The Third-Rate Martial Artist Who Remembers Everything (2)
“……Senior Brother, what are you doing?”
I was staring at Geum Pyo, whose death in my memories had been so vivid.
“Geum Pyo……”
“Yes?”
“Sorry.”
“Pardon?”
Geum Pyo hurriedly rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small pouch.
“Did you seriously eat my candy on the sly?”
“……”
What the hell kind of life had I been living?
“……Anyway, I'm sorry.”
“I still have the candy…… Damn, what's going on?”
I apologized to Geum Pyo, whom I hadn't been able to protect in my previous life, shaking off a small pang of guilt before asking,
“Isn't it class time right now? What about class—why are you here?”
Geum Pyo gave me an incredulous look.
“You're the one asking that while you're lying around on the bench?”
“My head hurts a bit.”
“That's been your excuse for a whole week already.”
“Has it been that long?”
But I'd been busy in my own way. From this moment on, I had to mull over all the disasters that would befall us in the future and figure out why Tae-eul Gate fell, when the problems started.
“I've been busy……”
“……That doesn't sound convincing at all in that pose.”
“It's true. I was pondering the future of our sect.”
My sect, Tae-eul Gate, was a small sword sect near Hebi in Anhui Province. It had a long history but no traditions, plenty of martial arts but weak fighters. When parents compared it to larger academies, they mostly chose the academies. If there was any advantage, it was the one meal a day provided and its status as one of the Murim Alliance's 108 Peaks.
'The real mystery is how we even made it into the 108 Peaks.'
Our sect had no martial prowess or wealth, yet we'd never been ousted from the 108 Peaks despite never bribing the alliance higher-ups.
Holding a 108 Peaks position granted some freedom from territorial disputes or power struggles with other sects. No matter the pretext, if war broke out between sects, the Murim Alliance sided with the 108 Peaks by principle. That's how Tae-eul Gate enjoyed some leeway in Hebi's cutthroat sect rivalries, wild as they were.
But that same 108 Peaks status had basically led to our destruction, so it wasn't all good.
How to navigate this contradictory mess……
“……Senior Brother!”
“……Huh?”
“Tae-eul Gate is fine, so stop worrying and get up.”
“……How could a mere magpie comprehend a heron's profound intent?”
“The Busengdang Lord is looking for you.”
“What does that guy want?”
“……Even so, calling the Lord 'that guy' is a bit……”
The current Busengdang Lord wasn't even from Tae-eul Gate. He was from the Gyerong Merchant Group, the lord's younger brother. His one claim to fame: being a lay disciple of Huashan.
Why was a guy like that lording over Tae-eul Gate? The Gyerong Merchant Group lord had enrolled his precious son as a lay disciple here, fearing he'd pick up Tae-eul Gate's 'bad martial arts,' and planted this man as a watchdog.
This absurd story made sense through the 108 Peaks perk of special admission to the Murim Academy.
The first step to advancement in the Murim Alliance: enrolling in the Murim Academy. Regular admission was brutally tough, so the Gyerong Merchant Group's spoiled young master had joined the no-name third-rate sect Tae-eul Gate as a lay disciple for the special track.
Impoverished Tae-eul Gate bent to most of their demands for the merchant group's support.
“You call a guy like that 'that guy'—what else should I call him?”
Geum Pyo snickered gleefully.
“Anyway, he said you must attend today.”
“Hm…… They said sparring's today?”
“……The vibe feels like it.”
Worry clouded Geum Pyo's face.
Sparring—legal violence under that name. It was the class Tae-eul Gate disciples hated most right now.
“Tch. All that guy, a Huashan lay disciple, can think of.”
I slowly rose.
Not faces I was dying to see, but I couldn't just watch my juniors get beaten.
Crack.
“Urk!”
Entering the Busengdang, I saw a Tae-eul Gate disciple clutching his head and rolling on the floor. Hong Saryeon rushed over, checked the fallen boy's injury, and glared at Gye Cheolyeong.
Gye Cheolyeong, misreading her gaze, smirked smugly.
“How's that? Pretty cool, right?”
That idiot.
Tch tch.
I approached the boy Hong Saryeon was supporting.
“Let me see.”
Fortunately, no injury. Head lumps don't bleed much anyway, and Gye Cheolyeong didn't have the strength for real damage.
“When you get home, apply a cold stone compress. It'll help with the swelling.”
“Ah, yes……”
The boy wiped tears from his eyes, stood tall, and returned to his spot.
“What, your head hurt, right? Feeling better now?”
I shook my head at Hong Saryeon's question.
“No, it's more complicated now, so I came out.”
“Huh?”
I turned from Hong Saryeon and addressed Gye Yeonseung, the Busengdang Lord.
“How about ending sparring class here?”
“What?”
“Plenty of juniors already hurt.”
Over half the seated disciples clutched heads, shoulders, or arms—beaten under the guise of sparring.
“Jin Sowoon, showing up late to spout nonsense?”
“Sparring's just to show off how great Senior Brother Gye Cheolyeong is, right?”
“What?!”
I eyed Gye Cheolyeong, preening beside Gye Yeonseung.
“And Senior Brother Gye. No matter how blind Senior Sister Saryeon is, she'd never fall for a scumbag like you. Dream big.”
“Jin Sowoon, you bastard!”
Gye Cheolyeong's face flushed crimson, lunging—until Gye Yeonseung raised a hand.
“You see this sparring that way?”
Flames burned in Gye Yeonseung's eyes. Whatever, I pressed on.
“No idea what we're learning in Busengdang lately. Just stamina training and sparring every day?”
