Chapter 38: Golden Martial Association (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 38: Golden Martial Association (2)
Scritch, scratch.
Shhh, shhh.
Scritch, scritch.
"All done!"
With a triumphant shout, Seok Myeong raised his sword, holding it up to catch the light.
The blade was a masterpiece. Even in the dimming twilight, it had been maintained so meticulously that his reflection stared back at him, crystal clear, from the surface of the steel.
"As expected, a sword only truly shines when you pour your soul into the whetstone. Jin-ah, wouldn't you like to try—?"
Seok Myeong turned toward Hyeok-jin, his heart swelling with pride.
"……."
Hyeok-jin was leaning against the wall, sitting in the lotus position. He hadn't uttered a single word for the past two hours, clearly lost in deep meditation.
He must have a lot on his mind.
It was understandable. They had just learned a shocking truth from Cheol Mu-jin: the Heavenly White Divine Art did not originate from swordsmanship, but from the techniques of a great axe. Their master, Baek Yang-cheon, had only switched to the sword after achieving a profound enlightenment.
Thinking back, it makes sense. He was able to create immense variations with just the slightest flick of his wrist.
During their duel, the initial forms Baek Yang-cheon displayed had seemed simple. He had divided a single movement into four distinct parts, but by the third transition, Seok Myeong had been unable to even guess his intent.
This is something I can't teach him yet.
Looking at the training Hyeok-jin, Seok Myeong felt a pang of guilt. Baek Yang-cheon had shown Seok Myeong the ultimate techniques, entrusting him to pass that enlightenment on to Hyeok-jin. However, Seok Myeong hadn't fully grasped them himself. He was in no position to offer guidance.
Leaving his regrets behind, Seok Myeong stepped out of the room.
Whoosh.
The evening air was cool and refreshing. Outside, rows of elegantly constructed buildings lined the path, and the compound was hushed. In the distance, he could see the faint glow of yellow candles, but they were few and far between, leaving most of the area draped in shadows. Since these were the guest quarters, there was little foot traffic.
So, this is how they live.
Unlike the austere structures at Mount Qingcheng, these buildings were incredibly ornate and sturdily built. There were polished paving stones, artificial ponds, and decorative bridges.
When Seok Myeong first arrived, he had been instinctively on guard. He had worried that because they were the Unorthodox Faction, they might pick a fight for no reason. But that wasn't the case at all. Their behavior was solemn and formal. He hadn't seen a single person with a wicked glint in their eyes. In fact, some possessed gazes that seemed even more upright and disciplined than the disciples of the Qingcheng Sect.
I’ve lived in such a small world until now, Seok Myeong thought, looking up at the stars.
He had spent his entire life on Mount Qingcheng. He couldn't have imagined how people lived in places like this, or anywhere else for that matter. But now, he understood a little better. Everyone lived with their own dreams. Each person had a reason for their actions and a set of beliefs they followed.
Whether it was the Orthodox or the Unorthodox Faction, the places where people lived were the same. Only the direction of their will and their ultimate goals differed.
Seok Myeong walked with his hands behind his back. As he wandered through his thoughts, he eventually began to reflect on his own progress.
What tasks do I have left?
He contemplated the path ahead and the martial arts he needed to master to carry on his master's legacy. First and foremost, he had to completely internalize the Demonic Qi. Furthermore, there were the seventh, eighth, and ninth forms of the Heaven and Earth Sword, which he hadn't even attempted yet.
Strangely, these forms didn't involve specific physical movements. In the manual, there were no instructions on how to perform them—only a few static illustrations.
The seventh form was the Phantom Sword. There was no text, only a drawing of three swords.
The eighth form was the Azure Sword. The illustration depicted a blade so transparent that the background could be seen through the steel.
The ninth form was the Strong Sword, showing a single blade standing tall between heaven and earth.
