Chapter 12 The Bond Between You and Me
The Bond Between You and Me
Chapter 12 – The Bond Between You and Me
After his confinement at Biyondong ended,
>Muk Yeo-jin spent his days in a monotonous cycle of training, eating, and sleeping.
Unlike Biyondong, there were many eyes watching him here, so he couldn’t recklessly push his training to its limits.
>Boredom began to creep in.
“The more I conceal my hand, the better for me. There’s no helping it for now.”
He had no real intention to hide his power.
>But every martial artist knows—one should always keep thirty percent of their strength concealed.
>There’s no reason to show all your cards to everyone in the village.
“That brat Cheong-bi... what’s he been up to, I wonder? All that just because I plucked a few of his hairs? He hasn’t even shown his face. What a petty fellow.”
He hadn’t realized how fond he’d grown of the boy.
>He thought maybe he’d visit Mokshin Mountain sometime to check up on him.
Just then, one of the maids came rushing over.
“Young Master Yeo-jin, Madam Namgung will arrive shortly.”
“Mother?”
Ah—
>Today was his birthday.
It was the only day of the year when his mother was permitted to enter Mangdamjeon.
“I completely forgot. Then again… I can’t even remember the last time I cared about such a thing.”
With a faint, bitter smile, he said,
“Prepare to receive my mother properly.”
After all, it had been a year since he’d last seen her. He ought to look presentable.
He took off his plain training robes and put on a neatly kept dark-blue scholar’s robe, tying his hair up neatly.
Though only thirteen,
>his constant training in the Sanwangmu art had given him a tall, strong physique, taller than most boys his age.
>When he cleaned himself up, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say he looked almost noble.
The maids gawked in admiration.
“Wow! In a few more years, every girl in Guangxi will be setting their hearts on fire for you, Young Master!”
Muk Yeo-jin chuckled inwardly.
By then, the Original Sound Sect would be spreading its poison through the Central Plains, and he would begin the great cleansing of the martial world.
“Women’s hearts, maybe not. But martial artists? They’ll all be burning in rage.”
Once preparations were done, he went with the servants to the front gate of Mangdamjeon to greet his mother.
“Madam Namgung Ryeong-ryeong is arriving!”
The heavy gates opened with a deep rumble.
Thud… Thud…
His mother walked in, each step firm and confident as ever.
>But something about her made him stop and stare.
She wasn’t alone this time—she came with several bodyguards.
>Each carried themselves with a sharp, disciplined aura. Not ordinary people by any means.
Yet what truly shocked him was the power emanating from her.
>She wasn’t even trying to hide it—her energy spread freely, vast and overwhelming, like standing beneath an open sky.
“Mother… she’s this strong?”
A year ago, when she had fought off Heirang-yeong’s men, she hadn’t shown anything like this.
He realized instantly:
“That’s her true strength.”
She had been retraining, regaining her lost cultivation.
>Her steps radiated confidence, her face carried ease.
He had never seen her look so alive.
>He wasn’t the only one who had changed.
And that, he thought, was a change he welcomed deeply.
“You look good, Mother.”
While he suppressed a surge of emotion, Namgung Ryeong-ryeong was quietly astonished.
“He’s already opened his meridians…”
She could feel the controlled flow of energy within him.
>He had never been taught martial arts—so how had he done it?
“He showed no interest in martial arts, unlike other heirs. I never even stationed a master in Mangdamjeon for him…”
Could he have gained some fortune in Biyondong?
>But that wasn’t the shocking part.
“He’s already reached the stage of internal condensation…?”
Even she, once considered a genius of the Namgung Clan, had taken three years to reach that level after opening her meridians.
>Her son had done it in one.
It was something few across all the Central Plains could match.
>She should have embraced him with pride—
>but instead, her face turned faintly troubled.
She knew.
>She had lived it.
>A blade too sharp is the first to be broken.
“Too much talent draws calamity… I’ll have to protect him.”
She steadied her expression and smiled softly.
“You’ve changed again in just a year, Yeo-jin.”
“Mother, I almost didn’t recognize you either. You look as though you’ve turned back time. Why not cast aside that heartless husband of yours and find yourself a new one?”
Gasps erupted from the attendants.
>He had just called the Lord of the Four Saints a heartless man.
Pyo-yeon, her maid, looked around frantically, terrified someone might overhear.
>But Namgung Ryeong-ryeong merely laughed.
