Teacher Sun, Superstar Instructor
"Whoa. That's brutal. Seriously brutal."
Sun Wukong clicked his tongue. He'd tagged along wondering how they planned to reel Hwangbo Yong in, and what he'd just watched had been quite the show.
"Should I call that a gift for handling people?"
Just when it seemed she was coaxing him with honeyed words, she would turn around and threaten him with ice-cold precision, then swing right back to persuasion. The whole performance had been masterful. A sudden doubt flickered through Sun Wukong's mind: was Muhwa really that dim-witted Zhu Bajie?
Come to think of it, last time I even wondered if she might be Sanzang.
Not long ago, Muhwa had repeated something Tang Sanzang used to say, almost word for word. We're no buddhas — so why should we go around acting like one? And whenever Sanzang spoke like that, hadn't Zhu Bajie been right there at his side, echoing every word?
Bajie was Sanzang's disciple too, after all.
Sun Wukong twisted a lock of hair around his finger, looking faintly sheepish. Bajie learned plenty along the way. He did change. For a disciple of Sanzang, he'd always been decent at working an angle. Pigs, as it happened, were surprisingly clever animals. Zhu Bajie had occasionally produced schemes so sharp that even Sun Wukong hadn't seen them coming. The problem was that those little schemes always sprang from some sly calculation aimed at satisfying his own appetites.
But if food and lust got swapped out for the revival of the Namgung Clan and a private hunger for revenge...
If that was what she was turning her mind toward now, then the idea that Muhwa was Zhu Bajie's reincarnation started to make a certain kind of sense.
"Well, if Bajie's gotten smarter, that just makes my life easier."
Ojeong and Bajie. Sanzang's two disciples, gathered in one place.
Now I just have to find Sanzang.
Motivation surged through him. The list of candidates had shrunk from four to three.
Namgung Jinbaek. Muyoung. Seowol.
Three left. One of them was Sanzang — that much he was sure of. Pinning down which one, though, was another matter entirely.
Namgung Jinbaek's so packed full of cunning it's hard to get a read on him.
Every conversation with Namgung Jinbaek somehow turned into a transaction. A little given, a little taken, always something exchanged. He never showed his insides easily. Even through the Fiery Golden Eyes, Namgung Jinbaek remained exactly what he appeared to be: Namgung Jinbaek. A formidable self-regard defined the man.
Well. Anyone with martial arts like his would be that way.
Which left the other two. Namgung Muyoung and Namgung Seowol — who chose that exact moment to appear in front of him without warning.
Sun Wukong's brow furrowed.
"What do you two want?"
"...Teacher Sun. I know this is terribly presumptuous, but..."
Namgung Muyoung hesitated. And in the gap of that hesitation, Namgung Seowol cut straight in.
"Spar with me."
"..."
Again?
Had the ghost of someone who'd died sparring possessed these two or what? He glanced sideways. Namgung Muyoung averted his eyes, just slightly — same errand, then.
Sun Wukong cocked his head. What had gotten into these kids?
Once it was decided that every young successor would take part in the Changryong Chulgwan, the atmosphere shifted overnight. The constant gatherings and drinking parties dried up at a stroke. Each heir, together with the escort warriors they had brought, suddenly threw themselves into training with grim intensity.
Changryong Chulgwan. Endure it, the saying went, and you emerge as a dragon — one of the reasons Namgung martial artists were as strong as they were. As if a trial like that would ever be easy.
Every one of the young successors was a martial artist of real caliber. Failure in the Changryong Chulgwan was not a possibility any of them entertained. If they were going to go through with it, they would display their true ability without reservation. They could not afford the humiliation. The prestige of their clans was on the line. The thought of a rumor spreading that their own heir had fallen short of another family's successor was too dreadful to contemplate.
Hwangbo Yong, in particular, clenched his teeth until they ached. If I'm doing this, I have to make it count. Show himself inferior to the other rising talents, and even the competition with his younger siblings back at the main house would become a problem.
It was that same psychology that drove every last one of them to train as if their lives depended on it. Namgung Muyoung and Namgung Seowol were no exception.
"Go ask your father and your uncle."
Sun Wukong flicked his hands at them with a look of pure annoyance, the gesture so dismissive it might have been shooing away a pair of insects. Namgung Muyoung looked stricken. Namgung Seowol, by contrast, didn't seem to notice at all. She simply fixed Sun Wukong with a gaze so bright and unblinking that even the Great Sage himself found it a little much.
Namgung Muyoung bit his lip and pressed the request.
