Chapter 6: The Heartbeat of the Sword
A moment later, the four emerged from the room, murmuring among themselves.
"Doesn't Deputy Leader Dam seem a bit off? He changed so suddenly, I thought he was someone else."
"He came back from the brink of death. It happens."
The burly Ak Mu-gil called them to attention. "This isn't the time to worry about that. One wrong move, and we're all dead. We need to steel ourselves and move."
"Fuck it! Yeah, let's do this. We can't stay under that bastard forever."
"We've got a shot. Even if we're on the gang leader's side, there aren't many left now. If we play the mood right, we can end it quick."
"But I'm still worried. Shouldn't we tip him off first?"
"Didn't you hear the deputy leader? If you trust him, see it through."
"Aw, fine! What's dying once more than twice? Let's go."
The trust built over the past year, fighting back-to-back with Mu Yun, ultimately solidified their resolve. The four shot off in different directions.
Pa-pat!
As the occasional birdcall pierced the silence of the pitch-black night, Mu Yun headed into the shadowed forest.
First-rate mid-level! That was Mu Yun now. The realm classifications hadn't changed much from a thousand years ago. From third-rate, second-rate, and first-rate, one reached the peak realm of Jeol-jeong where sword aura emerged for true experts, then Cho-jeol-jeong for super-elites, Hwa-gyeong where enlightenment unified essence, energy, and spirit into absolute power, Hyeon-gyeong grasping the truths of all things, and finally Saeng-sa-gyeong.
But two key differences stood out. The number of martial artists had grown with the population, naturally. More strikingly, the proportion at Jeol-jeong and Cho-jeol-jeong was dramatically higher, thanks to advances in qi cultivation methods.
Yet despite more martial artists and experts overall, the number of Hwa-gyeong absolutes and beyond remained similar. Roughly twenty known Hwa-gyeong masters existed now; factoring in the hidden ones, maybe double that. About the same as a thousand years ago.
Which meant...
Efficiency improved, but sticking to established frameworks makes it harder to forge one's own path.
Back then, they trained "brutishly," as people said. No paper or widespread literacy like today. Teachings were mostly oral, information scarce, so no single "right" way to cultivate. Internal arts, external arts, movement arts, poison arts, illusion arts, even seduction arts—everyone carved their own road.
Only a few massive sects recorded techniques on bamboo slips or silk for sharing; most passed orally within bloodlines. Errors crept in during transmission, forcing many to innovate their own paths. That gap yielded the results.
Mu Yun recalled Sin-gi Sim-ui Gong. The art he and Yeo Hwi created together. More precisely, Yeo Hwi embodied it intuitively, and Mu Yun systematized it. They'd made countless arts between them—not an exaggeration to say half of Cheok-go-ryeon's techniques were theirs, including the absolute ones worth counting on one hand.
All possible because of Yeo Hwi. His fundamental skepticism toward every martial art, paired with the daring to test them.
But what he needed tomorrow was Sin-gi Sim-ui Gong. An art starting not from the lower dantian, but the middle one in the heart. He'd reached the fourth stage in his past life, but now the focus was this initial phase. A matter of sensation and insight, not accumulation like building qi reserves—time wasn't the issue. It would shape tomorrow's actions.
The first stage equated to sensing heaven and earth's qi through breathing in ordinary methods.
But it requires the heart's throb, and the body's energy differs.
After intense exertion, the heart naturally races. By chance, calming that ragged breath with a Daoist incantation, Yeo Hwi discovered qi enveloping the whole body from the heart. Mu Lun then realized the middle dantian anchored that flow.
In short, sense the qi emerging when the heart's beat ripples through the body. That was the start. This stage awakened the middle dantian and circulated its flow. Focusing on the mind's image drew the scattered qi back to the heart—that was the middle dantian.
That's what he aimed for now. Exchanging energy from every organ, muscle, and meridian with the heart enabled super-senses beyond the five and superhuman precision in motion. Especially potent for defense, detecting attacks a split-second sooner.
Reach this, and no matter what Dan Mok Cheol-jin tried tomorrow, no fatal wounds. That was the goal.
Plus, adapt the family art he'd learned, Bi-ryu Dan-hon Geom, to the heart-mind. Surely some disconnect between thought and body lingered now.
A heady thrill tugged at Mu Yun's lips.
Let's do it.
His heart raced uncontrollably even before moving—welcome indeed. Forty years of watching enviously, now finally his to claim.
From the moment he raised the sword, his chest thundered like lightning. Pure joy. Electric pleasure. Overwhelming excitement.
Yeo Hwi flashed in mind, drawing a soft smile. What would he say seeing this?
How could envy or jealousy not stir beside the absolute of martial arts, Yeo Hwi? Yet his friend always turned such clumsy emotions into wry chuckles. Comparisons or judgments didn't apply to him. That's what Yeo Hwi was.
