Not Yet Ripe
Ten days.
Ten days since Yeom Gi-ha and I had emerged from the cave and thrown ourselves into endless dueling.
And...
One hundred bouts. Zero wins. One hundred losses.
Such was the record born of that endless sparring—counted, of course, from my side of the ledger. From Yeom Gi-ha's standpoint, it was the honor of a hundred victories without a single defeat.
Not once—truly, not a single time—had I landed a meaningful blow on the Tyrant Emperor.
"Sparring is limited to ten bouts a day."
Had the Tyrant Emperor not made that declaration, the tally might well have sailed past a thousand bouts and a thousand defeats. There had been no shortage of duels decided in a single exchange, in the space of an instant.
Why...?
The question forced itself upon me.
For in truth, it was right to see the Tyrant Emperor and myself as walking the same realm—the Profound Realm.
Of course, I knew our proficiency and experience were not the same. I knew, too, that even within the Profound Realm, the Tyrant Emperor had climbed far higher than I. Even so, the result was a strange one—for I knew better than anyone that in a duel, there is no such thing as the absolute.
Pit a warrior of the Peak Realm against a warrior of the Harmony Realm a hundred times, and the Harmony Realm master could win all hundred bouts. Between them lay an absolute difference.
But no Harmony Realm master alive could promise a hundred victories against another Harmony Realm master. Between them lay no absolute difference, and a fight is nothing more than the sum of countless variables. Even a master at the very entrance of the Harmony Realm wields the supreme weapon called sword aura, and so once in a hundred bouts, he might well threaten the life of one ripened to the fullness of that realm.
Such is a fight.
Naturally, the same held true for the Profound Realm, called the summit of the Jianghu. A master of the Profound Realm may guarantee absolute victory over a master of the Harmony Realm, but he must never be able to guarantee it against another master of the Profound Realm.
That is why the martial world bothers to divide the realms at all.
Yet I, who had achieved Five Energies Converged at the Origin and set foot in the Profound Realm, had fought the Tyrant Emperor—a master of that very realm—a hundred times, and lost a hundred times.
Honestly speaking, I was confident I could fight a thousand times and lose a thousand times more.
That was all the Tyrant Emperor would say. He offered no detailed explanation, not as he had when he awakened my Intent for the Void-Treading Steps.
I knew that the martial path was one a man must blaze for himself. Nor did I intend to sit with my mouth open like a hatchling, so I did not lament it. As I always had, I would find the way on my own.
"Grant me one more chance."
Thus I petitioned Yeom Gi-ha.
"Granted."
And Yeom Gi-ha accepted readily.
"We have already wasted a great deal of time, so let us settle it with a single bout tomorrow."
"Thank you."
It was the first I learned that I harbored such a burning hunger to win. Perhaps, having lingered beside Yeom Gi-ha—a man made of fire—I had come to resemble him a little.
For a warrior who had achieved Five Energies Converged at the Origin, training the body was a wasted effort. So I folded my legs into the lotus position and opened my mindscape.
The past ten days. I replayed every one of the hundred duels I had fought against Yeom Gi-ha.
Had I not been confident in at least one of my five senses?
From the first bout, where I had helplessly bared my heart, to the fiftieth, where the Formless Sword took me from behind, to the ninety-ninth, where I yielded my throat to a blade—within the mindscape, I died, and died, and died, and died again.
You are not yet ripe.
Yeom Gi-ha's words circled my mindscape like a binding spell. And I knew, too, that though it looked like a curse, it was also the first thread of an enlightenment.
What was martial art? What was Intent? What must I do to land a meaningful blow on Yeom Gi-ha?
I pondered. I questioned. I delved.
Time flowed swiftly, and before I knew it, ten days and one more had passed.
"Not bad at all."
The Tyrant Emperor's cherished blade hovered over my face, my body pinned to the floor, its edge flaunting its sharpness.
And...
The tip of the Dancheon Sword clenched in my hand was aimed at the Tyrant Emperor's heart.
One hundred and one bouts. Zero wins. One hundred losses. And one draw.
Such was the result of eleven days of endless dueling with the Tyrant Emperor.
"I thank you for the instruction."
Only now did I begin, however slightly, to understand what the Profound Realm was.
