Goals (2)
Muwol asked again, to make sure he had not misheard.
"You mastered it all in a single day?"
"Yes."
"The entire first half—all twelve forms?"
"That is correct."
The first half of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven consisted of twelve forms in total. Being built from single, clean strikes, the movements themselves were simple enough—but once you pulled them apart, the details that demanded attention were hardly few. That was why the claim that Cheonhwa had mastered not one, but all twelve forms in a single day was almost impossible to believe.
The other second-generation disciples felt much the same. Inwol shared their reaction completely.
Even I, who saw it myself, can barely believe it. How much harder must it be for everyone else?
Inwol recalled Cheonhwa's demonstration. There had been nothing to fault. From stance to the linking of the forms, every aspect had been so complete there was nothing left to teach. The polish was hard to credit as the product of someone learning a sword art for the first time. And he had produced that result after watching the forms only once. However simple the first half of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven might be, it was still an uncanny feat.
"I found it strange myself, so I asked Junior Brother Cheonhwa how he had managed it."
The answer that came back was this:
"He said studying the martial manuals in advance helped, but that his spar with Junior Sister Yeonhwa mattered even more."
In other words, after being beaten with the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven by Yeonhwa, he had memorized the forms without meaning to. It was not an entirely impossible story. There were methods that taught martial arts through something close to real combat. But when asked whether that explanation truly fit Cheonhwa, no one found themselves nodding with confidence.
"How many third-generation disciples have ever learned the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven in a single day?"
"You could count them on one hand so far."
"So the count has gone up by one."
Muwol sank into thought. The idea that Cheonhwa had been hiding his talent until now simply did not hold. First-generation disciple Jinhyun had verified it himself, and the second-generation disciples had been watching from the side the whole time. Judging by everything Cheonhwa had shown so far, his natural talent was ordinary—that much was true.
Which means there was some opportunity we don't know about.
There had been signs already. The rematch between Cheonhwa and Yeonhwa, with Muwol himself as referee. The final exchange that decided the spar.
Junior Brother Cheonhwa's last fist form was no ordinary fist-art jin release.
Jin release might originate in external arts and could gain even greater power through internal energy, yes—but that final punch had stood outside that category. It was a level of force that the second stage of the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art simply could not produce. At the same time, it never left the framework of the introductory four basic arts, which made it stranger still.
Within what Muwol knew, only one thing could produce that kind of harmony.
Could he have awakened Intent?
The insight of the senior brother who led the second-generation disciples closed the distance to the truth on speculation alone. Once the clue appeared, every circumstance fell into place one by one—from the absurd rate of growth Inwol had described, all the way to that final strike in the rematch with Yeonhwa. If he had awakened Intent, everything could be explained.
It's hard to believe—but if it's true, it's an outrageous stroke of fortune.
Awakening Intent usually came at the end of first-class, or at the Peak Expert realm. For an introductory disciple to awaken it required both personal effort and the favor of Heaven.
Still, one question remains unanswered.
If he had awakened Intent during the last promotion-exam spar, then at most half a year had passed since. For such a short span, his handling of Intent was far too practiced.
Did someone teach him?
And if so, who? Teaching Intent required a master of at least Peak Expert level. Among the second-generation disciples there were only a handful, and even counting the first-generation disciples and the elders of the sect leader's generation, the numbers were not large.
As if to rouse Muwol from his thoughts, Gowol spoke.
"Didn't the Sect Leader visit us during a meeting not long ago?"
Muwol knew at once which incident Gowol meant.
"An unannounced visit. We were all thrown into confusion."
"Yes. Do you remember what he said then—that there was a third-generation disciple whose diligence had pleased him enough that he had given instruction, and that we should not be too surprised?"
"Of course I remember. Even when we asked who it was, he only gave a meaningful smile and said we would learn in due time, without telling us the details."
Okwon Jinin's unexpected arrival had been startling enough; the announcement that followed had thrown every second-generation disciple into disarray. Instructing an introductory disciple on a whim violated the sect's rules—and the Sect Leader was no exception. If anything, for the Sect Leader to break those rules was a serious blow to his authority. Okwon Jinin had known that and still accepted the loss of face to teach an introductory disciple.
When that thought reached him, Muwol's eyes widened as if he had only just realized something.
"You don't mean that disciple was Junior Brother Cheonhwa?"
Okwon Jinin, Sect Leader of the Zhongnan Sect, was a martial scholar of renown throughout the jianghu. If Okwon Jinin had taught him, Cheonhwa's otherwise inexplicable growth made sense.
"No wonder the skill he showed in that private spar was anything but ordinary."
"If the Sect Leader taught him the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven first, of course it would look as though he mastered it in a day."
"And it makes sense that Junior Brother Cheonhwa kept his mouth shut. He couldn't freely speak of receiving instruction from the Sect Leader."
