The Heart of Hwasan Martial Arts
Han Min-jun had become the representative for good reason. No one expected him to succeed in persuading everyone through debate alone. Thanks to that, the next building Baru restored was the library. Though it contained no manuals or secret texts, so its purpose felt unclear.
Having finished her work, Baru complained of exhaustion and transformed back into a fox, draping herself around my neck like a scarf. She must have been sulking because I had left her behind, yet she was too tired to care. You have suffered quite a bit because of me. I will have to repay this debt later. Would simply wandering through Hanzhong together be enough?
While I stroked the sleeping Baru’s head, the former members of Hwasan continued their discussion. This time it was no pointless argument like before, but a constructive exchange about how to fill the buildings. Watching them passionately voice opinions even while unsure whether they would be allowed to join the new Hwasan from the start stirred many thoughts in me.
Hmm. These people will likely be of great help in rebuilding the Hwasan I envision. In return, perhaps offering them a small lesson or two would not be amiss.
“Does it seem the discussion will drag on?”
“No. Most matters have already been settled.”
“Then cease the debate and gather around me. I have something to show you.”
The Hwasan members tilted their heads in confusion yet moved as instructed. Once they had formed a circle like an audience, I infused my voice with inner energy.
“What do you believe Hwasan martial arts to be?”
I had asked merely to hear their thoughts, but no answer came readily. Given their passion for Hwasan, I assumed they would have some ideas about its martial arts. Lee Ha-rin certainly did. She possessed her own interpretation of the Wind Flow Fist, having contemplated the meaning of “wind flow” deeply enough to reach a form of enlightenment—though she herself remained unaware of it.
I had expected these people to hold similar reflections, yet they did not. Just as a faint disappointment began to settle, one user raised a hand.
“Speak.”
“Which of Hwasan’s martial arts are you referring to?”
So that was the issue. It could indeed be confusing. Hwasan possessed far more than one or two techniques. Because the sect had existed for so long, countless arts had naturally been developed within it. Asking what “Hwasan martial arts” were must have been bewildering for those unfamiliar with the subject.
“Let me rephrase. Tell me what martial art each of you uses.”
Answers began to trickle out. Many seemed to practice the Gale Swift Sword, describing it as a technique of swift, raging strikes. Those who used the Hwasan Sword spoke of it as embodying the mountain itself. The wielder of the Death-Entangling Chain Three-Line Sword explained it as a method of feigning disadvantage to lure the opponent into defeat.
After several more responses, I cleared my throat to halt the flow and posed another question.
“Do you know what these arts have in common?”
The Hwasan members pondered briefly before shaking their heads. To them, the techniques shared no obvious connection. Han Min-jun furrowed his brow as though he sensed something, yet he too failed to provide a proper answer. Even after the previous exchange had hinted at the solution, none had noticed. The Hwasan sect truly had not taught its disciples properly. Such fundamentals should have been instilled from the moment of entry. They never regarded these users as true members of Hwasan to begin with. Even among those who held genuine passion for the sect, the situation was likely the same elsewhere.
“I will change the question. Why are the martial arts I mentioned earlier called Hwasan martial arts?”
“...Well, because they are used in Hwasan?”
“Then answer this. If I, who have become Hwasan’s sect leader, were to use the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, would it become a Hwasan martial art?”
When I countered thus, the Hwasan users’ expressions grew awkward. They could not possibly nod in agreement. Yet shaking their heads would require explaining why it could not be called Hwasan martial arts, which they also could not do.
Waiting for them to arrive at the answer through their own contemplation was the traditional Murim way, but that would take days. This time, I would simply tell them.
“The reason the arts you mentioned could become Hwasan martial arts is because they contain both the bizarre and the perilous.”
Hwasan martial arts earned their name because they embodied the mountain itself. What kind of mountain was Hwasan? A rugged, towering peak of stone. An ordinary person would struggle even to reach its summit—an unforgiving place where a single misstep could trap one forever. Because these qualities resided within the techniques, they could truly be called Hwasan martial arts.
Since many practiced the Gale Swift Sword, let us use that as an example. The Gale Swift Sword was a blade technique akin to a frenzied, raging wind. Wind inherently possessed the bizarre, so no further explanation was needed. Moreover, a wind that swept forth like a typhoon carried an intensity that could not be fully captured by the word “perilous.” Thus, the Gale Swift Sword contained both the bizarre and the perilous in equal measure.
The other arts were the same. Whether they held both qualities or only one, they all carried the essence of Hwasan within them. That was why they could be called Hwasan martial arts.
