Chapter 168
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 168
Chapter Title: Chapter 46. Crossroads (4)
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"Like this?"
Flying Tiger said as he swiftly drew his Kwa-geum-do. In the next instant, he thrust it straight at Sang Goon-bo.
This was ostensibly a sparring match. Normally, one would exchange a word or two, perform the proper salute, and observe courtesies before clashing blades. But he skipped all that and lunged right in with a slash—utterly unconventional.
Yet Sang Goon-bo didn't flinch. He drew his own sword—who knew when?—and swept it in a clean arc, batting away the incoming thrust.
Clang!
The Kwa-geum-do flew off wildly, trembling in the air, and Flying Tiger retreated while spinning it back into his grip to regain control.
His hand was numb, tingling fiercely.
"Hmph. Like a hyena nipping at a buffalo's heels, only to jump back in shock after one good smack."
That was Iron Horn Tiger So Myeong-rang's commentary from the sidelines.
Low Water Demon Horn Maeng Dal-seo—who shared even worse memories with Flying Tiger—grinned smugly at this, while childlike Ta Cheon-jo Hyeong Woo-saeng burst into uproarious laughter.
"That's not the end of it. Looks like the buffalo's got horns, too."
Venerable Mixed River Fish O-rim stroked his beard and added his measured observation. And why? Because the moment Sang Goon-bo repelled Flying Tiger's initial lunge, he immediately pursued and brought his blade down in a fierce overhead strike.
It was the exact same strike So Myeong-rang had unleashed the day before, one that seemed it could cleave him even on his deathbed. But the same technique wielded by different hands carried a wholly different menace.
Whoosh!
The warriors in the hall figured this one blow would end the match in short order.
Whoa, so this is the real deal?
All Flying Tiger could muster was awe.
Where So Myeong-rang's overhead strike felt brutish and overwhelming, Sang Goon-bo's was crisp and unadorned—almost refreshingly simple. It even made sense now why So Myeong-rang fixated so stubbornly on overhead strikes.
After witnessing something like that, anything else would feel lacking, wouldn't it?
But awe aside, Flying Tiger's body reacted with lightning speed. By now, he'd sparred enough with superiors to hone his instincts; his response was calm yet swift.
Even as his rebounding Kwa-geum-do dragged him into a spin, he didn't miss Sang Goon-bo's precisely timed advance. And when the blade came whistling down, he took another step back and unleashed eight rapid slashes in one breath.
It was the reverse execution of a single step from the Sixty-Four Wind and Water Rings.
Thus, the Wind and Water Rings could serve as either offensive or defensive forms, depending on whether one advanced or retreated with that pivotal step.
Clang-clang-clang!
Sang Goon-bo's ferocious overhead strike deflected all eight of Flying Tiger's slashes and carved downward.
But in doing so, his blade lost momentum and slowed. Meanwhile, Flying Tiger slipped free of its arc, propelled backward.
In that instant, Sang Goon-bo's eyes gleamed with interest.
Well, now.
Sang Goon-bo strode forward and struck down with even greater force.
Flying Tiger retreated two steps, unleashing sixteen slashes to block once more, sliding back all the while.
And so it began.
Sang Goon-bo advanced step by step, raining down overhead strikes. Flying Tiger retreated and reeled under the pressure, yet frantically whirled his Kwa-geum-do to somehow fend them off.
Sang Goon-bo's strikes grew heavier with each exchange—until suddenly, they transformed. Sometimes he sacrificed weight for blinding speed; other times, he traded pace for the heft of a mountain; at moments, feather-light yet bolt-quick as lightning.
And Flying Tiger's all-encompassing defense evolved in kind to match each variation. There was no other way to survive it.
The onlookers, engrossed in the exchange, soon watched in silent fascination.
At first, their eyes fixed solely on Sang Goon-bo's descending blade. Like Flying Tiger, they sensed something profound in those strikes. But as time wore on, their gazes lingered longer on Flying Tiger's ripostes. The real-time adaptations at his sword-tip were anything but ordinary.
Flying Tiger's flurry accelerated until the Kwa-geum-do's blade vanished entirely, leaving only afterimages in its wake. Those faint trails multiplied and overlapped, until at last, it looked as if a translucent shield of thin membrane had formed before him.
Its shape was still imperfect, occasionally flickering with a blue sheen.
"Sword Veil?"
So Myeong-rang murmured in astonishment.
A Sword Veil was the realm where one formed a barrier of sword qi. It required not only mastery over sword qi but also esoteric techniques to achieve. And Flying Tiger had managed it—albeit imperfectly.
Maeng Dal-seo gave a wry smile and chimed in.
"Since he did it with a blade, not a sword, we should call it a Blade Veil. And to watch that bastard grasp it on the fly... Damn it, can't deny it—he's got something."
......
The spar between Flying Tiger and Sang Goon-bo had begun unconventionally at Flying Tiger's initiative—and it ended the same way.
He abruptly halted his frenzied whirlwind of strikes and stared straight through the blade Sang Goon-bo was bringing down on him once more.
Without so much as blinking.