Seok Myeong believed these were phenomena that would manifest naturally once one reached a certain realm. He figured that the Heaven and Earth Sword fundamentally consisted of six physical forms, while the seventh, eighth, and ninth were manifestations of intent that appeared upon reaching a specific level of mastery.
I have a vague idea about the Strong Sword... but I don't understand the Phantom Sword or the Azure Sword. What do the three swords and the transparent blade signify?
Shring.
Seok Myeong emerged from his contemplation and drew his blade. He began to mimic the sword forms of Baek Yang-cheon, recalling his master's movements. It was a simple thrusting motion, yet it contained profound, hidden changes.
Baek Yang-cheon hadn't even infused much internal energy into the sword. Nevertheless, the third and fourth strikes possessed a destructive power that felt impossible to block, even if one gathered all their strength.
"Hah!"
Seok Myeong continued his downward strikes. But no matter how many times he swung, it felt different from Baek Yang-cheon's sword. It was difficult to understand where that kind of power originated.
What did he want me to realize? All he told me was to communicate... Ah!
As he replayed their conversation in his head, something clicked. Seok Myeong focused his mind.
Communicate with the energy.
Baek Yang-cheon had emphasized this even in his final moments.
Then, what exactly did it mean to communicate with energy? Baek Yang-cheon hadn't used any special strength or internal energy while attacking. Since he hadn't drawn upon his own internal reserves, he must have used the energy present in the atmosphere—the Qi of the world—to strike.
"Ah!"
Seok Myeong felt like he had finally grasped a clue.
Communing with energy.
It meant to move not only the Qi within one's body but also the energy dissolved in nature. In that moment, Seok Myeong asked himself: Have I ever communicated with the energy outside my body?
Until now, he had only relied on the energy within him, trying to pull it inward rather than resonating with the world outside.
"Perhaps he wanted the internal and the external to become one."
Seok Myeong remained lost in that feeling of almost understanding, yet not quite, for a long time.
*
"Hyah! Ha!"
While Seok Myeong was deep in martial theory, a young boy was vigorously swinging a sword on a small bridge crossing the artificial pond. The way he moved the greatsword rhythmically suggested he was practicing a specific form rather than just building muscle.
"Hah! Hah!"
The boy's weapon was a massive greatsword. The sight of him swinging that heavy blade powerfully to the left and right showed how deeply immersed he was in his training. Beads of sweat poured down his face, but the boy didn't stop for even a second.
Seok Myeong watched the scene with interest from the shadows.
"Huff, huff."
As the speed of the greatsword slowed, it seemed the boy's physical strength had reached its limit. Eventually, the training stopped. After catching his breath, the boy, seemingly exhausted, began to walk while dragging his sword on the ground.
A grating sound echoed as the blade scraped against the polished paving stones. Unable to watch any longer, Seok Myeong called out.
"Young one."
"Who's there?"
Startled by the voice coming from the darkness, the boy looked around warily. Then, a handsome young man with his arms crossed emerged from the shadows.
"Oh! You're the one who came with the grandfather, right?"
"Hmm? Yes."
Seok Myeong hesitated on how to explain himself but eventually nodded. The boy's face brightened into a smile.
"Wow, I heard you were all amazing people. It's nice to meet you!"
The boy approached with wide, clear eyes and held out his hand. Despite being part of the Unorthodox Faction, where one might expect him to be wary of strangers, there was no sign of suspicion. Seok Myeong gave an awkward smile and took the boy's hand.
"Uh, right."
"But what are you doing out here?"
"The weather was nice, so I came out for a walk."
"Ah, I see."
"But listen, little one."
"I'm not a little one. I'm Cheol Won."
"Right, Cheol Won."
"Yes, Mister." The boy answered politely.
"A sword, you see, isn't something to be treated so carelessly."
"Why not?"
"You'll damage the blade."
"This? Oh, this sword is fine even if I do this. It's just a practice sword," the boy said confidently.
But Seok Myeong shook his head.
