Yeon-gi-gyeong
When I came to, a familiar smell assaulted my nose. After losing consciousness during the fight with the Four Perils and barely waking, A-rang raised his trembling hand. A faint, swirling energy. It was qi.
"Haa..." He let out a deep sigh and replayed the events in his mind. With only the sound of his pounding heart in his ears, A-rang had shattered his dantian to open the Imdokyangmaek. Even this wretched body possessed a will to live; the force of the innate true qi, called seoncheonjingi, exceeded all imagination. Not only the Immaek and Dokmaek, but the Gigyeongpalmaek, and further still the twelve main meridians and countless smaller vessels—all had been opened. No, to be precise, they had not been opened so much as the entire meridian system had been torn apart.
The power that condenses a lifetime into a single moment—that was the strength of the seoncheonjingi known as janhwa. That was why his body should have died... yet it had not.
—Grip.
"It was a gamble."
Three years of the Seoncheonjingi Haenggong. Not a short time, yet hardly long when measured against a human life. How many times had he attempted to circulate qi during those years? How many times had he tried the exercises? Each attempt had taught him what it meant to possess meridians as feeble as those of someone with jeolmaekjeung. He had moved a far more ferocious and immense force than ordinary qi.
If there was any blessing, it was this: the agony of opening the Imdokyangmaek was said to surpass death itself. Yet A-rang's case had been different. Because every meridian had ruptured, the walls of turbid qi that should have caused such pain had already collapsed. With nothing left to lose, he endured, reflected, and pressed forward until he completed a single small heavenly circuit. Only then did his body finally accept qi.
Thus he reached a new realm.
Jeoljeong—the Peak.
"It cannot be the Peak..." A-rang pressed a hand to his dantian. His lower abdomen was empty. The dantian had already been reduced to fragments; by all rights he should be considered dead as a martial artist. The problem was that he could still wield qi even without a dantian. It made no sense.
"What on earth should I call this...?"
It was too early to reach any conclusion alone.
—Heh.
"A martial artist without a dantian." The phrase was perfect for mockery. Or perhaps astonishment.
Though his thoughts were tangled, at least the outcome had been favorable. For now, he needed sleep.
When I awoke, Seohan Express was in an uproar. Even escorts from Geumho Express had come to visit. When Dong U-rim told me that Mak Yu-cheon and Mak Ri-yu had thrown such a fit, insisting they wanted to follow, I could not help but laugh. Apparently Baek Yeong, who had gone to provide support, had been so terrified of having to return that he fled outright; a pursuit party had been sent after him.
The medical hall, once thrown into chaos, had grown quiet again. I looked at the Geoyageom leaning against the wall and recalled Dong U-rim's words.
"Simangeom..."
Three years since I first set foot in the martial world, and I already had a nickname. They could not very well call me blind outright, so they combined "eyes that see with the heart" and "sword." Killing the Peak expert Georyeokgui Son Pae-ang made the nickname inevitable, yet what truly displeased A-rang was something else.
"Siman..."
It seemed the matter of his eyes would follow him for the rest of his life. A nickname meant his name would spread through the jianghu, and it also meant it was already too late to withdraw from this world. From now on he would have to face stronger opponents, whether he wished it or not. Curiosity or the desire to steal his fame would bring them.
"First... I must go to the Hyeongsan Sect."
To grow stronger, he needed to seek counsel from the peerless expert Yi Yeon-baek.
Before heading to the Hyeongsan Sect, A-rang stopped by Geumho Express. His purpose was singular: he believed it was time to leave the agency. He and Deputy Chief Yeo Geuk-seong sat facing each other. On the table stood a single bottle of liquor.
—Yeoa Hong. Not the cheap red wine sold at roadside inns, but the genuine article found only in high-class pleasure houses.
Yeo Geuk-seong poured into a cup and slid it toward A-rang.
"You have earned the right to lift this cup."
A-rang stared at the cup for a moment, then drained it in one swallow.
"...Kuh."
His throat burned.
"How is it?"
A-rang frowned. "I cannot fathom what pleasure people find in drinking something so harsh."
Yeo Geuk-seong replied, "No matter how harsh, it cannot compare to a person."
A-rang fell silent, gazing at the empty cup. Yeo Geuk-seong refilled it.
"In all things under heaven there is comparison. No matter how bitter, it will be less bitter than the world itself."
A-rang drank again.
"How is it now?"
"Sweet."
Yeo Geuk-seong gave a small laugh. "It is expensive liquor, after all."
...So the man could make jokes. It was not particularly funny, yet the corner of A-rang's mouth twitched.
He was about to state his reason for coming when Yeo Geuk-seong spoke first, after draining his own cup.
"Leave."
"...How did you know?"
"If I could not tell, I should step down as deputy chief."
"That is true."
A man who had risen through the ranks on the strength of his eye for people. Distinguishing those who would stay from those who would go was hardly difficult. For that reason A-rang felt gratitude toward Yeo Geuk-seong; he himself had been saved by that same discernment.