Sang Goon-bo's strike, brimming with power as it plummeted toward Flying Tiger's head, halted as if by magic. The blade hovered a mere three inches—just shy of nine centimeters—from his scalp. The savage momentum that promised to bisect him evaporated, replaced by a gentle breeze that ruffled his hair.
Swish...
They stared at each other blankly in that frozen tableau.
"Why did you suddenly stop your blade?"
"First, my deepest gratitude for the guidance, elder."
Flying Tiger bowed deeply and politely. Then he explained.
"As per your request, I've shown you everything I have. I judged any further struggle pointless."
"What if my blade had slipped and cut you down?"
"I'd have died cursing my own poor judgment of my opponent."
"My fault becomes yours?"
"Yes."
"Hmmm. So what did you see in our exchange?"
"I saw... something, but..."
Flying Tiger hesitated, taking a step back before demonstrating an overhead strike right there in front of Sang Goon-bo.
Whoosh.
A flat, utterly ordinary chop. But anyone could tell he was imitating Sang Goon-bo's signature move.
He sheathed his blade and said,
"This is as far as I can go for now."
So Myeong-rang snorted in disdain, clearly offended. Maeng Dal-seo dismissed it with a "What the hell was that?" A Jeok-gang, though, rejoiced as if it were his own triumph. Hyeong Woo-saeng laughed and offered, "Little brother, you've got a long way to go." Venerable O-rim nodded approvingly: "But a beginning is half the battle."
And finally, Sang Goon-bo spoke in his usual impassive tone.
"Pitiful."
"Ah! That's because of my own lack of talent..."
"Ten years."
"Pardon?"
"In my youth, I swung the blade ten thousand times a day for ten years. Only then did it become somewhat usable. Take note."
"...!"
In that moment, a thunderbolt of realization crashed through Flying Tiger's mind.
It was advice anyone could give. But coming from him, at this moment, it aligned perfectly with the path Flying Tiger had pursued all along. It was exactly what he needed most.
I'm on the right path!
The certainty surged within him. The fog that had shrouded his vision cleared in an instant.
It was enlightenment—what they called "opening one's eyes."
As the upheaval subsided, Flying Tiger gazed at Sang Goon-bo with eyes asking, Why bestow such wisdom on me?
Looking back, elders like the Shandong Old Man, Wang Baek-gun, and even Ma Yeop had all imparted great lessons. But they shared personal or circumstantial ties with him—understandable, gratitude aside.
Not so with Sang Goon-bo. They had no connection whatsoever, and he wasn't the type to care about strangers.
So Flying Tiger wondered.
"The Zhao Family Manor never forgets favors or grudges."
"But in my case..."
"That's what Yong-i told me. He said to pass this along, too. So you owe me nothing."
With that, Sang Goon-bo produced a vial from his robes and handed it over. He explained it would aid inner energy cultivation, even if just by a fingernail's worth. Drink it, trade it for candy—do as you please.
But Flying Tiger sensed it was no ordinary elixir. He tried to decline, saying he couldn't accept such a treasure.
Then a voice came from behind.
"Take it. Didn't the elder say? If you don't need it, trade it for candy."
"...?"
Flying Tiger turned to see Venerable O-rim stroking his beard.
"They called you clever, but you're denser than I thought. Word is, you've got urgent personal business? And from your plea for the Phoenix Flame Herb, I'd guess someone close to you is ill. Am I right?"
"Yes. But she's no martial artist, so this precious medicine won't ease her condition. It's simply too much for me."
"Ha! So dense. That's why he said do as you like—trade it or whatever. Mark my words: that one vial would have even seasoned healers lining up to barter. Getting it now?"
"...!"
Jin Ga-yong's thoughtfulness.
Not knowing Flying Tiger's full story, he'd inferred and provided what he needed.
And he must have asked his martial uncle Sang Goon-bo to see me off from the Zhao Family Manor. So I can focus solely on my affairs without burden.
Flying Tiger stared at the vial in his hand. Sang Goon-bo's words echoed in his ears.
The Zhao Family Manor never forgets favors or grudges!
"I've given you all there is to give. Now be on your way."
"Understood. Farewell."
Flying Tiger bowed to Sang Goon-bo and turned to leave. Glancing sideways, he caught traces of reluctance in A Jeok-gang and a few others' eyes.
They do need me, huh?
He pivoted back toward A Jeok-gang.
"Something the matter?"
"Brother, mind carving out some time? There's something I'd like to discuss privately."
A Jeok-gang glanced warily at the onlookers, but Flying Tiger pressed.
"Come on, don't hold out on me now."
"Well, you're leaving, aren't you? So..."
As A Jeok-gang hemmed and hawed, Venerable O-rim cut in impatiently.
"What a heartless lot. The young man's asking—why turn him away? Ahem, Flying Tiger warrior. If you're open to it, why not talk it over with me instead?"
"My thanks."
"Just to be clear: this is only because you asked first."
"I'll relay that to the Zhao Family Manor's second young master."
They moved elsewhere, discussed terms, and struck a deal.
It was a transaction, plain and simple.
And that was why Flying Tiger, pondering at the crossroads, chose the rocky path ahead.