Journey to Sichuan
Through the second-generation disciples, Cheonhwa experienced a wide range of the Zhongnan Sect’s sword arts.
He began with the heavy-sword methods—the Gusang Sword Art and the Seongna Sword Art.
Then came the strong-sword methods—the Baekgang Sword Art and the Daecheon Ganggeom.
And finally the blunt-sword methods—the Myoman Sword Art and the Yuyu Mugyeok Sword.
In the end he succeeded in grasping the essential secrets of three distinct categories of sword work.
He had also tasted soft-sword and swift-sword styles, yet he failed to absorb their secrets. The reason was simple: he had not yet learned the matching inner-energy cultivation methods those arts required.
So the only arts I can absorb directly from experience are those linked to the mind methods already firmly rooted in my mental image.
Even if he learned a new mind method right away, it would take time for it to settle into his mental landscape.
His rapid progress in the Hocheon-gigong and the Hyeoncheon-jingi had been possible only because of a string of rare opportunities. He could not count on the same good fortune for every new method he took up.
More than anything, my present capacity can handle only three kinds of mind methods at once.
Wielding inner energy required intent. Moving several different kinds of energy at the same time demanded a correspondingly vast amount of intent—and with the intent Cheonhwa currently possessed, three streams of qi were the absolute limit.
To break past that limit, he would have to surmount the wall of the Peak Expert realm.
In the end, every path circles back to the same place. I have no choice but to climb to Peak Expert.
Rather than scatter his efforts learning new mind methods, Cheonhwa poured everything into the training that would let him shatter the wall.
To that end he regularly fought sparring matches against the second-generation disciples that were scarcely distinguishable from real combat.
Guidance spars with the second-generation disciples were something every third-generation disciple experienced, yet Cheonhwa’s bouts alone turned especially savage—because his accomplishment already rivaled that of second-generation disciples who remained at the First-class level.
Half-hearted restraint would have been useless for his growth. To fill the gaps in his still-insufficient real-world experience, they had to press him hard.
Perhaps it’s because the Dragon Phoenix Gathering is approaching, but the senior brothers are truly throwing themselves into this. I need to work even harder.
Yet Cheonhwa himself never fully grasped just how brutal the training had become. Instead he simply gave his all so that their efforts would not be wasted. As a result, against Second-generation disciples stuck at the First-class level he eventually climbed to an eighty-percent win rate.
Along the way he also came to understand his own shortcomings.
When things go wrong, I lack ways to protect my body.
Even when he raised his sword in defense, there were moments he could not block everything. He was particularly vulnerable to wide-area techniques and sudden ambushes. He needed a new martial art to plug those holes.
I’ll learn a body-protection art.
Having fully mastered two superior mind methods, his total internal energy had grown large enough that he could easily afford to cultivate a protective technique.
Following the advice of the second-generation disciples, he sought out and learned one.
Jangcheon Dan-gap—the Long Heaven Satin Armor.
It was the Zhongnan Sect’s foundational body-protection art. The structure of its qi barrier was simple, making it easy to learn. Its defensive power scaled with the number of layers of energy one could stack—an ideal match for Cheonhwa, who planned to master both the foundational method and all four superior mind methods.
Even three layers—Gyuncheon qi, Hocheon qi, and Hyeoncheon qi—should give me considerable defense.
He trained with the goal of keeping the protective art active at all times. If he could maintain the internal-energy barrier without conscious thought, he would be able to respond to ambushes and other sudden crises.
In addition, every single day he stood before the wall of Peak Expert and tried to smash it down. Of course he failed every time, yet he did not mind. He had never expected short-term results in the first place.
So he kept challenging it, carefully studying the nature of the wall itself.
The higher my sword arts climb, the stronger the rebound when I strike the wall.
In other words, the stronger the rebound, the closer he was drawing to the moment the wall would break. It was a quiet but steady index of his growth.
And because I keep suffering internal injuries and recovering from them… it almost feels as though the greater the rebound injury becomes, the faster my recovery grows as well.
