The Problematic First Disciple
Hyeong Un recoiled in open disgust.
"You're a man. Why are you clinging to me like that? It's revolting."
Hyeong Jin's face went grave.
"Senior Brother. What era name are we in?"
"Era name? Jinpyeong, obviously."
"What year?"
"Fourteenth, fifteenth... somewhere around there."
At those words, Hyeong Jin's expression hardened.
"Jinpyeong... that was the era name from the previous emperor's reign..."
Hyeong Un smacked him across the back of the head.
"His Majesty is alive and well, and you're burying him already? Don't you dare go around calling yourself a disciple of Jeomchang."
Even under that stinging hand, Hyeong Jin smiled. Hyeong Un took one look at him and shook his head.
"One night's sleep and the kid's gone strange. He was strange to begin with, but this is serious."
"It's all because I have such a fine senior brother."
Hyeong Un snorted at the mischievous smile.
"Right. You're something special. It's late. Go to sleep."
Lying on the bed, Hyeong Jin's heart hammered. He had no idea how, but he had returned to the days before Jeomchang fell. This time, he would protect the sect. No matter what.
He forced the excitement down and turned his awareness carefully inward. The internal energy pooled in his dantian had climbed to the threshold of the Peak Realm—the early Peak, to be exact. At twenty-two, it was an achievement anyone would have called genius.
The problem was his body. His meridians and sinew could not fully bear that power. Only his inner energy had raced ahead; the flesh itself was so unfinished it would have been embarrassing to call him a Peak Realm martial artist.
Once, he had chased qi and nothing else. Hyeong Jin closed his fist lightly. His internal energy had reached the early Peak Realm, but his body had not yet arrived there with it.
The bell announcing dawn rang out across the grounds. The first-generation disciples had gathered on the training yard, and Hyeong Un stood naturally at the center of them.
"I'm telling you, Hyeong Jin was saying the strangest things."
Hyeong Pung snorted.
"Like that's new? This is the guy who rang the dawn bell a whole watch early because the roosters slept in."
Hyeong Chae added her piece.
"On rainy days he'd plant himself in the middle of the yard, swearing he'd cut the lightning."
"And even while an elder was dragging him off, he insisted he'd almost had it."
"I'm telling you, it was strange. Previous emperor this, previous emperor that."
Hyeong Un thumped his own chest, plainly aggrieved.
"Sounds like usual."
"That's just Hyeong Jin."
The first-generation disciples nodded.
Hyeong Jin met the eyes turned on him. Had his old reputation really been this bad? He sighed inwardly. If he did something strange, at least they would let it pass. That much was a mercy.
"Silence."
Fourth Elder Ungeuk, charged with the day's training, spoke quietly, and the noisy yard went still at once.
"Today we spar."
"Those I name will step forward. Internal energy is restricted to the first-rate level. You will use live blades. Killing techniques are forbidden."
"Yes!"
The first-generation disciples answered in a roar.
"Ugh. Sparring again."
"He's the one who always shouts that real combat is the best training."
The grumbling died the moment Ungeuk's gaze found them.
The matches that followed were fierce, because he had paired disciples of similar skill. Hyeong Chae claimed her first victory in a long while and grinned, triumphant.
Hyeong Pung grumbled.
"That's dirty. Who attacks the instant it starts?"
"Complaining after you've lost only makes it uglier."
Hyeong Pung's lip jutted out a mile.
"Next. Hyeong Un. Hyeong Jin."
Every eye in the yard snapped to one place.
"Hey, who wins this time?"
Hyeong Chae shrugged.
"Senior Brother Hyeong Un."
"His record's ridiculous."
Hyeong Pung nodded.
"Eighteen fights. Eighteen wins."
Even so, no one was dismissing Hyeong Jin.
"Senior Brother Hyeong Un's a monster."
"Still, it's Hyeong Jin, so he's actually a match. If it were me..."
The first-generation disciples shuddered.
Hyeong Un began to loosen his body as he always did. Watching Hyeong Jin do the same, he spoke with a teasing lilt.
