Chapter 4
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Lucky
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Shandong Jenam.
To the north, it bordered Hebei, while to the south lay Henan, Jiangsu, and Anhui.
Geographically, it had always been a region under heavy governmental influence, but in these times, Shandong Province bore the full brunt of the Official-Military Non-Aggression Principle's aftermath.
The martial artists and sects grew bolder by the day.
Though the Murim Alliance served as the central hub for those pursuing the righteous path, Shandong's sheer size and scale placed it right behind Hubei and Henan Provinces, where the Alliance was headquartered.
The most prominent were the Hwang Bo Clan and Seo Mun Clan, both firmly rooted in Shandong.
The Hwang Bo Clan in particular had recently claimed a spot among the Six Great Clans, and reciting their full history would take more than a single night.
"This month's budget proposal."
The Seo Mun Clan boasted a history no less illustrious.
"I must be getting old. My eyes are starting to fail me."
Though their current influence fell short of the Hwang Bo Clan's, the Seo Mun Clan enjoyed an unprecedented authority all its own.
"Steward U."
"You've read it correctly, Patriarch."
"Hasn't the budget been shrinking since last month?"
"It's no illusion."
Clans expanded endlessly, much like human desire.
"We need to scale back the Enforcement Hall and Medical Hall."
"No other options?"
"This is just a stopgap. We're still running losses even with the escort agency and merchant group's tribute payments. Otherwise, we'd have to shutter two or three of the main house's businesses."
Even if growth stalled momentarily, the clan's reputation—both within and without—remained unshakable.
"The Enforcement Hall, fine. But the Medical Hall too...?"
They said even the wealthy took three generations to ruin.
Yet to the Patriarch, tormented by inner worries, and the few privy to the clan's internal affairs, the pillars they had erected were shaking fiercely indeed.
"The Hwang Bo Clan's pressure is mounting daily."
"Hmph. Their old fogeys' meddling is nothing new. Look at them fretting over losing their rice bowl."
The Enforcement Hall handled clan law, but the Medical Hall was tied directly to the warriors' lives.
"What will you do?"
In other words, the clan's core and roots were shifting.
Fine rain still soaks clothes. Small crises were hard enough once, easier twice, and history showed that a declining house could crumble in an instant.
"Implement it as is."
The Seo Mun Clan's Patriarch, Seo Mun Jeong-cheon, grew more careworn by the day.
"Understood."
The furrows on his brow testified to his achievements, but the ever-increasing wrinkles now commemorated failures instead.
'This is the turning point.'
Would his soaring wings build a sturdy nest?
Or would only decline lie ahead?
He pressed his brow and followed the steward out of the Patriarch's quarters.
"Hoo."
The sprawling grounds atop the mountain ridge, the splendid halls.
These spoke to the Seo Mun Clan's prestige as a martial sect, every painstaking layer of their prosperity the fruit of the current Patriarch, Seo Mun Jeong-cheon's, labors.
Moreover, he was a warrior whose name could not be omitted from any list of the world's top hundred masters.
A grandmaster of renowned martial arts, transcending righteous and demonic divides.
White hair fluttering unnaturally for his age, Seo Mun Jeong-cheon breathed in fresh air after far too long.
Exuding a mystical aura like an immortal descended to earth, he took a moment from his duties to stroll his private garden.
A pond and pavilion stood solitary in the modest space—a sanctuary reflecting his tastes.
Amid the vast estate, the Patriarch's quarters with its garden were exceedingly humble, revealing Seo Mun Jeong-cheon's frugal nature.
Step.
The personal space spanned just twenty paces.
Standing before the pond, Seo Mun Jeong-cheon wandered the cramped garden and gazed skyward, as if lost in fresh.
With hands clasped behind his back, he counted invisible stars, but his private time didn't last long.
"Brother."
"You're here."
"Yes, just arrived."
"Come in."
Given the gravity of matters, the brothers' reunion after four months was curt.
"Greetings, Patriarch. I trust you've been well."
"Skip the formalities. What for now?"
"Your hair seems grayer. And those wrinkles deeper."
Seo Mun Jeong-cheon's younger brother, Seo Mun Jeong-ryong, was a broad-featured man in his early forties.
"Shouldn't you take better care? Your wives will be shocked every morning."
"That depends on you."
"Heavy burden. A household's peace rests on my hands."
"Make it heavier. It's not just one house—it's the clan's next century."
Serious now, Seo Mun Jeong-ryong nodded.
"It's settled well."
And got to the point.
"The Tang Clan has pledged their cooperation."
"Ha ha, splendid."
Seo Mun Jeong-cheon smiled, curling his lips. A rare grin that chased away even his chronic headaches.