"The elders of the Namgung Clan oversee and prepare the Changryong Chulgwan in its entirety."
"And?"
"If we were to have them review our martial arts and receive their instruction, it might..."
"Look like you'd gotten a sneak preview of the trial and started cramming?"
"Yes. Whereas you, Teacher Sun, are technically a guest of the clan."
"Eh. Feels like not everyone around here still thinks of me that way."
Sun Wukong twirled a strand of hair around his finger.
"Can't you just train on your own like you always do?"
It wasn't as if they were toddlers who'd just learned to walk and needed someone hovering over every step. But Namgung Muyoung shook his head as though that wouldn't do at all.
"The truth is... something has gone hazy. I can no longer see the path ahead."
"Gone hazy? Ah. This is since last time, isn't it?"
"Yes. Ever since I witnessed my father's sword."
Sun Wukong clicked his tongue. The Boundless Azure Sky Sword that Namgung Jinbaek had shown him had settled over the boy like a kind of inner demon.
He smacked his lips, taking in the reluctant face, the weight of obligation sitting on those features, the apology already welling in the eyes of someone who hated to ask. For a moment, someone else's face seemed to flicker over the boy's.
Sun Wukong let out a sigh. Well. Not like I've got anything better to do. He needed to get closer to these two brats anyway.
He clicked his tongue again and looked them over. If Namgung Muyoung had come because he had no other choice, Namgung Seowol had come because she simply...
"I won't lose so easily this time."
...wanted to spar. Sun Wukong gave a wry smile.
One at a time. Focus on one of them.
Poking around trying to figure out who was Sanzang, running his brain in circles — that would only give him a headache. He decided to start with Namgung Muyoung, the one he found most suspicious.
"You. Go practice with that ugly bastard over there."
He pointed. Namgung Seowol's gaze followed his finger. Ojeong, who had been standing off to the side with a vacant look, suddenly wore the expression of a man whose soul had left his body.
"Me?"
"What? Don't wanna?"
"No — never mind whether I want to or not. Where exactly is this ugly bastard?"
"Honestly, you're the only one here who fits."
"...Hmm. I can't exactly argue with that."
Namgung Seowol glared at Sun Wukong. He was unmoved.
"You go work with him first."
"..."
Her cheeks puffed out. A thin slit of eyes burned with pure grievance. Sun Wukong paid it no mind whatsoever. Ojeong, meanwhile, turned a look of genuine injury on him.
"Have I done something wrong?"
"Nope."
"If something about me bothers you, just say so. Why are you trying to kill me with a borrowed knife?"
"Borrowed knife, my ass. You're scared of a kid young enough to be your daughter?"
"That's not..."
Ojeong glanced at Seowol, then leaned in and whispered.
"She's the Sword God's daughter. The Sword God's daughter!"
"Looking at you now, you could actually hold your own pretty well."
There was something pointed in the way Sun Wukong said it. Ojeong flinched.
"Pardon?"
"You're not as thick as I thought, at least. Looks like you actually chewed on that advice Chaegong gave you."
"How did you..."
Just from looking?
Ojeong stared at him, dazed. Sun Wukong waved him off as if answering would be too much trouble. Namgung Seowol withdrew to one side with Ojeong, her face still thunderous with indignation.
Namgung Muyoung offered a rueful smile.
"My cousin can be a little... single-minded."
"Sounds like you, actually."
"Pardon?"
"Once something catches on you, you dig until there's nothing left. That's your nature, isn't it?"
Namgung Muyoung didn't answer. He simply looked at Sun Wukong. They had barely crossed paths, never shared a conversation of any real depth — and yet the man spoke as if he already knew the shape of his temperament. Worse, he was right.
Is his eye for people that sharp? Or am I just that easy to read? His thoughts tangled over themselves.
"Show me."
"Show you... what, exactly?"
"The Boundless Azure Sky Sword. You saw it that day."
"How could I possibly perform it from having merely seen it once?"
Sun Wukong smiled, and there was something knowing in it.
"You sure about that?"
"..."
Namgung Muyoung flinched.
Every path, in the end, ran to the same source. All streams returned to one origin. The martial arts of the Namgung Clan existed for a single purpose: to complete the Sovereign Sword Form. The Boundless Azure Sky Sword was the stage immediately before it. To finish the Namgung curriculum was, in itself, to stand at the threshold of that sword. Even if he fell short of the real thing, he could manage an imitation.
Sun Wukong looked at him as though he already knew all of this. And into the ears of a still-hesitating Namgung Muyoung, his voice landed like a nail.