Zhejiang Province lay at the far eastern edge of the Central Plains. And Anhui, home to the Dancheon Sword Clan, shared a border with Zhejiang. Now that the Tyrant Emperor's steps and mine had crossed from Zhejiang into Anhui, it meant the time to part ways had come.
For reference, reaching the border of Hubei and Henan, where the Murim Alliance stood, would mean traveling as far again as we already had.
"Won't you come with me to the Murim Alliance?"
When the Tyrant Emperor asked, none too subtly, I offered an awkward smile.
"Tsk. If you came along, I wouldn't be the one catching an earful."
"Why would you catch an earful?"
The Tyrant Emperor had left his post to save his own life. It had all happened, naturally, with Singija's tacit blessing, so I could not easily see where the scolding would come from.
"Did I not squander eleven days playing about with you?"
"Ah..."
However he looked, the Tyrant Emperor Yeom Gi-ha was the Alliance Leader of the Murim Alliance. Singija might forgive his absence to save his own life—but to fail to return for eleven long days afterward? For all I knew, the Alliance's Chief Strategist was fuming at this very moment.
Not that the two of them would truly come to blows, but the result would be the same either way.
"Silence."
Picturing Chief Strategist Singija dressing down the Alliance Leader, I could well understand why the man was worried. Perhaps this time he would hear something along the lines of Do you wish to die? Not words one would say to a man who had only just barely saved his own life—but knowing the relationship between Singija and Yeom Gi-ha as I did, it was entirely plausible.
"I'm sorry. There is a place I must return to, so I ask your understanding."
A place to return to. The words, spoken from my own mouth, echoed back into my ears and felt strangely new.
That's right. I had a place to return to.
My life as Myeong-gae had not been a deeply unhappy one, but I could not deny that my life now was the happier of the two.
"Tsk."
Even that stubborn tyrant of an Alliance Leader seemed to respect this much.
A little further on my lightness skill, and a fork in the road came into view.
"Alliance Leader, you take that path."
Different destinations meant, in the end, different directions.
"You can find your way back to the Alliance all right?"
"Is that even a question?"
I had my doubts, but I chose to trust him. He was not the sort of man to meet a tragic end on some roadside.
Before we parted, Yeom Gi-ha added one thing more.
"You are my successor. Whenever you have need, come to the Alliance."
His tone was a gruff grumble, but I would judge the words themselves rather warm.
"What I mean is, visit the Murim Alliance at least once a month."
The expression Yeom Gi-ha wore as he said this was a warrior's through and through, so perhaps it was not for my sake at all, but for his own greed.
"I'll do my best."
In any case, it was clearly a good thing for me as well.
"I'm off."
As if parting held no lingering attachment for him, Yeom Gi-ha vanished in an instant.
I paused for a moment, then unleashed my lightness skill toward the Dancheon Sword Clan.
Those steps felt truly light.
The Clan Head's Hall of the Dancheon Clan.
"Your son, Dancheon Myeong, has returned safely to the clan after his journey through the Jianghu."
Clan Head Dancheon Gang and Escort Captain Bang Yeo-baek held their places exactly as they had before my departure.
"It took you less than a year."
Reading my father's expression, I could tell this was his own brand of jest.
"I may set out again before long."
"...What did you say?"
The expression on his face now did not look like joking.
It was fine. What father would be wrong for wanting to keep his grown son tied to the clan? I was not even the Young Patriarch—I was a free man.
Kuuung. A solemn, crushing pressure settled over the Clan Head's Hall.
"Clan Head, what are you—"
Uncle Yeo-baek had only a moment to wonder at the thick killing intent before he saw my father's face and shut his mouth.
Shwaaak! The Clan Head's killing intent became a sharpened spike and came rushing at me.
Truly worthy of the name Clan Head of Dancheon, I would say. His attainment was beyond reproach—despite standing in the Harmony Realm, I could tell he had begun to reach toward Intent.
But...
The dense, razor-sharp Intent of the Clan Head could not overcome me, who had reached the Profound Realm.
Softly. The spike of killing intent he had loosed at me melted into a gentle breeze and scattered through the hall.
The one most astonished, in fact, was Uncle Yeo-baek, whose eyes had gone so wide they seemed about to fall from his head.
A brief silence fell over the Clan Head's Hall.
"Haah."
The Clan Head's sigh erased the silence.
"Have you crossed the wall?"
His question carried a strange heat.
