I Still Don't Know (3)
Je-gal Hyeon spoke up just before drawing his sword. His voice was so low it wouldn't leak beyond the sparring ground.
"Mind if I ask one thing?"
"Sure."
"Do you think you can beat me?"
"I don't know."
"You realize that's an incredibly arrogant answer, right?"
Je-gal Hyeon knew exactly what this place was. This was the Central Plains, where shouting in a tavern that the seeds of kings, nobles, generals, and ministers weren't special would get you dragged off by the Imperial Guards.
In a world where social status was ironclad, for someone like me to even entertain the idea of beating him—it was bound to irk him to no end.
"I know."
"Then why say it?"
"Because I really don't know."
"I heard from Yeon-i that you've been a lay disciple for less than a year."
"Yes."
"I've been training in swordsmanship since I was five—fifteen years straight."
"Figures."
Je-gal Hyeon's face darkened. He probably thought my responses lacked sincerity. But right now, all my focus was on the blade's edge; I had no room for polite chit-chat.
Still, there was something I wanted to say. A truth about life I'd felt endlessly in my past life. To him, it would be an incredible stroke of fortune born from my regression's hard-earned insights. But there was a reason I was giving it away for free. Kids his age couldn't handle it anyway.
"Young master, the world is full of injustices. Some folks seem to live better despite doing less than me, while others struggle despite trying harder."
"I'm awfully curious what kind of person would say that right now."
"Probably what you're imagining."
"Arrogant."
Je-gal Hyeon drew his keenly sharpened sword. While fame and Myeong-il got wooden swords because they were still kids, we'd passed the age of jihak—fifteen—so we wielded real steel.
"I'll let you have the first move."
"I won't refuse."
I took a deep breath, then stepped forward with Cheongunbu. Je-gal Hyeon started with a mocking look, but it quickly turned to surprise.
That was the nature of Cheongunbu. It seemed slow at first, but let your guard down and it'd sweep you away.
Our swords clashed. A sharp jolt rang through my palms. Astonishing, really.
To think that I, who'd lived far from the martial world, now had calluses thick enough to withstand real blades clashing.
"Impressive talent, no doubt. To unleash strikes like this in under a year."
Je-gal Hyeon acknowledged it readily. That was the Je-gal family's trait: sharp minds, quick to concede when outmatched.
"But you seem to underestimate the Central Plains' martial scene."
With his chilling words, a cunning strike split into three paths. The speed and arcs were sharper than anything I'd seen at Wudang—aiming to seal three acupoints in an instant. It sent a chill down my spine.
"Soseong Geombeop!"
Cheonghwa's admiring voice echoed from below the sparring ground.
Apparently, the Je-gal family had a Soseong Geombeop. I wouldn't know.
But my own sword talent was no slouch. I flowed gracefully with Cheongunbu, dodging one path. Now only two remained.
I thrust my sword to block one. The last headed straight for my shoulder. Even if it wasn't vital, a real blade like that would sideline me for a month.
I dropped into Cheolbangyo, flattening my body, then kicked upward with the rebound. Je-gal Hyeon calmly withdrew. Had he pressed, my heel would've hooked his wrist.
"Hoo."
First time pulling off such a high-level chain move, but I nailed it. Ever since buying the Indomitable Talent and mastering Cheolbangyo, my flexibility had improved dramatically.
Je-gal Hyeon retracted, but the assault wasn't over. His sword danced again.
Leaping strikes rained down like a meteor shower. Not sure if the imagery fit swordsmanship, but the Je-gal style was logical to a fault.
Forcing blocks that created unavoidable gaps, stabbing precisely where they formed. You could tell insane calculations went into crafting it.
If I'd only known the basic Samjae Geombeop—horizontal, vertical, diagonal slashes—my arms would've tangled, exposing a fatal opening.
But I'd learned Ohaeng Geom from my seniors just before leaving for the Je-gal family. As I countered with it, things evened out.
Ohaeng Geom wasn't flashy in any one area, but neither was it weak anywhere. Perfect for parrying the Je-gal style's balanced precision.
"...This!"
Je-gal Hyeon grew visibly anxious at failing to overwhelm me quickly.
And hilariously, even mid-spar, he kept stealing glances at family head Je-gal-gyeom.
Was he dumb or arrogant enough to get distracted? No, I didn't buy that. It was just ingrained deep in his bones.
The Je-gal family isn't a walk in the park either.
How brutally must they drill to make a son eye his father like that? Living carefree without a care like me wasn't ideal, but that setup wasn't healthy either.
