Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Chapter 2: Find the Student (3)
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Next day.
Nangong Yun-ho realized someone was in his training ground.
‘Who is it? No one’s supposed to come here?’
This was a remote spot even in Bronze Hall.
Though it had the setup of a training ground, it was so damp and neglected, an old place no longer in use. He hadn’t seen anyone come near it recently.
“Long time no see. Well, just one day, but.”
Still not giving up?
Nangong Yun-ho twitched his eyebrow and turned away.
Then a voice flew in as if it had been waiting.
“Turning back today is fine. But I’ll come tomorrow, and the day after too.”
“...”
“Let’s see who wins.”
Whoosh.
Nangong Yun-ho glared sharply.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Who knows?”
At the sly smile, Nangong Yun-ho gripped his scabbard tight.
“What? Gonna hit me? How much do you think a student who strikes an instructor would fetch?”
“...No such thought.”
Crazy bastard.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t liked him from their first meeting.
Acting like an instructor despite being much younger was one thing, but that overconfident attitude was another.
Above all, the rumors about him weren’t good.
Relies on backing without real skill, takes bribes—they said.
‘Even into male prostitution?’
Thinking that far made his body shudder.
Seeing the reaction, the opponent panicked for the first time, floundering.
“Hey! Not that! It’s not!”
“Everyone says no at first, I’ve heard.”
“Really not!”
At the sight of sweat pouring down, Nangong Yun-ho smirked.
From the reaction, he could guess the source of the rumors. Quite a few had left teaching over similar issues.
He wasn’t entirely untrustworthy.
He’d seen him with Yeo Mae-hong, who had entered the Divine Martial Academy alongside him once.
‘That girl.’
She’d gained fame among their peers for her gentle personality and clear beauty, so he remembered her.
‘None of my business, though.’
Having settled in, Nangong Yun-ho took a seat in one corner.
With the opponent clinging so stubbornly, there was no sharp way to shake him off.
An unwelcome guest was regrettable, but compared to the agony of skipping training, it was bearable.
Shing.
Nangong Yun-ho drew his sword and held it upright.
Swipe. Swish.
Then he unfolded his basic sword forms again.
Six Harmonies Swordsmanship.
A simple sword art slashing in six directions.
Frankly, it was embarrassing even to call it swordsmanship.
A cheap technique you could buy at the market for a few coins.
Worlds apart from the Nangong Family forms that were worth fortunes for a single glimpse.
Yet Nangong Yun-ho unfolded the forms with utmost care, as if practicing a supreme art.
“...”
Forgetting even the one watching him intently, Nangong Yun-ho immersed himself in training.
Next day too.
The new instructor was already out in the training ground.
“...”
He shot a glance at the one standing silently like a tombstone guardian.
But with no reaction, Nangong Yun-ho practiced his sword forms as yesterday.
The same Six Harmonies Swordsmanship.
Third day.
Now forgetting the unwelcome guest’s presence, Nangong Yun-ho unfolded his forms again.
Somehow the forms were stuttering more severely, so instead of Six Harmonies, he practiced Three Powers Swordsmanship.
Slashes from above down, left to right, and honest straight thrusts ahead.
He diligently practiced what barely qualified as swordsmanship.
Fifth day.
Nangong Yun-ho unfolded Six Harmonies and Three Powers nonstop.
Far from improving, it felt increasingly agonizing with each passing day.
His hands began to tremble.
His lifelong footwork felt foreign, and he collapsed flat.
“...”
He felt ashamed with someone watching, but the opponent showed no reaction.
Just like before, leaning against a small rock, not even his eyes moved.
He seemed less like a person and more like a stone or boulder. A reclining stone statue.
‘Is that even possible?’
Possible or not, none of my business.
Nangong Yun-ho dusted off his rear and gripped his sword again.
That day, his footwork tangled three times, sending him tumbling.
Seventh day.
Even Three Powers Swordsmanship was grueling.
That was when it happened.
“Stop the Three Powers Swordsmanship.”
The rock spoke for the first time.
“Completion matters in swordsmanship. How can you practice advanced forms without mastering Three Powers?”
“What about Nangong Family swordsmanship?”
“You want me to show family arts with an outsider watching?”
Martial artists don’t show secret techniques lightly to others.
No, even non-secrets—martial artists’ training isn’t for show.
It risks exposing achievements or hidden weapons.
In that sense, this new instructor silently watching his training was extremely rude.
‘Though it’s hardly worth calling swordsmanship.’
He’d chosen well-known Six Harmonies or Three Powers over family basics for the same reason.
