.
But even so.
I didn't want to lose in front of Hong Yeonhwa.
Why had I trained to exhaustion every day? To stand worthy beside her.
I still remember that colossal demon blotting the sun. The thrill as it carved its mark in the heavens.
I have to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her someday... Can't show a pathetic sight against mere Namgung Hyeok.
But right now, no way to win. So what?
I already knew the answer.
Martial Spirit Divine Art.
If martial arts is manifesting your heart's imagery into reality, then this art—where mind becomes power—is closest to its essence.
Did Master create it knowing I had this issue? No idea.
But what to do now was clear.
"Haaaaah!!"
"Kuh...!"
I roared like vomiting the lump choking my throat, blasting most of my remaining internal energy through my body.
Mimicking the demonic qi storm before Hong Yeonhwa's Heavenly Demon Reincarnation.
A small vortex swirled around me, making Namgung Hyeok hesitate and step back a few paces.
I gained time to reset, but at the cost of my internal energy bottoming out—no sustaining sword qi.
Didn't matter. Martial Spirit Divine Art elevates qi and body to match the heart's advance.
Not full recovery, but enough for one or two swings.
That would suffice.
"Huu... "
Exhaling lightly, I focused my mind.
Until now, I'd drawn will by picturing Hong Yeonhwa. But that wouldn't work.
I used her as a medium because I could feel her vividly, eyes closed or not.
...But she's not the only one etched clearly in my heart.
From the childhood Master took me in, to now—never once leaving my hand, the sword I'd swung ceaselessly.
Consciousness of it sharpened something vague into form.
Rough yet firm grip, keen yet hefty blade. Cold steel that sparks hot on clash.
Like the wooden practice sword of youth, cheap iron for drills, Master's fine blade bequeathed—or all at once.
The moment I recognized it as sword enough to name.
Memories of every swing flooded my mind.
No more crowd cheers, Namgung Hyeok's scorn, or my inner weakness.
A world filled with stillness.
In that silence, my body moved as if entranced.
Legs shoulder-width, spine straight for balance. Sword aligned center, slowly raised overhead.
My most familiar, confident stance.
Can't infuse imagery into sword? Infuse sword into imagery.
Martial Spirit Divine Art faithfully answered my demand.
Internal energy surged into the dim blade, reviving sword qi.
From haze to thick smoke, then blazing flames.
Starlight-white fire.
As its glow pierced the dark, surroundings reentered my sight.
Not much time passed? Or they waited?
Unlike before, Namgung Hyeok—eyes alight with excitement—charged fiercely.
His vast, sky-like sword met mine as I stepped forward.
A strike swung with the sole intent to crush even a colossal mountain in one blow, plummeting like a meteor.
Kwang———!
A thunderous boom shaking the entire training ground. Followed by a small crack.
Namgung Hyeok's sword, aiming to softly receive my attack, shattered on contact without chance to react.
His sky was too small to contain my blade now.
Seeing his expression—mix of emptiness and awe—as he stared at the fragmented sword, victory slowly sank in through my dazed mind.
...Did I win?
Hong Yeonhwa bouncing joyfully in the distance, her chest swaying freely, sealed it.
Yup. I won. For real.