A Blade for the Sword Dragon
The true staying power of the Nine Great Sects is built upon two pillars: the heavyweight elders of the age, sect leaders included, and the reclusive masters who have withdrawn from the front lines to idle away their days like immortals.
Those secluded masters, said to be merely playing at transcendence, in truth stand at the very threshold of the immortal realm—which means that measuring the Nine Great Sects' full majesty in today's murim is a task all but impossible.
Judged by that standard, my own habit of gauging the sects' decline from the results of the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly must be the mistaken view, and Dancheon Hak's praise of their grandeur the correct one.
It is not that I wish for the Nine Great Sects to wither, either.
Still, for one who lived through the Great War of Righteousness and Evil and returned, the honest truth is that I found it difficult to regard the sects' hidden masters with any warmth.
"Got nothing going on in that head of yours, boy?"
"About what, Elder?"
"The Sinjin Gyoryuhoe."
"Hmm."
Measured against the Dancheon Myeong of today, who had attained Five Energies Converged at the Origin, Myeong-gae of the past fell short—but he was a warrior lacking in nothing all the same. At twenty-three he had already risen to the post of Buntaeju in the Beggars' Gang, and he had long since set foot in the Peak Realm. The Dragon and Phoenix Assembly, regarded as a pillar of the murim's rising generation, required its entrants to reach the Peak Realm before the age of fifteen—meaning he cleared the requirement with room to spare. And he carried the backing of the Beggars' Gang besides, a power rivaling the Nine Great Sects themselves.
"If you wanted it, I could pull a few strings and get you a seat at the Sinjin Gyoryuhoe."
Chwipung-gae did nothing but scuffle and grumble whenever we met, yet I knew full well that he cherished me.
"I'm all right, Elder."
"Hmph. If you say so."
At the time I was a man stretched thin just laying the groundwork for my regression, so attending was the last thing on my mind.
"Still, why do they hold this Sinjin Gyoryuhoe at all?"
Not that a lack of intention kept my curiosity from stirring.
"A sect's strength ought to come from its active warriors, no? Yet look at the Nine Great Sects—more and more, they lean on their retired masters. Am I wrong?"
"Why is that?"
"Because they hole up in the mountains doing nothing but grinding away at their martial arts."
"Hmm."
"Still, those Nine Sects bastards aren't utter blockheads, so they put on things like the Sinjin Gyoryuhoe to broaden the youngsters' horizons."
"I see."
When it came to passing judgment on the Nine Great Sects, people generally guarded their tongues—but Elder Chwipung-gae of the Beggars' Gang held nothing back.
"Come to think of it, there's no real need for you to attend."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I'll drill you harder than any gathering ever could. Nothing beats real combat, no?"
……
Such, then, was Chwipung-gae's assessment of the Sinjin Gyoryuhoe. His insight and experience were truly profound, and his words were not likely to be wrong.
"Elder Brother, are your preparations in order?"
"Hmph. Is that even worth asking?"
Dancheon Hak and I had both received invitations to the Sinjin Gyoryuhoe from Wudang. Given the convention's purpose, it was inevitable that the rising stars who had seized the titles of Dragon and Phoenix would sit at the top of the invitation list.
"Mine came as well."
Brother Chun-baek waved his letter too.
"Even if this lord failed to claim the Dragon's title, my martial prowess and renown make an invitation only natural. Those Wudang fools have eyes in their heads, after all."
It was a markedly different attitude from the one he showed me—no, a great deal different. It sat none too ill with me, though, for I knew my elder brother's temperament and true heart from the start, and because his respect for my friend Chun-baek was freely given. And was not my brother's shrewdness in handling people—fitting for a man who would one day lead the Dancheon Clan—yet another reason to feel hopeful for the family's future?
In any case……
My brother Dancheon Hak had a point. Setting me aside, Dancheon Hak was the one who had traded martial arts with Brother Chun-baek more than anyone else. Two warriors of similar age who had crossed the threshold of the Harmony Realm around the same time were bound to recognize each other and compete.
The martial fame Brother Chun-baek had already spread through the murim was such that placing the Dragon's title beneath it would have been no stretch at all.
"You. Will you attend?"
My brother asked me. As if his curiosity had been stirred, Brother Chun-baek's gaze turned toward me as well.