“Now do you understand why I first asked what Hwasan martial arts were?”
When I posed the question once more, the disciples finally nodded. They seemed to grasp the general direction of my words.
“I will demonstrate a rough example. Watch carefully and consider whether it aligns with your own understanding.”
Since the Gale Swift Sword was most familiar to them, that would serve best. I drew my sword and gripped it. What came to mind was a colossal storm raging beneath gray skies alongside wind and rain. The howling gale moved ceaselessly and ferociously, devouring everything in its path. Yet no matter how fierce or sharp, it remained wind—impossible to grasp by hand, impossible to block even if one tried to stand in its way. The wind simply pressed forward, and forward again.
In that moment, I was both a swordsman wielding a blade and an artist painting a storm with the sword as brush. Rather than focusing on practicality, I swung the sword while considering how best to convey its underlying principle to them, and naturally the demonstration took that form.
After finishing the display, I sheathed the sword. I thought I had shown it with considerable care, yet the reaction was thinner than expected. What was this? Had I, in my effort, shown them something beyond their level? Still, showing something lesser would not do either.
As I stood with arms crossed in thought, a donation notification sounded.
What did that mean? Figuratively or literally?
When I glanced toward the chat window to check, the usual frenzy had vanished, replaced by nothing but exclamations of awe.
If the viewers watching the stream reacted this way, those seated here must have felt something as well. Yet why were they all staring at me blankly?
While I wondered whether I should speak first, Han Min-jun raised his hand.
“Speak.”
“Um, Hwaryeong-nim. You mainly use the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, right?”
“I do.”
“Then how are you so skilled with Hwasan martial arts?”
“It is not that I am skilled. It is that you are unskilled.”
What I knew of Hwasan martial arts had been acquired naturally while fighting those wretched Hwasan bastards. I had never trained or contemplated them separately to master them. It only appeared overwhelming because of my high realm; my actual immersion in Hwasan arts was not particularly deep. The reason everyone marveled at what I had just displayed was simply because few possessed a profound understanding of Hwasan martial arts. If I had brought that Si Tam-gyeon fellow along, I would have had him demonstrate instead. Having spent half his life studying and wielding Hwasan techniques, he could have shown something far closer to the true essence.
The users stared at my face as though they had been struck.
“Now rise, all of you. If you have gained insight, you must put it into practice.”
“Shall we pair up and spar?”
“What nonsense. All of you, come at me together. I will give you a rough lesson.”
“All of us at once?”
“Yes.”
Did they truly believe that attacking together would allow them to land even a single scratch on me?
*
Awakened by the persistently ringing phone, Park Yeon clutched his throbbing head and sat up. The aftereffects of drinking until dawn were catching up to him. Fumbling for his smartphone, he answered without checking the caller ID.
“Hello...”
“Park Yeon-nim! What are you doing right now?!”
A woman’s shout exploded from the other end. Park Yeon pulled the phone away with a grimace, only returning it to his ear once the caller had calmed somewhat.
“Nyangnyang-nim. What is it?”
“Go watch Hwaryeong-nim’s stream right now!”
“What is she doing?”
“She’s doing a Hwasan martial arts lecture stream!”
“...What? Why would she?”
Park Yeon did not know everything about Hwaryeong, but he knew she primarily used the Heavenly Demon Divine Art. She seemed knowledgeable about other swordsmanship and martial arts as well, yet he had never seen her use Hwasan techniques.
“Just watch! It’s seriously no joke right now!”
Wondering why she was making such a fuss, Park Yeon nevertheless staggered to his feet and sat before his computer. By the time he entered Hwaryeong’s stream, she had already finished her explanation and was drawing her sword. What was she about to show?
Watching Hwaryeong intently, Park Yeon soon realized she was demonstrating the Gale Swift Sword. There was no mistaking it. With every swing of her blade came wind—not ordinary wind, but fierce gusts like fragments of a storm. The moment it touched anything, it threatened to sweep it far away, yet it was also endlessly variable. Wind had no fixed form. Each time Hwaryeong swung her sword, its shape changed, making it impossible to guess where the wind even originated.
“Insane...”
Park Yeon had once seen the former Hwasan sect leader demonstrate the Gale Swift Sword. At the time, he had watched with pure admiration. So this was what the technique could become when pushed to its limits, he had thought. That had been a misconception. The sword the former sect leader wielded had not been the ultimate form of the Gale Swift Sword. Its true pinnacle was unfolding on the screen before him now.