Chapter 29: Hegemonic Blade Style (2)
Chapter 29: Hegemonic Blade Style (2)
One elder glared at the man standing next to him, his voice refined but his eyes brimming with anything but refined murderous intent.
"What are you looking at? Get lost."
The elder beside him smiled politely and replied in a voice that was anything but polite.
"Brother, do you really want to die today?"
For the record, everyone engaged in this conversation was an elder of the Peng Family’s Mountain King Pavilion.
They weren't thugs from some back-alley Black Path sect; they were the elders of the Great Hebei Peng Family. (Though they weren't from the back alleys, they were technically Black Path.)
Peng Seong-an, the Head of the Elder Council, let out a deep sigh and pressed his fingers against his temples.
No matter where he looked, the elders seemed to have temporarily forgotten their dignity, practically foaming at the mouth.
He understood how they felt, but still... what about their reputation...?
"I’ve already called dibs on that boy. He’s mine."
"I carried him on my back when he was two years old!"
"Carried him? Don't give me that nonsense! What does giving him a few piggybacks in the inner court matter?"
"Everyone, stop! I was by 'our' Hwi’s side when he collapsed after carving up the Black Dragon Gang at age seven!"
"Is there anyone here who wasn't there?"
"No! I was the one who personally caught 'our' Hwi as he fell and carried him to the infirmary! I’m practically... practically... his step-grandfather!"
"...Has he finally lost his mind?"
The elder who made the "step-grandfather" comment was promptly dragged away, screaming all the while. The sin of momentarily forgetting that the Family Head was Peng Hyeon-hwi’s actual biological grandfather was punished immediately.
He burst into tears, denying the reality that he would no longer be allowed to witness the Hegemonic Blade Style ceremony.
Peng Seong-an watched the chaos for a moment before roaring at the top of his lungs.
"What is this disgraceful display?! Shut up and sit down, all of you!"
The reaction was instantaneous.
The problem was that among the elders standing there with their mouths agape were those of a higher generational rank than the Head of the Elder Council himself.
The Elder Council included those who had fought in the Righteous-Demonic War, an event that had taken place over ninety years ago.
An elder leaning on a cane trembled, frothing at the mouth.
"You... you green little brat...!"
"You rascal, I carried you on my back when you were still crawling!"
"Aigo! Aigo!! I should just die! To think I lived to see the day this brat became the Head of the Elder Council. If your father hadn't begged me to look after you on his deathbed...! It’s my fault, all my fault!!"
Peng Seong-an, the Head of the Elder Council, desperately suppressed the mild urge to commit the sin of defying his seniors and sent a pleading look toward his second cousin.
Receiving that look, Peng Ik-jin exhaled a deep breath and waved his hand.
With that short gesture, silence descended upon the grounds once more.
It seemed the elders had belatedly realized that their behavior was unseemly in the presence of the Family Head.
Feeling his fatigue double, Peng Ik-jin turned his gaze toward his youngest grandson standing on the martial arena.
"By what means do you wish to be tested?"
Hearing my grandfather’s voice, I slowly took a deep breath.
So far, so good.
Actually, it wasn't just good; it was a massive success.
The situation had escalated from a cute grandson’s elementary school talent show into an audience-participation traditional play, and the old men's enthusiasm had skyrocketed.
Therefore, I couldn't just remain a beloved grandson; I had to entertain my grandfathers as a true martial artist.
"Sophists say that martial arts is a form of self-cultivation achieved through the martial path.
The bald monks of distant Mount Song say it is a practice for sudden enlightenment, and the graceful Taoists of Mount Zhongnan say it is a practice to become immortals.
But your grandson thinks differently."
I stood there as a martial artist—arrogant, confident, and no longer a boy.
As a man of the Black Path, rebuking the hypocrisy of the Orthodox Faction.
"Martial arts is the sum of all techniques designed to harm an opponent, and a martial artist is the sum of all warriors who train their entire lives for the sole purpose of harming an opponent.
