Chapter 48
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Promise
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A full day had passed.
The maid named Nan-cheong sought out her master, repeating the same words.
"Are you really okay?"
"I wouldn't say I'm completely fine, but you know how tough I am."
"I thought for sure you'd be dead without moving a muscle."
Nan-cheong, who had poured out tears and snot the day before.
"That's why I always tell you to be careful! Every time you rely on that sturdy body of yours, this is what happens!"
No matter how much she scolded, her lingering shock wouldn't fade, and she launched into a tirade.
"Frustration forges a man."
This time, even Bi Ju-seong had learned his lesson.
One wrong move, and his name would've been carved on the Ak Clan's tombstones in Shandong.
As a promising young man who had lived oblivious to the harshness of the jianghu, he now carried himself with a newfound maturity, exuding a proper martial artist's air.
"Young master!"
To Nan-cheong, though, he still seemed like an immature boy, endlessly worrisome.
"......I'll be more careful from now on."
Bi Ju-seong scratched his head sheepishly.
"By the way, what about those people?"
Having been thoroughly scolded, he changed the subject to their guests.
'I wonder if he really gets it......'
She sighed and informed him of the whereabouts of the three men and women who could be called his benefactors.
"Anyway, as for Benefactor......"
Among them, Bi Ju-seong's interest was fixed on one person alone.
"I'll go to him, so take care of the others for me."
"Yes, got it. Don't push yourself too hard, young master."
Leaving the reluctant maid behind, he headed to the training grounds.
There was an image he'd kept in his heart all along, a scene that refused to leave his mind.
For a hot-blooded youth like him, his focus wasn't on women but on a man.
It had surpassed even peerless beauties—the familiar swordsmanship of that man.
'I have to confirm it.'
A whole day had passed, yet the horrific memory contrasted sharply with the vividly etched life-or-death duel that he couldn't forget.
The Crimson Shadow Sword Demon, unleashing ferocious momentum.
As the saying goes, a wounded tiger is the most fearsome. With each accumulating minor wound, the demon's roars grew madder, instilling an indescribable terror.
If he, standing a step away, felt that way, how must the man who faced the demon head-on have felt?
'Seo Mun-ha, the third young master of the great Seo Mun Clan.'
His composed demeanor, unlike what one might expect, naturally inspired respect.
And what of those absolute techniques that had shaken the mountains?
As a fellow spear user and martial artist, it would be a lie to say he wasn't intrigued.
The back-and-forth where neither could gain the upper hand—the flow, the process, the outcome. He'd only glimpsed a fraction of his feats, but that was enough.
Bi Ju-seong swiftly sorted through the indescribable emotions surging within him.
In the meantime, his body had arrived at the training grounds.
Whoosh!
Seo Mun-ha was swinging his sword.
As if the life-or-death duel had never happened, silently as always.
The difference was his dissatisfied expression, as if the sword didn't quite suit his hand.
'Master Ga would faint if he saw this.'
The Seven Silk Sword, retrieved from the Crimson Shadow Sword Demon.
This treasure of ages had no battle spoils attached, but it kept reverting to its original form, replacing his shattered longsword.
Its true form was a coiled ball like a skein of thread.
Drawing out the four swords alone required finesse, and Seo Mun-ha was struggling with the unfamiliar feel.
"Young hero Bi?"
Having gathered his qi, he turned to the intruder.
The young man, making no effort to hide his presence, was staring blankly just like before.
"I'm sorry!"
Stealing glances at another's training was taboo in the jianghu martial world, so Bi Ju-seong bowed his head deeply for his rudeness.
He should've announced himself first; even if the sword were pointed at him, he had no excuse.
"I wasn't trying to peep."
"It's fine. It was just a simple test anyway, and I'd finished before you arrived, young hero Bi."
Bi Ju-seong let out a sigh of relief.
"Is everything to your liking during your stay?"
Hiding his anxiety, he asked.
"Not bad. It's quiet, and the manor is clean."
"Ah, and please drop the formal speech. I can't handle titles like 'young hero.'"
Insisting it was too much, the mountain of a youth fidgeted uncomfortably.
Seo Mun-ha pondered briefly and nodded.
"The Seven Silk Sword—that demon's signature weapon, right?"
Bi Ju-seong pointed to the item in his hand.
The Seven Silk Sword, balled up to the size of a fist.
"It resembles Heavenly Silkworm Thread."
This item, which took various forms when infused with qi, was something even the world's top craftsman Ga Bul-hyeon would sigh over.
