Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Chapter 9 Jegal Tan (3)
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“Well now. Sparring without a sword would be tough, wouldn't it? Here, take this.”
“Th-this...”
Chaeng!
Baek Ri-seol returned the sword, only to snatch it away again.
It was a picturesque sequence flowing from disarming into the twin-sword form of Phoenix Soaring to the Heavens.
“Oh? Another gift? How thoughtful.”
Having snatched the sword away several times now, Baek Ri-seol stuck close to Jegal Tan this time, thrusting her blade from a low stance centered on her legs.
Shy shy shy shik.
With a smile, she unleashed dozens of flashing sword lights that rose up in an instant. Jegal Tan retreated in a daze, stepping through footwork without even thinking of facing them head-on.
“Ahaha. You dance so well.”
Chwaak!
Baek Ri-seol, putting on a comical show, clung to him like a shadow this time and swept at Jegal Tan's legs.
Kwajik.
“Kuhuk!”
Her slender calf struck his thick one, sending Jegal Tan's body jerking upward before he crashed down on his back with a thud.
“Yup yup.”
Puk puk puk.
Playfully stabbing the ground with her sword, Baek Ri-seol made Jegal Tan roll away to dodge.
“Yup yup yup.”
Puk puk puk puk.
Pressing him relentlessly by stabbing the ground over and over, Baek Ri-seol placed a hand on one cheek and feigned a pitying expression.
“Such splendid tumbling. Too disgraceful for me to imitate, though.”
Only then did Jegal Tan, scrambling to his feet in a frenzy, realize that all of this had been orchestrated by Baek Ri-seol from the start.
'This is the level of a Bronze Hall student?'
It was beyond astonishing—it was suffocating.
In truth, Baek Ri-seol was a talent that even Chu Un-hwi had taken note of, receiving focused support to awaken her potential.
She soared like a phoenix taking flight.
Now, she was on par with top talents from any prestigious sect or family, so Jegal Tan—who had been wielding a liquor bottle instead of a sword—had never stood a chance from the beginning.
In the end, the match flowed one-sidedly.
“...I lost.”
A complete defeat for Jegal Tan.
Unlike at the start, his hair was disheveled and covered in dirt as he admitted his loss.
“Already over?”
She could have toyed with him much more.
Jegal Tan shrank back at the madness glinting in her cold eyes.
Glancing at the disappointed Baek Ri-seol, he trudged over and plopped down in a daze.
Chu Un-hwi, who had been diligently attaching eyeballs to the wooden dummies, grinned.
“Get it now?”
“...Is Nangong Yun-ho this strong too?”
“Eh, about the same. Their talents are in slightly different realms, though.”
“I was arrogant.”
Darkness rippled in Jegal Tan's eyes.
“...The third. Even the third won't work?”
“Kekekeke. You planning to fight even this little kid?”
As his gaze fell on her, Moyong So-hye—who had been turning the scarecrow's head—shrank her shoulders.
“No. It's my own failing.”
“Good that you realize it. Though your slight edge won't last long either. This kid will surpass you in no time.”
Moyong So-hye, overhearing, jumped up in alarm and cut in.
“I-I haven't even learned proper martial arts yet!”
“Why not? You're learning right now.”
“Fixing these wooden dummies?”
“Exactly. I don't lie, you know.”
Chu Un-hwi protested in a voice that sounded utterly like a liar's.
“What kind of martial art is this?”
“A brilliant technique blending Golden Claw Hand and dagger arts.”
Golden Claw Hand.
A martial method using both hands to twist joints and chain strikes.
Blended with dagger arts? He'd never even heard of such a thing.
She had already repaired thirty scarecrows, but all he'd taught her were some basic hand techniques.
Moyong So-hye, quick on the uptake, narrowed her eyes.
“Instructor. What's the name of the martial art?”
“Hmm...”
“You're thinking about it now! Making it up on the spot!”
“No. Wooden Hundred Man Hands. Right, that's it.”
Wooden Hundred Man Hands.
Meaning a hundred wooden dummies.
It reeked of being hastily coined. Even the naming sense was terrible. It didn't sound like a proper martial art at all.
“Dummy Hundred Man Hands. It's a secret technique where you face scarecrows mimicking the human body, moving like lightning in real combat.”
“You just said Wooden Hundred Man Hands! How can the name change already?!”
“Huh? Did I?”
Moyong So-hye let out a shrill wail at his brazen response.
“Instructor! That's not fair!”
“Don't cry. Hurry and attach those eyeballs. Or you'll get cut.”
Handing a wooden arm to the teary-eyed Moyong So-hye, the sight didn't inspire much trust, but Chu Un-hwi's words were seared into Jegal Tan's mind like a brand.
“If you're going to seek rivals, look for ones in the world who can match you. Sulking over comparisons to your cornered brothers will get you nowhere.”
“I...”
“Go home. I have no intention of indulging a child's tantrum over a minor failure.”
His heart grew heavy.
Jegal Tan crouched in the corner of the training ground.
The spirited energy from when he first arrived was gone.
'I was just a frog in a well.'
Letting go of his stubborn pride, things he hadn't noticed before suddenly came into view.
During acupuncture training, Nangong Yun-ho had looked endangered with the needles in, but once removed, he moved lightly as if nothing had happened.
When he took the bizarre poison and wore a deathly pallor, he seemed poisoned, but after circulating his qi, an even heavier aura emanated from him.
The other training methods were the same.
Looking closely now, even Moyong So-hye's hand movements appeared different.
“Instructor! Only thirty left now! Ow... My hands hurt.”
