The Promise (2)
Having mastered his fluster, Cheonhwa finally managed to speak.
“……How did you know I had reached the third stage of the art and come looking for me?”
“Junior Brother Myeonghwa told me.”
Myeonghwa had known about the sparring promise between the two of them.
He had been standing right beside them when they made it, so of course he knew.
The moment he obtained the news that Cheonhwa had reached the third stage, he must have run straight to Yeonhwa with it.
As expected of the self-proclaimed foremost information broker among the third-generation disciples—his gathering and delivery of news was nothing if not swift.
He told her because he thought it would be more fun that way, no doubt.
For all his constant talk of romance and refined taste, at heart he was a pleasure-seeker forever hunting for amusement.
That he had noticed Cheonhwa had forgotten the promise with Yeonhwa yet deliberately kept silent was probably for the same reason.
Because of that fortuitous encounter, my entire schedule got completely derailed.
Cheonhwa sighed inwardly.
When he had first set the sparring date with Yeonhwa, he had planned to train in the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven until he reached the third stage.
But the spiritual imprint of the sword scars he encountered in the cave had thrown every plan into chaos.
Even while cultivating the second stage, merely digesting the intent the founding ancestor’s spirit had poured into him had been overwhelming enough.
As a result, he had ascended to the third stage without ever learning the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven at all.
Postponing the spar any further would be unreasonable.
It had already been a delayed appointment from the start.
More than that, look at Yeonhwa’s eyes.
His junior sister, whose thoughts were ordinarily impossible to read, was now so openly filled with anticipation that anyone could see it at a glance.
On top of that, she had waited six full months without a single complaint.
Disappointing someone like that would prick his conscience no matter how he tried to justify it.
In the end, Cheonhwa had no choice but to spar exactly as promised.
“I understand.”
“Mm. I’ll get ready.”
Unlike her usual self, Yeonhwa moved with surprising speed and ran off.
Once the decision was made, there was no turning back.
Having come this far, he resolved to give the spar everything he had.
But can Junior Sister Yeonhwa even prepare for a proper spar?
Initiates were not free to hold private matches as they pleased.
Their control over force was still crude; a single miscalculation could easily lead to serious injury.
That was why an initiate who wanted a personal spar needed to handle a great many preparations first.
Secure a venue for the match.
Find a martial arts instructor willing to serve as referee.
Confirm the schedule so as not to disturb others, and post a notice as well.
Whether the taciturn Junior Sister Yeonhwa could manage all of that properly was highly doubtful.
I can’t help worrying.
In the end, Cheonhwa followed after her.
It was not long before he realized that choice had been the right one.
Sure enough, he found Yeonhwa flustered and utterly failing to get the preparations done.
Is this person going to be all right like this?
Cheonhwa was in no position to criticize others, yet Yeonhwa was even worse.
As a martial artist she might be a prodigy, but as a person she was failing the course entirely.
Cheonhwa began to worry about Yeonhwa’s future in earnest.
Thanks to Cheonhwa stepping in, the preparations for the spar were completed without incident.
They borrowed a corner of the training grounds as the venue for the private match.
They secured Martial Arts Instructor Muwol as referee.
The schedule was likewise confirmed as free for the spar.
The only problem was that word had already spread that the two of them would be fighting.
The stubborn hard worker and the prodigy who had clashed in the promotion exam spar were holding a private rematch!
None of those who had watched the promotion exam spar could help but be intrigued by the rumor.
As a result, the training grounds filled with spectators who had come to watch.
“So this is Junior Sister Yeonhwa’s revenge match? She lost last time by a fluke, but she’ll win this one for sure, right?”
“You can’t know that until it goes all the way. What happened once can happen twice.”
“Still, the fact that he still hasn’t learned the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven is a pretty big gap, don’t you think?”
“In exchange, his foundational art has reached the third stage, so their level of internal cultivation can be considered equal.”
While the spectators debated the likely outcome of the match, Cheonhwa himself was face-to-face with the very person who had gathered them all.
“Senior Brother Myeonghwa. Your excuse?”
“I thought something this entertaining ought to be enjoyed by everyone together!”
“I knew you’d say that.”
The main mountain was already short on diversions.
A private spar was one of the few spectacles available, and therefore popular in every way.
