Radiant Ascension
I had to receive treatment from the physician, then sit for an interview with Bae Taek-ju, the director of Ipmaso.
We faced each other alone in a cramped room. We were not equals. Unlike him, free to move as he pleased, my hands and feet were bound. The psychological pressure of knowing he might kill me sat heavy on my chest.
"Number 123. Why did you attack Instructor Jeong?"
Bae Taek-ju's low voice struck the walls and came back as an echo.
"It wasn't an attack. It was an accident during a spar."
"Instructor Jeong's dantian is shattered. A martial artist's dantian is shattered. Don't tell me you don't understand what that means."
"I understand. As a martial artist, his life is as good as over."
"Exactly. You killed Instructor Jeong."
"I didn't kill him. He's still alive, isn't he?"
"Why did you do it?"
"I've said it several times already — it was an accident. The instructor started the spar. He was the one who put a blade in my hand. If you doubt me, ask the members of Group One. There were over a hundred witnesses."
"…"
"And I was injured too. I got burned by the Scorching Yang Palm he used."
I wriggled my left arm for Bae Taek-ju to see. With my hands bound, lifting it wasn't easy. Bandages were wrapped around it from the physician's treatment.
"I saw it earlier — the pus and melted skin were pretty grotesque. If you'd like, I can show you."
"Enough. The physician said he applied medicine. There'll be a scar, but nothing serious."
"That's a relief."
"…Because of you, Instructor Jeong has to leave Ipmaso."
"He's not leaving the Cult, is he? He'll figure out how to survive within it."
In this world, martial artists were admired. Martial arts meant power, and the higher your realm, the longer your lifespan. Ordinary people feared martial artists even as they envied them.
Of course, that didn't mean everyone became one. By proportion, martial artists probably made up less than five percent of the population. Among them, truly skilled ones were rarer still. Most people lived as farmers. Even the Heavenly Demon Cult wasn't much different in that regard.
"I'm starting to get hungry. How long do I have to stay here?"
"…Number 123. Consider this a warning. Keep your head down. Don't ignore an instructor's orders, and don't talk back."
"Yes, sir. Understood. But this really was an accident. And this is just my opinion, but… on the first day, I put out one guy's eye, didn't I? I think Instructor Jeong was put up to it by that bastard."
"I'll look into that separately. Until the results come out, you stay here and do nothing."
"Here? What about food? I get a little sharp when I skip meals. I'd also like a bath. Cleanliness should be maintained, shouldn't it?"
"Shut up and wait here."
Bae Taek-ju rose from his seat and left. I remained restrained.
Bae Taek-ju tried to pressure me psychologically, but he didn't lay a hand on me. Things are going well.
I looked down at my bandaged left arm. Pain rolled through it. My arm hurt. I wanted nothing more than to use Full Recovery.
No. If the burns vanish now, they'll find it suspicious. A week… no, I need to play injured for at least three days.
By evening, I was finally allowed to return to the dormitory. Word was that the instructor I'd fought had been removed from Ipmaso.
"Number 123. Care to spar with me?"
Number 88, the Young Heavenly Demon Cheon Yu-un, approached and spoke to me.
Ever since the incident where I'd wrecked an instructor's dantian, almost no one wanted to spar with me. The instructors were no exception. They were quietly afraid of me as well. The fact that the gap between my skill and theirs wasn't particularly large played a part.
Outwardly, I was at the ninth stage of Ipsik, while the average instructor at Ipmaso sat around the eighth stage of Ipsik. The average for Group One's instructors was the second stage of Chulji.
"You want to spar with me? Number 88, are you out of your mind?"
"Haha. Still hung up on that last spar? That was just an accident. I know it, and so does everyone else."
Cheon Yu-un played the magnanimous type. His real personality was nothing of the sort. He simply acted the part because it made him likable. Cheon Yu-un was the kind of man who smiled to your face and schemed behind your back.
The reason he'd approached me now was almost certainly because he was sure I was Yeom Gu-seok. I'd made sure of that yesterday — casually stripping off my upper garment so he could see the red fiend tattoo carved into my back.
Armed with knowledge of the original story, Cheon Yu-un knew Yeom Gu-seok's talent. From here on, he'd try every means available to pull me into his inner circle.
All I had to do was oppose him at first, then eventually swear my loyalty. Just as he used his knowledge of the original, I would use mine.
Cheon Yu-un took up a sword. I gripped a broad saber — a dadao. Unlike Hwaryeonbido, its blade was wide and flat. An awkward weapon for me, but there was no helping it. In the original, Yeom Gu-seok used this blade to perform the Chamgwi Dobeop.
Instructors gathered around. They watched Cheon Yu-un and me, then signaled the start of the spar.
I charged at Cheon Yu-un head-on — the early-story combat style of Yeom Gu-seok.
"Fierce."
Cheon Yu-un put power into his legs and knocked my blade aside. His expression was full of leisure. Just as I was concealing my strength with a seal, he was holding back as well. Gauging exactly how much was difficult, but I estimated he'd reached the realm of Ogi.
