Foolish Sword - 1
My condition raced toward peak form with each passing day. Sure, I'd taken a heavy internal injury from getting cocky in front of a Hwagyeong master, but thanks to immediate aid from Yangyang Wang—another Hwagyeong expert—the damage hadn't spiraled out of control. On top of that, I'd swallowed spirit deer antlers that were as good as miracle elixirs, and Ak Wang had rushed to Jiayu Pass for further treatment. Unless Koke Temur came charging back to smack me again, I wasn't going anywhere.
'If anything, I feel healthier than before.'
After finishing my morning meditation, I opened my eyes to a surge of energy more vigorous than ever. It made sense when I thought about it. Sure, there was the minus of the internal injury, but I'd stacked up pluses like those elixirs, aid from two Hwagyeong masters, and long-overdue rest. No way my condition could be worse than when I was rushing all over the Central Plains.
At the same time, it was downright bizarre. Only after getting hurt did I feel this healthy. I'd heard broken bones knit back stronger, but did that apply to the dantian too?
'I wonder how much stronger I-yeon has gotten.'
I glanced at Ak I-yeon, who was meditating beside me. She'd survived qi deviation and come back stronger—nothing like my mere injury. Her dantian might have evolved into something vast enough to embrace the world. Maybe she'd even become a future Hwagyeong master.
"Hoo."
Ak I-yeon finished her meditation with a soft sigh and opened her eyes.
"With you by my side, Gaga, my energy flows more smoothly than usual."
She beamed, tossing me baseless praise that bordered on embarrassing. I could halt an opponent's energy with my techniques, but revving it up? Not my specialty.
"Glad to hear it. Even my energy loves me back."
Of course, I didn't bluntly correct her. I just smiled and played along with the joke. Her cheeks flushed instantly—the instigator defeated by a counterattack.
"Heh. Let's do it again today."
I leaned in and gently kissed her forehead. As her fiancé, I wanted to aim lower, but her heart was still too fragile for bold moves. Push too hard, and her recovery might drag on, leaving us both awkward. I'd hold off until we left Kaepyeong. By then, she'd build some tolerance, right?
'...She will, won't she?'
Truth be told, it didn't matter if she didn't. When we parted, tolerance or not, I'd go for lower ground.
- Shyik, shiiiik!
- Sieeek!
- Shiuuk!
As I steeled my resolve, Samshik slithered over, having watched our meditation. He shook his heads vigorously, begging for breakfast like always. With three mouths, his gluttony was tripled.
"Hehe, hungry already?"
- Shyik!
Ak I-yeon, still blushing and fidgeting with her fingers, smiled again at him. If he was her mental shield, triple gluttony was a fair trade.
After breakfast, heading back to bed, I ran into someone.
"Un-a."
"Grandfather."
We met face-to-face—him confined to the annex, me everywhere else. Awkward. Time had cooled his anger, but our last talk had been about crippling my dantian. I was fine, but he looked sheepish.
"You look much better. Feeling okay?"
"Yes. Stronger than before, even."
I nodded vigorously at his cautious concern. My recovery was near-perfect—even Ak I-yeon had stopped worrying.
"Good."
Silence followed his relieved words. Uncharacteristic for Grandfather, but Koke Temur's tossed ball had made it possible. Or rather, the one I had tossed.
"Grandfather, if you're willing, would you spend some time with your eldest grandson?"
"Hm?"
No way I'd let him lurk in silence, eyes darting. Time for a direct approach.
"It's been ages since we shared a drink. Who knows when the chance will come again."
A grandfather-grandson bonding excuse over booze.
"Drinking, eh..."
His eyes widened at the sudden request, then he chuckled softly.
"You're better than this narrow-minded old man, worn down by age."
His voice held faint self-deprecation. I bowed my head silently—the culprit who scorched his insides shouldn't speak.
"But your fiancée's waiting. You sure?"
"Yeon-i's with Your Highness Ak Wang. Just in case, he's checking her meridians..."
"That girl worries too much. If a Hwagyeong says it's fine, it is. No need to poke around and invent problems."
True, but I smiled awkwardly. Ak Wang was scrutinizing her meridians because she'd collapsed seeing me carried in by Jo Wi-cheo. Without that, he wouldn't fuss so much.
"Well, if there's no issue, let's head to the annex. The garden's worth seeing."
