The True Jeongcheon Hall

"Ugh."

A vicious headache crashed over him.

Namgung Cheon forced his eyelids open.

Beyond his bleary vision, an unfamiliar ceiling came into view. Ornate, yet neither lofty nor shabby—a ceiling that belonged to no place he could place.

The scent of medicinal herbs brushed past his nose, mingled with the papery smell of old books. It was a space he could not make sense of at all.

Where am I……?

He tried to raise himself, but he couldn't so much as twitch a finger. His whole body felt heavy as waterlogged cotton.

Just then, a familiar voice spoke at his side.

"So you're finally awake."

Namgung Cheon managed only to turn his head toward the sound. There sat Namgung Dan, reclining at an angle in a worn chair, reading a book. Sunlight slanting through the gap in the window threw his face into shadow.

On the man who had reveled like a madman during the sparring match, a book somehow didn't quite fit.

"……It doesn't seem like a hobby that suits you."

The cracked voice scraped out of his throat with effort.

Tap.

Namgung Dan smirked and closed the book. "Don't judge a man by his surface. Even so, I've read more books in this clan than anyone but the old patriarch."

He set the book down on the table. Judging by the faint character for "poetry" on the cover, it appeared to be an ordinary poetry anthology.

A poetry anthology—in the hands of a member of the Namgung, no less, a man called the Boundless Heavenly Sword Freak.

It would suit So-so, the maidservant, better to be holding a sword than for him to be holding that.

Just as Namgung Cheon thought this and curled one corner of his mouth—

"It's a keepsake left behind by the previous Master of Jeongcheon Hall—my father, and so your great-granduncle."

"……"

The corner of Namgung Cheon's mouth quietly sank. Watching him, Namgung Dan snorted a laugh.

"You sly brat. I can see perfectly well what's going through that head of yours."

"……I wasn't thinking anything."

Scrape—

Namgung Dan rose from his seat and approached. "And anyway, your first words upon waking are a remark about my hobbies? No ordinary questions like where this is, or how much time has passed?"

Namgung Cheon slowly turned his head to look at him, then answered. "Given that a Hall Master, not a physician, sits before me, this must be Jeongcheon Hall. And given that my body still aches, only a few days can have passed. There's hardly any need to ask, is there?"

"All mouth, this one."

Namgung Dan clicked his tongue and snatched Namgung Cheon's wrist, taking his pulse. From the tips of those calloused fingers, a cool current flowed in and swept through his meridians.

A brief silence passed. Namgung Dan's brow furrowed deeply.

"Tch. You're in a sorry state."

"I didn't die, so shouldn't that count as fortunate?"

At Namgung Cheon's flat reply, Namgung Dan let out an awkward laugh. "Do you really think it's acceptable to speak of death over a mere sparring match? What are you, some demonic fiend who talks of nothing but killing at every turn?"

"You were the one ranting to that degree, weren't you?"

At the remark, Namgung Dan averted his eyes and coughed. "Ahem. That was only because you took my strikes so well."

He had, without meaning to, betrayed his own delight. Soon after, he changed the subject, looking somewhat sheepish.

"Still, you have quite the remarkable constitution. The Body of a Hundred Weapons, of all things. The Namgung has produced a Heavenly Martial Body before, but a Body of a Hundred Weapons is a first, as far as I know…… Why did you hide it?"

At the question, Namgung Cheon was quiet for a moment in thought before answering. "I never hid it. The clan simply never regarded it as any great talent."

Namgung Dan nodded as if he'd expected as much. "I suppose… in this Namgung, where nothing but the sword is ever looked at, a Body of a Hundred ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Weapons—the ability to handle every manner of miscellaneous weapon—wouldn't have seemed so impressive. They would have clicked their tongues and called it lacking in depth."

He smiled faintly as he looked at Namgung Cheon. "But it was precisely that breadth that saved you from my Sky Collapse."

Pointing at his own arm, he continued. "An ordinary man would have tried to block my attack with the principles of the sword alone, and his arm would have shattered first. But you—even holding a sword, you loaded it with the weight of a saber, and at times channeled the shock away through the elasticity of a spear."

Namgung Dan's eyes gleamed. "That flexibility, unconfined by the mold of the sword. Isn't that another of your strengths?"

Namgung Cheon said nothing. He did not deny it.

In truth, he had been instinctively drawing on the principles of the Demonic Cult's myriad martial arts, learned in his past life, moment by moment. Improvisations a orthodox sword family could never have imagined. And it was clear that the Body of a Hundred Weapons—the physical trait that made such improvisation possible—had been its unwavering foundation.

"You flatter me."

"Flattery, nothing. I only spoke of what is."

Namgung Dan stood and stretched. "But listen. However fine the vessel, if it's made of paper, it tears before it can hold even a proper measure of water."