"Feeling confident today?"
The corner of Hyeong Jin's mouth lifted.
"Watch closely, Senior Brother."
Hyeong Un's smile deepened.
"As much as you like."
"Begin."
The word had barely left Ungeuk before Hyeong Jin's sword crashed in.
Sun-Piercing Sword.
True to a name that claimed to pierce even the sun, it was a swift sword—fast, and straight. The tip lanced for Hyeong Un's chest like a single shaft of light.
Hyeong Un's blade drew a gentle arc.
Flowing Cloud Sword.
Light as the clouds that wound the nineteen peaks of Jeomchang, and just as endlessly changing: the sect's own swift sword.
The instant the blades met, Hyeong Jin's tip slid aside.
"Your Sun-Piercing Sword has gotten clean. I barely recognize it."
Hyeong Jin answered with a faint smile.
The senior brother who usually went around grinning became another man entirely the moment a sword filled his hand. That much, Hyeong Jin knew better than anyone. With this body, he could not beat him. Set against his previous life, his condition was wretched—and Hyeong Un was a master who had reached the late Peak Realm at thirty-two. Restricting internal energy to the first-rate level did not erase more than a decade of tempered bone and sinew, nor the completeness of his sword.
But that was all right. He had walked this road once before. He might not win. He could still catch him out. Once, at least.
Hyeong Jin poured out the swift strokes of the Sun-Piercing Sword one after another. Hyeong Un's eyes tracked the tip, and a chill ran through him.
Talent like that, as expected. Then take this, too.
Hyeong Un's gaze changed. In that instant, the force of Hyeong Jin's sword changed with it.
The Heavenly Bow Sword—the art Hyeong Jin of his previous life had built upon the bones of the Sun-Piercing Sword, tempered and completed across countless battlefields. His alone.
The body becomes the bow. Internal energy becomes the string. The sword becomes the arrow.
The force scattered along the edge drew into a single point, and Hyeong Jin's sword shot for Hyeong Un's shoulder. A breath before it landed, Hyeong Un's blade cut in. He did not smash the attack aside. A variation of Flowing Cloud only just slipped the tip off its line—and the price was his torso twisting, his rear foot driven back half a step. His stance broke.
Hyeong Jin was not unscathed either. Unable to absorb the Cheongung Sword's recoil, his right arm was flung wide. His wrist went numb, and strength would not return to the arm that held the sword. Recovering the blade and swinging again would take at least two motions. In that time, Hyeong Un would reset.
Hyeong Jin did not cling to the sword. He let it fall and drove into Hyeong Un's broken guard. Close the distance, and the room to swing a blade shrank with it. He locked his arms around Hyeong Un's waist, hooked one leg, and twisted his hips. Hyeong Un's center collapsed. Caught by a method he had never expected, his knee struck the ground. In eighteen spars, it had never happened.
Done.
Hyeong Jin poured strength into the arm around that waist, meaning to take him all the way down. That was as far as it went. Hyeong Un planted against the ground and hauled his torso upright. Hyeong Jin clenched his teeth and shoved, but he could not close the gap in raw strength. The senior brother who had risen snapped an arm around his neck.
The first-generation disciples' mouths fell open.
"Hyeong Jin... has he ever fought like that?"
"A swordsman letting go of his sword?"
Watching Hyeong Un power through a technique that had landed clean, Hyeong Jin clicked his tongue.
"Monster of a man."
Hyeong Un's eyes glittered.
"The way you fight has completely changed."
He was about to ask more.
"Hyeong Un wins. Hyeong Jin, come to the Discipline Pavilion when this is over."
Ungeuk's gaze locked onto him, eyes narrowing. Under that persistent stare, Hyeong Jin scratched the back of his head. Getting marked by Elder Ungeuk was exhausting.
When the remaining matches ended, he went to the Discipline Pavilion. Ungeuk served as its master as well. The office was spare, and not a single thing out of place.
"You know why I summoned you."
Hyeong Jin bowed his head.
"I am reflecting on letting go of my sword so carelessly."
Ungeuk did not answer. He studied him for a long moment.
