#162. Black Flame Dragon Quieting the Chaos (7)
"Kicking off the blankets again, huh."
Gang Yu-seong carefully tucked the covers back over his sisters and quietly slipped out of the room. Silence had fallen over the night, broken only by the distant chirping of crickets that signaled how deep into the darkness it was.
Ignoring it all, Gang Yu-seong walked slowly toward the small training ground. This was his fixed routine, one he never skipped, not even for a day.
'Senior Brother said he's already drawing six swords of the Ten Thousand Swords of Heaven and Earth.'
Comparing it to what he'd heard in the letter from his senior brother, Gang Yu-seong was barely managing to produce two. Considering they'd started studying the Tae-eul True Scripture around the same time, impatience gnawed at him inevitably.
'Am I doing okay?'
But then he'd think back to those days when he'd cared for his sisters all alone, with nowhere to turn, and a deep sigh of relief would escape him. What if he hadn't met Senior Brother that day? What if Senior Brother hadn't told him to come to Tae-eul Gate?
Thanks to him, they now lived comfortably, ate three full meals a day in a warm place. And on top of that, he was learning the martial arts he'd always dreamed of. To Gang Yu-seong, Jin Sowoon and Tae-eul Gate were like a parent's embrace.
'I have to repay that kindness.'
Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Gang Yu-seong quickened his steps toward the small training ground.
"Haat!"
With a clear shout, a rattling sound echoed. Sharp iron fragments embedded themselves into the straw dummy set up in the training ground.
The figure at the center whipped their fluttering training robes, creating illusions, and from their hidden hand, more iron pieces flew out—each infused with the mystery of phantoms, making them look like dozens, hundreds.
The dummy, battered by the shower of iron, finally gave way with a creak and toppled over.
'Senior Sister Wang?'
Only then did Gang Yu-seong realize who was there first. He quietly tried to back out of the small training ground. He'd learned after coming to Tae-eul Gate that peeking at someone else's training was a grave breach of etiquette among martial artists.
As he turned to find somewhere else, a voice called out.
"Junior Brother Gang?"
Wang Soso, catching her breath, spotted him.
"Here to train?"
"Yes, Senior Sister. You can keep using this place—I'll find somewhere else."
"Really? Well, since you're here anyway, want to train together?"
"Huh?"
"What, am I not good enough for you?"
"N-no, that's not...!"
"Then come here."
As Gang Yu-seong approached, Wang Soso patted his head. He was a responsible big brother in front of his sisters, but around Wang Soso, he turned into the baby of the family.
"You're working so hard, Junior Brother."
"...Ahem. And what brings you out here so late, Senior Sister?"
"Yeah. Dad won't let me practice at home. Says it's too hard and I should sleep early. But not training is what's really tough."
"......"
Gang Yu-seong looked at her with genuine curiosity.
"Senior Sister... can I ask you something?"
"Sure, what?"
"I heard your father donates a lot to Tae-eul Gate, and you're going to be a merchant someday... so why do you train so hard?"
Wang Soso tilted her head.
"What's that got to do with donating a lot or becoming a merchant?"
"Huh? Well... um, I mean..."
Gang Yu-seong stumbled over his words, sensing he'd said something wrong.
Wang Soso's eyes sharpened a bit.
"So people who donate a lot and become merchants shouldn't work hard? Did I do something wrong?"
"...No! That's not it...!"
As Gang Yu-seong floundered in panic, Wang Soso burst out laughing.
"Swinging that sword like a ghost, but your personality's so soft. What good is that?"
"...That's too much, Senior Sister."
"So, what's really on your mind?"
Gang Yu-seong hesitated, then met her eyes squarely.
"Well... I've received so much from Tae-eul Gate, but I have no way to repay it. So I train hard, at least. But you're the one giving so much to Tae-eul Gate—why do you train so diligently?"
At his earnest words, Wang Soso smiled softly.
"Oh! That's what was bothering you? Hmm... 'cause I like Tae-eul Gate?"
"You like Tae-eul Gate?"
"Well, more precisely, I've received a lot from Brother Jin, but anyway, I figure someday I'll repay it too."
Puzzlement flickered in Gang Yu-seong's eyes. To him, his senior brother seemed strong enough not to need anyone's help.
"...Isn't Senior Brother already incredibly strong? Can we really be of any help...?"
"Of course he's amazing... ridiculously strong, actually. I meet martial artists sometimes through merchant work, and there aren't many in our age group who can compare to Brother Jin."
Wang Soso shrugged, as if bragging about her own achievement.
"Still, there'll be times he needs help."
"When?"
"Who knows? Anyway, even if not, us getting stronger will be a huge help to Brother Jin. At the very least, we won't hold him back, right?"