He looked down at Namgung Cheon. "And your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠current state is exactly that. If you'd been born with the Heavenly Martial Body, perhaps it wouldn't matter—but with the body you have now, you'll keep falling short."

A criticism that struck the bone. Namgung Cheon did not dispute it; he simply nodded.

His present realm was the fruit of the cultivation method he had transformed, the Heavenly King Heart-Nourishing Pill, and the knowledge and enlightenment of his past life. And if you asked whether his body had fully kept pace with all that……

There was no answer but no. For twenty years, this flesh had done no serious training—not that he'd neglected it out of idleness, but the years had simply passed it by.

Before long, Namgung Cheon slowly pushed himself upright, as if to break the stillness. Crack, crack. His stiffened joints screamed, but he gave no sign of it and settled onto the edge of the sickbed. Then he stared straight at Namgung Dan.

"Please, let us come to the point."

"What point?"

"The reason you brought me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here."

Namgung Dan's eyes grew grave. "If this were merely for rest and recuperation, you'd have been handed to the physicians. But the fact that the Hall Master himself carried you here means……"

Namgung Cheon's gaze swept the room. "That there is something in this Jeongcheon Hall. Something that will change my body."

At the keen insight, the corner of Namgung Dan's mouth lifted. "Sharp as a blade, aren't you."

He picked up the poetry anthology from the table. "Yes, you saw clearly. I didn't bring you here just to rest."

Tucking the book into his robe, he gestured to Namgung Cheon. "Can you stand?"

"Of course."

Namgung Cheon clenched his teeth and rose. He drove strength into his wavering legs and set his feet against the floor.

Namgung Dan went ahead. "Follow me. I'll show you the true Jeongcheon Hall."

Creeeak—

As the door of the room opened, what met his eyes first was a dense, verdant forest. The fresh scent of grass and rich earth washed over him. The place where he had been convalescing, it seemed, was a hidden annex tucked into the woods behind Jeongcheon Hall.

"Follow me."

Namgung Dan set off along the narrow path winding between the trees.

Step, step.

Only the sound of their footsteps echoed through the quiet forest. But when they finally left the woods behind and entered the district lined with vast halls, even the sound around them began to change.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A rhythmic vibration traveled up through the soles of his feet—and from far off came roars of exertion.

"Louder! Put your whole body into it!"

"Again!"

When they passed down a long corridor at last and stood before an open balustrade, the view spread wide in an instant, and the inner courtyard of Jeongcheon Hall lay before them at a glance.

"……!"

It was an overwhelming sight. Several hundred warriors filled the enormous training ground. Not only the Cangqiong Four Swords, hailed as the elite of the clan, but the countless lesser sword squadrons that supported them as well.

Namgung Cheon's gaze naturally settled on the movements of the warriors. Extraordinary.

A few days ago he had broken the Jinshan Sword Squadron single-handedly—but the Jinshan squadron sat at the bottom of the Cangqiong Four Swords in martial prowess. Gathered here in Jeongcheon Hall were the other three squadrons—Azure Sky, Thunder, and Wind and Cloud—each several cuts above the Jinshan.

Moreover, those several hundred warriors were moving as one body.

With men like these, no wonder the Namgung must always stand at the vanguard—whether in a war of Righteous and Evil or in the Great War of Justice and Demons.

Where the Daoist and Buddhist sects were assemblies of those who had gathered to seek enlightenment through the martial way, the great clans were bonds of blood. These were men who would throw away their lives like straw to protect the family their father, their brothers, their children belonged to.

Because they were warriors with just such blind cohesion and fighting spirit—

They cannot help but wield tremendous power on the battlefield.

Namgung Cheon nodded, feeling anew the latent strength of the Namgung—and at the same time, a question rose in one corner of his mind. Why had the clan never shown him any of this?

Just then, Namgung Dan, walking ahead, glanced back over his shoulder with a smirk. "Surprised?"

"Surprised, yes—but there's something I'd like to ask."

"And what's that?"

"Military force of this scale could turn the entire balance of the clan on its own. Yet in ordinary times, one hardly ever sees the warriors of Jeongcheon Hall anywhere within the clan. They don't even perform menial duties like guarding or patrolling."

It was exactly as Namgung Cheon said. He had crossed paths with the swordsmen of the Guardian Hall, who handled the clan's security, at every turn—but the warriors of Jeongcheon Hall were all but invisible in daily life, their shadows never seen.

Namgung Dan answered plainly as he walked. "Naturally. Jeongcheon Hall is not a place for tending to the clan's chores."

His eyes grew earnest. "We are the Patriarch's sword. We take no interference whatsoever from the Council of Elders or any other hall, and we move only on the Patriarch's command. We do not involve ourselves in the clan's politics or its pointless squabbles, either."

"So that's why you never attend the great councils."

