Heaven-Earth Scholar (3)
Seok Geum-ryong had already made up his mind to find the Heaven-Earth Scholar, Na Cheon-lip, and ask him to forge a peerless sword and armor from the materials of the Thousand-Year Great Ambition. Before he set out in earnest, however, he let the memories of his previous life rise to the surface.
I did a grievous thing to Cheon-lip.
Who would have thought that the process of unearthing and passing on a successor would be so long?
That had been the one and only moment of weakness ever shown by his master, Chilseonggun, who had always presented a cool and unshakable face.
The inheritance of the Seven Stars martial arts, a secret art passed down from one man to another, had been far more grueling than either of them had expected.
It was a process that could never have been completed unless one abandoned the world and devoted oneself to secluded training as if entering closed-door cultivation.
And there was something else.
Cough, cough!
Already frail to begin with, Chilseonggun had shown signs of fading from life the very instant the transmission ended.
Whenever Woo Do-min, the Gold-Selling Swordsman, no, the former Northern Dipper Swordsman, looked at his master, he thought of fallen blossoms.
Flowers in full spring bloom, drifting down without end.
The image of fallen blossoms was beautiful, yet fragile, and all the more precious for fading too quickly.
When he looked at Chilseonggun, that was what came to mind.
And, as though fate had chosen to mock him, Chilseonggun had one day drawn his last, faint breath and passed away like a scattering petal.
His master had left him one final, solemn charge before death.
He had told him to take good care of his only close friend, the Heaven-Earth Scholar Na Cheon-lip.
And if the man was still gambling, then he had even ordered his wrists to be cut off.
Yet when he searched for Na Cheon-lip in his previous life, it was already too late. The man had died before he could be found.
After sending off his master, and then his master’s sworn friend, how bitterly painful that had been.
At the time, his own only son had also been sick, and the weight on his heart had grown heavier still.
Unlike in my previous life, the Northern Dipper Swordsman Woo Do-min does not exist in this one.
Which meant that Master Chilseonggun had died without leaving behind a successor.
Of course, there had been other disciples besides Woo Do-min, but if this life unfolded almost exactly as the previous one had, then with only Woo Do-min’s existence erased, it was fair to say that it had all come to nothing, or that they simply had failed to save him.
The last trace of Master Na Cheon-lip.
There was a memory from his previous life that he still could not forget because of the guilt it left behind.
A shabby inn attached to a gambling den in the Xi'an area of Shaanxi Province.
There, Na Cheon-lip, who had once commanded the world, met an end so lonely and pathetic it could only be called a wretched death.
Shadowless Movement Technique!
Seeing that he could not afford to delay any longer, Seok Geum-ryong drew on the memories of the past and, with the help of the Hebei branch of Hao Clan, finally found the man after a great many hardships.
In truth, the first place Seok Geum-ryong discovered Na Cheon-lip had been none other than Hoho-gak.
“Six! It’s six! All sixes!”
It had been during a rare winning streak at the gambling table.
From that moment on, Seok Geum-ryong had quietly tailed Na Cheon-lip.
Na Cheon-lip, the Heaven-Earth Scholar, was certainly a skilled expert, but perhaps because the storms of the world had worn him down, he seemed to have grown old in spirit.
He never once noticed Seok Geum-ryong following him.
Not only that, he didn’t even notice the men who had latched onto him, tempted by the silver of the Red-Shirt Old Man.
“Who cares about Hoho-gak or Cold Blood Sect?”
“That’s right! Let’s kill that shabby old man and take his silver before leaving Xi'an!”
“What, do you think gambling houses only exist in Xi'an? The Central Plains are wide. Silver’s all you need.”
There were always people who refused to listen, no matter how terrifying a warning the Cold Blood Sect’s men gave them.
Blinded by greed for silver, these men trailed after him, intent on killing the Red-Shirt Old Man.
Unfortunately for them, their luck had run out.