"...!"
"Hiding it means you don't have any confidence. You don't have any confidence?"
The jab landed squarely on his pride. Color rose in Namgung Muyoung's face. He drew a short breath, then drew his sword.
The air changed.
Motion within stillness. In the unwavering tip of that blade, something was surging — a tide held barely in check. Sun Wukong let out a brief sound of appreciation.
This one isn't to be taken lightly either.
Namgung Seowol's brilliance had simply outshone him. Namgung Muyoung himself was anything but ordinary.
A blue tide danced along the edge of Namgung Muyoung's blade. A single strand of true energy burst from the tip and came pouring toward Sun Wukong in a magnificent rush.
Sun Wukong snapped his body aside like a thunderclap and slipped the energy as if it were nothing. In the same motion he reached out and rapped the boy's elbow.
Thud.
"There's holes in the sky, huh?"
"...!"
Startled, Namgung Muyoung scrambled back and launched a counter at once. Sun Wukong smacked his lips, looking faintly disappointed.
Or is Namgung Jinbaek just a monster?
The difference was stark. Namgung Jinbaek's sword had been the sky itself — an inescapable blue heaven that hung overhead and never lifted, a net of blade-light with no way through. Namgung Muyoung's version, by comparison, was riddled with holes. Sun Wukong struck those openings without mercy. He slipped the incoming blade and thumped the boy in the chest, chopped down on a shoulder, rapped a knee.
"What in the..."
Namgung Muyoung was at a loss. He knew. Of course he knew this was only an imitation of the Boundless Azure Sky Sword. He knew perfectly well that set beside Namgung Jinbaek's, his own was a counterfeit. But the power behind it — that, at least, he had been certain of. It was an imitation built from every martial art he had ever learned.
Power, though, only shocked an opponent if the attack actually landed.
Sun Wukong evaded all of it with movements that looked almost lazy. The Boundless Azure Sky Sword, the technique said to be inescapable for any human under heaven — and Sun Wukong had simply stepped aside. As if he were a being who stood above the sky itself.
The moment that sank in, the strength drained from Namgung Muyoung's fingertips.
Sun Wukong clicked his tongue.
"Well. For something you never properly learned, that was a decent imitation."
He said it lightly. Namgung Muyoung, all the spirit gone out of him, could only stare down at his own sword as if it had personally betrayed him. Something about that deflated look dragged a sigh out of Sun Wukong before he could stop it.
This again...
Sanzang, who could hold himself together through anything — until the moment he was truly cornered, at which point he would crumple and weep. For an instant, that face overlaid the boy's. Sun Wukong had been about to leave it there. Instead, he added one more thing.
"Think hard about the spots I just counterattacked."
"...?"
"Fix just those, and you'll plug the holes in the sky."
Namgung Muyoung's eyes flew wide.
A person's own weaknesses were the hardest thing to see. You had to look from someone else's vantage to find them — and even then, not just anyone could pierce through to every flaw. To read an opponent's weaknesses that completely, you had to stand at a realm far above them.
Sun Wukong was that kind of existence.
Namgung Muyoung realized, all at once, that he had just been given an extraordinary lesson. He surged to his feet and offered a formal martial salute, fist cupped in palm, every line of him precise with respect.
"I am deeply grateful for your instruction."
Sun Wukong smiled, just a little.
"Ah, don't mention it. That's what sparring's for, yeah? Both sides walk away with something."
Namgung Muyoung tilted his head at that. In a gap of ability this overwhelming, what could Sun Wukong possibly have gained? Then he understood — the man was being modest, trying not to make him feel indebted — and his face filled with even deeper admiration.
Sun Wukong waved it off.
Now I've got a much clearer picture.
The Boundless Azure Sky Sword. Namgung Jinbaek's version had been too perfect. Paradoxically, that perfection had made the concept almost impossible to take in. How did drawing a sword produce the sky itself? The structure of it had refused to come into focus.
Namgung Muyoung's Boundless Azure Sky Sword, on the other hand, wasn't the sky at all. It was barely even a loose net. And paradoxically, that was exactly what Sun Wukong had needed. A completed heaven on one side. A sword straining toward heaven on the other. Set them next to each other, and the concept finally landed.
Sun Wukong turned his awareness quietly inward, contemplating his dantian.
The art hummed in answer, a low resonant thrum rising from the dantian as if it had been waiting for this exact understanding.
Now it's time to plant the sky.
A look of deep satisfaction settled at the corner of Sun Wukong's mouth.