Even if the Buddhists of Mount Song, the Taoists of Zhongnan, and the pretentious hypocrites of the Orthodox Faction try to deny it, we never paint our own faces with gold."
The Hebei Peng Family does not cite Confucianism or Taoism to excuse its actions.
We do not claim a grand cause for the sake of the people, nor do we argue that we train to become better versions of ourselves.
We sharpen our blades to kill, and we don gloves to avoid being killed.
In every moment where life and death are decided, we grow and temper our bodies to be the ones left standing.
That is the essence of martial arts.
And because we are honest about that essence, we live as the so-called Black Path.
To present a justification before crushing something you dislike is a pathetic endeavor.
True powerhouses solve every situation by repeatedly pressing the 'Then Die' button.
Therefore.
"The Family Head said that this occasion should not merely be a test of my achievements, but a place to discuss the intent I carry.
Thus, I shall reveal my intent."
I lifted my blade and rested it over my shoulder.
It was a posture that, in modern times, would be associated with punks spitting gum and swaggering down the street.
I lowered my gloved hand slightly in front of me and stepped forward lightly.
It was the attitude of a bandit out to collect a toll.
And yet, every bit of it was the posture of the Hebei Peng Family’s introductory art, the Hunyuan Art. Yes, this was our essence.
"I will stand and hold my blade at all times, and even in the moment of death, I will not lower the hand that holds it.
I ask the elder who will test my intent to grant me his guidance here and now."
A typical Hegemonic Blade Style ceremony didn't involve such a process.
Usually, the event consisted entirely of performing every form of the Heart-Protecting Fist one by one before a few elders to have their proficiency evaluated.
But a transmigrator’s coming-of-age ceremony had to be different.
With every member of the family gathered, there could be no better debut stage than this.
If my older brothers had already forged ahead and built a solid foundation of support, I couldn't take the conventional route.
For the sake of the future, I had to engrave my name into the minds of everyone watching me at this very moment.
So, as an arrogant, confident, and hot-blooded martial artist, I straightened my back and looked at each of them.
In the Black Path martial world, the arrogance of the Hebei Peng Family was never a flaw.
"Heh... Hehehe!!"
"Hahahaha!!"
"I knew it from the start! I knew he’d grow up to be a legend! Ever since he was one year old!"
After a brief silence, the elders burst into laughter simultaneously.
The faces of the old men, slapping their knees or clutching their bellies as they roared, were filled with satisfaction.
Seeing even a small smile touch the dry lips of my grandfather, the Family Head, I shifted my gaze to the side.
My brothers.
My second brother looked at me with blatant hostility and competitiveness, while my third brother was flushed red with a mix of an inferiority complex and shame.
And standing before them, my eldest brother was nodding with a gentle smile.
...As expected, he’s the most troublesome one.
But don't worry, from now on, I’m going to make it very clear that I have no interest in the succession.
Now isn't the time to go out of my way to provoke my brothers' wariness.
"Since the boy has spoken thus, who among you will test him?"
"I shall."
"Is this a matter to be decided by seniority? If so, I won't get to preside over a test until his children's generation."
"That’s right."
"Yep, that’s about right."
"Will I even be alive by then?"
"That’s up to your fate."
"True."
"...Why don't we just settle this cleanly with martial arts?"
"Are you confident?"
"Would I have brought it up if I wasn't?"
I ignored the elders' senior center chatter and looked directly at my biological grandfather.
Once every three months, I met with him privately to play Go.
While his presence here today was unexpected, the request I made to him last night was still valid.
—I wish to join Sanwol Hall, Grandfather.
That was last night, when I visited the Family Head’s quarters to report on the events in Beijing and to butter him up appropriately.
Sanwol Hall. The unit directly under the Family Head that inspects the family’s numerous martial forces.
Due to its nature, it is shunned by all the elders and organizations within the family, and the martial artists of Sanwol Hall can never become elders.
Not only that, they are barred from participating in the family’s general affairs.
Because of their immense authority, they are stripped of all other positions within the family as a counterbalance.
In other words, it means one can never dream of being more than a mere martial artist.
