A Sword for My Amusement
Cheok Wihyeon.
"Enough chattering. Come in."
He hadn't raised his voice, and yet Cheok Wihyeon's words rolled through the entire hall like a slow peal of thunder.
The moment I felt the inner force laced subtly through that voice, every hair on my body stood on end.
So this is the head of the Cheok Clan.
He hadn't deliberately channeled his internal energy into his words. It had simply flowed out naturally along with his voice, unbidden.
"Our apologies, Clan Head. We will show them in at once."
Cheok Heon bowed his head toward Cheok Wihyeon, who was nowhere in sight. Then he sent a secret transmission my way.
'We will wait out here. Please go in.'
'What about my sword?'
I was about to meet the Clan Head himself. I couldn't very well walk in with a blade in hand, and I moved to hand it over to Cheok Heon, but he shook his head.
'It doesn't matter. Nothing in this world could pose a threat to the Clan Head.'
Confident much?
'Well, if you say so.'
There was no point in refusing. I gave Nari and Ansong, who were watching me with anxious faces, a quick glance, then stepped inside the chamber.
Crrrk—!
The moment I entered, the door slid shut on its own, as though some hidden formation mechanism had activated.
And with it came the sight of a man lounging crookedly in his seat, a languid expression plastered across his face.
"Welcome."
"I am honored to make your acquaintance. I am Mujin."
Cheok Wihyeon's red hair was beginning to show threads of gray, making him look like a man in middle age—though in truth, he had to be considerably older than that.
With his eyes half-lidded as if drowsy, Cheok Wihyeon spoke.
"First things first. Before we talk, there's something I need to do."
"What—"
The instant I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, qi spread outward from Cheok Wihyeon at the center.
Shaaa.
The energy fanned out like the wind and settled over the room like a second skin. He had sealed the chamber with his qi.
Immaculate.
There was no other word for it. When one sealed a room with qi, the standard method was to form a thin hemispherical barrier. What he had done—draping his energy over the very surface of the room like a sheet—was something I had never once seen, not even in the Wang Clan.
It had to be one of two things: either a deliberate flourish to flaunt his power, or simply his everyday handling of qi.
"Hooaaam. I'm even more sluggish than usual today. Let's stick to business and be done with it."
The former possibility seemed unlikely, all things considered.
Genuinely sleepy, Cheok Wihyeon stretched and yawned over and over.
Frankly, I had no interest in playing games with a drowsy-looking old man either. I'd rather watch a sparring match like earlier, or have a proper discussion about martial arts with Cheok Heon.
"Would you take a look at this?"
So thinking, I drew from my breast pocket the letter Cheok Hwaryeon had written for me.
"And that is?"
"A letter from my mother—or rather, from Cheok Hwaryeon, the cousin of Clan Head Cheok."
"...Hmm. That girl wrote a letter? Let me see it."
At the mention of Cheok Hwaryeon's name, a flicker of interest stirred, and his half-closed eyes opened a little wider.
As I followed the gesture of the beckoning man, the letter rose into the air on its own.
"Huh?"
Flutter, flutter.
The letter slipped free of my hand and drifted toward Cheok Wihyeon, who eventually reached out, snatched it, and began reading its contents at his leisure.
What the hell.
That letter had just flown across the room by itself.
And he had calmly caught it and was reading it as if nothing were strange at all.
Could that be done with will-qi?
Qi infused with one's will was called will-qi. The exclusive domain of Transcendent experts, it could dominate specific creatures, objects, or spaces, and was also the foundation of what was commonly called sword flight.
And yet the phenomenon Cheok Wihyeon had just demonstrated defied even that explanation. To infuse an object with will-qi, one had to touch it directly—and he hadn't.
Above all, I had sensed nothing. Nothing whatsoever, so much so that I honestly believed the letter had simply taken flight on its own.
Why is a man like this doing whatever it is he does here?
"Hooaaam."
The man was yawning his head off when he ought to be racing off to wring Choe Chunghon's neck at this very moment.
Fine, so the Cheok Clan had no interest in politics—but the country was falling apart around them. The least he could do was lend a hand.
"Hwaryeon, that girl. Doesn't even ask how her dear brother is doing—just a list full of demands."
"Is that so?"
"It is. She wants me to sell you our clan's finest armaments at a bargain price. And on top of that, she wants a famous sword for you. My, my—apparently this is her personal armory, hmm?"
Cheok Wihyeon's brow furrowed in mild indignation.
"Ahem!"
My cheeks burned. Why on earth would she make demands like that? She could have just asked for a single sword... I couldn't even lift my face, I was so embarrassed.
The moment I lowered my crimson-cheeked head, Cheok Wihyeon's indignation melted into a grin, baring his teeth.
"It is her personal armory, mind you. Hahaha!"
"Ah..."
Was this a Cheok Clan joke? I couldn't speak to the rest of their humor, but I could tell this was the kind that made you want to go home.
When my reaction came out lukewarm, Cheok Wihyeon cut his laughter off abruptly, looking bored.
"Well. I'll grant this much. But..."
He fell into brief thought, stroking his beard.