After repeated verification he confirmed it was no illusion—his recovery truly was accelerating. Even the functional powers gained from mastering the mind methods could be further refined through training.
From then on he added contemplation and the deliberate use of his recovery abilities to his daily regimen.
He trained to keep the Long Heaven Satin Armor permanently active.
He fought near life-or-death spars with the second-generation disciples.
He challenged the Peak Expert wall and measured his progress.
He recovered from the internal injuries caused by the rebound, observing every detail through contemplation and spiritual awareness.
In that manner he endured six full months of training that was little short of torture. The season that had begun in early autumn slipped past winter and now stood on the threshold of spring.
And at last the appointed day arrived: the selection of the Zhongnan Sect’s participants for the Dragon Phoenix Gathering.
The conditions for participating in the Dragon Phoenix Gathering were simple: age fifteen or older, and thirty or younger.
Considering that the majority of the Zhongnan Sect’s second-generation disciples had already passed the age of thirty, most of those hoping to attend would inevitably be third-generation disciples.
The third-generation disciples gathered in the training grounds to hear the announcement of the selected participants. Before long, Sect Leader Okwon Jinin mounted the platform and began to speak.
“I know how diligently you have trained these past six months for the Dragon Phoenix Gathering. The number of third-generation disciples who already exceed the basic participation standard has reached twenty.”
The Dragon Phoenix Gathering was a grand martial contest that drew people from every corner of the Central Plains, and its standards were correspondingly high. That twenty disciples had nevertheless cleared the bar was nothing less than a blessing upon the Zhongnan Sect.
Yet no matter how many outstanding disciples a sect possessed, the number who could actually enter the Gathering was limited.
“Therefore we will now hold an additional trial to select the final participants. Those whose names I call, step onto the sparring stage.”
Okwon Jinin called out each martial name in turn. Twenty disciples climbed onto the stage, and among them was Cheonhwa.
“I will now explain the rules.”
Muwol, serving as referee, laid out the selection rules for the twenty.
The number to be chosen: five.
The method: a free-for-all melee in which all twenty would fight at once.
Anyone the referee judged combat-incapable would be eliminated at once.
The bout would end when only five remained standing on the stage.
Simple—yet full of variables.
Individual strength matters, of course, but if someone cannot even endure this much, they are unlikely to achieve much at the Dragon Phoenix Gathering itself.
For safety the weapons were limited to wooden swords, yet the chaos of a free-for-all still carried a high risk of injury. So serious was the danger that Danwon, the head of the Medicine Hall—who rarely left her domain—was standing by nearby.
Cheonhwa gripped a practice wooden sword and surveyed his surroundings.
The third-generation disciples who had mounted the stage were the cream of their generation; every one of them carried a refined, tempered aura.
Tension stretched taut across the stage.
“Begin!”
At the signal the free-for-all erupted. Everyone on the stage moved at once.
Cheonhwa had braced himself for his fellow disciples to rush him—
“……?”
—yet somehow none of them did. They would not even approach his vicinity; they simply fought among themselves.
When he glanced around he saw that Yeonhwa, too, stood untouched by any challenger.
The reason was painfully simple: the two of them were overwhelmingly the strongest among the third-generation disciples.
There’s no way any of us can beat Senior Brother Cheonhwa or Senior Sister Yeonhwa.
Fighting those two is pure loss. Better to treat their two slots as already taken and compete for the remaining three.
I’d rather fight the others and keep some chance than charge them and get smashed for nothing.
The third-generation disciples knew perfectly well that challenging Cheonhwa or Yeonhwa offered no hope of victory. So they left the two alone and fought among themselves for the leftover places. As a result Cheonhwa and Yeonhwa simply stood there, momentarily abandoned and more than a little awkward.
With no one attacking them it felt strange to force their way into the fray, and Muwol, understanding the situation, quietly allowed the two to remain still.
The chaotic battle continued until, at last, only five figures remained on the stage.
“That is enough!”
