The Deceptive Sword Stance
Of course, Jang Muhwi knew exactly what Wi Gunak wanted.
Fights between servants were a common occurrence. The retainers of Murim clans took great pride in the martial arts of the families they served. It was much like children boasting that their father was the strongest man in the world.
The same held true here. Moreover, it was the servant of the Wi Clan who had provoked the fight first. Cheolwoo had flown into a rage when the man claimed that the Jang Clan's martial arts could not even reach the toes of the Wi Clan, and fists had been exchanged. It was nothing more than a brawl one might see in any marketplace.
No one had used the martial arts of their respective clans. The stronger man had simply won. For that reason, the scuffle would not damage the reputation of either family.
Yet Wi Gunak clearly saw things differently. Jang Muhwi was certain the man now viewed this as an opportunity. It was only natural for a martial artist to want to display his achievements before the rising stars of the younger generation.
Jang Muhwi regarded him with a serious gaze. Meeting his eyes, Wi Gunak smiled faintly.
“Our clan has been insulted. I cannot simply let this matter pass.”
“Then what would you suggest we do?”
Jang Muhwi’s voice carried no emotion whatsoever. Wi Gunak, on the other hand, wore a gentle smile.
“A clan’s honor must be upheld by strength!”
Wi Gunak’s eyes gleamed as he finished speaking. He was clearly convinced he had laid a perfect trap. After all, comparing their current levels of martial prowess, the outcome was obvious. He intended to crush Jang Muhwi completely and broadcast his own superiority.
Everyone present among the younger generation knew this. Just as they all waited for Jang Muhwi’s reply, he answered with a blank expression.
“Then I suppose there is no helping it.”
For a moment, the younger generation looked at Jang Muhwi with pity. Wi Gunak offered a benevolent smile.
“Drawing swords on such a fine day would be improper. How about we settle this with forms alone? We should follow Qinghai’s traditional method of non-combat sword debate.”
Wi Gunak glanced around. The younger generation members who met his gaze began to murmur.
“As expected of the Pure Sword.”
“A proposal that preserves both clans’ honor while ensuring the opponent comes to no harm—what a noble gesture.”
“I agree.”
Everyone rushed to praise Wi Gunak. His decision not to use internal energy seemed, to any observer, like a display of kindness and consideration for his opponent.
But Jang Muhwi thought otherwise. Every single action Wi Gunak took was the result of cold calculation. Given the gap in their internal energy, defeating Jang Muhwi through martial skill alone would not significantly elevate Wi Gunak’s standing. Forms, however, were different. Pure understanding of forms represented a realm of martial insight separate from internal energy.
Thus, Wi Gunak intended to use Jang Muhwi as a stepping stone to display his own achievements and raise his reputation. Of course, that was merely Wi Gunak’s wish. Today, things would not go according to his plan.
After all, Jang Muhwi was so familiar with the Wi Clan’s swordsmanship that he could trace its forms even in his sleep!
Jang Muhwi regarded Wi Gunak calmly. A short while later, in the open ground before the inn, one of the younger generation members stood in the center to oversee the match. Jang Muhwi and Wi Gunak faced each other on either side of him, wooden practice swords in hand. Though the weapons were only for training, the atmosphere was as tense as a fight to the death. Only the occasional sound of someone swallowing could be heard from the crowd.
Jang Muhwi cupped his fists first.
“I am Jang Muhwi of the Jang Clan. I look forward to our exchange.”
“I am Wi Gunak, known to some as the Pure Sword. I ask for your guidance.”
Even in a contest of forms, etiquette could not be neglected in the face-conscious world of Murim. Once all formalities were complete, the overseer shouted in a loud voice.
“Begin!”
The contest of forms had begun. At the overseer’s cry, Wi Gunak spoke first.
“I shall use my first form. Qinghai Single Sword!”
Jang Muhwi raised his sword in response.
“I shall meet it with the White Sword Stance!”
At their shouts, every member of the younger generation swallowed dryly. Qinghai Single Sword was the foundational form of the Wi Clan—a concise technique imbued with the arrogance to cleave the vast plains of Qinghai in two. Wi Gunak slowly brought his wooden sword down with the momentum of a single decisive strike.
Jang Muhwi pivoted to the side and swept his sword upward. The White Sword Stance. True to its name, the blade shot forth like a white tiger leaping at its prey with claws extended.
Clang!
The two wooden swords collided in midair. Neither strike carried excessive force. For a moment, their swords remained locked in the air. After the first exchange, the younger generation began to stir.
“The Jang Clan is not bad at all.”
“No. A stone falling from above is far more dangerous than one thrown from below, is it not? The first exchange was a loss for the Jang Clan.”
The contest of forms continued. Since the movements contained no internal energy and displayed only the sword paths, even the spectators could follow them with ease. In a way, this was closer to a scholarly debate on swordsmanship than a martial contest.
Yet the situation of the two combatants was entirely different. Wi Gunak wore a broad grin, while Jang Muhwi remained expressionless as he parried his opponent’s blade.
Then another form name rang out.
“Azure Dragon Emerges from the Sea.”
It was Wi Gunak’s cry. The form evoked a blue dragon rising from the ocean to overturn heaven and earth, and its execution carried a similarly overwhelming presence. Jang Muhwi’s voice followed.
“Ten Thousand Flowers Single Sword.”