"One wrong word, and he wouldn't even have been able to guess what kind of trouble he might bring down on himself."
Before long, among the second-generation disciples, the speculation hardened into accepted fact. Exactly as Okwon Jinin had intended. He had expected that once Cheonhwa absorbed Intent, he would display a level of skill far beyond before. Sudden growth like that always invited suspicion. So he had stepped forward himself to prevent it in advance. Fortunately, suspicion toward Cheonhwa vanished as Okwon Jinin had hoped.
In its place, another problem arose.
"Does the Sect Leader teaching Cheonhwa mean he intends to raise him as the head disciple of the Flower generation?"
"It may not go that far, but he is clearly keeping an eye on him."
"True enough. With results like that on the promotion exam, who wouldn't take notice?"
"And he's been stirring up quite the storm among the third-generation disciples lately."
Among the second-generation disciples, Cheonhwa's standing rose another step—from the front rank of the introductory disciples to a talent the Sect Leader himself paid attention to. Okwon Jinin's consideration had, without meaning to, become a further elevation of Cheonhwa's status.
While the second-generation disciples fell for Okwon Jinin's stratagem and built themselves a magnificent misunderstanding, Cheonhwa—who had no way of knowing any of this—was in a thoroughly awkward state of mind. He had offered Inwol the best excuses he could, but Inwol did not look particularly convinced.
Fair enough. I'd be the same.
A boy who had been grinding away with ordinary talent suddenly producing results that did not fit him at all—anyone would assume he was hiding something. The cause of all this lay in the Intent he had gained from the Spiritual Nature of the sword scar. Absorbing that Intent had let Cheonhwa grasp the essence of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven. As a result, if pure understanding of the art were the measure, no one in the sect could match him. That was also why he had been able to memorize the first-half forms at once, the same way he had perfectly blocked Yeonhwa's sword forms in their spar.
The problem was the dissonance that leaked out no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Even with forms he was using for the first time in his life, his body already knew the perfect way to move, and it drifted that way on its own. It was the side effect of gaining enlightenment before he had ever learned the sword art. For Cheonhwa there was no way to hide it, so bluffing was all he had. He regretted not inventing a more plausible excuse, then shook his head hard and steeled himself.
The water's already spilled. Don't cling to problems that have left my hands.
Better to focus on the present than on a past he could not reverse. Cheonhwa headed for the training ground, intending to train as usual.
First, engrain the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven into my body.
Knowing the ideal Intent for deploying the forms was one thing; using it in the right place at the right time was another. If he had Yeonhwa's innate sense for improvised movement, perhaps—but Cheonhwa had no such gift, so embodiment through repetition was essential. A little over six months remained until the second promotion exam. To pass it cleanly, he needed to concentrate on the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven starting now.
But on the way to the training ground, someone blocked his path. The one standing in his way was a solidly built boy with a vaguely familiar face. Cheonhwa searched the haze of memory for the name.
"You're the one I met in the promotion-exam spar…"
"This humble one is called Yeobhwa."
Having finished his introduction, Yeobhwa lowered himself at once, bowed his head, and cried out,
"Take this humble one as your disciple!"
"…What?"
It was a proposal that came from nowhere.
"Take you as my disciple? What do you mean by that?"
"You will not take me as your disciple?"
"Before deciding yes or no, I would like to hear the circumstances first."
"Very well. This humble one shall explain from the beginning."
For the sake of explanation, Yeobhwa revived a more distant past. Everything had begun with the promotion-exam spar.
"At the time of the promotion exam, this humble one was confident. Thanks to a body I was born with, I had never lost to anyone my age."
When he faced Cheonhwa in the exam spar, he had believed he would win. There was more than a head's difference in their builds. So he had taken the initiative, intending to finish the spar quickly.
"The result was the opposite of my expectations. This humble one was defeated without a chance to resist."
He held no grudge. The level of polish in their fist arts had been different—anyone could see it from the way forms flowed into one another after a defense. The reason for defeat had been pure difference in skill; refusing to accept that would have been the work of a petty man.
"More than anything, thinking of the fierce bout I saw in the second spar made losing the natural outcome."
The foremost hardcase among the third-generation disciples: Cheonhwa. The foremost prodigy among the third-generation disciples: Yeonhwa. Their spar had stirred many hearts. Yeobhwa was one of them.
"The spar I saw that day is still vivid in my memory."
When fist art and sword art met at the edge of third-class, the sword won. That was common sense. That day's spar overturned it. It was living proof that with effort, fist art could defeat sword art.
"This humble one was captivated that day by the shining possibility of the fist arts—and swore a firm oath. I will become the foremost fist master of the Zhongnan Sect!"
Overcome with feeling, Yeobhwa clenched his fists tight.
"After that, I devoted myself to fist training so that I might become like Junior Brother Cheonhwa."