Muwol’s declaration rang out. Cheonhwa studied the faces of those who had survived to the end.
Yeonhwa. Jeokhwa. Myeonghwa. Yeobhwa.
After a hard-fought struggle, the five participants who would represent the Zhongnan Sect at the Dragon Phoenix Gathering had been decided.
He had earned a place, yet a hollow feeling still settled over Cheonhwa.
The day after the participants were chosen, Cheonhwa and the other four made ready to depart for the Dragon Phoenix Gathering. The disciples of the Zhongnan Sect gathered to see them off.
Only the five selected disciples would travel; no separate escort would accompany them. That was because the Gathering placed heavy emphasis on exchange among the younger generation. If a senior of the sect came along as guide, the juniors would inevitably be pulled into that senior’s orbit. Thus the rule was that no one outside the participants themselves would appear until the Gathering had progressed to a certain stage.
“Therefore I entrust the role of leader to Cheonhwa, our chief disciple.”
“I will do my utmost.”
The position of chief disciple originally carried the duty of managing fellow disciples of the same generation during such events. Until now Cheonhwa had never had occasion to exercise that authority; it would be a fresh experience in many ways.
“Simply concentrate on revealing the full measure of the abilities you possess. With the strength you five already command, that alone will be enough to achieve results.”
“We will keep your words in our hearts, Sect Leader.”
With Okwon Jinin’s parting blessing the party stepped through the main gate. Behind them rose the voices of their fellow disciples.
“We’ll be able to watch once you reach the main tournament, so don’t you dare get eliminated in the preliminaries!”
“We’ll be waiting for good news!”
“Show the other sects the true depth of the Zhongnan Sect!”
Thus, buoyed by the cheers of the third-generation disciples, Cheonhwa’s party set out on the long road to the Dragon Phoenix Gathering.
Their first stop on the journey to Sichuan was none other than Xi’an. From there they planned to ride the waters of the Han River down to Yingjiang County, then follow the main road into Sichuan itself.
When they arrived at the pier, a young sailor caught sight of Cheonhwa and asked carefully,
“Might you be the Jade Light Sword?”
“Pardon? Ah… I am called that, yes.”
“I knew it…!”
At Cheonhwa’s answer the sailor’s face lit up.
“To meet in person the young gallant who calmed the chaos that had blocked the Wei River at Baoji—this is an honor.”
Apparently the fame that had begun in Baoji and quietly spread through western Shaanxi had already reached as far as Xi’an.
Nor was Cheonhwa the only one whose name had traveled.
“If the Jade Light Sword is here, then the two female Taoists behind him must be the Ice Flame Twin Blossoms. Just as the rumors said—truly beautiful.”
The sailor spoke of the two lovely swordswomen who practiced ice arts and blazing yang arts and who had traveled with the Jade Light Sword—none other than Yeonhwa and Jeokhwa.
When the man recognized Cheonhwa, Yeonhwa, and Jeokhwa, Myeonghwa and Yeobhwa looked back and forth among the three with open envy.
Feeling the weight of those admiring and envious gazes, Cheonhwa spoke quickly, eager to leave the spot.
“We are looking for a boat bound for Yingjiang County. Is there room?”
“Of course. And traveling west from Shaanxi at this time of year—it must be for the Dragon Phoenix Gathering.”
The young sailor told them not to worry and found them the fastest boat available. When Cheonhwa tried to press a tip into his hand, the man firmly refused.
“How could I take money from gallants? If it truly bothers you, then simply win glory at the Dragon Phoenix Gathering and raise the name of Shaanxi high.”
The Dragon Phoenix Gathering was the gathering place of the righteous sects’ rising talents. To perform well there was both to exalt one’s sect and to prove that a formidable expert had appeared in that region. With a cheerful “Good fortune to you,” the sailor saw the party off.
Cheonhwa was startled by how many hopes already rested upon them, yet the unexpected encouragement from a complete stranger left a warm, ticklish feeling in his chest.
Together with his companions he boarded the boat that would carry them toward Yingjiang County.