"There is no sword in this world that is okay to treat carelessly. Every sword is made for a purpose. Right now, this is just a simple practice tool, but in the future, it might save your life. Don't you agree?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Then let's think about it. What is contained within such a sword?"
"I don't know……."
"My sword contains my dreams. It holds my family and the people I love. It also holds my hope."
"Ah……."
"Then how should I treat my sword? Should I drag it on the ground just because it's heavy?"
Cheol Won shook his head and looked up at Seok Myeong in awe.
"Exactly. For your information, lowering your sword is a declaration of your own defeat. But as long as the sword points upward, you haven't lost yet. Because your will is contained within that blade."
In Cheol Won's eyes, Seok Myeong's face seemed to glow. Like a master teaching the very essence of the Dao, he looked cooler than any warrior the boy had ever known.
"Always treat your sword with care. Maintaining a reverent heart toward your weapon from the moment you start training until you finish—that is what determines the results of your practice."
"Yes, I understand!" Cheol Won nodded vigorously. He lifted his sword high and began to walk toward the other side of the bridge.
"Oh, and Cheol Won."
"Yes, Mister?" The boy turned back.
"Be careful when you practice your swordsmanship in the future. It's dangerous to practice your techniques in a place where others might see. Your weaknesses could be exposed, and you could lose your life."
"Yes, I'll keep that in mind!"
The boy bowed politely once more. Seok Myeong watched him walk away with a satisfied expression, his arms still crossed.
*
On an outer path where yellow candles lit the alleyway, a sturdy young man was walking briskly. He had sharp features, broad shoulders, and a frame hardened by years of training. Wearing deep black robes with his hair fluttering in the wind, he looked like a figure stepped out of a painting.
"Grand Young Master, you've arrived."
As the man reached the gate where a massive plaque hung, a warrior with his face half-covered bowed with disciplined precision.
"Is he inside?"
"Yes, he has remained here ever since he entered."
"I'm going in."
At the young man's words, the warrior gave a short bow and stepped aside. As the young man opened the gate, the warriors guarding the manor lined up and cleared a path. He crossed the courtyard and stopped in front of a room where a dim oil lamp flickered.
"Grandfather, it is Cheol Gun."
"I have been waiting. Come in."
"Yes."
Once permission was granted, Cheol Gun carefully entered the room.
Slide.
After entering, Cheol Gun went to a corner and sat down quietly. He was careful not to disturb his grandfather, Cheol Mu-jin, who was sitting in the lotus position with his eyes closed.
After a period of silence, Cheol Gun watched the elder. They say the more extraordinary a master is, the more ordinary they appear. In the past, he had felt a tremendous pressure from his grandfather, but now, he felt nothing at all. This was true even though Cheol Gun himself had grown several times stronger than before.
After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Cheol Mu-jin opened his eyes. Cheol Gun spoke immediately.
"Was your journey through the Jianghu peaceful?"
"Yes. It was fine," Cheol Mu-jin answered, then fixed Cheol Gun with a cold expression. "Are you still wasting your time on wine and women?"
"Wasting my time? Grandfather, you might not know, but I am cultivating my own way of seeing the world."
"I suppose that world is found beneath a woman's skirt."
"Hahaha! If anyone heard that, they'd think it was true."
Cheol Gun laughed jovially. He showed no sign of being intimidated, even in the presence of Cheol Mu-jin. A moment later, as Cheol Gun's laughter subsided, Cheol Mu-jin spoke again.
"Cheol Gun, how old are you this year?"
"I am twenty-five."
"Hmm. At that age, with your level of skill, you likely have no rivals among your peers."
"I haven't had a rival for a long time."
A small smile played on Cheol Mu-jin's lips. The arrogance was still there. That self-confident attitude, even in front of his grandfather—one of the Eight Yuan Masters—made Cheol Mu-jin anticipate the future even more.
"That is why I brought him here."
"……?"
"Your rival."