Moving with the Nine Palaces Footwork, unfolding the Five Elements Fist at every chance. What had looked endlessly foolish when watching turned out, once tried, to be anything but easy. It was so grueling he collapsed before a full month was up—and even that was the longest any of the fellow disciples who tried the same training had lasted.
"Truly, making the possibilities of the fist arts bloom was no easy matter."
He had been more than a little disappointed in himself. Was his passion for the fist arts only this much? He continued training in scraps of spare time, but the old fire was nowhere to be found.
"It felt as though I had fallen into a mire—every struggle seemed in vain."
Then the rumor reached him: Cheonhwa and Yeonhwa would hold a rematch. Unable to contain his curiosity, Yeobhwa went to the training ground to watch.
"Junior Brother Cheonhwa took the victory from Junior Sister Yeonhwa with a Five Elements Fist more polished than before."
The sight of Cheonhwa advancing while answering the rain of sword strikes had been the ideal image of a fist master Yeobhwa carried in his mind. Remembering that moving figure brought moisture to the corners of Yeobhwa's eyes.
"In that moment I realized again—this humble one cannot abandon this path."
His ideal was high, but the wall of reality was higher still. With his frail will, he could never walk the same road as Cheonhwa. So he had come looking for him. If it was the hardcase who had even broken the foremost prodigy among the third-generation disciples, surely he would know some method.
"For the sake of his dream, this humble one will not refuse even the rites of the nine prostrations."
In the gaze fixed on Cheonhwa, will burned like wildfire—the light of resolve that meant to advance toward a dream.
"…"
For a while Cheonhwa said nothing. The chain of cause and effect was sound enough, yet he could not understand how it had arrived at such an absurd conclusion. One thing, however, was certain: while Yeobhwa spoke of his dream, his eyes had sparkled without ceasing. Cheonhwa did not want to put out that light.
"We are of the same generation and fellow disciples. We cannot form a master–disciple bond."
"Does that mean you refuse?"
"Please listen to the end. I cannot become your master, but I can give you help."
At Cheonhwa's answer, Yeobhwa's face brightened at once.
"Before I help, may I ask a few questions?"
"If it is something this humble one can answer, I shall answer anything."
"First—what is your achievement in the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art?"
"Four-star completion of the second stage."
"Then raising the intensity of your external training should come first. If you ask an instructor, they will tell you a suitable method."
The external training regimen he and Inwol had put their heads together to create existed for exactly this kind of use.
"And just in case—once you reach five-star completion of the second stage, you must learn sword arts."
"Is fist training alone not enough?"
"That way you could fail the promotion exam. That way, far from becoming Zhongnan's foremost fist master, you would simply be sent down the mountain."
"Ah…"
Yeobhwa let out a sigh. Judging by the cold sweat running down his forehead, he had not thought that far. Cheonhwa did not stop; he pressed the chase.
"Besides, if you learn sword arts, won't dealing with sword arts become that much easier?"
"That is a notion this humble one had not considered."
"The saying 'know the enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles you will never be in peril' does not exist for nothing."
"'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.' An old saying from our literacy lessons."
Finding the logic sound, Yeobhwa nodded again and again. After that Cheonhwa offered several more pieces of advice useful for training. Yeobhwa listened with a solemn face.
"…That is all. For the rest, you can receive instruction through the instructors."
"My thanks, Junior Brother. Because of you, this humble one takes away many insights today."
Yeobhwa bowed his head again and again in gratitude. Left alone he looked ready to prostrate himself once more, so Cheonhwa waved him off, saying it was fine.
"It's all right—please raise your head. Anything more would be excessive courtesy."
"Ahem. Forgive me. This humble one's body tends to move ahead of his head. Someday I shall surely repay this kindness."
Yeobhwa offered his thanks once more and left the training ground. Alone again, Cheonhwa let out a sigh. He had not even trained, yet fatigue pressed in on him.
I never thought my own path would bring me this kind of ordeal.
He had not expected to feel the influence Myeonghwa had spoken of in quite this way. The sudden declaration of discipleship had been startling, but he did not find it hateful or unpleasant. It was only a mistake born of enthusiasm spinning out of control. If Yeobhwa consulted an instructor and set his direction properly, the problem would resolve itself.
More than anything, striving for a dream did not feel like someone else's story. Before, he had lived day to day for survival. After entering the Zhongnan Sect, he had clawed to remain on the main mountain. After facing the Spiritual Nature of the founding patriarch, he had moved according to the goal of becoming a master. The direction might differ, but the effort and earnest heart turned toward a dream were the same. So he had offered a little kindness—nothing more.
A connection that would brush past and be gone. With each of them absorbed in his own training, they would not face each other again for a long time. That was what he thought.
"We meet again after only a day. Have you been well?"
"…"
Apparently his bond with Yeobhwa was going to prove tougher than Cheonhwa had imagined.