Hold him back? Gang Yu-seong had never considered that.
"...Hold him back?"
"Yeah. Special people like Brother Jin make a lot of enemies. Some can't touch him directly, so they go after his sect or family."
"No way! That's so cowardly!"
"Exactly. So we have to make sure we don't drag him down. That way, he can achieve what he wants."
Wang Soso stroked his head like a little brother's, then patted his shoulder firmly, like knocking on hard wood.
"And if Tae-eul Gate grows strong, no one will mess with Brother Jin carelessly."
"So in the end, us getting stronger is a huge help to Senior Brother."
"You got it!"
The long-held worry lifted from Gang Yu-seong's face, leaving him refreshed.
"I'll train even harder."
"Hmm... you're already doing plenty. But sure, hard work's always good."
"Yes! So what were you training just now, Senior Sister?"
"Me? Throwing techniques."
"Throwing techniques?"
Yu-seong tilted his head.
"Yeah, swords are fine, but I find throwing more fun."
"Can I help?"
"You wanna?"
"Yes! I'm practicing the Ten Thousand Swords right now too. I'll gather the projectiles."
"Thanks. I'll catch my breath."
While Wang Soso drank from the water jug she'd brought, Gang Yu-seong approached the dummy.
'Huh?'
As he went to pull out the embedded projectiles, their odd shape made him tilt his head and glance at Wang Soso.
"...Senior Sister, have you been training with these all this time?"
"Huh? Oh! I wanted to use throwing knives, but Dad said they're dangerous and forbade them."
"......"
"So I looked for something suitable... and these were the most plentiful at home."
Gang Yu-seong looked again at the projectiles in the dummy.
"......"
They were round overall, with square holes in the center for easy stringing. But most people didn't carry them strung up.
To avoid theft, they kept them in small pouches, deep in their bosom pockets.
In other words, what Wang Soso had been hurling wildly was...
"...You're using silver coins as projectiles?"
"Yeah. Now quit asking and bring 'em quick!"
"......"
Gang Yu-seong grew curious. If these sank into flesh, did they become yours? And how many hits could he take?
#
"Urk."
He spat out a mouthful of blood, and the tightness in his chest eased.
"Haa, haa, haa."
As he gasped for breath, his mind cleared a bit.
'What's going wrong?'
He'd perfectly mimicked Sword Demon Baek Hae-gwang's movements. His tattered muscles had reshaped somewhat similarly, and the grinding bone pain had forged them sufficiently for the White Moon Heaven-Subduing Three Forms.
The incantations and essentials were flawless too. Yet whenever he tried to execute the forms, his qi circulation stuttered, and his organs churned.
He'd replicated everything perfectly but couldn't manifest even a single form.
"My god... Young Master Jin."
Turning his dazed head, he saw Namgung Seonhwa's pale face.
"What in the world happened?"
"...Nothing."
"Then what's all this blood?"
"......"
Only then did he look around: congealed blood he'd vomited everywhere. It looked like he'd survived a deathmatch.
"I was training, but something went wrong."
"This is training?"
Namgung Seonhwa glanced around in disbelief, then handed him her water jug. He drained nearly half without pause.
"Haa... haa... haa..."
"......"
What was wrong? With the sparring match approaching, desperation surged.
"...Young Master Jin!"
"Yes?"
Startled, he turned to see her worried face.
"What's the blockage?"
"Blockage?"
"Yeah. All that you spat up—isn't it blood?"
"It is."
"Your qi circulation isn't flowing right. Push like this, and you might fall into qi deviation."
"......"
His qi wasn't circulating properly—that much was clear. More precisely, it was rampaging wildly, and he couldn't control it. Without the Heavenly Lone Walker God Step fortifying his meridians and dantian, he'd have deviated ten times over.
'Did that Sword Demon bastard teach me the wrong incantation?'
He shook off the thought. The man had handed it over first. If he wanted him dead, he'd have done it himself.
Incantations perfect, movements perfect, proficiency perfect. So why couldn't he execute the sword forms properly?
"Seonhwa."
"Yes?"
"Did you learn the Emperor Sword Method from Sword Immortal?"
"I did."
"Can you tell me your attainment level?"
Her face stiffened. Asking someone's realm was rude among warriors. He pressed on.
"I mean, compared to Sword Immortal."
"...Compared to Grandfather?"
Relaxing, she propped her chin on her finger, thoughtful.
"Like bird's blood to his?"
"...Metaphor or literal?"
"Both."
"Due to internal energy difference?"
"...No. As you know, to learn Emperor Sword Method, you need Heavenly Thunder Emperor Divine Art. Once past a certain level, executing it isn't a strain."