Pondering briefly, Chu Un-hwi snapped his finger.
“No need for family secrets. Plenty of basics like Clear Wind Swordsmanship—lots know it in the Academy.”
Clear Wind Swordsmanship.
The basics Nangong children learned upon first gripping a sword.
“Well, Clear Wind then...”
So simple and hardly a secret, no issue.
That day, Nangong Yun-ho practiced Clear Wind Swordsmanship nonstop.
Strangely, he didn’t stumble once.
“Nothing else besides Clear Wind?”
“Nothing particular.”
“Swordsmanship not necessary.”
Not necessarily sword art.
A memory suddenly resurfaced.
“One? Wait, yes, one.”
“From tomorrow, together.”
“Got it.”
Tenth day.
After Clear Wind, he unfolded another basic form. More like a dance than swordsmanship.
Snap.
The tombstone guardian snapped his fingers.
“Got it!”
At the first cheer he’d heard, Nangong Yun-ho halted his sword and wiped his sweat.
“What did you get?”
“What else? Heh.”
The new instructor’s finger pointed at his chest.
“The problem why you can’t continue your swordsmanship.”
That again?
Nangong Yun-ho ignored it.
“Why? I really got it this time.”
“I see you’re different from the show-offs so far. Not like the quacks demanding money. You’re the first to watch me this long.”
“So why?”
“No money. Nothing to give.”
“Why need money?”
“Then fame, or help from other families? Useless. My family forgot me long ago.”
“What bullshit. Tsk.”
Chu Un-hwi snapped a nearby twig and smoothed it with his finger.
In an instant, a usable switch was complete.
“A martial artist pays with the sword.”
As the switch’s tip pointed at him, Nangong Yun-ho frowned.
“What’re you thinking?”
“As you see.”
“Sparring? No thanks.”
Forcing it with strength after all? Disappointed, Nangong Yun-ho turned away.
Then Chu Un-hwi spoke.
“You. Wasn’t like this from the start, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Suddenly, your skill hit a wall. Yeah?”
“!”
Nangong Yun-ho was startled.
‘How does he know that...’
Turning back flustered, Chu Un-hwi was smiling.
“Felt off somehow. Like something was misaligned...”
“Misaligned how?”
“What else? Your training method. Your problem’s not something else. Wrong approach.”
“What? Not a body issue or curse?”
“Curse? Well, maybe a curse—on your head, not body.”
“Explain.”
As Nangong Yun-ho pleaded, Chu Un-hwi grinned.
“Test first.”
Whoosh.
No sooner said than Chu Un-hwi’s figure rushed right up close.
The distant shape became a massive presence in a blink, panicking Nangong Yun-ho.
“Single Stroke Vertical Slash.”
Fortunately, he named the form.
A form Nangong Yun-ho knew well.
Divine Martial Academy basic.
The one he’d been practicing repeatedly.
‘If it’s Single Stroke Vertical Slash...’
A simple straight slash from above the head to the heart.
Instinct moved his hand.
Sizzle!
The moment he hastily positioned his sword, the twig tapped his chest.
He’d been had.
But the opponent smirked lazily, lips twitching.
“Wind Scattering Horizontal Sweep.”
Wind Scattering Horizontal Sweep.
A technique shaking the sword tip fiercely side to side for feints and real strikes.
Tap.
Instinctively stepping back two paces and swinging his sword up and down, the twig touched his side.
‘Again?’
Hit twice in two forms.
So utterly powerless.
Self-loathing struck his heart.
But before sinking into despair, another voice came.
“Clear Wind Moon Slash.”
This too was a Clear Wind Swordsmanship form.
A technique scraping the ground with the sword tip to gather power, then slashing up diagonally.
“Hah!”
In dire straits, Nangong Yun-ho shouted and slashed horizontally.
Tap.
But the twig touched his brow.
‘Lost again.’
He’d known it.
It had happened so many times already.
Repeated losses in spars led him to train alone, hadn’t it?
Nangong Yun-ho’s eyes reddened.
From frustration.
‘Lost again. Again.’
Despite such hard effort, defeated so simply.
The sorrow he’d barely held back choked his throat, eyes growing hot.
That was when it happened.
“Hahaha! It’s real? You mad bastard!”
Wasn’t Chu Un-hwi hugging him tight?
“Wh-why are you doing this?”
“Why? Mind blown, that’s why!”
“L-let go.”
“Man, you’ve suffered. Bro gets it now—let’s walk the flower path from here.”
“N-no male prostitution!”
“Ah, not that flower path!”
Chu Un-hwi turned serious.