Sword Heart, Sword Chiming — The Hand That Holds the Sword
He no longer had the strength left to grip a sword.
And yet, somehow, his beloved blade clung to his palm as if it had fused there—as if that place were rightfully its own, clenched tight and unyielding.
“Haah… haah…”
His body, locked in the opening stance, had no reserve left to hold a posture.
And yet, somehow, his aged frame stood rooted like a thousand-year-old tree sunk deep into the earth, immovable and firm.
“Hoo— hoo—”
His heart, which had been hammering so hard it seemed ready to stop at any moment, now beat with a vigorous strength that felt capable of racing all the way to the horizon.
“Hoooo—”
The qi cavities that had clearly ruptured and twisted were now open as if nothing had ever been wrong—from the fine blood vessels at the tips of his limbs all the way up to the Baihui point at the crown of his head, everything was clear and free. His upper dantian had flung wide, its energy seeming to unite with the very heavens.
“Hoooooo—”
With one or two long breaths, the true qi that had seethed like water boiling in a pot sank as deep and still as the ocean floor.
“Hoooooo—”
With the next long breath, that true qi soared skyward together with his will, climbing a thousand fathoms.
How could one possibly describe that profound and exquisite harmony?
How could one put into words the sensation of glimpsing the truth of all things in the world—not through reason, but through pure intuition that transcended reason itself?
The wall he could never climb no matter how he tried, the wall he could never pierce no matter how hard he struck—it no longer existed anywhere.
What unfolded instead was a cosmos so vast it made the mind reel.
And so, the only thing that moved was Elder Paeng’s wrinkled eyelids, trembling faintly like a young blade of grass heavy with morning dew, as he drowned in deep emotion and enlightenment.
From ancient times, martial artists had called that instant sudden enlightenment—the moment of awakening.
Hundreds of people thronged the grounds, yet not a single mouth opened.
From the green young warriors who had only just taken up the sword upon entering the Luoyang Sword House, to the white-haired old warriors who had spent their entire lives with the blade within its walls; from the scholars who wielded brushes, to the servants doing menial chores, the maids checking ingredients, and even those who had come simply to enjoy the festival mood—no one spoke.
In that wondrous spectacle, what filled every heart was the mind of the sword gripped in Elder Paeng’s hand.
Sword Heart.
Jiiiiing—
In that silence thick with reverence, the only sound that rose was the pure, clear cry of the sword held in Elder Paeng’s hand.
Sword Chiming.
That was why the sword arts of the Luoyang Sword House were called Geomsim Geommyeong—Sword Heart, Sword Chiming.
How, then, did the Luoyang Sword House greet one who had devoted his life to the sword, who had loved the sword his entire life, and who had at last broken through the wall?
Chang—
The first to draw her blade was none other than the Guard Pavilion Master.
She was the aunt of Yeon So-hyeon and Yeon Seo-rin, a woman who had still never fully sorted through her tangled feelings of love and resentment toward her younger brother, the Retired Family Head. Yet she too was a warrior of the Sword House, a martial artist.
With an expression pure of all stray thoughts, filled only with reverence, she raised her sword straight before her face and offered her respect to the warrior who had transcended the wall.
Cha-cha-chang—
Next, Cheonui Mubong Yeon Seo-rin drew the ancient sword she had inherited from her father, the Retired Family Head.
After her came the older warriors, drawing blades worn smooth by years of their own hands.
Following them, the young warriors drew the swords they polished every day and raised them straight.
The maids and servants knelt with solemn gravity; the scholars bowed their heads deeply and placed their hands over their hearts.
It was a gesture that transcended every complicated web of interest within the Sword House, every rigid barrier of status—an expression of respect offered simply as members of the Sword House, as people of the sword.
Even those who never gripped a blade understood it, for they belonged to a clan of the sword: this was reverence for a warrior who, amid agony that tore flesh and scraped bone, had pursued a realm that seemed forever just out of reach, enduring uncountable years with infinite patience.
In that solemn spectacle, even outsiders who knew little of the Sword House’s culture found themselves closing their mouths and offering their respect.
When Elder Paeng slowly opened his eyes, one tear of a thousand emotions still trailing down his cheek, the first thing he saw was the Eldest Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon, smiling.
Paang—
With a crisp snap of air, Yeon So-hyeon flicked his sleeve once in a perfectly measured motion, brushing away dust and grit. Then, with boundless courtesy, he brought his hands together in formal salute.
“It was a fine spar.”
At those words, the dam broke. Tears poured from Elder Paeng’s eyes.
He did not even wipe them away. With both hands trembling at last, he gathered them and offered the Eldest Young Master the most respectful bow he could manage.
“…I have learned greatly.”
In ordinary times, those would have been nothing more than the conventional greetings exchanged at the end of a spar. In this moment, however, they struck deep into the chest of every person watching.
“Congratulations, Elder Paeng.”