Before I had left the clan, my realm had long since reached the Harmony Realm. My father Dancheon Gang and Uncle Yeo-baek knew this well. One does not ordinarily say that a master at the entrance of the Harmony Realm has "crossed the wall" upon reaching proficiency within it. To cross the wall meant, quite literally, to leap beyond a realm entirely.
The Clan Head was asking whether I had reached the supreme realm known as the Profound Realm.
It was, in truth, a perfectly reasonable inference.
"Yes. It has come to pass."
I answered plainly. Partly, I had no wish to boast before my father and uncle—and partly, having seen the heaven beyond heaven through my time with the Tyrant Emperor, there was no room in my heart for pride to creep in.
Looking back, it would be right to call that, too, a stroke of great fortune. But that was only my own impression; my father and uncle thought differently. They managed their expressions well enough, yet could not quite keep their slowly parting lips in check.
"The Clan Head's seat—will you take it?"
Clan Head Dancheon Gang asked me, and Uncle Yeo-baek chimed in at once.
"Clan Head, get up from that seat already."
"Myeong, this seat is yours now."
I knew Uncle Yeo-baek's words were mere jest—and yet half of it was earnest. For I knew well that my father and my uncle were firm believers in the clan's tradition of succession by the legitimate heir.
In truth, for the Dancheon Clan, which proclaimed itself a family of the sword, seating a second son whose attainments rivaled the Ten Greatest Masters Under Heaven would hardly have been strange.
But...
"I am content with things as they are."
Was I not already one who had broken with the family tradition? The Clan Head's seat belonged to my elder brother, Dancheon Hak. I had decided that long ago.
"There are still more than four years left, so please wait."
This was tantamount to my resolve to raise Dancheon Hak to the Harmony Realm and make him Clan Head.
"Very well. I understand your will."
Clan Head Dancheon Gang said only that, and argued no further.
"I take my leave."
My report of return had, I would say, quietly achieved its purpose.
As I walked out of the Clan Head's Hall—
"Myeong."
Uncle Yeo-baek called to me. Approaching with a slight hesitancy unlike his usual self, he asked:
"Will you keep training Hak-i?"
"I promised him, so I must."
Uncle Yeo-baek scratched his head, looking sheepish, and continued.
"Th-then... could you do the same for me?"
"Pardon?"
At my questioning look, his gaze steadied, as though he had finally made up his mind, and met my eyes.
"Me too."
I understood, at least a little, the resolve behind it.
"I want to be stronger than I am now."
My uncle had just now asked instruction of me—his onetime disciple.
Bang Yeo-baek, captain of the Dancheon Clan's escort. It would be right to call him a man who could truly keep moving forward.
"If it is you, Uncle, then I can teach you everything I know."
I said it from the heart. Just as he had given me so much, now it was my turn to give much to him.
I returned to my quarters.
...?
Unseen for nearly half a year, my quarters were spotless—not a single speck of dust. I knew that long ago, my mother Baek Yeo-hae's grace had banished the desolation from these rooms, but that they were being kept so meticulously was beyond anything I had expected. No servants were assigned to my quarters, after all.
I had no time to wonder why—because someone flung open the door to my quarters without so much as a knock.
The woman Baek Yeo-hae spoke as though utterly accustomed to the situation.
"Clean it thoroughly. You are not to touch his belongings."
"Yes, my lady."
The Dancheon Clan servants who had followed her answered respectfully.
Having given the order and cast her eyes about my quarters, Baek Yeo-hae... started. Only then, it seemed, did she notice my presence.
For a long moment, Baek Yeo-hae and I simply stared at each other, neither of us speaking.
"Ahem. When did you return?"
Breaking the silence, my mother Baek Yeo-hae asked. Her expression and tone were faintly cool, but my discerning eye recognized the feeling beneath as something closer to embarrassment.
"I returned just now."
After much deliberation over my answer, Baek Yeo-hae at last arrived at a reply.
"You've been through a great deal."
That was all.
"I've intruded. Let us go."
With those words, Baek Yeo-hae left my quarters, servants in tow.
"Mother."
I called quietly after her retreating figure, and her hurried steps paused for just a moment.
"Thank you."
There was no answer, and Baek Yeo-hae quickly faded into the distance.
I had not shouted, so perhaps she had not heard.
It was all right. The Dancheon Sword Clan. For this place was my home.