Shaping million-year cold iron was the pinnacle of technique.
He wondered if it was even human-made, but Seo Mun-ha showed no particular attachment to the Seven Silk Sword.
"It doesn't seem to your liking, young master Seo Mun."
As master artisans said, divine objects and treasures choose their owners.
"It's just so-so."
It was clear that an item rejected by its original owner was hard to handle, and having finished testing it, he brushed off his sleeve lightly.
"So, what brings you here?"
"Ah, well."
"Is your body alright?"
"Yes, no issues with daily life."
The two men belatedly exchanged greetings.
"Young master Seo Mun......"
As pleasantries dragged on, Bi Ju-seong hemmed and hawed, out of place for his burly frame.
"If it's not too rude, may I ask two things?"
"Two things?"
"I've never heard of the Seo Mun Clan practicing spear arts."
"That figures."
He had threatened them earlier along with his request.
For Bi Ju-seong, prying into another's secrets required caution, and setting aside proper etiquette toward his benefactor was because that spear art still lingered in his eyes.
"......What's your connection to my clan, the Ak Clan of Shandong?"
Depending on the answer, it could be insolence.
Anxious, he gazed at the man who had saved his life.
"Because it resembles the Ak Clan's spear arts?"
"......Yes."
"The opposite."
"Pardon?"
"The Ak Clan's spear arts resemble mine."
Both factions and schools traced back to the Central Plains imperial family anyway.
Tracing the origin, the Northern Guard Divine Cavalry Art was closer to the source than the Ak Clan's spear arts.
"I heard most of the Ak Clan's spear arts were lost with the clan's destruction."
Seo Mun-ha stepped forward and pressed several spots on the sturdy youth's body.
"Ugh...... Yes, that's right."
"Let me ask in reverse. Who taught you your external art?"
"Keeping it secret?"
At Seo Mun-ha's nod, he quietly revealed the origin of his signature martial art.
"It's not that impressive."
No matter how much of a mid-tier sect Cheongju Bi Clan was, it wasn't revolutionary, so it was based on some expectation.
"My late uncle passed it down to me."
A belief that this clearly limited art could bring a turning point.
"More precisely, it came through the Bi Clan's current patriarch, my father."
"......Your uncle's name?"
"Ak Se-pyeong."
Ak Se-pyeong—that name rippled faintly in Seo Mun-ha's eyes.
It was the name of a subordinate he'd shared long years with.
'I expected as much.'
From his days rampaging battlefields as Yi Mok-yeom.
After the clan's annihilation, Ak Se-pyeong was the sole survivor, branded a criminal.
His talents were valued in the military, but he harbored resentment for failing to clear the family name.
'He had a younger brother?'
That man's hidden younger brother was Bi Ju-seong's father and the current head of Cheongju Bi Clan.
"You might not know, but there were various reasons for the Ak Clan merging with the Bi Clan."
He knew, but Seo Mun-ha pretended ignorance and listened.
"It hasn't been long since my father entered as a son-in-law and became patriarch."
"I see."
Family matters can be dreadfully dull, but Ak Se-pyeong was more than a mere subordinate to Yi Mok-yeom.
"Haha, I've talked too much. Anyway, our clan's external art is called Iron Citadel Wall."
Enough to pass on an art he'd devised himself.
"I don't mean to doubt you, but if I've offended, I apologize."
"It's fine."
"Good, no misunderstanding then."
Origins of martial arts matter, but arguing superiority verbally is pointless—Seo Mun-ha kept his words brief, while Bi Ju-seong's face swelled with emotion over this small connection.
"Uncle called it Iron Citadel Wall? Not Iron Citadel Fist?"
"My attainment is lacking, so I hesitate to tarnish his insights, but yes, Iron Citadel Wall."
Ak Se-pyeong's insights? Seo Mun-ha, who had never permitted transmission, let out a hollow chuckle.
"Insolent bastard."
Recalling his impudent subordinate.
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
Bi Ju-seong tilted his head and continued.
"He was confident that great accomplishment could lead to adamantine indestructibility."
"Didn't he call it Boys' Art?"
"That's...... news to me."
Soldiers lack the leisure of ordinary martial artists to cultivate slowly.
Shuttled between battlefields and thrown into the jaws of death constantly.
They favored external arts over internal, and external arts were merely handling body and weapons.
The Iron Citadel Fist Seo Mun-ha devised drew on innate vitality for that purpose.
Unable to use primordial qi called innate essence or true essence, it borrowed part of one's natural yang energy.
