Now One Leader - 2
Early that morning, the sect leader headed off somewhere with the two grand elders. He'd promised to teach them the seventh and eighth forms of the Four Styles Sword Technique, so it was probably either a suitable place to practice or where the latter half of the manual was stored. I was a little curious, naturally. This was a technique so profound it could elevate a mere Daoist priest to sect leader of a major faction. Sure, I'm a bureaucrat, but martial blood runs in my veins too, so how could I not be intrigued?
But tagging along would just make things awkward for everyone. Still, peeking at another person or faction's martial arts out of mere curiosity would be an unforgivable act—even my parents couldn't defend me if word got out. The government might collect copies of the Four Styles Sword Technique because it was for presenting to the Emperor, but a lone official sneaking a look was a different matter entirely.
So even as I watched the sect leader and grand elders depart, I just stood there dumbly, feeding breakfast to Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i. My interest would fade with time anyway.
Or so I thought. Did they get beaten or something?
That notion exploded right back to the surface when the grand elders returned around lunchtime, looking utterly wretched. Sunken eyes, cracked lips, faces covered in minor cuts and bruises, limbs trembling uncontrollably. No one would mistake them for descendants of prestigious families and grand elders of a major sect. I was speechless.
What the hell? Weren't they just learning a martial art? They looked more like they'd been pummeled senseless.
Motive's plenty there. The sect leader must have built up a ton of resentment toward them over time. With a legitimate excuse like transmitting the Four Styles Sword Technique, he might've just taken the chance to beat them black and blue.
But in the short time I'd observed him, the sect leader didn't strike me as that sort of man. Which left only one possibility: the Four Styles Sword Technique was brutally difficult to cultivate.
"Looks like he taught them thoroughly."
"Indeed. I taught them with the same passion I had when I first created the Four Styles Sword Technique."
I addressed the sect leader, who was smiling serenely amid the two zombie-like grand elders. He replied in a gentle voice, though I swear there was a hint of relief beneath it. Was that my imagination?
"With the grand elders' talents, they'll master my teachings in no time. My goal is to teach them the ninth form before the year is out."
The grand elders' shoulders twitched at that, but I figured it was just overwhelming emotion. After all, they were finally learning the Four Styles Sword Technique they'd longed for so desperately.
As I fed lunch to Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i, Jo Wi-cheo approached.
"The grand elders' realms have advanced."
"Huh?"
My hand froze mid-feed at that bombshell.
"Until yesterday, both grand elders were at the mid-Peak realm. But just now, they were teetering on the edge of late-Peak."
"They reached the cusp in a single day?"
"Since I last checked at night, it's barely six hours."
I let out a disbelieving chuckle at the astonishing news. Even Jo Wi-cheo himself had jumped from Peak to super-Peak overnight, but that was because he'd already been knocking on super-Peak's door and consumed the Public Clarity Stone Oil. Skyrocketing from mid to late-Peak in mere hours wasn't commonplace. And the grand elders hadn't even taken any spirit elixirs—they'd simply received the seventh and eighth forms from the sect leader.
Just two forms did that?
It was baffling. Was the Four Styles Sword Technique that phenomenal an ascendant art? Or had the sect leader drilled them mercilessly? Maybe both.
"The sect leader's at super-Peak, right?"
"Yes."
"We might have our thirteenth Hwa-gyeong master in a few years."
Jo Wi-cheo nodded in agreement. If the grand elders, who'd only learned up to the eighth form, had hit late-Peak, then the sect leader—who'd mastered all twelve—had super-Peak at minimum, and with his talent, he could go even higher. And he'd created those twelve forms himself. He was just stuck at super-Peak due to lack of experience; give him the right catalyst, and Hwa-gyeong was within reach.
A Hwa-gyeong master emerging from the backwoods of Yunnam. Fascinating. Excluding the Baekryeon Cult Leader holed up in the Shiwandaishan mountains, had there ever been a Hwa-gyeong master lurking in such a remote spot?
If our guess was right and the sect leader ascended to Hwa-gyeong, he'd become a cornerstone of the Daewolnam frontlines. Jeom-cheongpa would gain not just government protection, but active support. And the Dan and Go families—regional powers in Yunnam that had stagnated since Daesong's founding—would rise again thanks to their grand elders' positions.