The Eldest Young Master’s brief, gently seeping words of congratulations made Elder Paeng’s tears fall in thick drops as he bowed his head low.
“Thank you! Eldest Young Master!”
Then, without delay, he dropped to one knee right there on the ground and held out the hilt of his beloved sword—worn by a lifetime of use—toward Yeon So-hyeon.
“Now…!”
“My sword is the Eldest Young Master’s…!”
To take the sword as one’s teacher. To offer up one’s sword.
In this Sword House, what sight could be more romantic than that?
A thunderous roar of cheers and applause erupted from the crowd.
Luoyang Sword House. A certain mansion.
The evening meal of the Hebei faction elders.
Clang.
A teacup struck the floor and shattered with a loud crash.
Several elders sat at the table together, yet not one of them paid the broken cup the slightest attention.
“…What did you just say?”
The fellow elder who had just burst in with the news shouted again, making no effort to hide his bewilderment.
“Our faction’s leader, Elder Paeng, offered his sword to the Eldest Young Master!”
To those who had stood at the scene, it had been the living embodiment of the Sword House’s oldest romance.
“What?!”
“What in the world are you talking about all of a sudden?!”
To these men living in the hard light of reality, the news crashed down like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
“Why would Elder Paeng do that?!”
“How…?!”
“I’m not certain of the details, but from what I heard—”
The elder who had brought the news answered, his face pale as death.
“Elder Paeng received instruction in his spar with the Eldest Young Master, and right there on the spot he broke through the wall!”
For a moment, silence thick with doubt filled the room.
“…He broke through the wall?”
“…From instruction?”
One after another, the elders’ mouths spilled questions, their expressions dazed.
“…In a single spar?”
After that last question, no one could find words for a time.
“That’s… absurd…”
At last one elder let out a dry laugh and waved his hand.
“You must have picked up some baseless rumor somewhere.”
Another elder dropped back into his seat with a laugh of his own.
“Honestly. I never took you for the type to tell such empty jokes.”
The others plopped back down as well, shaking their heads.
“…Exactly.”
“Come now. At least say something that makes sense.”
“You bring that kind of nonsense as ‘intelligence’ and turn the whole table upside down?”
Some grew angry.
“If you arrive late, you ought to apologize quietly and sit down…!”
Yet their reaction was exactly what he had expected. Even under the cascade of criticism, the elder who had brought the news pressed on stubbornly.
“…Right now the War Department of the main house is in complete uproar.”
“Warriors of the War Department—old and young alike—are all racing toward Wongak-jeong as we speak!”
The faces of the elders who had been trying to dismiss it as a joke stiffened again.
“…Those heavy-assed fellows actually moved?”
The messenger elder thumped his own chest in frustration.
“What’s more, there is word that even the warriors of Geomlim are gathering at Wongak-jeong!”
“Geomlim…?!”
Geomlim—Sword Forest.
It was an unofficial gathering within the Sword House, a band of sword ghosts who lived and died by the blade, assembled without regard for formal affiliation or origin.
“Those madmen are heading for Wongak-jeong?”
“What on earth…?”
The elders’ faces went blank with shock.
“And that isn’t even the whole of it!”
The messenger elder shouted on without drawing breath.
“Even the elders of the New Martial Alliance on the Third Young Master’s side have set out to visit Wongak-jeong!”
The New Martial Alliance was the name given to the coalition of former Murim Alliance sects and martial houses that had gathered around the Third Young Master.
“Those are the Third Young Master’s people…”
“And they’re heading to the Eldest Young Master’s celebratory banquet?”
“They’ll find themselves in a very awkward position within their own faction…”
Bang!
“That isn’t the problem right now!”
The messenger elder slammed his hand down on the great round dining table.
“The Eldest Young Master, in a single spar, pushed an old man long past his physical prime past the wall!”
He roared as if his throat would tear.
Only then did the elders’ faces, still struggling to accept news so outrageous, change color completely.
“……!”
That very afternoon, when the Eldest Young Master had suddenly revealed his own faction and when he had split the sky itself with the single sword of the Retired Family Head, they had believed there was nothing left that day that could astonish them on his account.
Yet the Eldest Young Master, as if mocking them, had calmly gone and done something that defied all imagination.
“This situation has nothing to do with factions or cliques!”
the messenger elder cried.
“This is a major incident that could uproot the entire political landscape of the Sword House from its foundations!”
One of the mid-ranking elders shot to his feet.
“This is no time to sit here…!”
His chair toppled backward; the dishes in front of him spilled across the table. No one cared. Everyone else was already surging up from their seats as well.
“This is no time to sit here!”
“We must go to Wongak-jeong at once…!”
Before the main gate of Wongak-jeong, the Eldest Young Master Yeon So-hyeon called out to them all.
“The banquet is only just beginning!”
A deep smile sat on his face.
“Everyone—enjoy the festival!”
The moment the words left his lips, cheers rose, and fireworks launched by the people of Wongak-jeong burst with thunderous booms across the darkening sky.