Je-gal Hyeon's blade accelerated. He was definitely stronger. Even if the Je-gals lagged in raw martial prowess among the Five Great Families, they were still a prestigious house—pouring time and money into education.
For me, with barely a year under my belt, to weather eighty exchanges? Absurd.
"Is that really a lay disciple?"
"Incredible."
The watching Je-gal clansmen focused more on me than him. Je-gal Hyeon, who seemed more composed, couldn't have missed it.
For a split second, I saw blue flames ignite in his eyes—circulating his inner energy.
"You're forcing me to use inner energy after all."
"Guess basic forms weren't enough."
"You really have a knack for pissing people off."
Blue qi rippled along his sword, then sank inside. The blade itself glowed faintly azure.
To infuse an object with inner energy like that meant true mastery of qi control.
"Wait! We have to stop this. End it now!"
Sudden uproar from below. Embarrassingly, it was my master Cheonghwa.
Referee Je-gal-chan looked flustered toward Je-gal-gyeom, who smiled and said,
"The spar isn't over yet."
"My disciple doesn't know inner energy yet! You know what happens if he clashes bare against a blade infused like that!"
"Guess we'll find out when they clash."
Je-gal-gyeom's jovial tone turned icy in an instant.
"You wouldn't ruin a Je-gal family spar, would you? Is that Wudang's will?"
"...No, it's not."
Cheonghwa was worried about naega jungsu beop—internal clash backlash. Fair enough. Clashing would let Je-gal Hyeon's qi seep into my dantian, shredding it. Severe internal injury could lead to qi deviation.
Of course, that assumed I had no inner energy.
By then, Je-gal Hyeon had already charged while they argued. Too late for intervention.
"Haat!"
He leaped high, slashing down. I could've dodged if possible, but my skill wasn't quite there against his blade.
Yet oddly, my heart stayed calm gazing at that blue edge. I knew why. Something Cheonghwa didn't know slumbered within me.
Boom!
Our swords met with an explosive crack, like a bomb detonating.
"Urk!"
In that instant, I locked eyes with him. Je-gal Hyeon couldn't believe it—strong inner energy dwelling in my body.
The rest was predictable. He bounced off me, flying past his leap point, out of the sparring ground.
Sand dust billowed three jang high. When it cleared, there lay Je-gal Hyeon, blood trickling from his mouth, unconscious.
"...Hah."
A sigh escaped someone—likely a Je-gal clansman.
Referee Je-gal-chan, shouting Cheonghwa, the other disciples, even distant Je-gal-yeon—all stared blankly. Such an unforeseen outcome.
"He took internal damage. Send him to the medical hall."
Je-gal-gyeom's voice was frigid as frost. He'd already turned, heading back to the main hall.
"Winner of this spar: Wudang's young hero, Muk Hwi-yeong."
Je-gal-chan's dazed announcement ended it. No cheers followed, just heavy silence.
This was Je-gal territory, and their direct heir crushed humiliatingly. Wudang folk weren't so crass as to whoop here.
Instead, I looked to our gathered Wudang group. They exchanged glances, sharing quiet joy.
"...Wudang guests, return to your lodgings. The family head will summon you again."
Je-gal-chan wrapped it up curtly. Folks whisked away the fainted Je-gal Hyeon with lightness skill.
We slipped back to our quarters as instructed, exchanging perfunctory greetings with passersby, hiding our glee.
Once safe inside, Cheonghwa murmured,
"You pulled off a miracle."
"Wooo!"
With no fear of leaking out, Myeong-seong whooped.
"Insane! How'd you win? Bouncing him off means your inner energy's stronger!"
Myeong-seong was hyped. He'd expected my loss, so the win thrilled him. I'd clocked it when he snagged full flutes—he acted mature but was still a kid at heart.
Cheonghwa, flushed too, pressed,
"What happened? You had inner energy?"
"A small stroke of fortune."
I'd prepped this answer. Suddenly gaining heaps of qi from nothing would've raised flags.
"Pojungsa said they'd grant a wish for my help. I asked for an elixir, ate it. They even provided a master to guide absorption, so I took in a lot."
"Ah, makes sense. A Hubei Pojungsa that size would have prime elixirs."
Cheonghwa and the others bought it easily. Better than admitting I'd siphoned demonic qi from people, anyway.
"Good job."
Silent Myeong-il just thumped my arm. More his style.
We grinned like maniacs at each other. The Je-gal spar was Wudang's total victory.