Judging by my natural temperament, the right choice would have been to lean toward declining. Time was scarce enough for my goal of averting the Great War of Righteousness and Evil; I had no leisure to go about trading courtesies with rising masters.
And yet……
"I must attend."
I would attend the Sinjin Gyoryuhoe hosted by Wudang. For there lay the chance to claim Wudang's secret treasure, the Taecheong-dan—the Supreme Clarity Elixir.
Late that night, I went to find my brother Dancheon Hak. Though it was him I sought, my steps led not to his quarters but to the training grounds. The sun had long since set, yet I was certain Dancheon Hak would be at the training grounds rather than abed. It was not intuition, I should say, but an objective fact proven by example after example accumulated over time.
Hwoong— Pak! Shik—!
There stood a warrior dancing his sword forms, beads of sweat scattering and catching the moonlight. Even to my eyes—trained through the brutal drills under Uncle Yeo-baek to master the Dancheon Sword Formula—the art unfolding before me was all but complete, without a fistful's worth of flaw.
Hwoong—!
I could tell how earnest my brother's training was. For he was not merely swinging his sword as he executed the Dancheon Sword Formula. Dancheon Hak's swordsmanship was so supremely refined that I could see, vivid and clear, the mental image he was painting.
Shik! Before Dancheon Hak, mid-form, stood Brother Chun-baek.
Tat! My brother waged a truly ferocious battle against the envisioned Chun-baek. Image or no, he was not driven back by Chun-baek's sword—I could hardly deny his achievement.
After a fierce struggle of a full quarter of an hour—
Hah—
As he caught his breath and took up his sword anew, the image of Uncle Yeo-baek now stood before my brother. One battle after another. His visualization training closely resembled what I had been doing of late.
The duel against Uncle Yeo-baek's image did not become the ferocious contest the one with Chun-baek's image had been.
"Kgh."
Uncle Yeo-baek's uncanny sense of distance, severing his forms again and again before they could complete, still seemed to elude him. It was surely my brother's own mental image, and yet I could almost see Uncle Yeo-baek's signature expression—that maddening smile as he cut the sequences short.
"……Tch."
Seeing his disadvantage reflected faithfully even in a training of the mind, his practice must have been little different from real combat.
Hah, hah. Even so, my brother managed to endure a full quarter of an hour against Uncle Yeo-baek's image. And once more, a new image took shape before him: the head of the Dancheon Clan—our father, Dancheon Gang.
A fierce exchange of blows followed……
"Kgh."
Dancheon Hak dropped to one knee. He could not hold out even half as long before our father's image faded away. From what I could judge, it was the moment right after the imagined Dancheon Gang had run my brother through the heart. Still, he had traded over a hundred exchanges—even if only against an image—with our father, whose name stood among the Hundred Greatest Masters Under Heaven; that was hardly grounds to dismiss his achievement.
Down on one knee, Dancheon Hak rose to his feet once more.
Grrk— He gripped his hilt so hard the sound was audible, and before him the next imagined foe began to take shape.
Hm. The final opponent he conjured was, it seemed, me. Not wishing to disturb his training, I had smothered my presence and chosen to watch. Secretly observing another's training is a breach of courtesy, but we had long since trained in each other's company enough that it posed no problem.
Shreeung— tap. Only after swinging his sword at full power for well over an hour did my brother lower his blade.
"Elder Brother."
Only then did I call out to him.
He flinched. As if only now noticing my presence, Dancheon Hak started slightly.
"Wh-what are you—?"
"What are you doing out here?"
"Just taking a stroll. Sleep wouldn't come."
"Is that so?"
Without so much as wiping his sweat, Dancheon Hak answered with perfect composure. For a warrior, honing one's art through ceaseless refinement is more than enough to boast of—but knowing my brother wished to keep it to himself, the right thing was to play along.
"And what business brings you here of all places?"
The training grounds lay far from my quarters and close to his, so his question was a fair one.
"I came looking for you."
"For me?"
Doubt settled across Dancheon Hak's face. Even with our relationship mended, I rarely sought him out first—that must have been why. I saw no problem in it; brothers, I knew, were naturally that way. Hadn't it been said that truly affectionate brothers were creatures of imagination, like the qilin or the haetae of legend?