All Myeonghwa had done was pour oil on a fire that was already burning.
With his wide circle of acquaintances, gathering an audience would have been effortless.
Even he seemed not to have expected a crowd this large, however.
Nearly twice the number he had anticipated had shown up.
That alone spoke to how much impact a spar between Cheonhwa and Yeonhwa carried.
“So how do you think this spar will go? Can you win like last time?”
“I can’t count on the same kind of luck as before, and both of us will have grown since the promotion exam, so I can’t say for certain.”
Cheonhwa kept his gaze on Yeonhwa across the way as he continued.
“If it develops along similar lines to last time, I should at least be able to force a draw.”
Yeonhwa was in uncommonly high spirits.
At last she would be able to hold the spar she had promised six months ago.
I’m glad I held out and didn’t go see his face even once until now.
After making the promise, Yeonhwa had deliberately avoided running into Cheonhwa.
The moment she saw him, she was certain the anticipation would explode and she would abandon the agreement entirely, begging him to spar right then and there.
Even so, she could not cut off all concern, so she had received occasional reports through Myeonghwa.
I’ve prepared a great deal in the meantime.
They had been days of pouring herself into the four foundational arts of the initiate level without learning anything else.
First, the third stage of the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art.
From the third stage onward it entered the true realm of moving cultivation.
Circulation of qi while in motion became possible, which meant internal energy could be recovered even in the middle of a fight.
With the third stage’s capabilities, a prolonged battle would no longer be a problem.
The Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven had also made decent progress.
The Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven—abbreviated as the Heavenly Sword Art—was a sword style devoted to defense and counterattack, loyal to the principle of protecting the body.
Its fundamental strategy favored solidifying one’s guard over launching preemptive strikes.
For Yeonhwa, who disliked moving actively, it was a martial art that suited her temperament reasonably well.
Yet the moment she tried to delve deeply into it, she felt her progress stall.
Separate from the forms of the stances or the circulation of true qi, it was as if the sword art itself simply did not fit her.
It felt like forcing herself into clothes that did not match her body.
She could have forced her way deeper, but doing so would have turned it into something that was no longer the Heavenly Sword Art, so she had stopped.
Only then did Yeonhwa realize, belatedly, the truth.
The sword intent of the art and her own way of fighting simply did not mesh.
The intent of the Heavenly Sword Art was orthodox pressure built upon layers of solid fundamentals that overwhelmed the opponent.
Yeonhwa, by contrast, preferred instantaneous, improvisational responses that relied on her natural senses.
Thus she had always filled the gaps in her fundamentals with the shortcut of her innate talent.
The heights that could be reached by shortcuts had clear limits.
To solve the problem, she needed to build those fundamentals properly.
Ordinarily she would have found it tiresome and avoided it, but once she decided to focus on the basics, there was no room to retreat.
Once Yeonhwa made up her mind, she saw it through to the end. That was her way.
After that it was nothing but a long stretch of dull, grinding practice.
Never since entering the Zhongnan Sect had she trained so diligently.
Even that got old after about six months, though.
She had been looking for something to change her mood when the news arrived that Cheonhwa had stepped into the third stage of the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art.
So she had run straight to him and demanded they spar as promised.
Cheonhwa had accepted the spar as agreed.
Not only that—he had even helped the flustered Yeonhwa with the preparations themselves.
Thanks to him, we can hold the spar without any trouble.
For some reason a great many spectators had gathered to watch, but Yeonhwa did not care in the slightest.
What she wanted far more was to confirm each other’s progress as soon as possible through the match.
Yeonhwa cast a sidelong glance toward Cheonhwa.
He was wearing the weighted gauntlets just as before.
Perhaps because the sensation of the gauntlets felt unfamiliar after so long, he kept swinging his fists again and again, trying to reacquaint himself with the weight.
Even so, his expression looked more at ease than last time.
Completing the second stage of the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art had improved his physical ability, after all.
Conditions almost identical to the last spar.
How much would they both have changed over these six months?
Yeonhwa’s chest fluttered with anticipation.
Muwol, serving as referee, made the final confirmation.
“One last check of the rules. Weapons permitted: wooden sword and weighted gauntlets. Martial arts limited to the four foundational arts of the initiate level. Any objections?”
