The Bow That Defied the Divine Archer

"Lord Wang, how is it that only your neck has vanished?"

For a moment there, I'd wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me. To think that a small boy running to his father, crying "Dad!" — swatting him away wasn't enough, no, he had to go and try to cleave him with sword qi.

And this is the man lecturing me about watching myself, because I'm royal blood and all that?

I stared up at Wang Inho, too dumbfounded to even be angry, but he spoke with perfect composure, as though nothing whatsoever had happened.

"Come, show me what you can do. Hmm? Ah."

Then, muttering that he'd quite forgotten, he pressed the wooden sword in his hand firmly into mine.

Wang Yeomsu, who had been observing all of this from the side, stood frozen with his mouth hanging open. I found myself wondering whether that creature was even human. I'd known him all my life, and he was still a madman I couldn't get used to.

Watching Yeomsu stand there gaping, I thought to myself:

Right. You're the sane one here.

Only then did I realize I'd chosen the wrong person to run from. It was Inho I should have escaped, not Yeomsu.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I should have been screaming for my uncle instead of my father.... But there was no use regretting it now.

I rose, wooden sword in hand. Fine. Since it had come to this, I'd put on a proper show, take my lumps as fast as possible, and get the hell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out of this lunatic family.

"Now then. Come at me."

Whoosh.

It felt as though tension had seized every inch of my body. I drew my internal energy up to its limit with the Countersense Divine Art. It was barely a drop in the ocean, but it was enough to chase the nerves away. And the moment true combat began, the Countersense would only sharpen further.

From far across the grounds, Nari was watching me with anxious eyes. Barely a day had passed since I'd climbed out of my sickbed, and she was already dreading I'd end up back in the medical hall's care.

I flashed her my brightest smile, so she could worry a little less.

Yeah. Me too. I'm genuinely worried I might actually die this time.

With that thought, I hurled myself at Wang Inho with a thunderous battle cry.

"FUUUUUCK!!!"

The next day, I greeted the bright morning sunlight from a bed in the medical hall.

Days passed after that. I kept sparring with Inho, but it was nothing like sparring with Moyong Hu.

The Countersense isn't triggering at all.

Was it because Inho's realm was simply too high, or because the bouts ended too quickly for it to fire in the first place? At the very least I should be feeling that electric thrill, and there was nothing. This had never happened before.

Crack!

"Ow!"

"What occupies your mind so completely? Your sword carries no edge — only clutter."

Since puzzling over it alone was getting me nowhere, I laid my problem before Inho, explaining how the Countersense worked.

Inho listened, then fell deep into thought, stroking his beard over and over. And then....

Why does he keep coming here?

Wang Yeomsu was standing beside Inho, deep in thought right along with him.

He'd tagged along with Inho every day since the very first, yet did absolutely nothing. He offered no advice on martial arts, nor tended to me when I collapsed from exhaustion. He simply stood and watched, then returned with Inho when training ended.

I was this close to deciding he just loitered around waiting to eat with Inho.

And so the three of us sank into thought together. Perhaps a moment passed — then Yeomsu, who hadn't spoken a single word until now, opened his mouth.

"A life flashing before one's eyes?"

"I see no other way to explain it."

Inho nodded along. A life flashing before your eyes? Wasn't that the thing people felt as they died? For the record, when I died in my past life, I never experienced any such— huh?

Wait. What was that? Something was hovering at the edge of my memory....

Just as I was straining to drag the recollection out, Yeomsu went on.

"It may be that this talent of yours, the Countersense, is deeply entwined with that very phenomenon. Of course, the difference is that the dying flash comes only at the very brink of death, while your Countersense awakens at the mere sensation of mortal peril."

"Don't tell me the Countersense failed to trigger because I couldn't feel any threat to my life sparring against Father?"

That couldn't be right. I felt my life was in danger just standing next to Inho.

Yeomsu responded with a look that asked what nonsense I was spouting.

"The opposite. It never triggered because the bouts ended before you could feel any threat at all."

Having said his piece, he shut his mouth again. I honestly couldn't tell whether the man was famously terse or just rude.

"My son."

"Yes, Father."

"It seems the time has come to pass the family's hereditary arts on to you."

The instant those words landed, I went absolutely berserk inside.

Finally! Finally, real martial arts!

In my past life, everything I'd learned amounted to the Three Calamities Sword Art and the supply-issue techniques reserved for low-ranking officers. I'd copied the arts of the martial artists I fought through my Countersense, but that had always had clear limits.

The Countersense is not a talent for stealing techniques. It lets you mimic them to a degree, yes — but in the end, what you produce is nothing more than a crude imitation of the original.

And by Yeomsu's logic, my bouts with Inho ended before I ever registered a direct threat, which meant the Countersense never fired — which in turn meant that if I could simply hold out against him even a little, it would awaken properly.

That was precisely why Inho meant to teach me the family arts now.

He had clearly noticed that I'd picked up any number of foreign techniques, yet he didn't seem to care one whit. Which I suppose made a certain sense — the Wang Clan's hereditary arts were just so overwhelmingly superior that whatever I'd learned elsewhere simply didn't matter.

