Beyond the Blade

Late at night on the day following the departure of the Hwangbo Clan and the Ak Clan of Shandong, Namgung Cheon stood in the small courtyard behind his quarters.

He had been standing there for hours, without so much as a twitch of movement.

Only one thing filled his mind.

The duel with Hwangbo Gun.

Changcheon Mansangryu — the new martial art he had conceived within his mental landscape. Even though he had unfolded it with his bare fists, its power had exceeded his expectations.

But at the same time, he had seen his own limitation with perfect clarity.

'The flow between one technique and the next kept breaking, and my movements were needlessly large.'

The cause was obvious. He looked down at his own feet.

Footwork. The foundation of all martial arts — the movement of the feet that controlled distance from an opponent and created openings for attack and defense alike.

He had added unpredictability to the Neung-unbo, shaping it into a footwork all his own. But that alone had not been enough.

Footwork was, in the end, nothing more than the motion of the feet. What he needed was something beyond it — a higher-order movement that could traverse space freely and stitch the flow between technique and technique into a seamless whole.

He needed a body method — shinbeop.

'In the end, a technique is nothing but a collection of set forms moving the hands, the feet, or a weapon. So any technique must be organically bound to a footwork and a body method worthy of it.'

Yet the only Namgung body method he knew was the Floating Cloud Body Movement.

'The Floating Cloud Body Method cannot bear the weight of this sword's transformations.'

It was as if he had painted a colossal dragon but failed to draw the clouds and sky in which that dragon would swim.

As he sank into deep contemplation, his consciousness drifted, unbidden, toward the memories of his past life — the days when he had been the Heavenly Demon.

The Heavenly Demon's Secret Vault.

Hundreds of years of martial manuals collected by the Demonic Cult. The techniques of sects his cult had destroyed, of arts long lost to the world — all of them remained intact within his mind.

'If I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠search, there will surely be a usable body method among them.'

Several names flashed through his mind. The Wind Riding Body Movement, which rode the currents of the wind. The Illusory Shadow Bewildering Steps, which moved like a shadow. The Seven Stars Crossing the River, said to span a river in seven strides.

Every one of them a peerless body method that had dominated its era.

But Namgung Cheon soon shook his head.

'No. Simply mastering one body method means nothing.'

Changcheon Mansangryu was a martial art in which two opposing paths — the Namgung way and the Demonic way — had been fused together. A body method leaning toward either side alone could never give full expression to its true subtlety.

Which left only one path.

'I must create it.'

To dismantle the existing body methods, take only their strengths, and forge a new body method that fit Changcheon Mansangryu perfectly. That was the road he would walk.

“Hah.”

A sigh escaped him of its own accord. Merely creating Changcheon Mansangryu had required hundreds of deaths within his mental landscape. The body method would demand no less pain, and no less time.

Just as he sank deeper into his thoughts—

“Still trapped inside that duel of yours, I see.”

A soft voice slipped into his ear. Namgung Cheon lifted his head, and there was Jegal Hwa, watching him from a few paces away, though he could not say when she had arrived.

She approached slowly and settled naturally onto the stone table at the edge of the courtyard, then spoke with a smile.

“Your father left a word with me.”

At that, Namgung Cheon's gaze finally rose to her lips.

“You have opened a new sky — yet you cannot yet float within it.”

“...”

His eyes wavered, ever so slightly. A deficiency that only he had known. And Namgung Mugang had pierced through it completely with a single duel.

Jegal Hwa studied him quietly for a moment, then drew an old book from her robes and set it on the stone table. On its cover were written the words Baekcheon Merchant Group.

Namgung Cheon spoke without so much as glancing at the book.

“I have no great interest in the clan's affairs at the moment.”

“I know.”

Jegal Hwa received his response as though she had expected it.

“But this is no ordinary matter of business. It is the affair your brother Jin tried to resolve — and failed, miserably.”

His expression did not change. His brother Namgung Jin's failure was no enticement to him whatsoever.

Jegal Hwa, having anticipated his indifference, simply smiled and went on.

“The Baekcheon Merchant Group was once one of our Namgung clan's principal trading companies. Its trade routes through Jiangnan brought in enormous wealth. But twenty years ago, the Nambyeok Merchant Group appeared, and everything changed.”

She let out a shallow sigh and continued.

“With financial power beyond anything imagined, they gradually seized control of every distribution network in Jiangnan. They bought off the merchants who traded with us, bribed the officials, and wormed their way cleverly into every flaw in our company's operations.”

Jegal Hwa looked at Namgung Cheon and smiled.

“How do you suppose your brother tried to solve this?”

Namgung Cheon fell into thought for a moment.

Namgung Jin. Since the Heavenly Demon had taken root in this body, they had had little contact. But the memories remained, and that was enough to answer.

“He likely tried to crush them with the Namgung name, its power and its money.”

Jegal Hwa nodded.

“Exactly. He tried coaxing them, and he tried threatening them — all under the Namgung name. And every attempt failed. Do you know why?”

At the question, Namgung Cheon found himself recalling the Black Wind Squad leader he had met not long ago. Or rather, the faction the man belonged to.

“Taking it at face value — the Four Black Alliance. They were backing the Nambyeok Merchant Group from the start.”

Jegal Hwa nodded again.

“Yes. They were never a party that threats or inducements could move. The Four Black Alliance is a colossus even our Namgung clan cannot carelessly provoke.”

Her eyes deepened.

“That is why your father is curious. This is a problem that cannot be cut down with a sword — and he wonders how you will untangle it.”

