Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Change (5)
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'Even if Father doesn't trust me, at least my wife does.'
That unwavering support from his father had allowed him to unleash his full potential. They say a father-in-law's love for his daughter-in-law knows no bounds.
Crunch!
Yujin took a bite of the roasted rabbit, stunned by its crisp texture and the savory flavor that wasn't overly sweet. She'd had no real expectations since Mujin had never cooked before. Yet this rabbit roast was exceptionally well done. It was good enough to sell at market for a fair price.
"Dad, it's delicious! The best!"
"Oh yeah? Eat up, Mijoo."
"You too, Dad!"
"What do you think, Jin? Dad's pretty good, right?"
"Yeah."
Taejin wasn't much of a foodie, but this ranked among the best meats he'd ever tasted. He'd worried they might have to skip dinner since Dad made it.
"When did you learn to cook?"
"Confucius, Mencius, and Xunzi all said a man who wants to be loved must know how to cook."
"Really?"
"...Probably."
It didn't matter if Confucius, the poster boy for the worst husbands, had actually said that. Truth be told, Mujin knew little of the Four Books and Three Classics or the Three Bonds and Five Constants. He'd never even read them.
"Expect more from now on. I just haven't bothered before, but when I do, I go all out."
"Dad, are you a chef?"
"Better call me a househusband."
"[House]husband?"
"That's right."
Whatever.
He completely ignored the old sages' nonsense about a real man entering the kitchen leading to problems down there. If it meant earning his wife's love, he'd do it gladly. From now on, family harmony came first above all else.
"Your dad can do anything for our family."
"Pfft~~~! What about martial arts?"
"You just don't know it yet, but this dad's skills are the best under heaven. So chin up and live proudly."
"You got kicked out."
"Hey now. I wasn't kicked out—I stepped down. That way I have more time to play with you kids."
Taejin wished his dad held a cool position. But he sensed it wasn't to be, even at his young age. Watching his little sister blissfully happy beside him made his three years of life feel frustrating.
"Don't bully Dad, Mijoo. He's Mom's."
"That's right. I'm yours."
Before being a cool dad to his son and daughter, he'd decided to give his all as Yujin's husband tonight. If it led to some fun mishaps, that wouldn't be so bad.
"I wanna sleep with Dad!"
"...Hmm."
"Don't you want to?"
"...Of course I do."
The fun mishaps could wait.
The Pine Tiger Sect never ran out of firewood.
Piles upon piles stacked every day, and no matter how much they used, it never dwindled. This was all because Mujin had been working too hard. The household staff's workload had plummeted.
Muho, now the successor to the Pine Tiger Sect, grew suspicious. His brother went to the mountains every early morning to chop wood, acting like a changed man. Was he trying to make up for past mistakes and show a good example to the staff?
But a day passed, then two, then a month, and he kept at it without change. Muho watched closely and noticed the firewood was extraordinary. With time, it grew perfectly uniform—one piece after another, precisely the same size.
'Cut smooth along the grain.'
They say the best lumberjacks can split wood with a mere touch of the axe. This was that smooth.
As his skill improved, curiosity bloomed.
How exactly was his brother chopping the wood?
Come to think of it, he never took an axe. Just a carrying frame, and he returned with chopped wood.
Muho secretly trailed behind his brother one early morning. He kept his distance, following the tracks.
The spot wasn't just far—it was extremely far. Tracks kept appearing no matter how long he walked. He thought he'd arrived, only to see they led deeper into the mountain base.
'Still going.'
Tracking was easy. His brother's path left clear signs—no advanced skills needed. But it went on endlessly upward. Muho thought he'd catch up leisurely, but even speeding up, his brother was nowhere in sight.
'What?'
This was getting weird.
Even with martial arts training, unfamiliar mountain paths drain stamina. Yet his brother was ascending at speed. Had he always been this fit? Doubt crept in. His brother used to tire after just 100 basic downward sword strikes.
'Must be out of practice.'
Muho held no grudge against his brother, and he was confident in his own superiority when it came to martial arts. But after going so far without sighting him, unease stirred.
'Where the hell is he chopping?'
Just as he wondered if it was necessary to go this far.
'He's come a long way.'
After an hour of climbing, Muho finally spotted him. He hid in the brush and watched.
Huh?
He thought it was chopping time, but his brother was sitting in the shade, resting. After racing up the mountain, it made sense. Yet even after waiting a while, he showed no sign of getting up.
'That's not a small load.'
Judging by the pile on the frame, it'd take all day for even a seasoned lumberjack.
Half an hour passed. His brother kept resting. No matter how Muho puzzled it out, he couldn't understand how the wood got chopped.
'How long is he gonna sit there?'