"Ordinarily, the hereditary arts cannot be transmitted at your age.... But I permit it."

Wow. Holy shit. Clan Lord, you are so goddamn cool!

"You have already mastered a heart method suited to your talent, so I shall begin with the movement art."

"Yes, Father!"

Every martial art normally demands its own matching heart method, but the Countersense ignores that rule entirely — so all I needed to do was learn the arts themselves, nothing more.

Truly convenient. Whatever art I take up, I never have to study a separate heart method.

And so Inho began teaching me Yegeongwi, the hereditary movement art of the Wang Clan.

"Watch closely. Yegeongwi takes its name from defying the bow of Yi, the divine archer. Such is this movement art."

With that, Inho and Yeomsu both took their stances — better to demonstrate than to explain with words alone.

Fwoosh!

Flames roared up around Wang Yeomsu. His fire, burning in pure crimson, seemed as though it would sear flesh from bone and melt marrow at the mere touch of it.

What staggering Blazing Yang Qi!

I had never seen blazing yang qi of that caliber, and I found myself utterly mesmerized by Yeomsu's flame. And as I stared, something struck me as strange.

This isn't ordinary blazing yang qi.

If blazing yang qi means shaping one's internal energy into the form of fire, then Yeomsu's crimson flame felt like energy that had already been fire before any shaping at all. To put it simply: the energy itself was already flame.

While I was still spinning hypotheses about his crimson flame, Yeomsu gathered it onto his wooden sword. Wonder of wonders, the flame sheathed the blade without leaving so much as a single scorch mark.

BOOM!

Before I could even marvel, Yeomsu poured qi into his legs and charged straight at Inho — so fast I could scarcely follow him with my eyes.

Shhhh!

Yeomsu's wooden sword burned the very air as it rushed for Inho's throat. And Inho showed no movement whatsoever — not until the blade was a hair's breadth from his neck.

Is the head of the clan about to change hands?

Just as that thought crossed my mind—

Yeomsu's wooden sword cleaved through Inho's neck. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was so utterly dumbfounded that a witless sound escaped my lips.

"Ah...?"

Yeomsu held his beheading pose until Inho's head reached the ground, and I simply stood there, frozen solid. And then Inho's head dropped with a soft thud onto the— huh?

Where did the head go?

I had seen it fall with my own eyes, yet it was nowhere to be found. Inho's body stood exactly as before, headless — and yet somehow whole. What in the world was going on?

Just as I was straining to make sense of the incomprehensible scene, a voice reached my ears.

"What are you searching for so desperately?"

"That would be Father's head, obviously. He may have been a madman, but we still owe him a proper funeral— holy shit! You scared the hell out of me!"

Inho was standing beside me before I knew it. No — how was a man whose head had just been cut off standing there with his neck perfectly intact? When I turned to him with nothing but confusion on my face, he smiled faintly and pointed toward the spot where his own corpse lay.

Sssssss....

And his corpse dissolved like mist, gone in the blink of an eye.

"This is Yegeongwi."

Insane.

It was, without exaggeration, a movement art for the ages. I stared at Inho, practically drooling. It was a wordless signal: teach me. Now. Please.

Whether he had noticed my desperation or simply expected it from the very start, Inho immediately began laying out the art's inner principles.

"Yegeongwi is a child playing pranks. To say it toys with your opponent would be closer to the truth — but whenever you train it, always think of it as playing a joke. Think of nothing but how to use it to tease your opponent further, to unsettle them, to make them miserable."

"Yes, Father! That is my field of expertise! I swear upon my life, I will become the most insufferable bastard in all the world with Yegeongwi!"

"Hm."

And so it went. Inho wavered a time or two over whether he truly ought to be teaching me this — but Mujin began training in Yegeongwi without a single hitch.

"Like this.... so this was it....? Agh, dammit, seriously."

Three years had passed since I began receiving instruction, Yegeongwi included.

I had relearned the fundamentals of handling my power from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ground up, and my proficiency in Yegeongwi had grown by leaps — but conjuring illusions as vivid and real as Inho's was still beyond me.

Having witnessed the completed art with my own eyes, my ambition had naturally swollen to match; I wanted to reproduce it exactly, down to the last detail.

When I took the problem to Inho, all I got back was: I have taught you everything there is to teach. From now on, you must break down your own walls, little by little.

And that had been a year ago.

For a full year, my Yegeongwi had barely advanced an inch.

If you're going to teach me, teach me to the end. This is so unfair, seriously.

As I grumbled inwardly and kept drilling the art, my senses caught a faint presence at the edge of the training ground.

For a heartbeat I thought it might be Nari, but the footfalls were nothing like hers. The presence drew closer and closer — then vanished without a trace.

Concealment?

Who could it be?

Mujin swept the training grounds, hunting for the owner of that presence. But in the end he could not find them anywhere, and at last had no choice but to return to his room.

And watching Mujin as he went — was a young girl.