"Why did you come?"
At his repeated question, I finally revealed my business.
"This—I'd like you to have it, Elder Brother."
I asked as I unslung the Dancheon Sword, legacy of the master artisan Cheon-gong, from my waist. The very sword young Dancheon Hak had once sneered at, asking why I lugged such a piece of junk around. The Dancheon Hak of those years had the discernment of a knothole, I suppose. But five years on, I knew my brother now possessed eyes worthy of his realm. He was one of the few who understood the Dancheon Sword's true worth.
Gulp.
"Why... why give it to me?"
My brother's voice—always so forceful, forever declaring talk is pointless!—trembled faintly. Yet there was not a trace of greed in it; I knew Dancheon Hak had never once coveted my treasures.
"I no longer need it."
It was no lie. With my Formless Sword technique stabilized, I had truly reached the realm where I need not lean on anything outside myself. And I knew that in my brother's hands, this Dancheon Sword would be put to far greater use.
When I gave a slight nod, my brother took hold of the Dancheon Sword's hilt.
Vmmm— At once, Dancheon Hak's sword aura rose along the blade.
"Hm."
Perhaps he had not expected it to manifest so quickly, for his eyes widened a touch. It was the masterwork of the artisan Cheon-gong; its quality spoke for itself. A warrior of the Harmony Realm was said to be free of reliance on weapons, but even so, no one could deny that a divine work of Cheon-gong's caliber was another matter entirely.
"……Why give this to me?"
To Dancheon Hak's question, I recited the answer I had prepared in advance. If I had to trace it back, it was the same thought I'd had when Baek-myeon handed Haomun's sacred treasure over to Yeo Wol.
"When you become head of the clan, Elder Brother, I would like that sword to serve as the family's sacred heirloom."
The legacy of master artisan Cheon-gong—the Dancheon Sword. In name, in rarity, in function, it lacked nothing as a clan's sacred treasure.
"……"
Dancheon Hak's gaze could not leave the sword. Warriors, by nature, are a breed that cannot refuse peerless elixirs and divine weapons. My brother still treasured the fine blade he had carried at the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly, so there was no doubt he would cherish the Dancheon Sword.
"You are truly giving it to me?"
Dancheon Hak asked in a voice that could scarcely believe it. I chose not to answer. Because I knew that true realization sometimes takes time.
"My business is done, so I'll be going."
As I turned from Dancheon Hak and walked away, a small voice reached my back.
"Thank you."
I knew he would only grow more embarrassed if I let on that I had heard, so I pretended I hadn't.
The clan head's hall of the Dancheon Clan.
"Tsk."
In that space, always kept in solemn quiet, the click of a tongue rang out loudly. Unthinkable on any ordinary day—yet no one could reproach the man clicking his tongue. For the one forgetting his dignity and clicking away again and again was none other than the master of the Dancheon Clan itself, Clan Head Dancheon Gang.
With the clan head—ever impassive, ever dignified—scowling and clicking his tongue without pause, tension crept across the faces of the household. As the saying goes, nothing is more frightening than a man who was never like this suddenly acting that way.
"Do ease up on that scowl, Clan Head. The household staff are walking on eggshells."
Just then, the household's savior appeared: Bang Yeo-baek, personal guard to the Dancheon Clan Head and captain of the clan's escort. He was one of the very few who could speak frankly to the clan head's face.
"You're here."
Only with Bang Yeo-baek's arrival did a hint of color return to Dancheon Gang's face. At last, he had someone to talk to.
"Yeo-baek."
"Yes, Clan Head."
"Tell me—what great family in all the world sends both of its only two heirs out into the turbulent jianghu at once?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Bang Yeo-baek asked again, not following, but Dancheon Gang offered no answer. It had never been a question meant to be answered, and Dancheon Gang pressed on with mounting heat.
"Inviting both of a great family's only two direct heirs to the same event—does that not mean the Nine Sects' sense of superiority has overstepped all bounds? I ought to shave the beards of those Wudang fools myself."
"Hahaha……"
Only then did Bang Yeo-baek understand, and he laughed awkwardly. Right—Dancheon Gang did not like the current situation. Call it what it was: a father's heart, anxious for his sons.