“Get lost.”
Seok Geum-ryong, walking behind Na Cheon-lip as though guarding him, stepped forward to stop them.
He knew very well how precious and rare it was for Na Cheon-lip to win after so long at the gambling table.
“Has this brat gone mad?”
“Move aside. If you don’t, you little punk, you’ll die too!”
“Wait. Judging by his clothes, this one looks like some rich young master. . . Shall we catch him and squeeze him for ransom?”
While the gamblers, who had long since lost all sense, were still making noise, Seok Geum-ryong made a light move.
Heaven-Returning Golden Needle Technique!
Against these men, there was no need even to draw a sword.
In fact, if he had drawn his sword, it would have been a waste and an insult to the Silver-Pattern Sword.
So Seok Geum-ryong simply scattered a handful of golden needles.
Whoosh-shhh-shhk!
The needles he threw flew with vicious force and judged the wicked gamblers on the spot.
“Aaagh! My eyes! My eyes!”
With the first shot, he pierced their pupils cleanly, robbing them of sight so they could never gamble or commit evil again.
“M-my hand. . .”
With the other needles, he pierced the wrists of the gamblers, especially those who handled the dice, rendering them unable to lift so much as a pair of chopsticks, let alone dice.
What a worthless pack of fools.
Seok Geum-ryong clicked his tongue as he looked down at the ones who had been subdued in the blink of an eye and were now swaying and staggering.
Unless they met a physician greater than himself, it was safe to say that neither their eyes nor the movement of their wrists would ever recover.
“If it were up to me, I’d cut off every last one of your heads, but. . . I don’t feel like spilling blood on my way to meet an honored guest, so I’ll show you mercy.”
It was the truth.
He did not want to stain a day meant for meeting his master’s sworn friend, a day filled with good fortune, by splashing around the filthy blood of evil men.
“We were wrong.”
“Please, sir! Spare our lives.”
They knew very well that surviving at all would be a blessing beyond measure, and after hearing Seok Geum-ryong’s warning that he would sever their heads if they ever repeated their crimes, they turned tail and ran.
“Hrk-hhkk! Hrk-hhkk!”
While Seok Geum-ryong hurriedly dealt with the riffraff, Na Cheon-lip had gone into the inn to drink and was now weeping into his cup.
Seok Geum-ryong witnessed every last bit of Na Cheon-lip’s desolate state.
From drinking and gambling merely to stay alive, to the way he still could not forget his wife, his son, and his only friend, Seok Geum-ryong saw it all.
Jolt.
Watching that sight from a distance, he saw himself in his former life.
The resemblance was so strong it felt like staring at a self-portrait, and he found himself choking up with sympathy.
I can’t delay any longer.
The Seok Geum-ryong of the present was a superior martial artist and a physician who had reached the level of a renowned healer.
At a glance, he could tell that Na Cheon-lip’s condition had already reached a perilous point.
“Are you the Heaven-Earth Scholar, Na Cheon-lip, sir?”
At last, the Golden Young Master Seok Geum-ryong, who had spent the entire day following Na Cheon-lip, laughing with him at times and weeping with him at others, stepped forward.
“. . . Y-you, how do you know Master Chilseonggun’s way of speaking?”
Time rewound once more, and Na Cheon-lip, the Heaven-Earth Scholar, was visibly shocked by Seok Geum-ryong’s words as he spoke of the strength of the Big Dipper.
It was only natural that he was startled.
Master Chilseonggun, Je Seong-cheon, always spoke that way on clear nights when the stars were bright in the sky.
Na Cheon-lip knew very well that his friend’s manner of speech reflected pride in the Seven Stars martial arts.
That was why he had never doubted that the only person in all the world who could speak of the Big Dipper and discuss its power was Chilseonggun himself.
And now, to have a young boy appear speaking the very same words as his friend. . . it was only natural that he should be stunned.
“Because I am. . . his descendant.”