"Yes, Grandfather."
He stroked his beard and led me there. So natural, I half-thought we were at Giwangjeo. He was a guest too, after all.
"We need to talk about your grandmother too. We'll drink plenty today."
"...Pardon?"
His bombshell hit a beat late. Why bring up Grandmother now?
"Why so surprised? Ak Hyeon-i blundered in front of you—better to address it outright than let it fester."
He patted my shoulder with a chuckle.
"I planned to tell you someday. It's just come a bit sooner."
Odd. He smiled, but no joy reached me. His hand seemed empty despite the "a bit sooner."
"...I'll listen closely."
"Good. Your grandmother would be pleased."
But I kept the thought inside. No need to sour his mood aloud.
The room overlooked the garden, littered with countless liquor bottles—more empties than full. A few rolled in the yard; I pretended not to notice.
"You've had quite a bit. Body holding up?"
"Kuh, only a grandson would worry. First time getting hangover concern since reaching Hwagyeong."
I chuckled sheepishly. Weird thing to say, even for me.
"Start with this. Strong stuff first ruins the flavors later."
"I'm first-rate myself—booze won't fell me."
"Brat. Just days ago, I scolded you that even Hwagyeong only match Hwagyeong. Forgotten already?"
I quietly took the bottle. A threat: a determined Hwagyeong could smoke a first-rate.
"First bottle—down it clean."
"Pardon?"
"Cheers."
He drained his without argument. I followed, dubious. No wonder he started light—a mercy one-shot.
"Good drinker. To your taste?"
"Yes. Smooth, subtle aroma. Pairs with anything after."
"Heh, blood tells. Your grandmother loved it for the same reason."
I straightened, sensing the main story.
"Your grandmother used the name Ryeong from the Baek family. Born near Chengdu, daughter of an utterly ordinary warrior."
"So she had warrior blood too."
"Focus on 'ordinary.' Not words for my father-in-law, but he was more farmer than fighter."
Harsh for a son-in-law, but Grandfather didn't lie. If he said so, her father was third- or second-rate, sword in hand from murim dreams, not mastery.
"But his heart was nobler than any warrior's. A farmer's son took up the blade to protect family and neighbors from bandits, never raising his voice for gain."
"A true xia."
"Yes. The kind everyone admired and revered. Realm can be raised, but mindset is innate."
He downed a fresh bottle, faint smile evoking father-in-law—and young self.
"A great xia to outsiders, but to his daughter? Inevitable she'd follow his path."
Grandmother's image flickered.
"Your grandmother shone brighter, more beautiful. Unlike her father, confined to central Sichuan, she roamed the whole Central Plains."
"No easy feat. Impressive."
Sincere. A woman, in the chaotic late Yuan? Required exceptional skill and courage.
"Only possible because Grandmother was a lofty master like you—"
"No. She was merely second-rate. Plain second-rate, not even peak."
His hand froze mid-reach.
"...Second-rate?"
"Right to the end."
My jaw dropped. A mere second-rate woman... roamed the hellish late Yuan Central Plains... upholding xia ideals?
'Insane.'
Unthinkable. Even now, in stable times, a lone second-rate wandering the Central Plains invites disaster. Strip my first-rate self of royal blood, Left Vice Censor title, and Jo Wi-cheo escort? I'd court trouble. That's warrior life, Central Plains cruelty.
"Surprised?"
"Well, I..."
"The Central Plains folk then felt what you're feeling—times a hundred, a thousand. Foolish, reckless, laughable madness."
Scathing critique. Unbelievable from a widower about his sole wife. Yet Grandfather's face beamed, as if thrilled to share.
"Thus, she earned the moniker Foolish Sword."
"Foolish Sword?"
My mouth worked again.
"...Isn't that your moniker, Grandfather?"
Koke Temur called me Foolish Sword's kin at Jiayu Pass. I assumed Grandfather—the Hwagyeong founding hero. Not second-rate Grandmother?
'No way.'
Absurd. A Mongol Hwagyeong recalls fellow Hwagyeong Daesong heroes, not second-rates.
"Hah. That narrow-eyed bastard told you plenty."
He tsked, grabbing the third bottle.
"I was the second Foolish Sword. I inherited it to carry her will—so to him, I'm Foolish Sword."
Speechless again. "Inherited" brimmed with untold tales. Instinct screamed it.