“Hang in there, Moyong student.”
Moyong So-hye's hands began speeding up bit by bit.
At first, attaching a single limb had her grunting with effort, but now her hands were a blur.
Shaping blunt logs into form in an instant looked like the wood was shedding its own bark.
“Haha. Now I can't even see them.”
The instructor was right.
It had only been ten days or so.
The time it took for his eyes to no longer track Moyong So-hye's hand shadows.
'What have I even been doing?'
Were all his desperate efforts until now so shallow that they could be caught up in mere days?
Overwhelmed by self-loathing, Jegal Tan clutched his head.
The mediocrity he'd felt in his family.
To feel it again here, not even in Silver Hall, but in Bronze Hall—no, Shit Hall.
Deflated, Jegal Tan let his shoulders slump.
It was a day when he desperately craved liquor.
After training ended.
“Jegal Tan. Want to talk?”
“Nangong Yun-ho.”
Nangong Yun-ho led Jegal Tan to the pond behind Bronze Hall.
It was less a pond and more a small stream where Nangong Yun-ho had once fetched spring water, thinking it might aid training.
Finding a suitable spot, Nangong Yun-ho pulled out an object dangling from his side.
“Liquor? Not like you.”
“Something I stashed away for when my insides burned.”
“Well, perfect for a day like today.”
Kkolgok.
“Puheuh.”
Tilting the bottle, Jegal Tan ruffled his hair.
“Completely crushed. Never thought I'd lose this cleanly.”
“...Sorry.”
“Nah. Truth is, I underestimated you too. I figured if they accepted you, someone like me would be a shoo-in.”
Taking another swig, Jegal Tan spat out liquor laced with sighs.
“Damn. Where did that monster even come from? Even the elders back home don't seem that strong...”
“That much? I've lived like I didn't exist in the main family, so I've never really seen a true master.”
“Hard for me to gauge precisely. But the feel is comparable to our family elders.”
There was no conviction in his voice.
Inevitable, really.
The masters he'd met all had that overwhelming presence unique to the strong.
The kind that choked you just by looking—like an invisible force dominating you.
The instructor, though, was different.
Faint as watered liquor or liquor watered down—barely there.
'Maybe he's specialized in teaching.'
Either way, he was undeniably a breed Jegal Tan had never encountered.
“Seriously. I heard the world is vast, but I never expected to meet a Silver Hall-level monster in Bronze Hall.”
“He is peculiar.”
As they bantered with Chu Un-hwi as the side dish, Nangong Yun-ho suddenly brought it up.
“So, what now?”
“My heart wants to stay here forever. But can someone talentless like me even remain?”
“Give it a shot. It'll probably be fine.”
“What?”
“The instructor ignores people he's not interested in completely. Allowing you on the training ground means he's expecting something from you.”
Expecting something.
'That would be nice.'
But what could he even offer? He, who had wasted time lost in petty obsessions.
“Sigh. I can't even grasp how to prove myself.”
“You're knowledgeable...”
“Scholarship or strategy won't cut it. Honestly, as a kid I studied hard to catch up to my brother, but I never liked reading books.”
“Right. You were the type to bolt out rather than sit and read.”
“Yeah, so I aimed for martial arts mastery, but who knew my youngest brother was such a prodigy.”
Recalling his brother who had surpassed him after just three years of sword training, Jegal Tan shuddered.
“I was nothing from the start. Just pushed by rivalry, without ever knowing what I truly wanted. Realizing it only now.”
Pondering his friend's lighter mutterings for a while, Nangong Yun-ho snatched the bottle.
Kkorruk.
He gulped it down stone-faced for a long stretch, then blinked with a tipsy face.
“Man, you can't even hold your liquor.”
Handing over the bottle willingly, Nangong Yun-ho blinked repeatedly before replying.
“Sometimes you need to lose your mind for good ideas.”
“Fair enough.”
Kkolgok. Kkolgok.
Tipsy Nangong Yun-ho tossed it out casually.
“What you liked was formations, right?”
Formations.
Arranging stones or objects in specific directions to disorient or confuse the mind.
Legends said geniuses like Zhuge Liang from Romance of the Three Kingdoms or the Jianghu legend Guiguzi could create dozens or hundreds of illusions with just a few stones.
“The Jegal family is known for formations. But we don't have those legendary illusion formations from stories. What I learned is basic stuff.”
“But what if you combined formations with swordsmanship?”
“The kind of idea that only comes when drunk.”
Chucking, Jegal Tan retorted.
“If that were possible, the Jegal family would be called the strongest in Jianghu for formations, not tactics or strategy.”
Bringing the bottle to his lips, Jegal Tan suddenly asked.
“Why formations and sword arts specifically?”
“Can't beat the instructor with swordsmanship.”
Obvious.
He couldn't even gauge the man's skill properly.
“But relying solely on scholarship is risky too.”
“Why?”
“Talk too much heady stuff, and he kicks you.”
“Ah. Got it.”
The image formed instantly.
Nangong Yun-ho added,
“Point is, what if you blend what you like? I thought of it watching the wooden dummies earlier today.”
“Golden Claw Hand and dagger arts, huh?”
Combining joint-twisting martial arts with daggers—quite the odd pairing.
“Could swordsmanship and formations be combined?”
“Why not? It's your strong suit. Your brother has brains but sucks at martial arts, and your little brother is a martial prodigy but hopeless at studies.”
“Kekekeke. Bet on mediocrity?”
Gazing at the moon and laughing, Jegal Tan grinned slyly.
“Sounds fun, actually.”