This Damn Chest
The first move from Yeon-jin was a clean downward slash aimed straight at my crown.
Her wooden sword traced an impossibly beautiful arc as it hurtled toward my head.
“Haaat!”
“Hup!”
I lifted my sword to the side, deflecting her blade with a glancing parry. Then I twisted at the waist and swung horizontally—but—
Whoosh—!
Contrary to my expectations, the sound my sword made slicing through the air was dull and heavy.
Tsk. Just as I thought…!
My body felt as if it were weighed down by sandbags. The sluggishness was completely different from when I had a man’s physique. My lack of physical strength meant I couldn’t produce the speed or destructive power I wanted…!
I clicked my tongue inwardly and forced the wooden sword through its disappointing trajectory anyway, driving it forward with everything I had.
Clack!
Yeon-jin lightly withdrew her sword, blocked mine, and smiled with relaxed ease.
“Sister, you’re way too slow! Haven’t you been neglecting sword practice lately?”
“Hah, isn’t it a bit early to be acting so cocky?”
Good. There was no way I could let a taunt like that slide.
I curled the corner of my mouth just like she had and stamped my right foot into the ground, channeling inner energy into it.
BOOM!
Riding the recoil that faintly shook the training ground’s air, I spun my torso with explosive force. My wooden sword slammed down like a hammer onto the exact spot where our blades had just clashed, targeting Yeon-jin’s defensive posture.
KWAAAAANG!!
The collision of inner energy carried a shockwave with it. The moment I poured in power several times greater than my first attack, Yeon-jin’s wooden sword let out a screeching groan.
It was a crude, unrefined strike that cared nothing for precision or finesse—pure brute force focused on a single point. Yeon-jin’s expression changed in an instant.
“Kgh…?!”
With a heavy thud, she was pushed back nearly ten feet, letting out a groan. Her eyes widened in genuine surprise.
“W-what was that just now…?!”
“You don’t have time to be shocked!”
I took a deep breath and stepped forward with my right foot. The moment my foot struck the ground, inner energy surged from my dantian, racing along my spine and spreading throughout my entire body.
I gathered every last thread of that power without wasting a drop and poured it all into my sword, then leaped.
“Haaap!”
The path of the descending blade that accompanied my shout was simple. There were no flashy variations or intricate changes—just a single strike that carried the full weight of my body and every ounce of boiling inner energy from my dantian.
It was an utterly crude, unsophisticated technique that simply slammed everything I had into one downward cut.
“Ah…!?”
Yeon-jin reflexively raised her sword, but then seemed to sense something. She flinched, abandoned her defense, and hurriedly threw her body aside to dodge.
KWAAAAAANG—!
The instant my wooden sword struck the training ground floor, a thunderous roar like fireworks exploding rang out. The hard blue stone tiles shattered like a spiderweb, fragments flying everywhere as thick clouds of dust billowed up and obscured vision.
Now!
Yeon-jin stood frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. I seized the opening and launched myself through the dust cloud.
Feeling the broken stone shards crunch beneath my feet, I thrust my wooden sword at her like lightning.
Swish, swish, swish!
Starting with a piercing thrust that tore through the air, I unleashed a relentless barrage of attacks on the flustered Yeon-jin.
Ugh, still, I can use it somehow.
Back when I was Wi Yeon-seol, I had gained an absurdly overwhelming amount of inner energy compared to my actual martial depth thanks to a certain fortuitous encounter. Even though I had never received systematic training from a young age, my inner energy was vast enough to rival the ocean. The sword arts that suited me weren’t delicate, illusory blades or soft techniques that borrowed the opponent’s strength.
No, it was the overbearing path—a sword that simply smashed the opponent with raw, unrefined power.
And the style that best embodied that principle was, ironically, the Samjae Sword Style, the very technique mocked as cheap street fighting.
I had taken the simplicity of the Samjae Sword and layered onto it the three extremes of hardness, heaviness, and speed, pushing them to their limits using my overflowing inner energy.
That was how my first original technique, Overbearing Samjae Sword, was born.
It was a contradictory sword art that couldn’t be used properly without enormous inner energy as its foundation, yet any master with that much power would be far more efficient using something else. It wasn’t elegant, it wasn’t refined, it was too simple to use against true experts, and even the name I gave it was embarrassingly straightforward.
But that sword was the very first step that began spreading the name Wi Yeon-seol—the bottom-feeder who crawled up from the gutters—across the world.
Swish! Slash! Slice!
My attacks poured down on Yeon-jin without pause. The raw power directed at her made clear panic flicker in her eyes.
But only for a moment.
After a few exchanges, the bewilderment in Yeon-jin’s eyes as she tracked my sword tip gradually faded. Even as my blade flashed like lightning toward her throat, flank, and lower body in rapid succession, her gaze began to follow my movements with growing familiarity.
And then, one strike—
Just before my heavily charged blade could bite into her chest—
Clack!
With a crisp sound, Yeon-jin accurately struck my thrusting sword from the side, knocking it away.
“Huu…”
She took a single breath to steady herself, then smiled with far more composure. A playful glint returned to her eyes.
“Sister, I’ll say it again—that sword doesn’t work on me!”
Her voice rang with confidence. The moment she finished speaking, Yeon-jin’s counterattack began.
Clack, swish!
I calmly deflected her smooth, flowing sword strikes while clicking my tongue inwardly.