"Hmmm. I'd like to attach a small condition to this famous sword of yours."
"And that condition would be...?"
"Entertain me."
"Pardon?"
Entertain him? What, did he want me to perform a sword dance right here?
As I tilted my head in confusion, Cheok Wihyeon gestured toward the door.
"Fight the Red Dragon Brigade commander waiting outside. If it's entertaining, you get your sword."
This battle-maniac of a man, honestly.
"...I see no particular reason to refuse. I accept."
"I suspected as much, which is why I already had the sword brought over. That blade you're carrying is a poor fit for a real fight."
Just moments ago the man had been half-dead with boredom, but the instant interest sparked, his execution speed went through the roof.
Wait—hadn't he sealed off sound? How was he sending secret transmissions?
Thinking this, I spread out my qi sense and found that the energy blanketing the room had vanished entirely.
When exactly?
I had sensed nothing until this very moment. Was it truly possible to withdraw one's qi without a Peak Realm expert noticing?
As I stared at Cheok Wihyeon like he was some kind of monster, he brought up something unexpected.
"Choe Chunghon. What's become of that man? I heard in passing that he hasn't been able to move freely lately."
So much for indifference—he'd raised the subject himself. Seeing my opening, I unspooled the information. The Cheok Clan's help would be a tremendous asset.
"He hasn't shown any notable activity since four years ago. However..."
A slight pause for effect here.
"However?"
Now to move on to the part that would actually hook him. In my assessment, a man like Cheok Wihyeon wouldn't spare a glance for anything without fun and interest in it.
"His condition has grown strange as of late. It seems connected to the bandits who have been vanishing in large numbers."
"I see."
"......"
After that, Cheok Wihyeon said nothing more. He wasn't pondering or deliberating—the man had simply lost interest. The proof was in those drowsy, heavy eyelids that refused to lift.
"If perhaps you'd be willing to help us—"
"Not interested."
Haaam.
Waving a hand dismissively, Cheok Wihyeon yawned again.
Wrong approach, then. Time to pivot to promoting the Mogeomhoe instead. If the Cheok Clan fielded participants, it would be a genuine boon.
"Then may I ask one small favor of you?"
"If it's an entertaining one."
The way he declared his expectations nonexistent was a little grating, but I was the one groveling here. What could I do? Grovel.
And so I told Cheok Wihyeon about the Mogeomhoe and asked him to help spread the word—and to my surprise, he agreed readily.
"Sounds fun."
That single phrase amounted to a yes. Just then, someone called out to Cheok Wihyeon from outside the door.
"Clan Head. It is Cheok Heon of the Red Dragon Brigade. May I enter?"
"Enter."
At Cheok Wihyeon's word, Cheok Heon carefully stepped into the room and held out a single sword to me.
"This is..."
"As I said, this is the blade you'll receive if you entertain me. Doesn't it give you a bit more motivation?"
Accepting the sword and turning it this way and that, I could tell at a glance that this was no ordinary famous blade.
"May I draw it?"
"As you please."
"Thank you."
Shing!
With Cheok Wihyeon's permission, I drew the blade—and beyond gleaming, a pristine edge revealed itself, so clean it was almost blinding to behold.
"It is called Seongcheondo—the Starry Heaven Blade."
Starry Heaven Blade. What a magnificently arrogant name. Which was exactly why I liked it.
"As you say, my motivation grows."
"Then shall you face the Red Dragon Brigade commander? I find myself curious just how entertaining you'll prove to be."
"As do I."
Cheok Heon, too, looked expectant, his eyes gleaming with fighting spirit as he regarded me.
The martial arts of the Cheok Clan. I was genuinely curious to see them.
As we moved along behind Cheok Wihyeon, Ansong shot me an uneasy look and ventured a careful secret transmission.
'What on earth is going on? We've come all this way, and now there's to be a fight?'
'He says if I want the sword, I have to entertain him.'
'No, but what kind of—'
Ansong's voice cut off mid-sentence. Walking ahead of us, Cheok Wihyeon had severed our transmissions without even turning around.
Ansong realized it a beat too late, and his face drained bone-white. Cheok Wihyeon alone strolled on ahead, utterly indifferent.
Following quietly at his heels, we arrived at what looked like a training ground.
The word had already spread far and wide, it seemed—a great crowd of people stood ringing the center of the field. And there, standing out even within that throng, was a girl with a striking mane of red hair. It was Cheok Yul from earlier.
Staring—
"......"
Wonderful. Our eyes met again.
But for some reason, this time Cheok Yul didn't look away.
So earlier it wasn't embarrassment—she'd just turned her head because she wasn't interested.
For a woman raised among outsiders, she really did resemble Cheok Wihyeon in more ways than one.
Still, we were old acquaintances—or close enough—and it felt rude to simply walk past, so I gave her a little wave.
Flinch!
Her whole body gave a start, and then, with a dazed expression on her face, she waved back.
Amusing reaction.
Before long, Cheok Heon and I took our places at the center, and Cheok Wihyeon stepped in between us.
Nari watched me with a face full of worry, but there was nothing to be done about it. The only way forward was to end this quickly—before she had even more to worry about.