Disciplining the Spoiled Genius
Part Four
"If the Absolute One wishes to take him… we would welcome it, if anything."
Worry sat heavy on Jegal Myeong's face. Because of Jegal Seo-wol, the Jegal Clan's standing was currently plummeting into the dirt. Day after day the boy caused trouble, guzzled liquor, and harassed women. If Jegal Seo-wol had been an ordinary disciple rather than the clan head's own son, they would not have stopped at expelling him — they would have killed him outright. And yet, because he was a son, they could not bring themselves to do even that.
"When he was young, he was so brilliant and mature…"
"Yes. He was."
At Doha's words, Jegal Myeong nodded. As a child, Seo-wol had truly been more impressive than anyone else in the world. They had believed that, given time, he would rise to become the greatest under heaven and lift the Jegal Clan to even greater heights. But as the years passed, every hope the clan had pinned on him was crushed without mercy.
No — to be precise, his martial arts, formations, and tactics remained among the finest in all of Moorim, and his progress was astonishingly fast. It was everything else — his character — that began to rot.
"His martial prowess is so overwhelming that no one in the clan can say a word against him."
If anyone scolded him or said something he did not want to hear, a fist came flying immediately. Senior disciples, junior disciples — it made no difference. He simply threw the first punch. Not long ago, he had even beaten an elder half to death.
"Hmm."
Doha nodded as he listened. He had more or less expected as much, but hearing it laid out, he understood exactly how the boy had ended up this way.
"The reason Jegal Seo-wol turned out like that is your fault — and the rest of the household's."
"…"
Jegal Myeong closed his mouth. He did not want to admit it, but the words were true.
"The clan expected so much of him that you spoiled him rotten, didn't you?"
"…Yes. We regret it now."
Wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear, Jegal Myeong managed a stiff nod. Just as the Absolute One said, no one had ever corrected Jegal Seo-wol. They had made sure of it. Fearing the boy might take offense, they had even ordered the elders and disciples not to scold him.
"You idiot. And you call yourself a parent?"
At Doha's curse, Jegal Myeong's head bowed even lower.
"You made him into a delinquent. And now you come crawling with regrets?"
It was absurd. No matter how brilliant and composed a child might seem, he was still a child. Leaving a boy whose mind was still developing completely unsupervised — it was like taking your hands off the wheel of a car just as it started to pick up speed.
"As a martial artist, you're worthy of respect. As a father, you're an absolute disaster."
Even with Jegal Myeong standing right in front of him, Doha tore into him without restraint. Beating a child, screaming at him, crushing him under tyranny — those were not the only forms of abuse. Neglecting a child so thoroughly that he could not find the right path was abuse as well.
"Part of me wants to just walk away and leave you all to suffer…"
But he had come here to recruit Jegal Seo-wol. Character problems aside, finding talent of Seo-wol's caliber was no easy task. And if a genius like him were left alone, he might well end up dying in some ditch before long. Drunk on his own power, if he ever picked a fight with a master from the Demonic Cult or the Blood Cult, he would not get a lesson — he would simply die on the spot.
And a clean death would be the lucky outcome…
The Blood Cult would almost certainly turn Jegal Seo-wol into a jiangshi.
Doha rose from his seat.
"Where is he?"
Time to find the arrogant little delinquent genius.
Thud!
"Gahk!"
A monk in plain robes went tumbling across the ground, covered in blood.
"What the hell was that? You came at me with a lecture like you were somebody, and you're just a damn retard?"
Bare from the waist up, Jegal Seo-wol rested his sword on his shoulder and dug a finger into his nose. He had been quietly drinking by the lakeside when some bald monk had barged over out of nowhere and started preaching at him.
"Y-your words go too far!"
The monk staggered to his feet and glared at Jegal Seo-wol. This lakeshore was frequented by children and women. And yet here was a man lying sprawled out half-naked, drinking. And not just any man — the infamous Jegal Seo-wol. The monk had only asked him to put a shirt on, for the sake of the Jegal Clan's reputation.
"Have you no shame before your clan?!"
"Ha, this little bastard… I ought to cut out that tongue of yours and toss it in the lake."
"Donor, that conduct of yours will bring great calamity upon you."
"Wow, this isn't a bald monk — this is a Taoist. Hey, go join the Wudang Sect."
Sneering, Jegal Seo-wol drew his sword and stepped forward. Until now he had only beaten the man with the scabbard. Now he intended to cut out his tongue.
"Amitabha…"
"Spare me the holy crap."
Slash!
With a snort, Jegal Seo-wol thrust his blade in a flash.
Catch.
"You're even more of a psycho than I thought. You were actually going to cut out a monk's tongue?"
In an instant, Doha closed the distance and pinched the tip of the sword between two fingers. That killing intent a moment ago had been entirely genuine. Had the blow landed, Shaolin Temple would have erupted in fury.
"Hey, baldy."
"B-baldy… are you addressing me?"
"Is there another monk around here? Stop getting yourself beaten up for nothing and go get treated. I'll handle things here."
"…"
The monk looked from Doha to Jegal Seo-wol. The boy's face was a bizarre mix of strain — still trying to wrench his sword free — and pure shock.
"Thank you for just now."
"Eh, no need for thanks."
In the end, the monk offered a brief bow and withdrew. The mighty Jegal Seo-wol, and this man had stopped his sword with bare fingers.
An extraordinary master. I don't know who he is, but leaving this to him should be more than enough.
Flick.
Crash!
The moment Doha released the blade, Jegal Seo-wol went sprawling across the ground in an undignified heap.