Even rigorous training had limits for pure human flesh. Human bone and muscle are weaker than iron—fact.
To compensate: the yang energy inherent in men.
It yielded instant effects without cultivation processes.
'He never mentioned it?'
And owing to eunuchs' existence, it made qi follow physical movement—a clear variant of Boys' Art.
"Young master?"
A silence fell briefly.
This commonplace tale stretched back countless years.
'Captain Mok-yeom?'
A conversation among officers before deployment.
'That punk Gal keeps insisting on adding 'nim' to your title.'
'Captain hates it.'
Ak Se-pyeong trusted and followed only Yi Mok-yeom.
'But what were you hiding just now?'
'My journal. Never know when I'll die, so leaving a record.'
'Looks like martial arts manuals?'
'You're seeing wrong. No one to pass arts to anyway. Plus, Iron Citadel Fist is Boys' Art.'
'Not impossible. Recultivate internal energy to replace yang from scratch. Even reach Seven Realms at peak.'
'Strictly, former's better.'
'Best is siring a daughter. Get amnesty, build normal family afterward.'
'Even if a girl, I'll raise her strong. Restore fallen Ak Clan.'
'No father material there.'
'True man needs big ambitions. Don't you, Captain?'
'None.'
'Figures—mountain ghosts won't take even saltpeter. Take your time. If nothing suits, help Ak Clan.'
'Report.'
Ak Se-pyeong smirked at the curt reply.
'If something important comes up for you, Captain, we'll be second priority.'
'Captain only when convenient.'
Important matters were luxuries for day-to-day survival soldiers.
Dreams, goals, wishes.
Yi Mok-yeom of then couldn't envision a future. Until his numbered days ended.
'Now......'
This life differed from the last.
Life as a martial artist, not soldier.
Mountain Shattering Realm and beyond—still vague as a martial artist's path.
Thus, not fully achieved goals, but without losing direction, tackling second priority first seemed fine.
"......Young master! Are you unwell?"
"No, glad Cheongju Bi Clan is a martial house."
"Sorry, I don't quite......"
"Make a promise."
Seo Mun-ha closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
After reminiscing, he proposed one promise at journey's end.
"Tell me. Anything that doesn't harm my clan."
"Not that complicated."
Merely a whim.
"Listen well, watch closely. Just once."
Seo Mun-ha demonstrated lightly.
To the one who couldn't stop admiring, he passed fragments of the lost Ak Clan spear arts and the essence of the incomplete Iron Citadel Wall.
A simple demonstration and oral formula—that was all.
"Ah......"
Bi Ju-seong couldn't close his mouth.
How did this unrelated man know Ak Clan spear arts? Doubts piled like mountains, but shoving all aside, he hurriedly memorized the formula.
'Coiled Pivot and Curved Heaven......'
Beyond midriff and elbows, seven points via curved fingers.
Qi flow dictates body movement. Internal and external arts converge ultimately, but his incomplete state meant surface-level grasp like other soldiers.
Gulp.
Bi Ju-seong swallowed dryly after holding back.
A fated opportunity. Not from heaven, but man-given serendipity.
"......Um, young master."
That's why they call it serendipity—striking unannounced.
Chewing the formula, Bi Ju-seong floundered, unsure what to say.
"The rest is up to you."
Seo Mun-ha said.
'Even Ak Se-pyeong never reached it.'
Whether adamantine indestructibility—who knew? But go ahead, achieve greatness.
'Do that, and I'll forgive everything.'
Impersonation, plagiarism, leaks—his subordinate's litany of crimes and remnants, all wiped clean.
"Tha......"
Standing in for Ak Se-pyeong, Seo Mun-ha dangled the promise on results.
Thud.
Bi Ju-seong prostrated, banging his forehead as if thanks were endless.
"Thank you! Truly grateful! Benefactor!"
On the verge of tears, he couldn't know the unspoken backstory Seo Mun-ha omitted.
"Enough, get up. Shameful for a grown man."
"N-no!"
Hanging one's life on martial arts starkly differed from soldiers' ways, and overcome with emotion, he sobbed quietly.
"......You're not just my benefactor, but the entire clan's......"
Sniffling front and back, Bi Ju-seong feigned composure, minding his benefactor's mood.
"Whatever. You said two things earlier? What's the last one?"
"Ah, that!"
Not yet straightening his knees, Bi Ju-seong looked up with a broad grin.
"If it's not rude to Benefactor, may I call you 'brother'?!"
Tears amid sticky camaraderie.
