Arrogance and Sloth (1)
The day marked ten days since the Yongbong Gathering had ended.
Even after returning from his travels, Seomun Hwan had spent his days rolling around in his room as usual. But for the past several days, he had been busily moving about an unused pavilion tucked away in a corner of the estate.
He spent the entire day hammering and modifying the building, then gathered every martial artist in the clan.
Among them was his second brother, Seomun Jang-cheon.
“What’s the reason for summoning everyone who has learned martial arts?”
This was his youngest brother, someone he had spent nearly his entire life with. He thought he knew every single one of his habits and even the innermost thoughts behind them, yet lately the boy felt strangely unfamiliar.
The lazy bum he had once worried might never even get married had turned out to be the successor of the legendary Phantom Demon from the Kunlun Sect. On top of that, he had participated in the Yongbong Gathering—something Jang-cheon himself could only dream of—as a proud member.
These days, Jang-cheon found himself speaking more carefully around him.
“Why did you suddenly fix this place up like this?”
The abandoned pavilion that had been left to rot in a corner of the estate had been neatly refurbished in just a few days. Inside, unfamiliar structures now stood.
Jang-cheon tilted his head and peered deeper inside. Complex curves drawn across the walls. Intricate patterns engraved into the floor. The design looked far too alien to be intended for martial training.
Yet the sight of Seomun Hwan standing calmly in the center somehow looked perfectly natural.
“What exactly… are you trying to do with this?”
“I saw something really interesting at the Yongbong Gathering. It looked useful, so I decided to make one here too.”
“The Yongbong Gathering?”
Seomun Jang-cheon, who had been watching with half skepticism, showed clear interest at the mention of the gathering.
“It’s called the Cheonlyun-ogungjin. Only those who pass this formation are recognized as true members of the Yongbong Gathering.”
“Really? There’s something like that?”
The Cheonlyun-ogungjin consisted of five stages that tested strength, speed, endurance, courage, and self-control.
Seomun Hwan had boldly discarded everything else and left only the fourth stage—the trial that forced one to confront the fear of death.
“Whoever made it had a good idea. The other things can be trained through regular practice, but death is something you can’t experience, right?”
“Death… you say?”
“Through the illusions of the formation, you can experience all kinds of deaths.”
“You built something like that in just a few days? Is that even possible?”
“Well, it wasn’t that hard for me.”
The way he said it so casually made Seomun Jang-cheon unconsciously think, Is that so?
But of course, simply experiencing it once did not make replicating the exact same formation anywhere close to possible. Even if someone handed him the formation manual, a complex and profound array like the Cheonlyun-ogungjin would normally take several years of research and installation alone.
Besides, this wasn’t even the original Cheonlyun-ogungjin.
Although he had only borrowed the fourth stage, he had designed it to let people experience death in far more varied situations. Originally, overcoming ten deaths would allow one to pass the fourth stage, but…
“This pavilion contains a total of fifty steps. If you climb them all, it means you can stand shoulder to shoulder with the members of the Yongbong Gathering.”
At those words, the martial artists—including Seomun Jang-cheon—began to stir.
“Is that true?”
“I’m telling you it is. Have you only ever been fooled in life?”
Seomun Hwan raised his head and shouted.
“Is there anyone willing to test it out? If you climb just three steps, I’ll reward you with five gold coins.”
Five gold coins was an enormous sum, equivalent to five years of salary for an average escort.
It was only natural that the surroundings grew noisy.
At that moment, someone stepped boldly forward from the crowd.
“Young Master, I will give it a try.”
It was Han Sang-rok, a member of the Seomun Merchant Group’s guard unit. Though only twenty-eight, he had already reached the level of a first-class expert.
His build was solid, and his eyes gleamed with a mixture of arrogance and ambition.
He often said things like this:
If I had been born into another prestigious family, I would already be ruling the murim.
If only my family had supported me, I would be part of the core of the Murim Alliance by now.
He had absolute confidence in his own ability.
And today, he believed the chance to prove himself had finally arrived.
“Good.”
Seomun Hwan nodded lightly and pointed at the stairs.
“The height of your martial arts isn’t what matters here. This trial requires more than anything else a strong will and proper mindset. If your heart is firm, you should have no trouble.”
“Understood.”
Han Sang-rok walked confidently toward the stairs under the gaze of the surrounding martial artists.
The steps themselves looked ordinary, though they were covered in mysterious, softly glowing patterns.
Before stepping on them, Han Sang-rok took a deep breath.
It’s only three steps up and down. This should be as easy as eating cold porridge.
He stepped forward with full confidence.
Thud!
That was the moment.
“Guhk!”
The instant his foot touched the first step, his body shot upward as if struck by lightning. His eyes rolled back, and his jaw began to tremble violently.
