Chapter 133: It's All Because I Lack Power
Won Seung had no intention of revealing his true identity to Im Cho-ye. After all, she checked two out of the three most dangerous categories in the jianghu: old folks, women, and children.
A little girl.
"I have no idea what kind of thunderbolt this is. Suddenly being chased by experts from Mount Thousand Swords."
Won Seung let out a deep sigh, and Im Cho-ye looked mortified, not knowing what to do. She was clever, sure, but clearly sheltered—raised without much knowledge of the harsh world.
And it was true. Won Seung was deeply disappointed. He'd bought the house at a bargain, only for this kind of baggage to come with it. It really felt like a bolt from the blue while he was sleeping.
Won Seung asked,
"If your late uncle was Uncle Bang... where are your parents?"
"I don't know...."
Im Cho-ye's face darkened in an instant, and tears finally welled up in her eyes.
Oh no... you're kinda pitiful, huh? Not even knowing if your parents are alive or dead.
Won Seung patted her shoulder and spoke in a gentle voice.
"Since things have turned out like this, let's get through it together. Tell me exactly what happened."
At first, Im Cho-ye had been wary of Won Seung, but after he bought her delicious food, clothes, and trinkets—and showed genuine concern for her—she relaxed. Plus, wasn't he from a prestigious orthodox sect, the Joint Faction?
Im Cho-ye had spent the past six months in an underground hideout, imagining all sorts of horrors. Just as she was debating whether to venture out when her food ran low, Won Seung had moved in. The sudden sounds of hammering and digging had terrified her into holding her breath.
And even after that, the occasional footsteps kept her from emerging—she'd nearly starved to death frozen in place. But Won Seung turned out to be a decent guy, better than expected. Sure, he kept using scattering poison powder or paralyzing needles at the drop of a hat, but he didn't seem intent on harming her. He was pretty handsome too, especially compared to those swarthy men from the Fujian coast—pale skin and a neat appearance that caught her eye. And when danger struck, he'd even taken her along in his escape.
With her mind made up, she spilled the whole truth.
"Uncle Bang is my grandfather's disciple. Grandpa passed away last year. My father doesn't know martial arts. So I learned from Uncle Bang at his house...."
According to Im Cho-ye, Bang Kyung-pyo's real name was Bang Pyeong. Her grandfather was an ordinary village elder on the Fujian coast, and her father, Im Hwa-pyeong, was a scholar ignorant of martial arts. Im Cho-ye preferred martial arts over books, so from around age ten, she'd lived at her grandfather's disciple Bang Pyeong's home to train.
Im Cho-ye had never seen her grandfather use martial arts. It wasn't until after the disaster that she learned he was the Bi Cheon Sword Saint and that her sect was the Bi Sword Sect.
Her grandfather had two other disciples, but they were away on errands during the calamity.
Bang Pyeong had fought a bloody battle against the intruders from Mount Thousand Swords. Wounded, he'd rushed to Im Cho-ye's father Im Hwa-pyeong's house, only to find it raided, burned to the ground, and everyone vanished. Bang Pyeong quickly liquidated his assets, gathered his family and Im Cho-ye, and fled all the way to the imperial capital.
Those hunting the Bang family must be Im Cho-ye's second or third martial uncle.
Won Seung recalled the man Go Young-ju had mentioned and asked Im Cho-ye. Probably the second or third martial uncle.
"What are you going to do from here?"
"I'll train in martial arts and get revenge."
A venomous glint flashed in Im Cho-ye's eyes. Even Won Seung shivered and averted his gaze. Am I witnessing the birth of a female demoness here?
"Right now, surviving comes first. If we find your martial uncles, they'll take care of you, right?"
"Uncle Bang said the second or third uncle would come looking, but there's been no word. They might have fallen to Mount Thousand Swords too."
"Are the Bi Sword Sect descendants that weak? Or is Mount Thousand Swords that strong?"
Im Cho-ye shook her head.
"The Bi Sword Sect's martial arts are too profound and vast—even those with exceptional intellect and talent struggle to achieve mastery. You have to surpass the Five Intelligences at least to be considered a true expert. Uncle Bang said he'd only reached the third stage himself. The other uncles have surpassed the Five Intelligences, but Mount Thousand Swords has experts as numerous as clouds...."
Im Cho-ye's face darkened.
Won Seung inwardly nodded as he recalled the contents of the Bi Sword Sect Horizontal Heaven. The sect's sword techniques were devilishly intricate and complex. Even Won Seung—who'd inherited Yong Jo-un's insights on the Musanggyeol, connected over twenty pairs of yin-yang corresponding acupoints, and opened his Five Intelligences—had taken three full days just to memorize it. Back then, a month wouldn't have sufficed. And even that was mere memorization; he barely grasped the sword's intent.
No matter how peerless the sword art, if the practitioner couldn't keep up, it was no better than third-rate. Honing the Three Calamity Sword might actually be more practical in real combat.
Won Seung figured the Bi Sword Sect, like Musanggok, pursued the ultimate essence of martial arts. Otherwise, no one would devote a lifetime to such fiendishly difficult techniques.
Great if you achieve mastery... but only if you can.