Unable to expand in Shandong under Hwang Bo pressure, the Seo Mun Clan had turned eyes to Sichuan.
"Tang Mu-ki, that old friend's aged too. Feels like yesterday he was the lone general."
The Tang Clan's aid would prove invaluable for establishing a branch hall.
"How's Sichuan?"
"Same as always. No news is good news, we'll see."
"Hmm. For a place like that, they sure let outsiders into their inner chambers easily."
"Blood bends inward. Besides, the Tang Clan can't stand alone against Qingcheng and Emei."
Human history was one of war, they said.
Even with demonic outsiders subdued, infighting plagued the righteous factions—strife and rivalry perhaps innate to man.
"We'll formalize details tomorrow."
"Right. Rest after your long trip. Good work."
Seo Mun Jeong-cheon clapped his brother's shoulder.
"Oh, right."
Seo Mun Jeong-ryong turned as he exited.
"Heard an amusing rumor on the way."
"Rumor?"
"About the boy."
"..."
"Brother?"
Seo Mun Jeong-cheon's face crumpled. All prior joy vanished.
"What mischief has that brat pulled now?"
As clan Patriarch and father, he shared frustrations over his third son—a name synonymous with devilry.
"He came back with external injuries. Regained consciousness three days ago. Didn't you know?"
"I heard. We're hunting the culprit."
No affection remained for the scoundrel son, but daring to harm a clan heir was tantamount to assaulting the Seo Mun Clan itself.
"Culprit? Your son's still alive."
"Is that so? Pity. Could've smoothed out these wrinkles."
"You jest well."
"Anyway, what? Did he tangle with some official's daughter this time?"
"No."
"Then he trashed a Hwang Bo brothel or tavern?"
"No."
"Or fell for a con artist promising to turn him into a peerless master by reciting our clan's techniques' flaws and sold off our arts?"
Sighing, Seo Mun Jeong-ryong answered.
"He held a martial duel."
"Duel? Sparring?"
"Yes, the kind we warriors use to test our skills."
"Ha, him?"
"He's still clan blood. What's odd? Seems Young-ryeong tried teaching him a move."
"What sparring in kids' fights."
The "kid" meant Seo Mun-ha. No one called adult-versus-child scraps a duel. As his uncle said, "teaching" fit, but "fight" didn't even apply.
"And nothing odd about it?"
"Who knows. Maybe this time he turned over a new leaf. Came back injured, learned his lesson."
"That one's rotten from the start."
Beaten by rogues outside or his little sister inside—hundreds of hopes and disappointments over three years.
To Seo Mun Jeong-cheon, pure love-hate.
No parent expected perfect obedience, but Seo Mun-ha repeatedly crossed lines. After a lifetime in the jianghu, even he couldn't indulge forever.
"Since it's come up, pass the word on your way out. No need wasting others."
If the boy wouldn't straighten up, make him.
Three years' confinement, not a single tael to his name—he'd repent or burst.
"Isn't that too harsh, brother?"
"Think I don't see you quietly defending him? You're partly why he's so ruined—spoiling him."
Seo Mun Jeong-ryong swallowed words rising to his throat.
'If we're assigning blame, isn't it your fault for favoring only the late second sister-in-law's child?'
No resentment from other wives, no rifts with half-siblings.
Stubborn as he was, Seo Mun Jeong-cheon knew it too. Reasons lay behind tolerating the boy's antics.
"Tell him not to step foot outside the clan until his marriage to Seol-a."
Along with the boy's sole redeeming value.
"About that."
"More to say?"
Seo Mun Jeong-cheon raised his voice unwittingly. Third son topics grated, hard to stay calm.
"He's holed up in his quarters since the duel. Servants are tearing their hair out—he hasn't stepped out once."
"Lost face to his sister. Hmph, good he's grown some shame late."
"No, he won. Subdued her in one exchange."
A vein bulged on Seo Mun Jeong-cheon's forehead.
"Our Great Uncle Jeong-ryong tells fine jokes. Fun teasing the Patriarch?"
"Dead serious, brother. The entire second Black Wind Unit squad witnessed it."
"Young-ryeong? From her own mouth?"
"Yes. I've gagged the Black Wind members for now. Servants are hushing it, it'll blow over soon."
"Good."
"But isn't it truly bizarre?"
Too bizarre to dismiss as odd. Put differently, a grown man felled by a five-year-old.
"...If you sparred me, think you'd win?"
"Honestly, I'd give it a shot. Maybe grab an edge once or twice in ten."
"Ho, high opinion of yourself. Must test that later."
"..."
"Anyway, you versus Young-ryeong?"
"Why bother saying."
Ten out of ten, hundred out of hundred.
A thousand...?
'Only if heaven's luck intervenes.'
Seo Mun Jeong-ryong grasped his meaning.