Seok Geum-ryong spoke with confidence.
“Nonsense! Impossible! You’re far too young!”
Though Seok Geum-ryong’s words were not false, Na Cheon-lip shook his head in fierce anger.
By outward appearance, Seok Geum-ryong seemed at most sixteen.
If that were true, then when Chilseonggun had been searching for a successor, he would have been nothing more than an infant, which made no sense at all.
“More precisely, I am the descendant of that descendant.”
Seok Geum-ryong gave the answer he had prepared in advance.
It was a little rough and somewhat implausible, but he did not care.
There was no better proof than the Seven Stars martial arts themselves.
“What? What did you say?!”
“As far as I know, when Master Chilseonggun’s predecessor was seeking a successor, he traveled all across the Central Plains and found one from a distinguished orthodox sect. But. . . regrettably, that descendant, who for me is my master, died while sacrificing his life to protect me.”
Seok Geum-ryong spoke, his voice trembling before he realized it.
The story, told with genuine feeling, was true.
Especially when viewed from Seok Geum-ryong’s perspective rather than Woo Do-min’s, it was a perfectly reasonable account.
“That is difficult to believe. You expect me to just accept that?”
It would have been hard enough to believe if Chilseonggun’s descendant had appeared, but now that the descendant of that descendant had appeared, suspicion came naturally.
So, in the end, Seok Geum-ryong decided to show him directly.
“Though I learned it in haste and for only a short time. . . I studied it with all my heart.”
With those words, Seok Geum-ryong stepped forward.
Swish.
At the sight of him preparing to display the Seven Stars martial arts himself, Na Cheon-lip was so astonished that he forgot even the hangover and wine poison from the days he had drunk like a madman. He focused with all his might and stared ahead.
Just wait. If you dare deceive my friend and the Seven Stars martial arts. . . I won’t let it pass.
Before Seok Geum-ryong could show his skill, Na Cheon-lip, flushed with excitement, made his resolve.
Though his friend had never returned, their friendship had become a memory that would remain forever in Na Cheon-lip’s heart.
And so, as he inwardly issued his warning, Seok Geum-ryong let out a soft breath and began the proof in earnest.
Evidence that he was truly the descendant who had inherited Chilseonggun and the Seven Stars martial arts.
Northern Dipper Cultivation Technique!
What inner cultivation method in the world could compare to the Northern Dipper Cultivation Technique, the purest and most gentle of all?
Whooshhhhh!
A clear, refined light that could belong only to the Northern Dipper Cultivation Technique flowed from Seok Geum-ryong’s entire body.
“Oh! Oh, ohhh!”
Watching that sight, Na Cheon-lip could only rise to his feet once more and stagger.
He truly had believed this was an internal cultivation method he would never see again.
He had even thought of discarding the Heaven's Promise Pill he had prepared in advance, calling it useless trash.
For he believed his friend Chilseonggun was dead, and that the Northern Dipper Cultivation Technique had died with him.
And that was not all.
Heaven-Shattering Seven Stars Sword Technique:First Form, Greedy Wolf!
Seok Geum-ryong’s proof did not end with the Northern Dipper Cultivation Technique.
For the sake of Na Cheon-lip, who still held some doubt, he displayed a sword technique unlike any other in the world, a unique art with forms that no other technique could possibly imitate.
Crack—kakakakakang!
He unfolded the first stance of the Heaven-Shattering Seven Stars Sword Technique and completed his proof in a magnificently imposing manner.
“Seong-cheon! You’re back. At last, at last you’ve come back!”
Drip.
Watching that sight, Na Cheon-lip once again let tears stream down his face.
Though many years had passed and the friend he trusted had never returned, the vision of the Seven Stars martial arts, his friend’s greatest life’s work and his long-cherished wish, had not lost its light and still lived and breathed in full force. . . it was almost as if Je Seong-cheon had come back to life and was embracing him with that same unassuming warmth.