"The sword you unfolded after the Sun-Piercing Sword. What was it?"
"I altered the sword-path of the Sun-Piercing Sword. Only a little."
Ungeuk's brow rose.
"A sword changed 'a little' broke Hyeong Un's Flowing Cloud?"
Hyeong Jin bowed lower still.
"I happened to catch him off guard."
Ungeuk clicked his tongue.
"I will not pry now. But next time, you will display it properly before your master's eyes."
His gaze fell to the sword at Hyeong Jin's waist.
"And to a swordsman, the sword is life itself. It is not a thing you cast from your hand on a whim, merely to win a spar."
"As punishment, you will clean the latrines for one month."
Hyeong Jin's head snapped up.
"Elder, that's—"
"What. Shall I make it three?"
"...Couldn't you reduce it? Just a little?"
"Noisy. Get out."
A swordsman's obsession with his blade was inefficient. Grumbling, Hyeong Jin left the Discipline Pavilion.
Outside, Hyeong Un was waiting, his face serious.
"You... are definitely strange."
Cold sweat slid down Hyeong Jin's back. Even so, he could not give ground here.
"Monsters don't understand the human heart."
Hyeong Un's expression twisted oddly.
"How long are you going to keep up this monster nonsense?"
"For life."
Hyeong Jin stuck out his tongue.
Hyeong Un sighed.
"Hearing you spout bullshit, you're definitely the Hyeong Jin I know, but..."
He studied him a moment longer, then asked.
"That last sword. That wasn't the Sun-Piercing Sword, was it?"
"I changed the sword-path a little."
Hyeong Un's eyes narrowed.
"A little? After you broke my Flowing Cloud?"
Hyeong Jin pushed his lips out, aggrieved.
"Never mind that. Because I let go of my sword, it's a month of latrine duty."
His face sank at once.
"A whole month..."
Hyeong Un clapped the muttering shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitched.
"A whole month?"
"Oh no. Whatever will our poor Hyeong Jin do."
"You're not even trying to hide that you're laughing."
Hyeong Un's lips trembled.
"Pfft—!"
"Serves you right, Hyeong Jin."
"Get over here. Just one hit. Exactly one."
Hyeong Un slipped neatly out of reach.
"Hang in there."
"And scrub those latrines clean!"
A vein stood out on Hyeong Jin's forehead at the shout fading down the path.
From the next day, his latrine duty began. It was the chore Jeomchang's disciples dreaded most: shouldering a reeking carrying frame and trudging endlessly between the latrines and the compost yard, the stink soaking into one's clothes all the while. But the eyes of the man beneath that frame had sunk deep and still.
Two years until the Blood Cult moved. Two years until Jeomchang fell. In his previous life, the sect had tried to stop the Blood Ritual raised by the Cult Lord and suffered catastrophic losses. That had been the beginning of Jeomchang's ruin. This time would be different.
First, he had to reclaim his body. A physique lagging behind early Peak internal energy would not change after a few days of training. Set against the body of his previous life, he still had a long way to go.
The three must stand in balance.
Of them, the body was furthest behind.
In the end, there was nothing for it but to drive the flesh hard. Hyeong Jin quickened his pace beneath the frame.
A few days of that, and the first-generation disciples began to whisper.
"Did you hear?"
"About Hyeong Jin?"
"They say when he's cleaning the latrines, he runs around with sandbags strapped on."
"He was always strange, but..."
"He's training in the middle of that?"
"He's out on the yard from dawn, too."
"..."
The number of disciples appearing on the training yard at dawn began to grow. Ungeuk watched in silence and murmured.
"Commendable brat."
Hyeong Jin only went on with his training, quiet. Growing strong alone meant nothing. All of Jeomchang had to grow strong.
Hyeong Pung.
Hyeong Chae.
Hyeong U.
Hyeong Baek.
Hyeong Gi.
And Hyeong Un.
Faces he had lost, every one of them, in the life before. The corner of Hyeong Jin's mouth rose, slow.
Well, then.
Who should he put through it first?