"What if you reveal you're from the Bi Sword Sect and ask the Murim Alliance for help?"
Too naive? Im Cho-ye shook her head.
"You can't claim to be Bi Sword Sect until you've achieved mastery. It's the founder's precept."
Ah, so that's why the Bi Sword Sect always existed like a legend. It also explained why the Bi Cheon Sword Saint was so powerful—he'd mastered the Bi Sword Sect Horizontal Heaven.
"Stuck between a rock and a hard place, huh. Let's do the 108 prostrations and think it over slowly."
Won Seung sighed.
The next day, after evening prayers, Im Cho-ye began her 108 prostrations. Won Seung, however, skipped them. A young novice monk around Won Seung's age, who managed the guesthouse, shot him dirty looks but persisted stubbornly, refusing to leave his room.
That evening, as Won Seung sat on the guesthouse veranda sipping tea after dinner, the novice sweeping the floor grumbled.
"Your little sister is diligently doing her 108 prostrations, so why aren't you, layman?"
Won Seung politely pressed his palms together.
"My heart is already filled with Buddha's teachings—no need for prostrations."
The brazen reply flushed the young novice's face red. He swept the broom more aggressively, kicking up dust toward Won Seung.
Won Seung quietly rose and left the guesthouse. He didn't want to argue over the novice's nitpicking. He knew the monk had endured a tough life himself.
Yeongtap Temple was a massive monastery frequented even by imperial clansmen. Over three thousand monks resided there, with attached farmlands forming entire counties. Impoverished families without food often sent their young sons to become monks. But receiving formal precepts was exceedingly difficult.
Boys entered as postulants. Shaved heads, but not yet full monks. They served elder monks, handled temple chores, memorized sutras, and cultivated faith. Only after years did they receive the novice precepts.
As novices, they'd crossed the threshold to monkhood and took on slightly more important tasks—like sweeping the guesthouse veranda now. It was menial, but their own domain.
After years of sutra study and insight, they faced elders for scriptural debates. Fail, and they remained novices. Pass, and they received full monk precepts—but austerities continued.
They begged alms outside, oversaw postulants and novices. After a decade or more of cultivation, they expounded sutras publicly before crowds. Becoming a monk was no easy path.
That young novice sweeping the guesthouse would need decades more to preach before the congregation.
No meat, no liquor, no women....
Won Seung pitied his plight and forgave him with broad-minded understanding.
Won Seung wandered the temple grounds aimlessly. Stone lanterns lit the paths, making it pleasant.
There's no easy path in this world.
Lately, Won Seung's mind was tangled with thoughts of his future. Thrust into the mountains as a child, he'd survived day by day until meeting Dok Sabu and becoming Cheondaemun's leader. Yet, consumed by vengeance, his mind fixated solely on blowing up the assassin training camp. He'd laid groundwork in Sangyang for his future, but now couldn't even go there.
So he'd come to the capital, bought a cheap house, and gotten entangled in Bi Sword Sect and Mount Thousand Swords' feud. He hadn't even started his real tasks, and now he was hiding out from his new home.
Idling at the temple brought some gain: deeper insight into his life.
Unable to return home, unable to reveal his identity— a sorry state.
It's all because I lack power.
Be it Bi Sword Sect, Mount Thousand Swords, Seong Wang, or foes like the Kwon King of the Three Armies— if he could smash them all with one fist, no worries. Lately, his desire for martial prowess surged.
Should he cultivate the Bi Sword Sect Horizontal Heaven? Memorizing it from the manual was impulsive. No one discards a peerless secret. But practicing it was another matter. Without Im Cho-ye, maybe—but now, secretly training felt like outright theft, leaving him uneasy.
Bang Pyeong trained decades for just three stages. Not for me. If I pursue it and get hunted by Mount Thousand Swords, trouble.
Yet he couldn't easily shake his lingering attachment to the supreme art. Damn it, his mind kept reviewing the Bi Sword Sect Horizontal Heaven's contents.
How could he stop thinking about it?
The root issue was his future. Won Seung had vowed with the Sam Sam Alliance kids to topple Jeokhyeolsan's main base. It concerned his safety, so he had to. But unlike destroying the mountain camp, this was leagues apart. Even famed orthodox sects and the Murim Alliance couldn't touch Jeokhyeolsan. A daunting task.
Originally, he'd planned to bomb the camp, roam the jianghu with Sangyang as base, and return to Won Mansion at the right time. Late exam-takers weren't rare. Won Seung was confident he'd pass. He didn't aim high—just a county magistrate would be fulfilling.
But now, he realized it was time to shed naive dreams and face his reality coldly. Attacking Jeokhyeolsan would spawn new grudges, trapping him in the jianghu forever. He stood at a crossroads: live as a martial artist or as an ordinary official?
"The warrior's path... what kind of path is it, really?"
Won Seung muttered unconsciously amid his brooding.
Then, a hoarse voice echoed from somewhere.
"Who dares tread the path stained in blood?"
Won Seung startled and looked around. Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed his location. It was before a small hermitage in Yeongtap Temple's grounds.
"A young fool seeking the blood-soaked path... I cannot but save you. Come in at once."