Chapter 264
Chapter 264
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Leaving the Academy (1)
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The firmly shut gates of the Divine Martial Academy swung open.
The end of all regular duties.
It was now time for the students who had devoted themselves to training at the academy for the past year to return to their respective homes.
Most students typically returned to their sects or families to wrap up the year.
The instructors from the swamp were no different.
"Instructor, please stop by the Infinite Pavilion whenever you have time."
"That might be tough."
"Right, you're heading back to your hometown, aren't you? Will it take long?"
"It's such a remote backwater that just the trip there and back will eat up a ton of time."
Baek Ri-seol looked disappointed, but Moyong Sohye, who was always full of suspicion, narrowed her eyes first.
"Instructor, do you really have a hometown?"
"What, you think I hatched from an egg? I have a hometown too."
"I figured you came from some hellish sect hidden deep in the remote mountains, beyond the Great Wall where all the villains live."
"You little...?"
He flicked her on the forehead, and Moyong Sohye clutched it, rolling around on the ground.
'Sharp one, aren't you.'
How did she know his hometown was in the Ten Thousand Great Mountains? For the record, they were also called the Hell Mountain Range.
"That's a shame. Uncle said he wanted to see you too."
"Why the heck is the Jegal family interested?"
"They're curious about what happened at Lake Dongjeong. Do you know something?"
"Nah, no clue."
Had they heard a hint from the Beggar Elder?
As they exchanged goodbyes with lingering reluctance, Nangong Yun-ho suddenly caught his eye.
"......"
He was sitting cross-legged, lips tightly shut, as if lost in deep thought.
"What're you doing? Pack your bags."
"Instructor, I have something to say."
His eyes burned with some major resolve.
"Speak."
"It's about family matters."
"What's up?"
"...Actually, I've been getting constant messages from the family to come back lately."
"Well, aren't they sneaky? Didn't they promise not to mess with you anymore?"
When he had racked up huge merits in the battle against the Eight Thousand Demons, he had definitely gotten that promise from the Nangong family head.
'But to stab me in the back like this.'
As he thought they were being underhanded, Nangong Yun-ho replied.
"Grandfather sent the messages himself."
"The Sword Saint grandpa? Ah."
Now the picture was coming together.
"The family head made the promise, so the family can't step in easily, so the old man with more clout than the head made his move?"
"That's what I think too."
They were playing mind games.
A family head's promise was more precious than gold.
But if someone above the head stepped in, the head could play dumb and say he had nothing to do with it.
It seemed trivial, but in the righteous faction that obsessed over justification and face, it was a tactic that worked pretty well.
"What kind of offer did a big shot like the Sword Saint make?"
"Well... he said he wants to pass down the Imperial Sword Formation to me."
"The Imperial Sword Formation?"
This was surprising.
The secret technique passed only to the family head or his likely successor—they were willing to teach it to Nangong Yun-ho, which meant...
'They're considering this guy as a candidate for head.'
Maybe even closer to the top than what the Beggar Elder had mentioned?
He nodded for him to continue, and Nangong Yun-ho went on.
"So, he wants me to come back to learn the Imperial Sword Formation, but there are a few things holding me back from going right away."
"Because of Nangong Yong-ho?"
"...Yes. I don't want to compete with my little brother again."
As expected, if it were just his own issue, he wouldn't have agonized this long.
But this overly considerate guy was probably more worried about his guilt toward his brother than learning the Imperial Sword Formation.
"I don't want to hinder my brother's path even a little."
"Then don't do it."
"But if I learn the Imperial Sword Formation, the family members will start comparing me and Yong-ho again to see who's more fit to be head."
He thought the heir position was already settled, but Nangong Yun-ho said otherwise.
"I heard that after the incident where he was taken hostage by the demons recently, evaluations of Yong-ho have turned really sour."
"The heir got captured by villains, after all."
If he'd died, it might not have been an issue, but surviving and losing face like that.
'What a bunch of idiots.'
They should be cheering that he survived, but no, they fixate on pointless pride.
"So, I've been torn on whether to go back or not. Could you give me your wise advice?"
Chu Un-hwi smirked at Nangong Yun-ho's explanation.
"What you want is martial arts, right? Not the head position."
"Yes."
"Simple then. Learn the arts and bail."
"Pardon? It's not that straightforward. Learning the Imperial Sword Formation means—"
"Not straightforward? It's super simple."
As the confused guy faltered, Chu Un-hwi raised his index finger and wagged it side to side.
"You've been overthinking lately, huh? Worrying what happens to Nangong Yong-ho if you go back, how to handle it so you two stay on good terms without issues."
"...Yes, that's right."
"All armchair theorizing. You can agonize for a hundred days, but until you actually do it, you never know how the world turns."
"......"
"Look at me. After all the crap I've pulled, did anyone think I'd keep my instructor job intact?"
"Your trustworthiness just shot up."
Jegal Tan rolled silently across the floor after getting kicked in the shin.
"Most people agonize before even starting. 'What if I choose this? Wouldn't that be better?'"
"That's what I did."
"But surprisingly, once you actually do it, it's no big deal. Sometimes it works out better than expected, sometimes unexpected crap hits."
"......"
"Thinking a few head rolls before acting lead to the best choice? That's arrogance."
"So acting right now is the answer?"
"Who knows."
As Nangong Yun-ho let out a dumbfounded groan, Chu Un-hwi said,
"No one knows if it's better or worse. The best path might be one you didn't choose."