"You… who the hell are you, you bastard?!"
Using the momentum of the roll, Seo-wol sprang back to his feet and spat curses at Doha. How had this man caught his sword with nothing but fingers? Sorcery? No — sorcery of any kind was useless against him.
"Hey, how did you get so big?"
"What the hell kind of nonsense is that?!"
"Hah, this kid… does that mouth of his ever shut?"
Doha scratched his head. He was currently using illusion magic to appear as a man in his sixties. And this boy was talking to an elder like that. He had wanted to test the boy's temperament — but clearly a light touch was not going to cut it.
"Well then… since it's our first meeting, let's start light. Nice and light."
"Start what—"
Whoosh!
Crack!
Closing the distance in a single step with Noeryeongsinbo, Doha slapped Jegal Seo-wol across the face.
Seo-wol skipped across the surface of the lake like a stone on water — skip, skip, skip — before finally plunging deep into the middle of the water with a heavy splash.
"Good heavens…"
Dokgo Man, who had been watching quietly, shook his head. He had slapped a man hard enough to send him flying.
"Why do you keep following me around?"
Doha looked at Dokgo Man and sighed. The man had been trailing him ever since they left the Jegal Clan.
"I thought the Absolute One might have some task for me, so I tagged along."
"Suddenly with the honorifics?"
"Well, you are my elder, after all."
At the inn he had not known the man's true identity. Now he did. One did not keep speaking casually to the Absolute One who had saved the world.
"Hmm… there is something you can do for me."
"Oh! Just give the word."
"Go to the Jegal Clan and tell them I'm taking Jegal Seo-wol with me."
"Wasn't that the plan from the start?"
"That was about recruiting him. Right now I'm going to beat the hell out of him."
Whoosh!
With that, Doha shot out over the center of the lake and hauled the submerged Jegal Seo-wol out of the water.
"This kid faints from a single slap to the face?"
Seizing the floating Seo-wol by the scruff of the neck, Doha took off at high speed.
Whoosh.
Thud.
Deep in the mountains, far from any path where people might wander, Doha set Jegal Seo-wol down beneath a tree.
"There's nowhere to run around here. So how about you drop the act and get up?"
"…"
As Doha settled onto a rock and spoke those quiet words, Jegal Seo-wol — eyes still closed — slowly rose to his feet.
"So you knew I was awake."
How? His breathing, his energy, even his mannerisms — he had mimicked an unconscious person perfectly. Even a Divine Physician would have diagnosed him as unconscious. And yet the man before him had known he was awake. He had genuinely blacked out from the first blow, but the moment Doha pulled him from the water, he had come to his senses.
"Just what are you? I know every master worth knowing, and I've never seen the likes of you."
Jegal Seo-wol drew his sword.
"Oh? One slap knocks you out, and you still want to pick a fight."
"I only fainted because I got hit while my guard was down. In a real fight, you're no match for me."
"You do know that in Moorim, a single moment of carelessness decides life and death?"
"And plenty of people die lounging around like you, too."
Shing!
Slash!
Jegal Seo-wol's sword flashed, and a blade of sword energy tore through the air. Playing dead had been a deliberate choice — so he could tear this man apart at his leisure. He could do as he pleased, but his home territory was Hubei Province. Here, there was no one. He could butcher the man in front of him as savagely as he liked, and it would not matter.
Doha tilted his head slightly and let the sword energy whistle past.
"Try aiming better."
The energy contained in the blade was formidable, but since the Jegal Clan was not a sword-focused sect, Seo-wol's technique still looked a little rough around the edges.
"You think I missed? That was a warning to get off that rock."
"How considerate of you."
Doha laughed. The boy clearly knew Doha was the stronger fighter, and yet he kept putting on airs right to the end.
"Hmm… something suitable…"
Rising from the rock, Doha scanned the surroundings. Using Un-jeop-bi-jang to reform Jegal Seo-wol would be a waste. He needed something more appropriate.
"Here we go."
He plucked a rotting branch from the undergrowth. The length and thickness were about right, though the wood was so decayed it would crumble easily. That did not matter. He could simply reinforce it with energy.
"Heh. Look at him, copying something he saw somewhere."
Jegal Seo-wol sneered at Doha's preparations. Was he seriously planning to beat him with that?
"Let's start with a light two hours of getting hit. We'll fix that insolent mouth of yours first."
Whoosh!
Stripping the twigs to fashion a decent club, Doha closed the gap in an instant with Noeryeongsinbo. But Jegal Seo-wol had been waiting for exactly that moment. He had known Doha was stronger — and he had kept talking trash for a reason.
I don't only have a sword.
Whoosh!
Casually deflecting the branch, Seo-wol wove his energy into a formation. More precisely, not a standard Qimen Formation, but Qimen Dunjia — a kind of illusion art. Anyone who did not know the method of breaking it would never escape.
In a single breath the surrounding landscape warped and shifted, and Seo-wol's sword flashed.
He's panicking because the me in front of him just vanished.
A vicious smile on his lips, Jegal Seo-wol drove his blade toward Doha's abdomen.
In that instant—
Catch.
Crack-crack-crack!
Doha seized the sword, and the transformed scenery shattered like glass, snapping back to reality.
"I let you try it just to see what you were so cocky about. And it was just this?"
"H-how…"
"Tsk tsk. Your arrogance pierces the heavens. Did you really think everything would go your way?"
Clicking his tongue, Doha brought the club down on Jegal Seo-wol's head.
Thwack.