Entering the Name (3)
Training martial arts with Cheonghwa was on another level entirely. Even with the same Mt. Tai Pressing Forward form, if it wasn't perfect, she wouldn't count it even once.
"If you can swing it a hundred times with perfect form, I'll count that as ten thousand swings."
At first, I'd been thrilled at the reduction from ten thousand to a hundred, but now it felt like I'd already swung it around a thousand times. And these weren't wild swings—they were precise, deliberate ones, chipping away like a sculptor at stone. That made it even more exhausting than ten thousand sloppy ones.
"Haa, haa."
"Pick up your sword. You can do this."
"I can't!"
"Believe in yourself! It's not the sword that's shaking—it's you!"
"Argh, come on!"
I let out a frustrated howl, but Cheonghwa was as deaf to it as if she were stone. She'd been misunderstanding something from earlier, and no matter how I tried to explain, she just shook her head.
I know your heart, you admirable fool. No need to keep up the act.
What the hell was she even thinking to say something like that? Looking at her reminded me of those stubborn customers who never listened. With them, a good thrashing usually set them straight—but I could hardly thrash Cheonghwa.
Gritting my teeth, I raised the wooden sword again. Even with its light weight and my Solid Body talent making me tougher than most, a thousand swings were brutal. My arms felt like waterlogged cotton.
After buying the lowest-grade Sword Talent for five silver taels—discounted from ten—I'd swung the sword, and her gaze had changed. Should've just skipped it.
The unlock condition for the discount on lowest-grade Sword Talent was performing the same form a thousand times.
I hadn't bought it right away, just twitching the sword a bit, hoping more reps might unlock other conditions. Maybe I should try twitching it again later. Even after properly doing five hundred and twitching the last five hundred, the discount had triggered—so it seemed to count twitches numerically too.
"You'll probably be the oldest in the evaluation match. At your age, you'd normally be a third-generation disciple."
"Embarrassing, huh? A thirty-something guy sweating it out, clashing swords with kids."
"Why worry about others' stares? A Taoist must be detached."
"I'm not a Taoist—I'm a merchant. Made of money."
"Talking nonsense means your strength's returning."
Sure enough, after half a month of nothing but horizontal, vertical, and diagonal slashes, I'd gotten proficient. Her initial demand of ten thousand swings wasn't total nonsense.
Once I'd awakened the Sword Talent, every swing highlighted flaws to fix. My actual swordsmanship was improving.
"Much better now."
Cheonghwa, who never bullshitted about martial arts, acknowledged it. The result of five hundred perfect swings each.
"That's enough to say you've mastered the Samjae Sword Method."
"It took half a month to master this third-rate technique. Am I still a natural disaster at martial arts?"
"It took me two months to master it. Though I didn't swing it as mindlessly as you."
"You told me to."
I grumbled back. We really had drilled nothing but the Samjae Sword Method for half a month. I wondered if this training method was even right.
"Normally, that many swings would leave you unable to lift a sword. Then you'd train footwork, palm strikes, or fists. But you wouldn't let go of it. Weird stamina. That must've shortened your time."
She was talking about my Solid Body. It let me endure longer than others, backed by even the lowest-grade Sword Talent.
If lowest-grade did this much, what about top-grade? Probably comprehend a form perfectly after one look.
"How does the evaluation match work?"
"Random brackets, winners advance against winners. Determines the rankings."
"Winner's bracket, got it."
I nodded. Luck mattered too. Maybe check the shop for luck talents—though after Sword Talent, I was broke.
"But to enter, you need to pass a certain test."
"A test too?"
"Biggest skill gap is between third-gen disciples. Age differences up to five years. Eleven versus sixteen is a bigger gap than thirty versus thirty-five. Kids swarming in could make rankings pure luck, so the test doubles as a filter."
"Can I pass it?"
"Depends on you."
Part of me hoped to fail and kill expectations, but I needed to show the elders my talent.
Cheonghwa was impressed by my Samjae Sword Method speed, but other elders might not factor in my short training time. Had to show as much as possible.
"When's the test?"
"Now."
"What?"
"The examiner is the third-gen instructor. If they judge you ready to compete, you're in."
"I've only learned Samjae Sword Method."
"If you've mastered it, that's enough."
Cheonghwa snapped a thin twig from a nearby tree. A slender branch with a single leaf—ideal.