“Ugh! Urk! Gahk!”
Strange noises poured from Han Sang-rok’s mouth. His arms hung limp as if paralyzed, and his eyes lost focus. His body collapsed on the spot…
Thump!
He fell to the floor and began foaming at the mouth.
“S-Sang-rok?!”
Seomun Jang-cheon rushed over with a flustered expression and flipped him onto his back. The face that was revealed was completely frozen in terror.
Cold sweat poured down his body. He was utterly exhausted, his mind still trapped within the throes of death. And then… his pants began to grow wet.
“……Did he… piss himself?”
“Eek! For real?!”
A heavy silence fell in an instant.
The eyes of the watching martial artists filled with fear and bewilderment. Just moments ago the area had been filled with voices volunteering to try. Now everyone swallowed hard and could only stare at their own feet.
Seomun Hwan slowly walked down from the stairs and spoke.
“Knowing about death with your head and experiencing it with your body are completely different things.”
When he lifted his head and scanned the crowd, those whose eyes met his quickly looked down.
“This isn’t a simple illusion. It’s a structure that shows real death with sensations and situations identical to reality.”
Someone muttered.
“That was only the first step. Just the first step…”
Seomun Hwan grinned.
“That’s right. It’s only the first stage.”
He pointed at the stairs with his finger.
“There are fifty steps in total. One death per step. They grow stronger and deeper as you climb.”
As everyone’s expressions hardened, Seomun Hwan added the decisive words.
“If you pass just ten steps, I will give a reward. I will appoint you as captain of the Seomun Clan’s guard unit, double your salary, and guarantee you a private residence and special training support.”
Instantly, the eyes of the martial artists—who had been holding their breath—changed.
“Ten… only ten steps.”
“That seems worth trying, doesn’t it…?”
“That guy was just too weak. I’m different.”
Seomun Hwan smiled lightly, as if he had been waiting for exactly this reaction.
Good. I’ve thrown out the bait, so now bite.
The corners of his mouth slowly rose again.
But Seomun Jang-cheon still looked doubtful. After staring at the collapsed Han Sang-rok for a moment, he turned his gaze to Seomun Hwan.
“Hwan-ah. Can a person really pass this thing?”
His voice was filled with disbelief, caution, and an inexplicable fear.
As expected from someone from a merchant family—always so suspicious.
“Brother. Watch carefully.”
Seomun Hwan slowly walked toward the stairs.
The martial artists began to stir again. Seomun Jang-cheon reflexively tried to step forward but stopped himself.
Without any preparation, Seomun Hwan placed his foot on the first step.
There was no tension in his body, and his breathing remained perfectly calm.
Second step. Third. Fourth…
He climbed the stairs as leisurely and relaxed as if taking a casual stroll. He did not pause even once at any of the stages where one was supposed to face the fear of death.
Instead of fear, his eyes held only a dull boredom.
Seomun Jang-cheon muttered in disbelief.
“……How is this possible.”
Seomun Hwan finally reached the top of the fiftieth step. He paused there for a moment and looked back.
His gaze slowly swept across everyone below.
They were all staring at him as if they had forgotten how to breathe.
“Did it really look that scary?”
With a calm stride, he descended the stairs again between the stunned martial artists and stepped onto the floor.
“Brother.”
Seomun Hwan looked quietly at Seomun Jang-cheon and said,
“If you’re going to be the one responsible for our family, you should at least climb thirty steps.”
“……Thirty?”
“That’s the baseline for becoming a pillar of the Seomun Clan.”
Seomun Hwan turned his gaze to those around him and added,
“And the higher you climb, the more your ability will change. Every time you overcome fear, both your body and mind that endured it will reach an entirely different level.”
At those words, Seomun Jang-cheon’s expression hardened.
While Hwan is soaring into the sky, am I just watching from behind?
All his life he had believed he needed to lead his youngest brother. But now it was the opposite.
While his youngest brother tore through the heavens and rose, he felt like he was merely clinging to his ankle.
Seomun Jang-cheon clenched his teeth and raised his head.
“……I will definitely accomplish it.”
His voice carried no tremor—only strength.
“I will catch up to you. The one who will help Father protect this family is still… me.”
His eyes burned with determination and fierce resolve.
This is the kind of person who should be entrusted with the family.
“Good. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
The two brothers looked at each other once more. This time, not as older and younger brother, but as the two people who would lead the Seomun Clan.
Several months passed, and the year changed.
Seomun Hwan was now nineteen, but his lazy nature had not changed in the slightest.
It was the time of day when the midday sunlight slanted across the roof of the estate.
As always, Seomun Hwan lay half-sprawled on a wooden bench, using his arm as a pillow.
