A Disciple's Lesson
Disciple. Lesson (1) Unable to endure the prickly temper of the Dang Clan grandfather and granddaughter, I was driven out of Sichuan. It left me in quite a bind. The silver I'd scraped together from the Demonic Cult branch and the Green Forest stronghold was more than enough for travel expenses, but the real problem was that I knew nothing about the murim. At the very least, I needed to know where things were if I was going to plan how to spend my money or find my way. I needed a guide. After a few encounters, we were on speaking terms, she was well-informed, and I could get a bit of petty revenge for her constant sharpness. The younger Dang girl was perfect for the role. She hated the idea, of course, but the elder Dang had decided attaching a reliable person to me was good business, and I simply wanted to see that reluctant face of hers. What else could I do?
"I should have sent you off while you were still lying in the medicine hall."
Truly, poison arts were cultivated through a poisonous heart. Just by glaring at me, my skin prickled.
"Regret always comes too late, no matter how quickly you feel it."
"And revenge is never too late, even after ten years."
When Dang Ju-yeon spat the words out, a smile naturally rose to my face. Watching her seethe at every meal after failing to poison me had become my latest small pleasure.
"Think of it positively, Lady Dang. This is the perfect time to travel. You said you liked Sichuan—don't tell me you dislike Guizhou?"
"If I had to choose, I'd say I dislike leaving home."
"That's unfortunate. We'll be wandering for quite a while yet."
"..."
As we walked and talked, we emerged from the dense forest. A wide plain stretched before us, and in the distance rose a tall brick wall. We had finally reached our destination.
When I first set out, I'd been deeply conflicted. Once word spread that I'd defeated the Black Poison Lord, my challenge letters were no longer ignored—they were politely declined. Having already earned a place among the Top 100 Masters, those who stood to gain nothing from victory and everything to lose from defeat had no desire to face me. Still, Yueyang and Wuhan drew people from all over the Central Plains. If I went there, I might encounter other wandering Top 100 Masters in similar straits. I was making plans to head for Yueyang when a letter arrived.
The Great Force Roaring Lord of the Guizhou Yeom Clan, who had been silent when I first sent my challenge, had finally replied.
Flanking the tall main gate were two large men seated on small chairs, chatting. I approached one of them.
"Excuse me, is this the Guizhou Yeom Clan?"
"It is. Who might you be?"
"I'm Yu Baek, here at the invitation of the clan head. This is Lady Dang Ju-yeon of the Dang Clan."
The man glanced between Dang Ju-yeon and me before asking, "I see. Anyone else with you?"
"No one else."
At those words, both men brushed off their knees and stood, then shoved the gate open in one motion. The door was more than twice my height and wider still; when it swung wide, the wind stirred my hair.
"What are you waiting for? Get inside before your arms fall off."
"Is there no test or trial?"
"If you really want one, we can arrange it."
Instead of answering, I slipped quickly through the gate. Once the two of us had entered, the man followed and strode ahead without a word. We could only follow, bewildered.
The Yeom Clan estate was vast enough to be mistaken for a small city. Buildings were scattered across the wide plain between the mountains. Most were no taller than three stories, yet each floor was broad and high, giving them a solid, imposing presence. The man led us to one of these buildings. Inside were only a few large tables and chairs; it was empty, and even darker because he lit no lamps before vanishing. I turned to Dang Ju-yeon.
"The atmosphere is quite different from the Sichuan Dang Clan, isn't it?"
"Of course it is. The Sichuan Dang Clan are natives of Sichuan, the Guizhou Yeom Clan are natives of Guizhou. The Sichuan Dang Clan belong to the Seven Great Houses, while the Guizhou Yeom Clan are one of the Eight Heterodox Gates. The Sichuan Dang Clan have held the title of count since the founding of the dynasty, whereas the Yeom Clan has been a martial house for less than a century. What could possibly be the same?"
"Oh? The Sichuan Dang Clan holds a countship?"
"The title belongs to the Dang Clan head, so strictly speaking, it's my grandfather who is the count. All Seven Great Houses are founding meritorious officials and hold titles. The Murong and Shandong Yue families are marquises; the rest are counts."
"I had no idea. You must be quite the noble lady yourself, Lady Dang. You should have mentioned it earlier. If I'd known, I might have thought twice before bringing you along."
Dang Ju-yeon's delicate brow furrowed and her lips parted, but before she could speak, footsteps sounded outside. I was curious what she would have said. A pity.
The man who opened the door was not speaking figuratively—he was literally eight feet tall. He wore an ochre training robe with a wide-open chest and narrow sleeves. On him it looked like training garb; on anyone else the hem would have reached the ankles and become a long robe. He fixed me with a stare from beneath thick brows and asked bluntly, "You're Yu Baek?"
"Yes, I am. And you are...?"
"I'm Yeom Tae-il, the Great Force Roaring Lord who leads the Yeom Clan."
"Ah, thank you for the invitation."