"Elder, should calamity ever befall Geumho Express in the distant future, this Yeon A-rang will lend his strength."
He assumed a solemn expression and clasped his hands in salute.
"Why end with a curse? What have I done wrong?"
"Ah... no, that is not what I meant."
"It was a joke."
"....."
Apparently this elder enjoyed a jest or two. Yeo Geuk-seong waved his hand, issuing an order to depart. Feeling awkward, A-rang rose and left the room. The door closed behind him. He offered a silent bow toward the paper window.
"Don't go!!!!!!"
—Sob.
His head spun. He had finished his conversation with Yeo Geuk-seong and prepared to leave Geumho Express, yet the true wall had been elsewhere. Mak Yu-cheon and Mak Ri-yu clung to him from front and back, refusing to let go. Yu-cheon kept crying, "Don't go, big brother! I want to go with you!" while Ri-yu buried her face in his trouser leg and sniffled. Who could have told them?
—Glare.
"Whee... whee~."
Who else but Dong U-rim, who had turned his head and begun whistling the moment he sensed A-rang's killing intent? Noticing the murderous aura, Dong U-rim flinched and approached.
"Young master, young lady. Let us go back inside now."
"No!!"
—Sniffle.
Dong U-rim shrugged as if he had done all he could and took a step back. If only they were older, A-rang would have boxed their ears. He sighed, patted the children's heads, and spoke.
"I will return without fail. When I do, I will teach you the sword properly. So please stop crying."
Perhaps his sincerity reached them. Yu-cheon and Ri-yu ceased their tantrum.
"You really will come back...?"
"Of course."
"You're lying!"
"I am not."
He embraced them and patted their backs. Yes, he would return someday. That was his wish as well.
"Come now, let us go inside. The wind is cool."
Only then did Dong U-rim take their hands. The sound of feet dragging across the floor told him they still lingered, but A-rang turned his back.
Wearing a bamboo hat, he wandered the jianghu without destination for roughly a month. After crossing the Sangsu River, mist rose thickly and the boatman spoke.
"Yuyunamakdokyeobi—nothing can compare to the Southern Peak; it flies alone!"
It was the first phrase heard by those entering the Hyeongsan Sect, and it carried a pride that swelled the chest. A-rang disembarked and walked forward. He walked and walked. When the mist cleared, he saw outer disciples standing guard at the mountain's foot. He approached them.
"I wish to see Sect Leader Yi Yeon-baek."
"...And who might you be?"
The youths in white robes regarded A-rang with suspicious eyes. Museugeom Yi Yeon-baek was an object of reverence; no one could casually order him about. A sudden youth appearing and demanding the sect leader naturally aroused caution.
Yet...
What sort of people are these...?
A-rang's brow twitched. Their manners—truly, their manners were lacking.
"He will know the name Yeon A-rang."
"Yeon... A-rang? W-wait a moment, please!"
At the mention of his real name the outer disciple's shoulders hunched. Could he be an acquaintance of Sect Leader Yi Yeon-baek...? Such thoughts must have crossed their minds. The disciple hurried inside. After the time it takes to burn an incense stick, he came stomping back down the stairs with a thoroughly irritated face.
"Get lost. The sect leader says he does not know anyone like you."
"....?"
A-rang was taken aback. He had not expected this.
"Ah... no, Yeon A-rang... or rather, yes! Tell him the blind man who received one gold nyang!"
In that instant he recalled Yi Yeon-baek's position. Countless martial artists lined up daily hoping merely to meet him; it would not be strange if the man failed to remember a single name.
"Stop bothering us and leave."
The outer disciples tapped his shoulder with their swords and scratched their ears. Their arrogant attitude sent heat rising to A-rang's head.
Should I strike them...?
Dark thoughts surged, yet he had come seeking counsel, not to cause trouble. Suppressing his emotions and thinking rationally, an idea struck him. This was the martial world. Moreover, it was a sect.
—Shrrrng.
A-rang drew the Geoyageom.
"W-what are you doing! You want a fight?"
"Stop!"
The outer disciples hurriedly drew their own swords and faced him, yet their momentum quickly faded.
"Q-qi?! A Peak expert at that age?!"
The qi flowing along his blade told them they could never win no matter how hard they tried.
"Y-young hero, for what purpose have you come..."
The address had changed to "young hero." A-rang felt a surge of satisfaction. Sheathing his sword, he spoke again to the now rigidly upright disciples.
"Yeon A-rang. The blind man. One gold nyang. And qi. Please convey all of that to Sect Leader Yi Yeon-baek."
"Yes, sir!"
One of the outer disciples dashed up the stairs. Before even the time it takes to burn an incense stick had passed, a commotion sounded from above.
"You! Yes, it was you!"
With a booming voice, a middle-aged man appeared. Without even granting formal entry, the Hyeongsan Sect's leader, Museugeom Yi Yeon-baek, had come down in person.