Consequently, with only one exception in the family’s history, no direct descendant had ever belonged to Sanwol Hall.
Why would a direct descendant, who could become an elder just by sitting still, do such a thing?
By volunteering for such a place, I could operate outside the radar of my brothers' suspicion.
Weakening my support base within the family? I didn't need to worry about that from the start.
If one wants to become the Young Family Head, the consent of the elders is naturally required.
My father isn't powerful enough to ignore the elders' words.
The position of Young Family Head inevitably requires political prowess.
The family’s affairs are decided at the level of the Young Family Head.
But the Family Head is different.
The only requirement for the Family Head is 'the greatest strength,' and the Family Head protects the Peng Family through strength alone.
Elders and internal family politics have no room to interfere there.
So, I would build my martial arts during my private meetings with my grandfather every three months, and build connections outside the family by taking the civil service exams.
I would avoid my brothers' interference throughout that entire process.
At the same time, through the work of Sanwol Hall, I would identify my brothers' weaknesses and track their movements.
And then, taking my time, I would strike all at once.
Like a bolt of lightning in a single moment. At the very moment when my brother, who has become the Young Family Head, lets his guard down. I will challenge the succession for Family Head.
That is the plan I have prepared over the last three years.
From the day I slaughtered the warriors of the Black Dragon Gang, from the day I began to admire my grandfather’s path, until now.
As if he had read my intent, my grandfather silently raised his hand to calm the grounds.
When the murmuring elders fell silent at once, my grandfather’s voice rang out.
"Sanwol Hall Master, Peng Ik-cheon."
"Yes, Family Head."
"Will you verify that boy’s achievement?"
"Yes, Family Head."
Unlike the elders, the Sanwol Hall Master stood up silently without adding any commentary.
He stepped onto the arena with slow but resolute strides.
Small flickers of dissatisfaction appeared on the faces of the other elders, but none dared to protest the Family Head’s command.
Especially since it was the Sanwol Hall Master. He was the only direct descendant in the Peng Family’s long history to belong to Sanwol Hall.
A man who had declared he would give up all worldly power to live only for the family.
The brother whom the Family Head trusted most.
The one who had forfeited the succession race from the beginning and sworn loyalty to his older brother.
'It worked.'
The moment Peng Ik-cheon appeared, my brothers' gazes shifted drastically.
They looked at me with eyes filled with what could only be described as pleasure.
They likely believed that entering Sanwol Hall was equivalent to a vow never to challenge the succession, just like the elder before them.
They probably thought I would remain a good little brother who could be used like a limb for the rest of my life.
"May I ask one question?"
"Ask."
"What is the requirement to enter Sanwol Hall?"
"..."
Peng Ik-cheon, looking down at me impassively, slowly nodded.
"Endure five moves."
"Then, please begi—"
Whoosh!!
Before I could even finish my sentence, a blade descended toward my head. A heavy, powerful strike.
I quickly stepped forward using the Mountain King Footwork and twisted my gloved hand to block the blow.
It was a strike so powerful my hand went numb, but it was definitely executed using the Hunyuan Blade.
He was facing me with just enough internal energy for me to 'barely' block—somewhere around the level of a third-rate warrior—and using only the martial arts I knew.
It felt like a guided sparring session.
It was at a level that a direct descendant who had mastered the Hunyuan Blade could barely withstand. It was something I had experienced ad nauseam with Peng Jeon-gun.
In that case.
Clang!!
"Let's make it ten moves."
"Ha."
As I spoke while parrying the blade twice more, a smile finally appeared on Peng Ik-cheon’s lips.
The Peng brothers watched the scene blankly. No, not just them—everyone present.
Clang! Screeeech!!
The basic arts of the Peng Family are concentrated in the left hand, which wears the glove.
Until they master higher martial arts, a Peng warrior must thrust their fist toward a blade sharp enough to tear their body apart.
Clang! Crack!
Even with a glove, there’s bound to be an impact.
Even if the glove is made of interlaced iron plates, a master’s strike is too much to deflect with a fist.