This swelling chest was the raw thrill of a young martial artist gripping his first sword. In this instant, no ambitions or goals—just the heady ecstasy of swinging this blade freely at the heavens.
He lightly gripped the sword, drew a deep breath, and exhaled. The tip pointed skyward.
Shuuk!
The first step back to being a martial artist swept the earth.
Sa-rarak!
Power entered his stepping foot; he released body tension as breath guided. A faint breeze rippled around the upward blade.
Hwi-iik!
Not time for speed yet. Endless softness and unbroken flow like water first.
The toe brushing ground parted leaves lightly.
Pa-ra-rak!
Sweeping the floor, he shifted weight naturally. Sword chased the air's wind from arm to hand.
Shuuuuk!
Hwa-ra-rak!
After about fifteen minutes, motions grew larger, faster. Sensation sharpened, awkwardness gone, demanding more. The breeze's whisper turned fierce. Body and blade accelerated. Sword cleaved air relentlessly. Slash, thrust repeated.
Bwoong! Hwi-ri-rik!
Long into it, a soul-deep wind-whisper echoed in his ears like an illusion.
—Congratulations, you rascal.
Yeo Hwi would have grinned brightly saying it, but it was solo fancy. Still, Mu Yun replied as if he were there.
Yeah... feels too good!
Cheon Ga-jang's Bi-ryu Dan-hon Geom. Barely Cho-jeol-jeong at its peak, yet no absolute art brought fiercer joy now. Tears glistening on his cheeks? Undeniable bliss.
Another fifteen minutes, heart swelled like a sail full of wind. Pulsing beats signaled thrill. Then eyes gleaming with joy and unease conveyed:
The real start is now.
For this stage, moderate heart rate. Breath to the brink hindered heart-mind. Time for seated meditation to sense qi.
He crossed legs into lotus, entering qi circulation.
Breathing to heart's rhythm, in and out. Eyes closed, he probed body state meticulously.
Half an hour later, Mu Yun's eyes quivered faintly.
It's here!
That familiar sensation from his past life. The first stage began.
A slender strand branched like roots, coursing everywhere unhindered. Intensity faint, but etched in body and soul before.
Unlike typical methods pulling from lower dantian by will, this qi arose naturally from every nook. Not meridian-bound, it roamed muscles, nerves, organs, scattering pure clarity.
An hour of steady flow churning within, syncing with breath. Mu Yun sensed warm qi gathering near the heart.
Unfamiliar yet familiar. Instinct screamed:
Middle dantian!
A tingling warmth coils around the heart, energy circulating ceaselessly. Super-senses emerge, precision motion follows—attacks foreseen, defenses absolute.
Tingling rose, flowing around the heart. Circulation persisted.
Mu Yun quelled surging emotion. Lips and eyes quivered involuntarily. Forty years, yet how forget this?
This is it.
Long years, yet the path reopened. A tear slipped from closed eyes.
Seu-reuk!
Calming excitement, reining turbulent feelings. Soon, qi coalesced faintly near the heart, taking form. Ambient wind's qi felt differently now—super-senses born. Precision motion too.
Tears welled anew. Heart brimmed, limbs trembled.
It's done.
Years envying Yeo Hwi and others flashed by. Time to settle the heart-mind.
Mu Yun opened his eyes. Piercing gaze flickered, then boundless joy's smile followed.
One more reason: Third stage, qi accumulation reached.
Exchanging from all body parts gradually stockpiles in middle dantian. Minute, but unmistakable. Far faster than before.
Dazed eyes ignited fiercely.
I can do this.
Prior joy was reclaiming martial life; now, walking Yeo Hwi's invincible path. Incomparable fullness flooded him.
Thus, one contingency plan solidified. If Ha Hu matters resolved well, no need fleeing Chim-ju.
But joy faded to bitterness. Someone always there, gone now. The one who'd rejoice most, absent.
A brief sigh cloaked regret.
Yeo Hwi!
Till dawn dew beaded leaves as night deepened. Scattered starlight alone soothed the sword-whirling heart.
The next afternoon, Ha Hu Sega's training grounds. A few orthodox martial artists chattered.
"Hey, Cheol-jin. What about that guy?"
Another answered instead. "Kekeke! What else? Crush an arm or shatter his dantian."
Someone slyly raised yesterday's blunder. "Yeah, keep it there. Trying to kill him like yesterday would be bad. Tarnishes your reputation."
Dan Mok Cheol-jin hid displeasure, but furrowed brow betrayed him.
This over one worm.
Then mischievous laughter erupted. "Kekeke! Here he comes."
Sly smiles curved all lips. Boredom met entertaining spectacle.