As successor, Muho hated wasting time. He'd squeezed this out of his training schedule, and it was testing his patience. Stay or go? Did he even need to watch the chopping? He wavered.
'Gotta go.'
His current trouble-free state was satisfying enough. Family ties had improved, and he greeted his parents properly now. Maybe he'd hoped for too much.
"Ah, good rest. Time to get serious."
He was just turning to leave when Muho froze. His brother, who'd been resting, stood up.
'Can't just leave after coming this far.'
He steeled himself and waited patiently. No axe in sight—how did he chop all that without one? Questions swirled.
"Hot day. Maybe rest a bit more."
His brother, who'd just risen, plopped back in the shade. Muho nearly choked on air. Unforeseen twists kept coming. But surely he'd start soon.
Yet time slipped away meaninglessly.
'Is he even gonna do it?'
Regret at waiting crept back in. He'd never been called impatient, but this pointless time fueled irritation.
'Heading back.'
Decision made.
"Time to get serious."
Right as he resolved to leave, his brother rose and stretched. Looked like the real work now. And his brother's physique seemed different—better.
'Was it always that good?'
Glints of muscle through his clothes showed unusual refinement. But more striking was the perfect balance. For a martial artist, bodily symmetry was crucial.
Imbalance requires compensation, hindering perfect form execution. Thus, warriors strive to maintain it.
True perfect balance was rare. Near-symmetry eased technique use, but absolute perfection didn't exist.
"Suddenly so tired. Rest more. Overdid it yesterday?"
Muho yearned to observe closer, but swallowed air again. It was like his brother lay down whenever he stirred. Was he doing it on purpose?
'No way?'
He'd concealed his presence, staying beyond sensory range. His brother couldn't detect him.
Coincidence.
Knowing it wasn't intentional, Muho still found his brother annoying today.
'Let's go.'
No more indulging pointless antics. Sure enough, his brother stood again.
'He'll flop back down.'
Muho shrugged it off and turned.
Swish! Rumble rumble rumble!
A chilling whoosh swept behind him, followed by a forest-shaking roar.
Whirl!
Muho spun, face blank with disbelief.
A massive old tree, broad as his shade spot, toppled. An axe would take hundreds of blows. And his brother held nothing.
Muho gaped at the ghostly scene.
'One strike?'
Possible?
With drawn-up inner energy and sword aura, maybe. Bare-handed? Tough. Might take dozens.
Yet his brother did it.
How? What technique?
Incomprehensible.
Muho planted his retreating feet firmly. He had to watch more.
"Perfect weather for chopping wood."
Mujin trimmed branches from the fallen trunk.
Swish swish!
A few swings, and branches sheared off smoothly. He gathered the twigs aside instead of discarding. The trunk lay bare and sleek.
Mujin raised his hand at the cut end.
Downward slash.
Simple as that.
Swish! Thud!
The trunk, five feet thick, sliced clean. Far beyond branch-trimming—this was near-miraculous mastery. Not rotten or fragile.
Gasp?
Muho's jaw dropped, unclosing.
Unbelievable sight. A mere hand chop, and logs formed. Thick, long, sturdy wood split perfectly.
What followed was awe-inspiring.
Split like measured with a ruler, logs stacked neatly on the frame. Near-magical. Hard even if tried deliberately.
Thud!
Less than a quarter-hour to finish. Impressively short. Muho was speechless, flabbergasted.
Dream? Or was that really his brother? Both defied his common sense—another world entirely.
Huh?
Chopping done, his brother stared.
Right at him.
Gonna chop someone else?
Haaa...
Muho sighed in hollow relief. He wouldn't smile knowingly otherwise.
Rustle!
He pushed through brush into the clearing.
"How long you been there?"
"From the start."
"Knew and said nothing? Why?"
"You tailing me all morning was hilarious."
Muho bristled but let it pass. Priority: grasp the change. This wasn't his old brother. People grow through trials, but this transformation was beyond radical.
"How'd you know?"
"Who else shadows you from dawn? Brought back childhood memories. You were cute then."
As kids, Muho trailed Mujin everywhere, fussing if out of sight. Candy bribes surfaced in memory.
'How old was I?'
Muho seethed at the childish treatment but hid it. Showing it felt like losing.
"What was that just now?"
"What else? Chopping wood."
"How?"
"Like this."
Hand swish! Thud! Wood sliced smooth. Air cut along grain sent chills through Muho. No ordinary feat—profound sword intent infused it.
But sword intent? Odd energy swirled from his hand.
"Good senses. First time, hard to grasp."
"No inner energy used."
"Waste power on firewood? Just strike the grain."
"That easy?"
"Of course not."
Strike the grain.
Easy words. But is grain always uniform? Finding and cutting it perfectly—if simple, anyone could be a master swordsman roaming the world. Even same person or object varies by time, place, circumstance.