Especially for a ten-year-old.
In the history of the Peng Family, no one had ever undergone the Hegemonic Blade Style ceremony at that age.
And naturally, no one had ever engaged in a duel with an elder to prove their martial arts during the ceremony.
Yet now, Peng Hyeon-hwi was deflecting an elder’s strikes with his glove on the arena.
With a posture so proficient it was almost chilling, with a perfectly mastered Heart-Protecting Fist, and with thorough—
Clang!!
"Your strike is one beat faster. Can you do more?"
"Ten moves should have already passed..."
"Then step back. Your ceremony is already over."
"Unfortunately, I haven't learned the footwork for retreating yet."
"It is not your fault, for you will not learn it even after this."
The martial art Peng Ik-cheon unleashed was the Hunyuan Art, executed without a single error.
He did not use anything beyond that.
He only struck within the range Peng Hyeon-hwi knew and led the duel in a way he could respond to.
However, it was difficult to say that the entire process was merely at the level of the Hunyuan Art.
In martial arts, enlightenment and experience surpass everything.
For a warrior of that caliber, it would be normal for a third-rate warrior to be unable to respond even if he used the basic Three-Talent Sword.
Yet Peng Hyeon-hwi was reacting to every bit of it.
As if he were 'reading' every incoming attack.
As if he were reading the limits of what could be done with the Hunyuan Art, every type of application, and every method of execution.
Clang!!
The smiles vanished from the elders who had been chatting in admiration.
Their eyes had regained the gravity befitting elders, and they were meticulously scanning every point where Peng Hyeon-hwi and Peng Ik-cheon exchanged moves.
The way the attacks landed, the way they penetrated, the small habits in their steps, and even their momentary breaths.
"I’m embarrassed to use the word 'genius,' but..."
One elder whispered quietly.
"That boy is the real deal."
Peng Ik-cheon’s blade touched Peng Hyeon-hwi’s neck.
Peng Hyeon-hwi, his breath hitching in his throat, was barely standing, gasping for air.
Peng Ik-cheon, who had lightly tapped the boy’s neck with the back of his blade, sheathed his weapon and turned around.
"Brother."
"Indeed."
At Peng Ik-cheon’s word, the Family Head nodded.
As he gestured, a single black blade rose into the air and descended.
In the center of the arena, Peng Ik-cheon snatched the floating blade and briefly ran his eyes over the blade's surface.
Then, holding the blade in reverse, he slowly...
Extended it toward the panting Peng Hyeon-hwi.
"This blade was forged by melting down the blades of the five warriors who died before you and tempering them with the blade you used when you offered a blood sacrifice to their spirits. Take it."
"Yes."
"From this moment on, every drop of blood you spill upon this blade will be offered to your seniors who died before you. Even if the day comes when you die somewhere in the martial world, this blade will surely be recovered and forged into the blade of your successor.
This is the Blade (刀) of the Hebei Peng Family. Are you willing to live and die for the family?"
"Yes."
The boy accepted the blade.
His hand dipped momentarily under its weight, but he soon seemed to adjust and gripped it familiarly before sheathing it at his waist.
Sring, the blade went to sleep with a sharp sound.
Watching this, Peng Ik-cheon continued.
"Now, you have become a warrior of the Peng Family."
The Hegemonic Blade Style ceremony was over.
The elders each suppressed their regret as they looked at Peng Hyeon-hwi.
The regret that they couldn't take the boy under their own wing... such feelings were shared among the elders.
But conversely, the Peng brothers were able to relax and applaud.
In the relief that, as long as he entered Sanwol Hall, that brat wouldn't interfere in the succession race.
Amidst the cheers and unstinting blessings from the crowd surrounding the arena.
Peng Hyeon-hwi smiled as he looked at his grandfather.
*
That night.
"Who am I?"
"Please, just stop this bullshit."
Peng Jeon-gun clutched his forehead as he helped Peng Hyeon-hwi into his martial robes as he prepared to leave the Purple Tiger Hall.