“Not a bad idea. He’s got five concubines already—who’s to say I can’t take another husband?”
“M-Madam!”
Pyo-yeon’s face turned pale.
>The mother and son burst into hearty laughter.
“Ha ha! Shall we stop now, Mother? Aunt Pyo-yeon looks about ready to faint.”
“Let’s stop, then. You’re such a mischievous boy.”
“I’m sorry, Auntie. Please, come inside.”
“Honestly…”
In that warm laughter, the Namgung entourage entered Mangdamjeon peacefully.
“Happy birthday, Yeo-jin.”
Her voice was calm, almost peaceful.
>In the past, she had always celebrated his birthdays too—but there was always worry in her eyes.
“She must have feared the day I’d leave this hall and face the world outside.”
The outside world was not kind or gentle.
>It was a battlefield where each day was a fight to survive.
But now, things were different.
>He had returned not as prey, but as a predator.
“From now on, only peaceful days for you, Mother.”
Then, playfully, he said,
“It’s my birthday, and yet your hands are empty?”
She chuckled.
“I was going to get you a fine brush from a master craftsman, but I doubted you’d ever use it. Tell me what you want.”
He pretended to think, then narrowed his eyes.
“Well… since I’ve chosen the sword over the brush, how about that sword of yours?”
His gaze slid toward her waist.
>He had been eyeing that sword since she entered.
Even without seeing the blade, he could sense its aura—cold, sharp, murderous enough to pierce the scabbard itself.
“If not the Plum Blossom Divine Sword, then surely a blade of equal caliber.”
He thought of his sworn brother, Jang Pyeong of Huashan—the “Thousand Sword.”
>That man’s Plum Blossom Divine Sword was one of Huashan’s sacred relics.
Yeo-jin had never cared much for weapons,
>but compared to his own dull, often-broken sword, Jang Pyeong’s unblemished divine blade had filled him with envy.
“I always thought I’d find a sword worthy of that someday.”
And now, one sat right before him.
How could he not be tempted?
But that temptation was swiftly crushed.
“You might as well ask for my head instead.”
“...You could’ve just said no, Mother. No need to be so dramatic.”
She smiled faintly.
“Every swordsman has a sword meant only for them. You’ll meet yours one day—be it a person or a blade.”
“Fate, huh…”
He mulled over her words, then feigned a pout.
“Then my destined bond will be something legendary. When that day comes, don’t ask to borrow my sword—I won’t even give you the scabbard, Mother.”
She hesitated for a moment.
“...Not even once?”
“Nope.”
A brief pause, then both burst into laughter.
The atmosphere was warm and full of life.
>He felt, for a fleeting moment, that he might cry.
After some time, she spoke again.
“Since you don’t seem to want anything, I’ll give you what I brought.”
She pulled out a clean, new book and placed it on the table.
>There were no letters on its cover.
“What’s this?”
“A copy of The True Doctrine of the Vast Heavens (Chang-gung Dae-yeon Jin-gyeol).”
“...!”
The words hit him like a blow to the chest.
The True Doctrine of the Vast Heavens—the foundational internal art of the Namgung Clan,
>descendants of the once peerless sword family of Anhui Province.
It was the root of all their martial mastery,
>a divine cultivation art that had produced countless swordsmen who stood “beyond the heavens.”
But—
“This isn’t something just anyone can learn…”
Not because it was too difficult to start—
>but because its very nature was balance and acceptance.
It was easy to begin, yes,
>but it was the foundation of all Namgung martial arts,
>passed down only to the clan’s most trusted and proven descendants.
If someone outside the clan cultivated it,
>they would be branded a public enemy of Namgung forever.
“Mother knows this better than anyone. Then why give it to me?”
Sensing his thoughts, she said quietly,
“Don’t worry. I already have the Patriarch’s permission.”
“But how…?”
Her eyes flickered with bitterness.
“You’ll find out someday. For now, think of it as… the price of this mother’s body.”
He said nothing—but he understood.
“So that’s it. She paid the debt of her political marriage to the Four Saints by trading for this.”
A “political marriage,” they had called it—but she had been discarded, forgotten.
Even so, after twenty long years, she had bowed her head again to the family that cast her out—
>for his sake.
For her son who had chosen the martial path.
The book before him was not just a martial manual.
>It was her youth, her tears, her sacrifice.
Yeo-jin’s eyes grew cold.
“Namgung… It seems the bond between us will be one of ill fate.”