29. Pride (3)
I stroked the wooden plaque the sect leader had given me and smiled. The word "provisional" that had been engraved on the back was gone. Just that alone put me in a pretty good mood.
But Cheonghwa still seemed displeased that I hadn't chosen to become a temple disciple.
"You've made a terribly wrong choice."
"What do you mean?"
"The temple disciples will feel awkward around you as one of their own, and the lay disciples will feel out of place too. In chasing something special, you've only invited isolation upon yourself."
"I'm not isolated at all. How great is this? I get to learn Wudang martial arts without being tied to the temple."
"Tsk."
Cheonghwa's words weren't baseless. In truth, the temple disciples had been confused about how to address me, and the lay disciples had felt the same.
A lay disciple who didn't live with the other lay disciples, but trained alongside the temple ones and learned martial arts with them. It was special in one light, half-baked in another.
"I don't know about the other name-plate recipients, but at least with the children under my tutelage, you will call them sa-hyung."
"Pardon? Why?"
"You're learning under the same master, aren't you?"
As planned, I became Cheonghwa's disciple. Cheonghwa had dragged me into this from the start, so there was no one else anyway. Apparently, a few other name-plate distributors had taken an interest in me after hearing I'd beaten Myeongil, but Cheonghwa had fended them all off.
"...All right."
Only after hearing that did Cheonghwa lead me to the Archery Hall.
Her three disciples already knew the news and had come out to wait in front of the hall.
Come to think of it, I knew Myeonggyeong and Myeongseong's courtesy names, but not the other one's. He seemed about the same age as Myeonggyeong.
"From the left: Myeongseong, Myeonggyeong, and Myeongjin. Their name-plates rank from left to right as well."
"Ah, I see."
Now I knew the unknown one's courtesy name. Courtesy names weren't that important anyway. I'd be calling them all sa-hyung.
"You will address all three of them as sa-hyung."
"Ahem..."
But actually trying to say it made my throat quiver.
"Yes, try calling them sa-hyung."
Myeongseong stepped forward as the representative, puffing out his chest. Even the eldest, Myeongseong, had to be at least seven years younger than me.
"...Sa-hyung."
"Louder!"
"Sa-hyung."
"I can't hear you!"
"SA-HYUNG!"
Only then did the name-plate kids nod in satisfaction.
"Your name-plate makes you the third-generation disciple among the name-plate recipients. Remember that. Out in the jianghu, rank matters."
"It's like asking someone's age before a fight."
"Something like that. From now on, you and they are martial siblings. Though not bound by blood, cherish and look out for one another."
"Yes. Understood."
If I were the elder brother, fine—but treating these kids like big brothers? What kind of outrage was this?
Still, I knew the way out of this mess: life's wisdom. Even in the merchant world, they say the one with the most money is the big brother and senior.
Even if my name-plate ranked below theirs, overwhelming them with skill would settle it.
I'd beaten the Thunderclap Gate's leader and even Myeongil, the top prodigy among the name-plate disciples. My sa-hyungs? No contest.
...That's what I thought.
"Junior brother. To be honest... you're really terrible."
"No way. Watch me again."
"Nah. We've done this how many times? You're really bad. Admit it."
Myeonggyeong looked at me with utter disappointment. A child's pure eyes had more destructive power than anything. I felt stabbed and shredded by that gaze.
Myeongseong and Myeongjin beside him wore the same disappointed looks.
They were teaching me Taegeuk Quan, the foundational fist art of Wudang. Even the sa-hyungs knew it, so Cheonghwa didn't need to step in.
"I've never seen anyone as bad at Taegeuk Quan as you."
"Taegeuk Quan has to be soft. You can't move so stiffly."
"But your body was so fluid with the sword. Why's it suddenly so rigid?"
Myeongseong and Myeongjin looked utterly baffled.
Of course, this wasn't the old folks' health exercise version. That was gymnastics; Wudang's Taegeuk Quan was a combat fist art.
Honestly, I was frustrated too. With a sword in hand, my body felt light as if I could fly—but throw a punch, and it grew heavy, no sense of how to move.
"Contract your back like this, then extend the fist. That's how you generate power."
"How do you contract it?"
"Pull your shoulders back."
"I am."
"Argh! Get on your knees."
Myeonggyeong was a little kid not even five cheok tall, so he couldn't reach my shoulders. Kneeling before these young sa-hyungs was humiliating, but no choice.
On my knees, Myeonggyeong's tiny hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked it back mercilessly.
"Aack!"
"Like this—twist it back!"
"I can't!"
"Everyone else does it—why can't you?!"
Myeonggyeong's words suddenly dredged up the past. Something my martial arts master from my previous life had said to me.
—Mukga. You're no martial artist, no matter how I look at you. You have zero talent for it. Even a street urchin could move better than you.
It wasn't just him. Furious, I'd hired other masters, but they all said the same, just worded differently. The point: no talent for martial arts, no body control.
"And the second form, One Hand Crossing the Moon, requires twisting your feet while turning your waist."
"I'm doing that."
"Your waist moves first. Feet twist, then knees turn, then waist."
"That's what I'm doing."
"Haa..."