It was Jegal Hwa's question. But Namgung Cheon's answer strayed entirely from her expectations.

“I consider it none of my concern.”

“...”

“The Baekcheon group is hardly the only trading company we Namgung possess, is it not? If one fails to turn a profit, cut it away without hesitation and grow the profitable ones further. That is all there is to it.”

Jegal Hwa burst into light laughter.

“Ha! Your reasoning is perfectly sound merchant's logic. But that is a tradesman's arithmetic.”

Her voice lowered.

“And your father is not looking for a tradesman.”

An abrupt statement. But Namgung Cheon grasped its true meaning at once.

'A test from the Clan Head.'

His father — and his sworn enemy of a past life. A new kind of trial being set before him by Namgung Mugang.

'With the sword, I have not yet reached him. And so—'

Memories flashed through his mind, from the journey to the duel all the way to his negotiation with the Four Black Alliance. Those moments when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he had moved the world to his will in places the sword could not reach.

'Do they believe I would fall behind even in the world beyond the blade?'

A cold smile crept across Namgung Cheon's lips.

Tap—

He picked up the book resting on the stone table. And at that, the smile on Jegal Hwa's face deepened deeper than it ever had.

“Then show me.”

Show me that you are not a man who raises the Namgung name with the sword alone.

Light filtering through the changhoji paper fell across the spines of immaculately ordered books, not a speck of dust among them.

Namgung Jin, the Second Young Master, closed his eyes with brush in hand and drew in a long, slow breath. The scent of ink and the dry fragrance of expensive aloeswood that drifted through the room. Only after that fragrance had filled him entirely did he open his eyes again and look down at the silk paper before him.

Books wrapped in silk, writing implements of the finest quality. Paired with his upright, aristocratic features, it made a picture worthy of a painting. But beneath the surface, his heart was tangled beyond measure.

'I was discarded.'

Three days of banquets. Before the honored guests of the Hwangbo Clan and the Ak Clan of Shandong, he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been a perfect folding screen. Every ounce of attention, every conversation, had flowed around one man alone — the Third Young Master, Namgung Cheon. Even his own father, Namgung Mugang, had not spared him a single glance.

How hard had he worked for the clan, filling the void left by the eldest young master's absence? All of that merit had been rendered worthless in less than a few months. Could a lifetime of accumulated service and standing be forgotten so easily over a single syllable — martial prowess?

Emptiness made the tip of his brush tremble faintly. Even so, with a composed face, he wrote his characters out one by one.

At that very moment, his confidant and strategist, Clerk Yang, entered and bowed his head.

“Young Master.”

“Speak.”

Clerk Yang adjusted his eyeglasses before continuing.

“A short while ago, at a gathering where the Matriarch summoned several of the elders... it is said she entrusted the Baekcheon Merchant Group matter to the Third Young Master.”

The hand that had been moving Namgung Jin's brush stopped dead. The ink bled across the silk paper, ruining in an instant the character he had painstakingly been writing. Without a word, he stared down at the spoiled stroke.

Clerk Yang spoke carefully.

“Furthermore... it is announced that should the Third Young Master resolve this matter, the question of who shall represent the Namgung clan at the River-Along Martial Assembly will be reconsidered.”

Clack.

Namgung Jin set down his brush with a sharp sound. Ink spattered across the immaculately ordered desk, but he paid it no mind.

'Announced, no less.'

His mother had not entrusted this matter quietly. She had deliberately gathered people, reminding them all of his own failure while drawing every eye to his younger brother. Should the boy succeed, that glory would be magnified tenfold.

'A flawless narrative will be forged — the brother who succeeded where I failed. And the more troubling part is...'

The fact that he could not even interfere. The moment he threw obstacles in the way of a matter the entire clan was watching, he would be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠branded a petty man who sabotaged the clan's own business. Scheming against and obstructing others — that was neither what the Namgung wanted nor the Namgung way.

“...Ha.”

A hollow laugh burst from Namgung Jin's lips. He pushed the brush aside and gazed out at the garden beyond the window.

'So this was my mother's way all along.'

Ruthless calculation. However beloved her children, she set them against one another and let the one who produced results shine all the brighter. His stomach churned, but he quickly recovered his composure.

'And the announcement has already been made.'

To respond emotionally now would be the folly of a second-rate player and nothing more.

'The Baekcheon Merchant Group, is it...'

He recalled his own failed past with the matter. There was no shame in it. If anything, through that failure he understood the essence of the problem better than anyone alive.

Namgung Jin turned back to Clerk Yang.

“What do you think? Do you believe that boy can resolve the Baekcheon matter?”

“Judging by the Third Young Master's journey to his duel, he is certainly no ordinary figure. But the way of the blade and the way of commerce are different laws... I doubt it will be easy.”

Namgung Jin nodded.

“Just so. The Baekcheon matter is not something strength alone can solve. I once thought the same, and I failed. Indeed — what could a boy who has never so much as touched the trading business accomplish?”

A problem that sheer force could never resolve. Namgung Cheon, too, would in the end walk the very same road he had.

Namgung Jin lifted the ruined silk paper.

“The Baekcheon group is like this. A character once ruined can never be written again. It will only be a second failure stacked atop the first.”

He crumpled the paper and cast it into the brass brazier, its warmth long since gone cold.

And then he thought:

'If my brother fails in this and loses the clan's trust...'

He would simply unveil the other achievements he had long been preparing and claim the clan's recognition all for himself. A perfect opportunity. And that moment, above all others—

'Will be my chance to soar once more.'