"You see it as coincidence?"
"Or he's hidden his claws all this time."
"No way..."
No one knew Seo Mun-ha better within the clan than Seo Mun Jeong-ryong. He'd watched over him pretending otherwise, per the late sister-in-law's dying wish. Setting unclely feelings aside, the boy was no martial prodigy.
'Cunning brat, but...'
No skill to fool the clan's prowling masters.
"I'll look into it myself. Don't worry. I'll pass the word too."
Lingering unease, but his words rang true.
"...Yes, understood."
Seo Mun-ha, the clan's glaring stain.
The sudden uproar weighed toward Seo Mun Young-ryeong's blunder. For once aligned, Seo Mun Jeong-ryong bowed to the Patriarch first.
"Ma Hwi."
"You called."
"Go watch him."
Seo Mun Jeong-cheon followed his brother after ordering his right-hand man.
An ordinary day. A faint breeze swept the empty space.
A month since entering Seo Mun-ha's body.
'Lucky me.'
For me, exceedingly fortunate.
I'd trained undisturbed amid general indifference—worlds apart from constant real combat before.
A whole month.
Not without minor interruptions in that span, but I'd remade this wretched flesh.
Packed on fat then muscle, cleared the channels.
From Baihui to Tianshu, every one of hundreds of acupoints.
'Time to properly learn martial arts.'
I reviewed the Seo Mun Clan's techniques in earnest.
No need to bind myself to them, but bearing Seo Mun-ha's name, picking up a family art seemed wise.
Techniques proved identity beyond self-defense. My choice: the Five Inscriptions Twelve Divine Arts.
"Pity no spear methods..."
"Young Master!"
A small interruption coincided with the window flying open.
"Whew, the smell!"
Ventilation aside, A-so insisted on sunlight to banish the gloom.
"You brought it?"
"Yes, thanks to Young Lady Young-ryeong."
Needless to say, Young-ryeong counted as a major disturbance. Her defeat must've shocked; she'd clung doggedly despite others' pleas.
"Not with you today."
"She's at the Patriarch's quarters."
"I see."
"Why provoke her though..."
"Provoke?"
"You said you got lucky. I'd be upset if I were her. More like, unconvinced?"
We'd grown close; the occasional impish glint amused me.
"I was lucky. And I explained it all before."
No nonsense—I took the wooden pass from A-so.
Access token to the scripture hall housing clan techniques.
"Young Master finally venturing out. You don't know my suffering."
"Suffering? Wasn't it the opposite?"
"Of course. Word spread you beat Young Lady Young-ryeong. Everyone prying—what trick did you use?"
Grumbling, yet A-so smiled. Scorned as the wastrel's boy, the shift from disdain felt novel.
"Prefer the old days?"
"No, I can take worse!"
I ruffled the beaming kid's hair and stepped outside.
"Next time, answer properly."
As I geared up simply, I added,
"Flowing Cloud Sword's strength is offense-defense unity, but it's fundamentally defensive. First form launches offense? Massive opening low-left. Abandon perfect stance for awkward poise to save face—you're most vulnerable to initial ambush. Flowing Cloud Step compensates, but without qi..."
I boasted no special insight.
Win ninety-nine of a hundred? The battlefield turned on that one loss—life or death.
Masters fell to novices often; thus, rank-and-file drilled that fatal gap over rote ninety-nine.
"All a low-rank can do anyway."
"W-Wait! How do you remember all that?! No notes..."
Experience-honed eyes were habit. Young-ryeong tasted that one bitter chance.
"Can't you even read properly, A-so?"
"W-Well, no."
"If asked, just say I got lucky."
A-so looked deflated.
"But how do you know all this? Some enlightenment? That fabled serendipity?"
"Serendipity my foot..."
"I thought you'd ascended. Sat in meditation most of the month."
Ascension. Maybe at Nine Realms.
Even Eight Realms were rare in official-military annals; such heights might well make mortals immortals.
"No enlightenment, but gains."
"Gains?"
"Think I'd sit idle?"
Microcosmic orbit expands the vessel, macrocosmic fills it.
Precisely, crafting the vessel took a month.
Pure Sect arts' merit: harmony with other energies. Laughably feeble versus past life, yet dantian qi bolstered my strides.
Bustle bustle.
The inner courtyard teemed after a month's absence.
"Shall I scout?"
"No. Clan business still..."
Crossing to the scripture hall, then—
"Huh? Young Master! Baek Ri Clan crest!"
Excited A-so stomped.
"Baek Ri Clan!"
His fidgety unease puzzled me.
"Isn't Lady Baek Ri-seol here?"
"Who?"
"Your fiancée!"
I faltered once more.
"Fiancée?"
How embarrassing for one once called a ghost.