It’s within the expected range, but still…!
First of all, a woman’s body was still far from familiar to me. It was certainly more flexible and noticeably faster than a man’s, but the muscle strength and lower body stability were correspondingly weaker.
All the sword styles I favored were purely aggressive, power-and-inner-energy-driven techniques. No matter how deep my internal energy was for my age, Seol-hye’s body was fundamentally incompatible with my martial arts.
I had tested it with the most familiar Overbearing Samjae Sword, and sure enough, its power was cut in half.
Damn it. I’ll either have to learn a new sword art that suits this body or create one from scratch.
I ground my teeth in frustration.
However, I had a far bigger problem right now than simple lack of strength—
Jiggle.
…These damn lumps of fat!
The two massive mounds attached to my chest were incredibly annoying…!
I had wrapped them tightly with plain cotton cloth that morning until I could barely breathe, yet every time I moved violently, that enormous mass would lag half a beat behind me and sway with far greater amplitude.
This throws my center of gravity all over the place!
When I thrust my sword forward, the weight of my chest pulled my upper body with it. Every time I turned sharply, my balance would subtly shift. And that wasn’t all.
Whenever I tried to pull the sword hilt close to my body for a defensive stance, my forearm would catch on those voluminous curves and slow down. The shortest possible sword path would inevitably twist because of this uselessly huge obstacle.
It felt like I was fighting with two water-filled leather sacks tied around my neck. What absolute bullshit…!
And worst of all—
“Ugh…!!”
It hurt.
Horribly.
A groan escaped my lips before I could stop it. Every time these damn things shook violently up and down, it felt like my delicate skin and muscles were being torn apart. The dull, heavy pain of solid weight yanking on my flesh was so intense that I nearly lost my mind. Sparring? Who cared about that right now?
A crude, overwhelming sword art that smashes the opponent using nothing but raw inner energy and brute force. Simple, inelegant, and terrifyingly effective when backed by vast power.
How the hell do women in the martial world swing their swords while carrying such a fatal weakness?!
The pain from these breasts was so severe that I felt a sense of awe—far beyond mere respect—for the female heroes of the Jianghu who fought despite it.
Whispers, murmurs…
As the exchange dragged on while I desperately endured the pain, the female disciples training nearby began to stop one by one, their gazes locking onto us.
“Oh my, our eldest senior sister who always wielded such graceful swordplay is using such a crude style today?”
“She must be creating another new technique. After all, our eldest senior sister has never stopped exploring the sword.”
“But she looks unusually heavy today… Her complexion wasn’t good yesterday either. Maybe she hasn’t fully recovered yet…?”
“Does that mean Yeon-jin might finally beat our eldest senior sister today?”
Countless eyes poured over me along with the buzzing chatter. Before I knew it, the training ground was surrounded by spectators centered around me and Yeon-jin.
Damn it…!
Even while being helplessly pushed back by Yeon-jin, their stares grated on my nerves. To think that the great Wi Yeon-seol would be seen struggling like this in front of a bunch of young girls who weren’t even men.
No matter what, being one-sidedly dominated in front of women was something my pride as Wi Yeon-seol would never allow.
I don’t care what it takes. I need to land at least one solid hit.
Clack, slash, tap!
I grit my teeth and tried to regain my stance while somehow blocking Yeon-jin’s fierce attacks.
“...”
Then, suddenly, Yeon-jin stopped her assault and leaped backward.
Swish.
She extended her right arm holding the sword far behind her back, lowered her stance, and began gathering sharply refined inner energy as if preparing something.
…?!
It was a stance I had never seen before.
Yet for some reason, it felt strangely familiar.
Yeon-jin lowered the corners of her mouth that had been smiling with joy just moments ago and stared directly into my eyes with deadly seriousness. Her gaze burned as if she intended to pour her entire being into this one strike.
…!
In that instant, a bizarre sensation took over my entire body.
Was this a memory left behind in Seol-hye’s body?
I didn’t know the name of the technique, its characteristics, or how to circulate the energy.
Yet my arms and legs, every single muscle, began moving on their own—perfectly mirroring Yeon-jin’s posture as if reflected in a mirror.
It was like a craftsman who had honed a single skill for decades unconsciously performing it with natural grace.
Crackle.
Before I realized it, power surged into my left leg as I stepped back. I lowered the sword in my right hand until it nearly touched the ground, while my left hand formed a sharp sword seal and thrust toward Yeon-jin.
“...Ah…!”
Yeon-jin’s shoulders twitched when she saw my movement. Then an uncontrollable smile of pure joy bloomed on her previously tense lips.
Whoooosh—
Even as the wind blew around us, we stood rooted in place, staring only into each other’s eyes.
Golden osmanthus petals carried by the breeze fluttered down between us.
One petal. Two. Three.
The moment the slowly drifting petals touched the training ground floor—
“Haaat!”
“Haaat!!!”
As if by prior agreement, we kicked off the ground at the exact same time and became two streaks of light rushing toward each other.
““Lightning Indra Slash!!!””
Same breath.
Same syllables.
The instant the two swords, carrying the force of a thunderbolt, collided head-on while tearing through the air—
KWAAAAAANG!!
A deafening explosion rang out, and a whirlwind of inner energy erupted like a bomb, sweeping in all directions. The golden osmanthus petals scattered across the training ground poured down like a golden rain.