As he'd thought. Even if Sword Demon Baek Hae-gwang's energy was vast, his own should suffice for the forms.
"Then where does the gap come from between you and Sword Immortal?"
"...Time, probably."
"Proficiency?"
"That's part of it, but..."
"So if you executed it with the exact same movements and posture as Sword Immortal, would your attainment match his?"
He'd matched incantations, energy, and time for proficiency. Failure was the anomaly.
Namgung Seonhwa's puzzled expression hardened.
"What's your angle?"
Not wanting to worry her, he deflected casually.
"Just curious. Our sect has no one like Sword Immortal. So even learning the same from him, why the difference in attainment?"
She didn't buy it.
"Curiosity hits you now, in this crisis?"
She stared at the blood-soaked ground in exasperation. He replied shamelessly.
"Does a warrior's training pick times and places?"
She glared, then sighed softly.
"...I don't fully trust you, but anyway. Something similar happened in my family. One uncle followed Grandfather everywhere, mimicking not just forms but habits and mannerisms."
Huh, someone in Namgung had the same idea. Feels like kinship.
"How'd he do? Match Sword Immortal?"
"Not at all."
What?
"He didn't improve. Lagged behind same-age starters."
"...Why?"
"Grandfather later said mimicking without your own insight is like wearing ill-fitting clothes—awkward and useless."
"......"
"Emptiness must be built by your own power. One art in a hundred people becomes a hundred arts."
"...!"
Images sharpened in his mind. Sword Demon's White Moon Heaven-Subduing Three Forms. His own. Same swing, different essence. Overlaying them, identical motions didn't align perfectly.
Mimicking Sword Demon exactly wouldn't yield his power.
"Still, Grandfather said it's not bad. Fastest way to internalize a high master's long-cultivated attainment. Though he hated people clinging."
"And that uncle?"
"He's a division head in Execution Hall now."
"Azure Dragon Jade Sword Namgung Seonmyeong went through that?"
Namgung Seonmyeong enforced alliance laws by rule, not favoritism, even in his past life. His family influence and top-tier strength deterred pressure.
"Yes."
"......"
So mimicry wasn't wrong. He'd just chased Sword Demon's insights, not his own.
Key was surpassing mimicry with personal realization.
"Ah!"
Before the flash of insight faded, he sat in lotus position.
"Seonhwa, no matter what, don't wake me."
"...Wait, what...?"
Ignoring her, he closed his eyes. In his mind, he manifested Sword Demon with a branch. One... eight... fourteen... thirty.
Then thirty of himself, each wielding the Black Dragon Sword. Sword Demon's thirty phantoms and his clashed in the forms.
Even focused on void, heat rose in his head. He circulated qi to his upper dantian to cool it.
As thirty pairs executed forms, heat spread body-wide. Iron tang filled his nostrils; liquid trickled from both.
Sword Demon's were identical—same start and synchronized end. His varied—same start, different ends.
Pulling one pair for sparring. Three exchanges. His phantom vanished.
Cough. Congealed blood burst in his mouth unbidden.
-Young Master Jin...!!
He ignored Namgung Seonhwa's voice, continuing.
Second spar... defeat.
Fourth... defeat.
Seventh... defeat.
Thirteenth... defeat.
Losing phantoms informed successors for different counters. Sword Demon's stayed as in Manseogo.
His words from the past month crystallized.
-The first form's essence is Extreme Swiftness. For utmost speed, carry nothing.
Eighteenth... defeat.
Twenty-first... defeat.
Twenty-ninth... defeat.
Thirtieth... defeat.
Consciousness snapped; something huge surged from his roiling gut.
"Urk!"
His black robes stained darker.
"Young Master Jin! Stop! You'll die!"
He reached toward Namgung Seonhwa.
"Protect me... please."
Then thirty Sword Demons and thirty of him clashed anew.
Thirty-fourth... defeat.
Thirty-ninth... defeat.
Forty-sixth... defeat.
-Lightest state yields utmost speed. Nothing catches it; nothing blocks it.
Fifty-first... draw.
Fifty-fourth... draw.
-Unfinished sword is a sandcastle, ready to crumble. Shatter it before becoming lightest, swiftest blade.
Fifty-sixth... ...draw.
Fifty-ninth... sixtieth...
Body trembled; eyes flashed open. Tension paralyzed muscles and bones, twisting wildly.
Crack, crack.
Pop. Pop.
Clotted foulness reversed from deep within, racing up his throat.
"...Urgh!"
Like alcohol overdose, he vomited blood and foam.
"Young Master Jin!"
Her distant voice faded as consciousness slipped away.