The real stroke of fortune isn't the Four Styles Sword Technique—it's the sect leader himself.
I chuckled, recalling the two grand elders' near-corpse states. They were fixated on the legendary Four Styles Sword Technique, but the true treasure was the man himself. In the hands of a former Daoist priest, two noble houses and a region's fate now rested.
He would've succeeded even without becoming a martial artist. Plus, his luck in encountering that fortune, his talent for fully absorbing it, his tenacity in enduring between two great families. With all that, he'd have shone no matter the path—not just as Jeom-cheongpa's leader.
My mind was at peace. Had I ever felt this clear and serene recently? No. Not since becoming Jeom-cheongpa's sect leader. Not since I'd started mediating between the two grand elders. My heart had always been turbid, burning hot with conflict. Shameful and sad for a Daoist pursuing the Way, unable to master even his own emotions. How could such a man truly devote himself to the realm and its people?
But no longer. The murkiness had cleared, the inner blaze subsided into stillness.
I should have done this sooner.
All my worries and burdens cast aside. I sipped my tea contentedly. With the Four Styles Sword Technique transmitted to the grand elders, the risk of sect schism was gone. Freed from that threat, I could teach freely. And a master instructing disciples rigorously and without mercy? That was an unassailable truth no one could fault.
"Sect Leader! What in the world is this?!"
"How could martial arts be hidden in a place like—?!"
I recalled their desperate cries and grinned deeply. For the grand elders who'd yearned for the Four Styles Sword Technique, I'd gone all out. Last night, I'd restored the countless traps and formations at the fortune's site, even repositioning them so they'd face even more trials. That way, their potential would bloom brilliantly. They'd train with even greater fervor.
Whoever built it did a damn good job. The chamber holding that etiquette archery manual had been packed with hair-raising traps. Whether the Ye himself or his descendants had set them, it didn't matter. What counted was sharing the trials I'd endured with them.
I'll keep teaching like this. Four forms remained: ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth. I'd release them one by one, resetting the traps each time to stoke their desperation. If the traps proved too harsh and they balked? End of story. A mindset blocked by mere traps wasn't ready to learn anyway.
Either way, it benefits me. If they quit, it was their choice—no resentment toward me. If they persisted, absolute obedience to my words. Win-win.
May days like this continue. Yes, filled with such happiness and peace. Grand elders immersed in training, me free from schism worries—may it last forever.
"Sect Leader. The Left Deputy Censor-in-chief has arrived."
"Ah, invite him in."
And now, the benefactor who'd brought this bliss appeared. Without his advice, I'd still be fretting over suppressing the Four Styles Sword Technique.
"Welcome, Excellency. I've prepared all the copies."
So I bowed deeply to the entering Left Deputy Censor-in-chief. From today, even if my head shattered and limbs were severed, I'd serve the court loyally.
Jeom-cheongpa, which I'd pegged as a hopeless powder keg of a sect, stabilized far quicker than expected. The sect leader's competence exceeded my estimates, and the grand elders turned out milder than I'd thought. If even one had matched my low expectations, disaster would've struck long ago.
Not a bad result.
And with stability came gains: securing the ascendant Four Styles Sword Technique, forging ties with a future Hwa-gyeong master. Plus, the sect leader would firmly control Yunnam's Dan and Go families, so this visit netted three wins.
Moving, almost tear-jerking. Visits to regions, sects, or clans usually meant groveling like a dog, but here I'd barely opened my mouth to the sect leader.
Come to think of it, Baek-su-mun went smoothly too. The issue there was the elders and disciples' obsession with abyssal beasts, but aside from cultural shock, no incidents. The only hands-on work was capturing that man-faced spider, and even that was Ji Wi-pyeong's egg and Jo Wi-cheo's pursuit. I hadn't broken much sweat.
If only other places were half as amenable as Yunnam.
I closed my eyes briefly in reflection. In the past, I'd dreaded Yunnam trips. Annoyed at trekking to the boondocks of boondocks. But Yunnam was warmer and more beautiful than anywhere I'd visited. Distance aside, it brimmed with peace and laughter—a paradise. I seriously pondered retiring there someday.