Jang Muhwi retreated while extending his sword. In an instant, everyone was shocked. To the younger generation, it looked as though Jang Muhwi had tangled his own feet while executing the form without thought. It was clearly a blunder. Anyone with even a shred of martial knowledge could see that the execution itself was flawed.
Ten Thousand Flowers Single Sword depicted reaching toward a blooming flower—a precise technique meant to pluck a single blossom. It had to be performed from a stationary position. Yet he had attempted it while retreating?
“Hah.”
“It’s over.”
Everyone clicked their tongues and looked at Jang Muhwi with pity. As expected, Jang Muhwi, having lost his balance, dropped to one knee. From that position, he weakly thrust his sword forward. A moment later, however, the younger generation tilted their heads in confusion.
Contrary to their expectations, Wi Gunak’s wooden sword—the one executing Azure Dragon Emerges from the Sea—was pointed toward the sky. Jang Muhwi’s wooden sword had stopped a mere inch from Wi Gunak’s dantian.
Everyone stared at Jang Muhwi with their mouths agape. It felt as though time itself had frozen. Clearly, Jang Muhwi had made a mistake. Yet in the blink of an eye, the contest of forms had ended in his victory.
Jang Muhwi spoke.
“Thank you for yielding. Young Hero Pure Sword.”
“Th-this is…”
Wi Gunak glared at Jang Muhwi in disbelief. In a real fight, his dantian would have been pierced. And the cause had been his opponent’s mistake. The other younger generation members were equally stunned. If the match had truly ended, cheers should have erupted, yet no one made a sound.
The full moon illuminated their awkward expressions. Then, from somewhere, came the sound of applause.
Clap, clap.
A man in tattered robes stood there, grinning broadly. Everyone frowned at the sight of him. His clothing suggested a scholar. Combined with his unremarkable appearance and the patched rags he wore, along with the white hair peeking out from beneath his makeshift headcloth, it was obvious his circumstances were dire.
The tattered scholar slowly approached Jang Muhwi. Stopping before him, he pointed at the two servants who had been standing frozen.
“Receiving Azure Dragon Emerges from the Sea with Ten Thousand Flowers Single Sword—that was a brilliant move.”
“It was merely a mistake on my part.”
“No. To my eyes, this was the exquisite art of feigned weakness. I thought I saw a hidden pheasant, but it turned out to be a tiger’s fang. That single exchange was as profound as an immortal’s game of Go.”
“You flatter me.”
Jang Muhwi cupped his fists toward the man. The tattered scholar turned his head and surveyed the crowd.
“Do the rest of you not share my opinion?”
His bearing was so confident that none of the younger generation dared to contradict him. Even those who had initially dismissed him as a shabby scholar found their thoughts shifting. A few even mistook the tattered scholar for a Beggar Clan member. After all, anyone dressed in rags yet possessing such profound knowledge of martial arts had to be from the Beggar Clan.
Others wondered if he was a hidden master. No trace of a martial artist’s aura could be felt from him at all. Such perfect concealment of one’s presence was often called “returning to simplicity.”
To most of the younger generation, the tattered scholar appeared to be a supreme expert. Of course, Jang Muhwi knew exactly who stood before him.
Pajuk Seonsaeng, Baek Juhon.
His title, Pajuk, came from his unyielding nature—better to break than to bend. Pajuk Seonsaeng had retired from his post as the Crown Prince’s tutor and was now living in seclusion in Qinghai. In just one year, the situation would change. Even now, his reputation alone could topple a local magistrate.
What was interesting was that Pajuk Seonsaeng, one of the five greatest scholars in the Central Plains, had a hobby of debating sword forms. He was the first Giyan Jang Muhwi had been searching for.
When martial artists spoke of Giyan, they usually meant one of three things: secret manuals, elixirs, or weapons. Jang Muhwi had no intention of arguing against that view. To him, Pajuk Seonsaeng was no different from a divine sword. Not an actual blade, but a living sword capable of shaking all of Qinghai.
In his previous life, it had been Wi Gunak who formed a connection with this man. Simply by treating a shabby scholar kindly to appear virtuous in the eyes of the other younger generation members, Wi Gunak had turned that encounter into a Giyan. Once Wi Gunak learned Pajuk Seonsaeng’s true identity, he devoted everything to him. Thanks to that, the Wi Clan—already among the top ten families in Qinghai—rose to become the region’s foremost clan in the blink of an eye. All because of their meeting with Pajuk.
And the beginning of it all had been victory in this very contest of forms!
Of course, that was the story of his previous life. In this life, Jang Muhwi had seized that connection. In truth, if it had been a contest of forms rather than internal energy, Jang Muhwi could have ended it much sooner. But to capture Pajuk’s attention, he had needed to employ a more entertaining method. That was the art of feigned weakness.
Pajuk Seonsaeng looked at Jang Muhwi and said, “I would like to treat you to a cup of tea. Do you have time? My home happens to be overflowing with fine tea leaves.”
“I would be delighted.”
As Jang Muhwi nodded in acceptance, Cheolwoo, standing nearby, tugged at his sleeve in surprise. His expression clearly asked why they were following this man. Before they knew it, they had left the main road and entered a mountain path. Pajuk Seonsaeng’s residence lay on the outskirts of the area. The dense foliage had begun to obscure half the moonlight when Jang Muhwi turned to Pajuk Seonsaeng.
“It seems we have guests, Elder.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whether they are my guests or yours, I shall determine that now.”