Clang! Kang!
Sword and saber collided, sparks flying. I pressed with raw force, but far from overwhelming him, I was the one being pushed back.
He's fighting me with technique, not strength.
He was bleeding off my power and defending at just the right level. From my perspective, it was parlor-trick stuff. If I went all out, I could break through Cheon Yu-un's technique and deal a fatal wound.
No. I have to lose here.
I forced down the irritation rising in my chest. Here, I had to move according to plan.
Cheon Yu-un deliberately showed an opening. Bait. A gap left on purpose. The moment I drove into it, the spar would end in my defeat.
But I can't just refuse to take it. At my current level, I shouldn't have the skill to recognize that opening as a feint.
I had to move as Cheon Yu-un intended. Stepping through a slightly clumsy footwork of the Chamgwi Dobeop, I closed in on him.
As if he'd been waiting, Cheon Yu-un spun his body and struck my blade with perfect precision. My wrist snapped right along with it.
…Getting completely toyed with is a little too much for my pride.
I forced my grip on the hilt as it tried to slip free and dragged the blade downward. The tip grazed Cheon Yu-un's shoulder. A thin spray of blood. His eyes went round with surprise.
Clatter!
The saber fell from my hand to the floor. I clicked my tongue looking at my wrist. The price of forcing that swing was clear. My wrist was completely broken. No strength would enter my right hand.
"I lose."
I spat the words while staring at the broken wrist. An instructor rushed over and stepped between Cheon Yu-un and me.
"…To swing a blade in that condition. You startled me. Truly impressive."
"Impressive…? Are you mocking me? I'm just a loser."
"I meant it sincerely. Care to spar again sometime?"
"…"
I narrowed my eyes at Cheon Yu-un. He was grinning. I could feel the greed directed at me. With this, he had confirmed Yeom Gu-seok's talent.
"Next time, I won't go down so easily."
"Haha. I'll be looking forward to it."
From that day on, Cheon Yu-un and I began talking more, drawing closer little by little. He was the one who initiated conversation. Things were proceeding well.
Two months had passed since my admission to Ipmaso. The training period lasted one year, with examinations every three months. Depending on their results, recruits could be demoted to a lower group — or, in the worst case, expelled from Ipmaso entirely.
Director Baek Taek-ju gathered the recruits in the plaza and addressed them.
"From this moment, the Ipmaso Archive will be opened. You will each learn one martial art from within. In one month, we will test how thoroughly you have mastered it."
The Ipmaso Archive was a collection of martial arts manuals. I didn't particularly look forward to it. The archive held only basic techniques. The so-called superior arts spoken of in the wider world simply did not exist there.
Group One, most of whom already practiced advanced arts, remained indifferent.
Group Two was tense. The exam a month from now could promote them to Group One — or demote them to Group Three.
Group Three's eyes shone with anticipation. Unlike Groups One and Two, they had only mediocre techniques to their names. For them, the arts of the Ipmaso Archive were an opportunity.
"Group One enters first. Look through the archive and tell an instructor which art you've chosen. This evening, you'll receive a handwritten copy of your selection. Leave the original manuals where they are."
Group One, my group, entered the Ipmaso Archive first. I was unimpressed. Nothing here caught my eye. A hidden opportunity? Unfortunately, the archive held no such thing.
I wandered the interior alone.
One manual caught my attention.
Chamgwi Dobeop.
The saber art Yeom Gu-seok had learned — and the one I had learned to play the part of Yeom Gu-seok.
Chamgwi Dobeop was a common martial art. With a modest sum of money, you could obtain it without much difficulty on the black market. Getting into the black market was harder than acquiring the art itself.
It's one of the saber arts practiced by the bandits in the mountains near this region.
I passed it by. Since I already knew Chamgwi Dobeop, I couldn't select it. I had to choose something new — something I hadn't learned.
"I'd recommend this footwork for you."
Cheon Yu-un's voice. I stopped walking and turned my gaze toward the sound. Cheon Yu-un was leaning against a bookshelf, speaking with an expressionless beauty. Number 567 — Yeon Ye-ha, daughter of the Sword Demon. She was already being whispered of as the First Beauty of the Demonic Cult, and in time she would be known as the Bright Blade Demon Empress, counted among the Heavenly Demon Cult's foremost powerhouses.
"And the reason?"
Yeon Ye-ha's voice carried no emotion. That was the effect of the Heart-Severing Demonic Sword she practiced — a demonic art that traded away feeling for overwhelming power.
"Phantom Step specializes in concealing presence. It may look useless for now, but there's no harm in learning it. The day will come when you need it. Perhaps sooner than you think."
"I see."
"It's only a recommendation. You don't have to force yourself."
"No. I'll learn it. I looked through the archive's arts once already — they all seemed much the same."
"Good. You won't regret it."
"Thank you for the recommendation."
Yeon Ye-ha left without another word.
Cheon Yu-un snapped his head around and looked at me. He grinned.