"That's right. The Master of Jeongcheon Hall holds rank equal to an Elder—but in the end, the more a sword opens its mouth, the duller its edge becomes. So there is no reason to go."

Namgung Dan swept a hand across the inner courtyard. "That is also why Jeongcheon Hall stands apart at the easternmost end. To cast off the noise of worldly affairs and devote ourselves solely to the martial way……"

He paused for a moment and smiled, a smile laden with meaning. "—and to carry out another purpose."

"Another purpose, you say……"

"Come and see for yourself."

The two crossed the inner courtyard and headed deeper still. By the time the din of the courtyard had faded well behind them, the atmosphere began to change distinctly. An enormous gate of black iron blocked the way. Beyond it, a strange fog lay thick and heavy, so dense that nothing of the interior could even be guessed at.

A formation—and……

Namgung Cheon's eyes narrowed. Five warriors stood guard before the gate, and their bearing was anything but ordinary. Merely the gate sentries, and every one of them in the Transcendent Realm.

Namgung Cheon clicked his tongue inwardly. Masters of the Transcendent Realm, men who would command respect anywhere in the Jianghu, standing watch as mere gatekeepers. What in the world lay within, that it warranted such vigilance?

"Halt, please."

The one who appeared to be the squad leader stepped in front of Namgung Dan, then bowed formally to the two of them. "Third Young Master. Hall Master. It is an honor."

A courteous greeting—but that was all. The squad leader did not step aside. "Hall Master, forgive me, but you know the rules."

His expression turned troubled. "Even for the Third Young Master—this is forbidden ground. Without the Patriarch's sanction, no one may enter."

Namgung Dan chuckled and waved a hand. "The Patriarch's approval has already come down."

At his words, the squad leader started, then opened the way. "……Understood. Forgive the discourtesy, Young Master."

Creeeak—

The massive gate opened, and the fog beyond slowly parted, revealing a path. When they had walked half a measure along it, a hall as vast as the Self-Recommendation Pavilion emerged from the mist in all its grandeur.

A black hall with no name plaque at all. Its exterior, sealed solid without a single window, looked like nothing so much as a colossal fortress.

"Let's go in."

Namgung Dan approached the main doors of the hall. Thud. He pushed the weighty doors open—and then:

"Here! If the qi and blood of the dantian twist, the Triple Burner doesn't merely block—it flows backward! Is that not what the old texts say?!"

"That's baseless rumor! My own direct verification showed……"

A clamor poured out—the very opposite of the stillness outside. At the same time, the acrid smell of medicine filled the vibrating interior.

Namgung Cheon swallowed at the strange sight spread before him. The interior of the hall was one vast, unbroken expanse—and not a single warrior in it. Instead, physicians and scholars in white robes scurried about like ants. Enormous medicine cauldrons placed here and there, and intricate anatomical charts, would have made anyone doubt that this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the hall of a martial family.

Reading the look in Namgung Cheon's eyes, Namgung Dan asked, as if in passing, "Doesn't it strike you as odd, having men like these at the very heart of a martial clan?"

"……Frankly, it feels incongruous."

Namgung Dan looked around and spoke in a low voice. "Jeongcheon. Righteous Heaven. Just as the words say—to set heaven upright. The family believes this Jeongcheon Hall exists to establish the Namgung's law through force."

His eyes deepened. "And it isn't wrong, of course. We command the Cangqiong Four Swords and all our other elites. But that is only because they do not understand the meaning our jeongcheon truly carries."

Namgung Dan's words—and the traces of medicine and research that filled the space around them. A single thought flashed through Namgung Cheon's mind. The meaning of heaven……

His gaze lingered on the physicians and scholars moving about the hall. The anatomical charts and the flow of the meridians they studied so fervently. The reason this place existed. Namgung Cheon spoke quietly.

"Heaven…… could it mean setting right the human body itself—the microcosm?"

At those words, the corner of Namgung Dan's mouth rose. "Teach him one thing and he understands ten."

He nodded. "Yes. Only when the heaven of one's own body stands upright can one even speak of the world. Our true reason for being lies in setting right this flesh."

Namgung Dan pointed to an enormous scroll hung on one wall. Upon it were painted the portraits of the successive Patriarchs of the Namgung Clan. "The ancestors of the Namgung understood. To reach the true summit, the foundation must be laid properly first."

Pride suffused his voice. "And so it began. The Namgung's greatest and most secret undertaking—begun hundreds of years ago, for the sole purpose of forging the perfect body."

Only then could Namgung Cheon understand everything he was seeing. That this place, Jeongcheon Hall, was where the Namgung Clan's singular obsession had gathered—the obsession to surpass the very limits of humanity.

Namgung Dan pointed to the innermost part of the hall, a place sealed behind an enormous stone door. "And today, in that place—which holds everything Jeongcheon Hall is—"

His sharp gaze fixed on Namgung Cheon. "Your body will be set right."