The only difference from before was that Jegal So-dam was now nearby.
Seomun Hwan had personally taken charge of Jegal So-dam’s education once the child proved useful.
“So-dam, you know how to play baduk, right?”
Jegal So-dam blinked at the somewhat random question.
“A little.”
“Then you’ll understand. Cutting off paths, opening paths, protecting the palace. Military strategy works the same way.”
Seomun Hwan spoke indifferently.
“In gimunjin, the most important thing isn’t the shape but the flow. You’re not just arranging a formation—you’re guiding the flow. You have to create a living board.”
Jegal So-dam frantically wrote everything down with a brush, afraid of missing even a single word. But it was difficult to keep up.
“U-um, by flow… what exactly do you mean?”
Seomun Hwan yawned with one eye closed.
“Gimunjin is fundamentally the interaction between the Five Elements, the Eight Gates, and the forces of heaven and earth. But that’s just the outer shell. The real thing is laying down paths that move people’s hearts. A proper formation must draw in even the opponent’s subconscious.”
At those words, Jegal So-dam stopped writing and stared blankly.
Does that even make sense?
Even in the Jegal Clan’s inherited teachings, there had been no such interpretation. To be precise, it was an area they had not yet reached.
How could he speak so casually about a realm that even the ancestors of the Jegal Clan could never have imagined?
“Then what about military strategy and martial arts?”
“Military strategy is a miniature of operation, and martial arts is an expansion of will. That’s why the higher the expert, the more they learn defense before offense.”
“……”
“So, you already know how to create formations, right? But you probably couldn’t use them on a real battlefield.”
Jegal So-dam’s eyes widened.
“Th-that’s true.”
“Thanks to the Cheontongan, your ability to analyze and dismantle is even better than mine. But what’s truly important is design, not disassembly.”
At that single sentence, Jegal So-dam drew in a sharp breath.
With the Cheontongan, he had always excelled at piercing through the fragments of martial arts. But he had never possessed the vision to design the whole.
That was the piece he currently lacked the most.
Seomun Hwan yawned again and scratched his back.
“Since you’ve seen all the pictures, it’s time to pick up the brush. And if you want to leave something behind in this world, you must be able to draw the shape even with your eyes closed.”
Though the words sounded casual, their depth was one or two levels beyond even the teachings of the Jegal Clan.
Jegal So-dam finally realized it.
He’s not speaking like someone who read the books. He’s speaking like the person who wrote them. In other words…
There was a very fitting word for it.
The realm of a great master. Like Bodhidharma or Zhang Sanfeng.
An overwhelming sense of awe that made it hard to breathe. The realization that he was currently standing beside the most extraordinary person of this era.
Feeling the tip of his brush tremble slightly, Jegal So-dam quietly began taking notes again.
Watching him, Seomun Hwan smiled faintly.
As expected, teaching him is actually fun.
Jegal So-dam was a genius who understood ten things after being taught one. It wasn’t just the Cheontongan—he seemed to have inherited a strong share of Zhuge Liang’s blood.
If he had devoted himself to something instead of wandering the marketplace, he would have already become a master in some field.
Unfortunately, it was too late for him to begin martial arts, but he showed incredible talent for gimunjin and strategy.
Since he absorbed everything so quickly, teaching him brought genuine joy.
“Alright, from now on there are three things you must consider when designing a formation…”
In the middle of speaking, Seomun Hwan narrowed his eyes.
His gaze, which had been lying down, turned toward the sky.
Though it looked as if he were staring into empty space, his eyes had already caught a foreign current.
And then…
Cawwww!!
A dark-blue crow came flying in.
Flap flap!
After making a wide circle in the air, the crow gently landed on Seomun Hwan’s wrist.
A luxurious red silk pouch containing a letter was tied to the crow’s leg.
It was the mark of the Hao Sect.
“Already time for another letter?”
The Hao Sect had been sending information through crows. If there was special news, they sent it immediately. Even if there wasn’t, they sent regular updates.
“What happened this time?”
Seomun Hwan immediately untied the letter and read it.
“Huh?”
The contents were unexpectedly absurd.
Two days ago, a merchant caravan had departed for Guizhou Province. Along their route was a place called Gwilyeongsan—Ghost Spirit Mountain—which was shrouded in thick fog all year round.
It was a notoriously rugged mountain, long rumored to be haunted by ghosts.
But recently, real ghosts were said to be appearing and abducting people nearby.
The problem was that the person in charge of this caravan was his father, Seomun Dam.
It could have been dismissed as mere nonsense, but Seomun Hwan thought differently.
The specific details delivered by the Hao Sect felt all too familiar.
“This… bears the traces of a yokai.”