Here I was, hearing a sigh from a kid at least ten years younger than me.
Yes. I'd regressed, but my damn lack of talent hadn't changed. I'd just been deluded by the talents bought from the Talent Shop.
For talents I hadn't bought, I was still the body-inept fool from my past life.
"Whew. Junior brother. Let's try once more. Your movements are great overall. Your footwork is perfect. But the instant you throw the fist, your body goes completely weird. Let me demonstrate again."
That was because I had Swift Movement talent. To get good at fists too, I'd need insane practice or buy fist talent.
With cloudy eyes, I stared at the Talent Shop instead of Myeonggyeong's form. I'd seen his demo at least twenty times already. One more wouldn't change anything.
It was annoyingly a bundle item. Yeah, a strategy I'd used plenty as a merchant: bundle slow-movers with hot sellers, or group the duds for wholesale.
Makes sense they wouldn't sell fist, staff, kick, sleeve, finger, claw, or grappling arts separately. Weird if you're great at fists but suck at claws. Bundled like that, 100 silver taels wasn't bad. Sword talent was just 10.
Work hard? Or earn money and buy it?
Two paths. Mine? Buy it, obviously.
Everyone has their fit. I had talent for making money—and I had to use it. Clinging to what you lack is the most miserable thing.
"Try once more, junior brother."
Myeonggyeong finished his demo, panting. But my answer was firm. No point without the talent.
"I'll rest for today."
"What? No. You need to rest when there's progress."
"Won't work anyway."
"...Giving up?"
Myeonggyeong looked up at me. Disappointment, sadness, pity, betrayal, self-reproach—his eyes shredded me mercilessly.
He plopped down on the ground. His listless gaze at the dirt made him look like someone who'd suffered a bereavement.
"I taught my direct junior brother so hard because..."
"Myeonggyeong. That's enough."
Myeongseong and Myeongjin, who'd been watching, came over to console him. And glared at me, of course.
"It happens. Even with talent, effort's on you."
"I must've taught poorly, sa-hyung."
"No. You did your best."
The two little sa-hyungs' accusatory stares made me feel like total trash. But what could I do? It wasn't like I wanted to suck.
I scratched my head and approached Myeonggyeong.
"Sa-hyung. Sorry. I'll practice alone and come back better."
"You can't even with us watching—alone? Junior brother?"
Even the quietest, youngest Myeongjin chimed in. I'd barely heard his voice before, so it hit harder.
"No, junior brother. Don't. Hwi-yeong junior brother tried hard. I know."
"Doesn't make sense. Great with sword, terrible at fists? He's slacking blatantly."
"Hwi-yeong junior brother is a good person. He wouldn't. Right?"
Myeonggyeong's sorrowful eyes filled me with guilt.
"Not sure about good... but I did try."
"Yeah. I know."
"I just feel like I'm wasting your time, sa-hyungs. You need personal training too."
"Excuses."
Myeongseong spat it out. Among the sa-hyungs, I was already trash.
Talented but lazy trash. Even with them pouring their hearts into teaching me. Even I disliked myself.
I placated the name-plate sa-hyungs first. Myeonggyeong only went for personal training after I promised repeatedly to practice Taegeuk Quan alone.
Alone now, I retraced my thoughts. Becoming a named lay disciple of Wudang was a clear opportunity. The thrill of martial progress and victory—sensations I'd never felt before—were electric. Training here meant I'd rarely die to a blade like in my past life.
But I can't stay in Wudang forever.
Just training inside wasn't my goal. That's why I'd refused temple disciple status.
And to buy talents, I needed money. Inevitably.
Above all, I was a merchant. No flowery excuses needed.
With my mind made up, I sought Cheonghwa. No need to search—heading to the Archery Hall, she was waiting.
"Jin-in."
As I sat, Cheonghwa shot me a sharp glare.
"Why call me jin-in?"
"Huh?"
"Call me suseung-nim."
"Ah. Right. Sorry, suseung-nim."
Her expression softened slightly at "my master." Was the title that important?
"You're my disciple now. That means you're a mirror reflecting me."
"I'll watch my conduct carefully."
"No. Conduct isn't fixed by trying. You need to change from the roots. Not just martial arts—speech, attitude, everything must become like a martial artist's."
Her denial of my core existence left me dumbfounded.
"I heard from the kids today. You half-assed Taegeuk Quan practice."
"Pardon? No. I tried hard."
"Suuuup."
"...?"
"If your master says so, it's so. Why the backtalk? That's what you need to fix first."
She seemed determined today. But I felt wronged. What could I do when my body wouldn't cooperate?
"You have talent, but that attitude won't do. Even as a lay disciple, you napped during Three Disasters Merit on purpose."
"What? I was really sleepy. I admit fault."
"Suuuuup."
"..."
"Suuuuuup."
"...Sorry."
This was beyond prostrating—practically smacking my head for apologies.
"Do better from now on. I'll be watching."
Cheonghwa rose to leave after her piece. But I couldn't let her go without mine.
"Suseung-nim."
"What."
"I have something to say."
"What is it?"
"I'll step out of the temple briefly."
Cheonghwa's face soured instantly.