“None.”
“None.”
The two of them faced each other at an appropriate distance.
Cheonhwa’s gaze was the same as before.
Upright eyes that said he would give everything he had.
Yeonhwa liked those eyes.
They looked at nothing else—only at Yeonhwa herself, pure and undivided.
As the two stood locked in confrontation—
“Begin!”
The signal announcing the start of the spar fell.
At the same instant, Cheonhwa charged straight toward Yeonhwa.
Unlike before, when he had waited for openings, the move was bold and decisive.
Yeonhwa swung her wooden sword in a checking cut.
Second Form—Heaven-Severing Horizontal Slash.
The horizontal sword stroke, lengthened by the long blade, carved a wide arc through the air.
The orthodox response would have been to retreat and step outside the sword’s range.
Instead, Cheonhwa advanced on a diagonal, closing the distance even further.
Yeonhwa did not find the choice particularly surprising.
Closing in while accepting risk had been a tactic he used in their previous spar as well.
Cheonhwa raised his arm and unleashed the Earth Horizontal Fist of the Five Elements Fist, sweeping sideways.
Wooden sword and weighted gauntlet collided with a dull, heavy thud.
When sword art and fist art clashed, it was the sword that was driven back.
Yeonhwa’s eyes flew wide at the completely unexpected result.
The force contained in that fist was extraordinary.
Not only was it stronger than before—it went beyond merely pushing her sword force aside and shook her very center of balance.
This is… Jin Release?
Jin Release was power generated through the flesh itself—through sinew, bone, and the shifting of body weight.
Therefore, building the body properly was the prerequisite for using it correctly.
She could understand that completing the second stage had laid the foundation for Jin Release.
But he had only just finished the second stage, and yet his Jin Release was already this polished?
Yeonhwa herself had strengthened her Jin Release through foundational training, yet she had not reached that level.
What kind of training could he possibly have undergone to produce force of such quality?
That was not the only thing that shocked her.
He read the combat trajectory of the form perfectly.
The defense Cheonhwa had just executed had completely stopped the sword form.
It was the movement of someone who already knew both the direction of the attack and how it would unfold.
Only someone with exceptional senses or vast experience could do such a thing so easily.
How?
Cheonhwa had clearly never learned the Heavenly Sword Art.
For him to read its combat trajectories so completely was strange.
But the situation was too urgent to linger on the question.
Cheonhwa was pressing his advantage and closing the distance even further.
Yeonhwa quickly righted her disrupted center, yet she could not prevent the gap from shrinking by another step.
Feeling a genuine sense of crisis, she began launching sword forms in earnest.
Cheonhwa blocked every check and every attack while continuing to narrow the range.
He’s reading the trajectories after all.
The proof was the way he moved half a beat early, killing the power of each form before it could fully bloom.
The impact on him lessened, while she was left scrambling simply to stabilize her shaken balance.
In that moment her eyes met those of Cheonhwa as he closed in.
Her razor-sharp senses flashed a momentary illusion before her.
It was the long road that bore the name of martial arts.
On that road Yeonhwa was still far ahead of Cheonhwa, and the distance between them was not something that could be closed so easily.
That was how it should have been.
Yet when she glanced back, the boy had somehow drawn all the way up to her very nose.
His gaze asked the question.
I’ve come this far. Do you intend to end it here?
No. I cannot end it like this.
She had not come to this place simply to be pushed back one-sidedly and lose.
Nor did she have any intention of remaining the one whose back was being chased—she meant to become the one doing the chasing.
Her will answered, and her senses sharpened another degree, sweeping the illusion aside and returning her mind to reality.
Yeonhwa poured out sword forms in a seamless, flowing torrent.
From cut to cut.
From cut to block.
From block to thrust.
From thrust to thrust.
From thrust to block.
From block to cut.
An unbroken chain of linked forms.
It was a continuous cycle of stances so smooth that onlookers might have questioned whether it was truly the Heavenly Sword Art at all.
Yet Cheonhwa still reacted half a beat early, blocking or slipping past every one of them.
Her keenly honed senses whispered of an ominous future.
If this continues, I will lose.
Not a loss born of being swept away by momentum as last time, but a pure defeat by difference in skill.
A single bead of cold sweat slid down her pale cheek.