At the pavilion atop Yeonun Peak of the Hyeongsan Sect, Yi Yeon-baek and A-rang raised their cups. Indeed, Yeoa Hong was fine liquor. The harsh had been thick and difficult to swallow; this slid down smoothly. Yi Yeon-baek downed a cup with a satisfied grunt and looked at A-rang.
"You can wield qi now?"
"Yes... somehow or other."
"If you can wield it, you can wield it. What do you mean by 'somehow or other'?"
"That is precisely why I came."
"Hah... I truly cannot make sense of it..."
A-rang rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm.
"What...?"
"Take my pulse."
Yi Yeon-baek narrowed his eyes and grasped A-rang's wrist.
"....?"
What is this?
"W-wait, let me try again."
What is this?
"One last time, just once more—!"
"You may continue as long as you like."
"....."
What is this?
"You... why do you have no pulse?"
"Haha..."
A-rang briefly recounted what had happened. He had encountered an opponent he could not handle, been forced to choose between life and death, shattered his dantian, used his seoncheonjingi to win, yet death had been certain. To twist fate he had moved the scant remaining seoncheonjingi and attempted a small heavenly circuit.
Upon hearing this, Yi Yeon-baek spat out a waterfall of liquor.
Madman... a thoroughly madman.
No one had ever attempted such a method. It was not even something one should think of. Destroying one's dantian merely to operate qi? Did that make sense? Without a doubt, even the greatest lunatic in history would never do such a thing. Even the notoriously vicious Demon Cult would shake their heads at such extreme inefficiency. The odds were not one in ten, not one in a hundred— not even one in ten thousand.
Truly heaven's favor... or rather, if one must go to such lengths merely to feel qi, perhaps the heavens have abandoned him...
"I... it is not that I disbelieve you, but... could you perhaps show me the qi...?"
Though he said it lightly, Yi Yeon-baek's expression was deeply skeptical. It was only natural; everything he had learned through life was being denied outright. A-rang nodded, drew the Geoyageom slightly, and channeled qi into it.
—Ssshhh...
With a resonant hum, a faint qi spread.
"Sword force... your control of qi is precise."
Yi Yeon-baek stared at the pavilion ceiling. From time to time he muttered "Impossible... hah..." and downed another cup.
—Clack.
He set the cup down and spoke.
"My knowledge is insufficient to give you an answer."
"I see..."
Premature answers regarding the martial path could lead one astray; counsel must always be given with care.
"However... if I may speak from what little I have heard, it is not entirely without precedent."
"....!"
A-rang leaned forward slightly.
"Please, tell me."
Seeing A-rang's desperation, Yi Yeon-baek cleared his throat and offered his thoughts.
"It may sound absurd to you, but a dantian can be enlarged. Yet once it reaches a certain size, one does not enlarge it further; instead one condenses the qi within to increase its density."
But what if one transcended even that? What if one reached a state where further condensation was impossible?
"The dantian's size gradually increases until it eventually becomes one with the body."
The boundary between qi and flesh grows indistinct.
"This is recorded only in the Seogi; you may dismiss it as fantasy."
"If it is recorded... does that mean someone once reached that realm?"
At A-rang's question, Yi Yeon-baek's expression hardened.
Murokjaesindanggi
"An ancient text written eight hundred years ago, now classified as a forbidden book."
"Who could have written such a thing...?"
"The first Heavenly Demon."
"....!"
"Eight hundred years ago the historians clearly recorded the disaster of that time, and even the final end."
—Gulp.
A-rang swallowed. No being capable of defeating the first Heavenly Demon had ever existed. Yet "final end"? How could such an existence have died?
"How... did he die?"
"They say he was struck by lightning."
"Pardon...?"
"Before the first Heavenly Demon vanished, there was a flash of light... said to have been lightning, apparently."
The greatest expert under heaven died from being struck by lightning...? According to the historians it was no ordinary lightning, yet the account was eight hundred years old; he should not take it too seriously. The point was this:
"The union of qi and body."
Though it seemed excessive to drag the subject of merely wielding qi into the highest realms, Yi Yeon-baek had no other way to explain it.
"I understand..."
A-rang felt hollow. Even Yi Yeon-baek's words offered little help.
—Heh.
Yi Yeon-baek laughed.
"Do not cling so desperately to the label 'Peak.'"
"Sir?"
"Would Bodhidharma have done so? Would Zhang Sanfeng? What has become common sense over time was once new to someone."
Yi Yeon-baek continued.
"...What bound you was merely a concept."
If you do not know, then decide for yourself.
"That is why I wish to hear it from you here and now. You can wield qi yet are not of the Peak. What name would you give that realm?"
"I..."
—Nod.
After long contemplation, A-rang made his decision. It was a realm achieved by burning seoncheonjingi, yet that was only the beginning, not the end.
"I shall call it Yeon-gi-gyeong."