As I rose to greet him, resting a hand on the table, a massive palm caught my forearm and stopped me. The Great Force Roaring Lord simply pulled out the chair opposite mine, sat, and spoke.
"No need. More importantly, I owe you an apology."
"From you, my lord? I can't imagine why."
"When I first received your challenge letter, I dismissed you as just another self-proclaimed hero. I ignored it."
"Ah. Well, I hadn't accomplished anything notable at the time, so that was fair."
"But then word came that you'd defeated the Black Poison Lord. That's why I sent a late reply. My apologies."
"There's no need to apologize. Does that mean you'll accept my challenge?"
"Of course. Why else would I have summoned you?"
His eyes gleamed with clear delight and eagerness. Some avoided duels with the Top 100 Masters precisely because they had defeated one; others burned with the desire to test themselves against such a figure. It was an amusing contrast.
"When shall we set the date?"
"Are you in poor condition right now?"
"No, I'm perfectly fine."
"Then why delay?"
The Great Force Roaring Lord stood, raised his right fist, and pointed his thumb over his shoulder.
"Let's do it now. It's just before dinner—perfect timing."
There were no walls, only a floor of stone slabs. Each slab was slightly larger than my footstep, with weeds sprouting here and there, though not enough to hinder footing. The sun had traveled nearly halfway from noon; its light was gentle. Guiyang sat at high altitude, so the air against the skin was cool and faintly thin.
In the moments before a fight, my heart always raced. It was a shame this wasn't a fight to the death, but we had agreed that if neither deliberately took a life, there would be no further accountability. Neither the Great Force Roaring Lord nor I were the sort to hold back in a duel, so the bout promised to be worthwhile.
I drew my sword slowly. The blade caught the pale sunlight and flashed. It was the sword the Dang Clan had given me when I left; the craftsmanship was excellent, and I liked it.
"You're a swordsman."
"Yes. I learned the sword."
"Not bad. Still, I believe the true essence of martial arts lies in bare-handed techniques."
"May I ask why?"
"Isn't martial arts ultimately about clashing spirit and intent?"
The Great Force Roaring Lord clenched both fists. The veins on his thick arms stood out like twin dragons, coiling and writhing.
"A sword's edge and a spear's point add variety to technique and sharpen the mind—like gaining horns and claws a person doesn't naturally possess. But do people have horns and claws? Body and mind are one. Which can transmit power more purely is obvious, isn't it?"
"So bare-handed techniques it is."
"Exactly."
The instant he finished speaking, his foot struck the ground. Stone cracked loudly as the Great Force Roaring Lord leapt with tremendous force. His massive shoulder filled my vision, like a mountain bearing down. The difference in weight made meeting him head-on a poor choice. I angled my sword, planted my feet, and deflected the first punch's momentum. Before the second could land, I slipped inside his reach and drove my shoulder forward.
He tried to close his arms and crush me, but my shoulder reached his chest first. He hadn't expected the weight behind it. A sensation heavier than mere heaviness—something like pushing a mountain—surged through my shoulder. The Great Force Roaring Lord's body was hurled backward, restoring three zhang of distance between us.
He lived up to his epithet; he was an enormous man. His tremendous strength came from both his mind and his body, and the two were inseparable. His power wasn't a tool honed for a purpose—it was himself. That was why it felt so solid. Even though I'd landed a clean, properly rooted strike, he didn't seem particularly damaged. It meant that without using the blade, landing a decisive blow would be difficult. The outlook for the fight had grown considerably darker.
Yet, as always, I turned the problem into a solution. While I launched myself into the air and kicked off toward him, I too grew larger. Just as a river without tributaries swells in its main channel, I cut away every unnecessary thought, erased the desire to aim for any particular target, and focused solely on myself.
The Great Force Roaring Lord's eyes widened. Force met force through blade and palm. A deafening roar shook the air, and we each retreated two zhang, resetting our stances. At the final moment he had overlapped both palms and shoved my sword aside with all his might. Had the gap in strength been greater, I might have exposed an opening, but I was sturdy and strong enough now. The situation wasn't bad. My imitation had become quite convincing, and my stamina remained ample. He had yet to land a clean hit, while I had seized the advantage twice in succession. Momentum was on my side.
So why did I feel so uneasy?
The reason became clear when my sword was blocked twice more on the side of his hand, and my breathing grew labored. I was sturdy and strong, but comparatively soft and weak. The Great Force Roaring Lord looked at me as I steadied my ragged breath and spoke.
"You truly are a prodigy."
"Thank you for the praise."
"But even with that talent, you can imitate spirit and intent—yet not the body."
"..."
He drew his arms back and straightened his spine. His towering frame seemed to pierce the sky—easily eight feet plus several more inches. He was more than half again my height and nearly twice as broad. It was only natural that my mind could imitate him while my body could not follow.
"You may have handled the Black Poison Lord, but you're poorly matched against me. I'll end this now."
The situation was genuinely amusing, and his words only made it funnier. Watching the Great Force Roaring Lord's fist come crashing down, I finally let the laughter I'd been holding back burst free.