"I'll use this. You use the wooden sword."
Anyone else, I'd call bullshit, but this was Cheonghwa, one of the Eight Elders. Even the twig looked deadly.
"Block ten exchanges."
"Got it."
"Then, begin—"
I kicked off before she finished, Cloud Step tracing a graceful curve toward her. Close range let me see her face—eyes tracking my feet precisely, faint smile on her lips.
"Forcing exchanges on your terms. Nice move."
She tucked her left hand behind her back, brushing the twig with her right. It barely touched my wooden sword, but shock jolted my wrist.
"Kuh!"
"Only works if skill gaps are small."
Cheonghwa used Cloud Step too. But I couldn't track her feet. No matter how I focused, they slipped my predictions—like chasing flies.
She curved softly, turning her back to me. Even with her exposed, I couldn't strike. Like river water glancing off a rock. Suddenly, she was at my side. The twig thrust at my waist. Knowing I couldn't recover the sword, I kicked at her wrist.
Her wrist bent like a snake, dodging. But that bought me time to recover. One hand on the hilt, one on the blade, I blocked like pushing the twig away.
Bam!
Blocked, but impact raced through me. My foot gouged a furrow as I slid back.
"Second exchange!"
She charged, yelling. I rested the sword at my waist, unleashing a massive vertical slash—one of the brutally drilled Samjae forms, Mt. Tai Pressing Forward.
Swords clashed head-on, but my hand stung. Before I could complain, she reversed grip, aiming for my forearm. Gasping, I countered with Horizontal Cleaving Army. My sword sliced a leaf, but the twig held—infused with qi, no longer fragile.
Next, she swept from thigh to shoulder. Reflexively, Diagonal Eight Directions Storm. Then I got it.
She was testing my Samjae Sword Method mastery. I had to deploy every practiced form, shorter and fiercer.
Her test continued. Any laziness, and I'd have failed. But through Samjae, I blocked nine exchanges. One more, and I passed.
Cheonghwa leaped skyward, brilliantly backlit by the sun—hard to see. But my senses warned of the drop. Weirdly, my mind calculated airtime and swing timing automatically. A merchant's eye for value.
"Good judgment."
But martial artists defied common sense. I slashed to match her descent—but as my sword pointed skyward, she'd already landed. Right, they had Thousand Jin Hammer for rapid drops.
Cheekily, she attacked with something no Samjae form could block. Last question outside the syllabus. My tip aimed high; her twig speared my solar plexus.
No doubt—she didn't intend to pass me. The power in that strike said it.
"Hup!"
But I couldn't quit. Whatever her plan, I needed elders' approval.
I halted the upward swing with brute force, reversing down. Muscles screamed under the strain—tearing pain.
For a moment, all my years felt wasted as tears welled. Unbearable agony, like hands ripping skin from inside.
"Uwaaaah!"
I screamed to drown it, slamming the sword down. Mid-motion, I angled it diagonally—desperate max defense in range. Unconscious instinct. Without Sword Talent, no such improvisation.
Bang!
My sword hit ground; her twig pierced my left arm, not solar plexus. I dropped the wooden sword. Arm swelled like a bee sting.
"...Hah. You blocked it."
I dangled the limp arm.
"You'll fix it, right?"
"Of course. Just sealed the acupoint—temporary paralysis. No damage to muscles, bones, or meridians."
"Good."
"How'd you block?"
"How should I know? You led with Samjae, then threw a feint."
Cheonghwa grinned sheepishly at my accusation.
"Didn't think you'd block."
"Hoped I wouldn't enter the evaluation?"
"Can't show unfinished goods. I'd lose face. Wanted you at peak."
"Comparing people to products? Wudang's Tao has hit rock bottom."
"Heh, just matching your view."
Fair enough—people weren't so different from goods. We buy and sell labor for money.
So what was my value now? I gripped the wooden sword tight with one hand.
"But you passed. No choice now. Tell the Samcheong Hall you're entering the evaluation."
"Thanks. Or should it be 'thank you'?"
"Always thank your master after sparring."
"Not your disciple yet."
"Soon you will be."
Cheonghwa pressed my arm's acupoint, easing the swelling.
I didn't get it then. Only when I went to Samcheong Hall to register did I understand.
"You're not a main peak disciple—you can't participate?"
"What?"
Cheonghwa, you bastard. For real.