"...Isn't that the same thing?"
"Nah. At least if you smash your head for real, you learn at least one thing."
Ah, this is how I shouldn't live.
Nangong Yun-ho, still wearing a puzzled expression, changed his question.
"Th-then, what would you do, Instructor?"
"Told you. Snag the arts, and if you don't wanna play head, bail."
"The family won't just sit by."
"Nangong."
Chu Un-hwi lowered his voice.
"Listening to those around you is your big strength, but getting swayed by them is your big weakness too."
"...Is that so?"
"Balance is key. You decide the center of the scale."
With that, Chu Un-hwi drove the point home firmly.
"What’s shaking you now is your resolve or your power is weak."
"......"
"Sword Saint says no? Then build your skills and smash him in the face. Once he spits blood and foams at the mouth, he won’t yap at you again."
The family members?
"Those dog-shit bastards will pile on more. Beat 'em till they shit blood, and they'll turn into meek lambs singing you're always right."
"Aren't you seeing the world too simplistically?"
"Simplistic? Maybe. But one thing's certain: the weak agonize over meaningless choices, the strong force choices on others."
You've lost your edge.
Dusting off his butt and strolling to one side, Chu Un-hwi tilted his sword and drew it.
"That's when you realize it by getting beaten senseless."
Sword out. Come at me.
Watching the instructor saunter with arms crossed, Nangong Yun-ho cautiously drew his sword.
'How long has it been since we faced off like this?'
For nearly half a year, he hadn't had a proper spar.
They'd done some guided practice, but it hadn't given the overwhelming awe of their first meeting.
- If you're trapped in the immutable stances, fixated only on number clashes, you'll never experience the mutable world.
'The infinite sword paths he showed while saying that were truly astonishing.'
Even he, used to number clashes, couldn't twitch a finger.
But now, he had stepped beyond the immutable into the mutable world.
'Not perfect, but maybe a different result from the start?'
He thought, but the moment they faced off, he realized.
- The gap hadn't narrowed at all.
He seemed loosely posed, but no openings showed.
'No, it's not that the gap didn't narrow.'
He just hadn't seen it before.
His skill hadn't supported it.
'Still the same guy.'
When could he catch up?
Steeling his mind gravely, he raised his sword, steadied his breath—and the instructor grinned.
"What're you doing? Chanting sutras? How many times do I gotta say move before thinking?"
"I was just about to."
Shiiik!
Melting the弹 pattern into his footwork, he surged three zhang in three steps.
Papat!
One leap, and his clothes fluttered as if left behind.
Two leaps, and the scenery blurred and shook.
Three leaps.
Shiiik!
The simplest of the first three stances of Divine Martial Swordsmanship, familiar yet holding infinite changes.
Single Stroke Vertical Slash unfolded.
"Not bad imitation."
Wuuung—.
The sword tip quivered right before the instructor's nose.
The start of mutable.
The beginning of countless changing stances.
"Good."
The delighted instructor's body swayed loosely.
Shik! Shishik!
The bisecting sword strike bent like an earth vein, pursuing the instructor's form, then suddenly shifted into a bizarre stance slashing stars in all directions.
"Good. Good."
For the first time, the instructor swung his sword.
'Here it comes.'
Shaking his wrist to vibrate the blade, bracing for the impact—
Tung!
"Huh?"
The sword bounced away helplessly.
Wak! Like pounding an iron pillar, his balance shook, body tilting to one side.
"Idiot."
Thung! Trying to reset and continue, the blade smacked his shin, shaking his balance again.
"You fighting a scarecrow?"
After that, it was one-sided.
Block left, and the rebound smacks his head; try a kick, and a ghost-like shin kick comes first, followed by a leaping knuckle rap.
"Kuk!"
The instructor's stances were familiar.
He could tell easily it was the first three stances of Divine Martial Swordsmanship, just like his.
But the posture, the sword's bouncy movement—like a spring with elasticity.
"Nangong. You've grasped mutable? Time to advance."
Thuk!
A fist to the gut made his mouth gape, and the instructor's voice rang out.
"Grasped how to change? Next, read the opponent's reaction and counter preemptively."
The sword of adaptation.
The instructor said.
Thuk thuk.
Painfully smacked in the face twice in between.
Weng—. Amid the buzzing in his ears like swarming bees, the instructor's voice came clear.
"Single Stroke Vertical Slash's base stance: feet shoulder-width, like this, whipping."
Thuk! His brow shook.
"But opponent won't stand still. Can't hold base? Then kick like this, spread feet to shoulder-width, and whip."
Thuk thuk! Sword blades grazed both cheeks in agonizing pain that nearly drove him mad, but oddly, the instructor's voice stayed crystal clear.
"React to the enemy's movement. Force them where you want, tilting number clashes in your favor."
Thuk thuk!
'Hold on, Instructor. Need time to think.'
Trying to raise his hands only brought horrific pain to both.
Truly maddening.
The instructor wasn't even using inner power, hadn't moved a step from his spot.
Yet an invisible wall kept him from closing in.
"Controlling even the opponent's reactions—that's adaptation's realm."
His mind grew hazy, vision blurring. Through loosening eyes, the instructor smirked.
"Worry about eyes on you after figuring how to take fewer hits."
Thanks for the lesson, Instructor.
But this hurts too much?
The last words didn't even come out.