“That's all for real combat……”
“Better to practice forms alone.”
“What……”
Gye Yeonseung's face turned beet red.
“Daring to say that before a Huashan disciple like me?”
“Lay disciple, not proper. Same as Senior Brother Gye—paid for swordsmanship.”
I'd just stated facts, but Gye Yeonseung looked even angrier. Guess facts can be violent too.
“Y-You punk!”
Killing intent seeped from Gye Yeonseung. Hong Saryeon, the juniors—even Gye Cheolyeong flinched back instinctively.
But oddly, I felt no fear. Despite my inferior skill.
'Well, compared to the maniacs from my past life, this is kids' play.'
Convinced, I continued. If you can't win with skill, hit with words—that's the Small Justice Squad way.
“Honestly, I'd prefer you and Senior Brother Gye quit this crap. At least then us juniors could learn Tae-eul Gate's martial arts.”
“Ha, haha. Better to learn from Tae-eul Gate lords than me?”
“Nothing to learn anyway. Lay disciples can't transmit sect arts. Plus, zero real combat experience.”
“Ugh……”
Gye Yeonseung trembled. Hong Saryeon sidled close, whispering,
“What are you doing, Senior Brother? Are you crazy?”
“Dunno. It's just the truth.”
Screw it, whatever. A future full of despair. Nothing I could do. Maybe dying here to Gye Yeonseung's blade would force Gye Cheolyeong out, opening a special admission slot for a Tae-eul Gate disciple to the Murim Academy.
'Though one spot won't change much.'
Low-rank alliance warrior? Just cannon fodder. To lead in the Undefeated Righteous-Demonic War, I needed the Murim Academy. Couldn't let Gye Cheolyeong steal that chance.
“Hah…… So that's what you think? Fine. You must have the skill to back it up. Come out! Prove it against Cheolyeong!”
There it was. Debates end in force—nothing to say then.
In the past, I'd have backed down. But now……
'Hoo, time to show 'em.'
Even pointless venting feels good if it clears your head, right?
I held out my hand to Hong Saryeon. She hid the wooden sword behind her back.
“……Senior Brother, you'll get seriously hurt. Just apologize.”
“Didn't do wrong—why apologize?”
I snatched the wooden sword with White Phoenix Hand and stepped forward.
“Jin Sowoon! Assume stance!”
“No need for stance against Senior Brother Gye…… Let's just go.”
I slung the wooden sword over my shoulder, signaling ready. My nonchalance irked them—Gye Cheolyeong's face matched Gye Yeonseung's.
“Jin Sowoon! That's no way to speak to the Lord!”
“Senior Brother, let's start.”
“You'll learn your place.”
Gye Cheolyeong began a stance—not Tae-eul Gate's.
'Samyeong Sword—beat me with it endlessly in my past life.'
Taught by invited ronin Hun Won-su from Shanxi. I'd memorized forms and stances on sight, but back then, couldn't dodge or counter.
Now? Ex-low-rank alliance warrior, Small Justice Squad meat shield against Demonic Cult's elites like the Heavenly Demon Black Sword Corps. No way a twenty-year-old Gye Cheolyeong would dominate.
“Begin!!”
Gye Yeonseung's shout unleashed Gye Cheolyeong, gliding forward on footwork—not Tae-eul Gate's.
His first strike aimed at the eyes. Ronin ferocity: wild, savage sword principles. Tae-eul Gate kids had no choice but to panic.
'But.'
Compared to Demonic Cult psychos? Child's play. And Gye Cheolyeong lacked Hun Won-su's life-or-death grit or desperation.
Same art, worlds apart. No need for other past-life techniques. Basic Socheon Sword Technique sufficed—kids all knew it.
Thwack.
Sword flat deflected his blade; I unleashed Socheon Sword Technique's three forms.
Thud thud thud!
In a blink, the wooden sword caressed Gye Cheolyeong's body.
“Kuh!”
Eyes bulging like he'd snapped awake. I swung Socheon Sword Technique again, pressing him.
“Hah……”
“……Whoa.”
“That's Socheon Sword Technique, right?”
Familiar forms drew awed gasps from the kids. Gye Cheolyeong flailed, unable to counter properly despite knowing them.
Finally, a gap as his forms broke.
“Gap spotted, Senior Brother!”
I smashed his head full force.
Crack!
Something crunched; screams erupted.
“Aaaagh!”
Gye Cheolyeong dropped his sword, clutching his head and writhing.
“Kraaaagh!”
Brief silence, then Tae-eul Gate kids cheered.
“““Waaaaah!”””
“Quiet! Quiet! Quiet!”
Gye Yeonseung, checking Gye Cheolyeong, bellowed with menacing aura.
“Back to seats!”
The kids, sensing an adult's—strong martial artist's—pressure, gulped and obeyed.
“Aaaagh, my head!”
Gye Cheolyeong, rubbing his head, felt something and stared at his bloodied hand.
Gye Yeonseung glared murderously at me.
“What happened!”
“What do you mean?”
“How'd you beat Cheolyeong?”
“With Socheon Sword Technique.”
“Samyeong Sword to that trash……”
Gye Yeonseung halted. Even the Gyerong Merchant Group had lines not to cross.
He toed it carefully.
“Samyeong Sword and Socheon Sword Technique differ greatly in form. How'd you bridge that?”
Rephrased. Simply: how could basic Socheon Sword Technique beat Samyeong Sword, forged by a peak expert?
“Where's the 'absolute' in this world? If mastery falters……”
Mid-sentence, a head-smack epiphany jolted me.