Even If I Can't Become Strong
Gyeon Wiun let out a deep sigh in the suddenly quiet room. The connection to the Black Heaven Lotus's deputy leader was something even direct affiliates of the Mansong Merchant Group couldn't easily obtain—she had been saving it carefully—but Gyeon Wiun instinctively knew the moment to use it had come.
A smart second child who needs no guiding hand.
The conversation with the little girl whose eyes sparkled brilliantly struck her mind like lightning.
Until now, Gyeon Wiun had only shown qualities far exceeding what was needed to become the family's successor—overflowing, even. Cool judgment based on information, bold action that could summon luck itself, persistence, grit, effort, talent, skill...
But deciding the successor of the merchant group wasn't about passing some predetermined test.
To realize it only now...
Even as the great merchant who dominated Zhejiang Province, he was still human—and a father. Gyeon Wiun was only now realizing that.
The eldest, who tried hard despite his shortcomings; the youngest, isolated on his path of scholarship. And between them, the second child who handled everything perfectly on her own.
Honestly, Gyeon Wiun had assumed that, of course, he'd pour the most attention into herself among the three. Wouldn't the capable second child be the one who truly understood him, sandwiched between the lacking eldest and the distant youngest?
I've been too... arrogant. Overconfident in myself.
But that assumed an equal relationship. When looking down from above, caring for those below, the conclusion was entirely different.
A child who needed no help meant no need for attention, and no attention meant little affection reached them.
The eldest, whom she saw for the first time, filled with tender affection and pitiful worry; the youngest, ever-present in her heart due to distance, drawing constant concern. After tending to them, it became, The second will manage fine on her own. That was a parent's heart, not a superior's.
Gyeon Wiun could think coldly because she didn't crave her father's sincere, warm love and attention.
When would he finally turn to look at the second child, smart enough to need no hand?
Danmok Ryeon had told her that, too.
Ryeon always takes good care of me and Bi, too.
When she used her overflowing brilliance to care for her siblings. When Gyeon Yeonjo naturally noticed that, wouldn't guilt flood in for neglecting the child in the middle, mingled with gratitude for tending to the others' shortcomings?
Even if I weed out those foolish friends, it won't make my brother any smarter.
And even if he came to his senses, it didn't matter. She was more capable than Gyeon Wihak, who managed his sanity well enough.
Then I should send something to the little one, too.
Whether he took after his eldest brother or not, he'd been hailed as a prodigy in his youth, but ever since rising to provincial governor in Huizhou, he drowned in wine day after day, so Gyeon Wiun had cut off contact with her youngest brother.
"To Wihak..."
About to speak, Gyeon Wiun belatedly remembered she'd dismissed the servant and caught her breath.
But what about that child?
Danmok Ryeon. The girl had chattered freely like any child, yet pierced her situation with uncanny precision.
Is such coincidence possible?
Anyone less perceptive than her might not have drawn the same conclusion from the girl's words...
The creator of Qinglian Water, they said.
Gyeon Wiun was certain it wasn't mere rumor.
* * *
As the new year dawned, when Ryeon finally brought up her promised desire to learn martial arts, Danmok Cheon-gi paused briefly before calling for tea.
As the tea flowed and its aroma filled Wolyeongjae, Danmok Cheon-gi spoke.
"You want to learn martial arts?"
"Yes!"
Ryeon nodded boldly.
But Danmok Cheon-gi didn't end the conversation there. After a long breath, gazing outside, he turned and fixed his eyes on her.
"Even if you can't become strong?"
"Pardon?"
"You cannot become strong."
Danmok Cheon-gi declared firmly.
"Even after decades of training, the best you could manage is the level of a novice warrior fresh to the clan. You won't win against anyone from any other sect or clan. Ever. It's decreed so. No matter what, how much, or how hard you try—even if you die and come back—you can't change it. Even so, do you still want to learn martial arts?"
His words were calm, but his eyes were not. They wouldn't look like that even if he spat blood.
Ryeon realized why Danmok Cheon-gi said such things.
You knew all along...
He knew she had a body that couldn't accumulate inner power.
Unable to face his granddaughter further, Danmok Cheon-gi lowered his eyes. His aged heart seemed to beat irregularly.
In this infuriating, helpless anguish, one realization emerged: he would never devote himself to the Dao or Buddha in this lifetime.
"Your body rejects qi accumulation. Do you understand what that means?"
"It means I can't build inner power, right?"
"...!"
His granddaughter's face was serene. Danmok Cheon-gi saw an indescribable light in the young girl's expression.
"...Without inner power, you can never reach the heavens above heavens. You know that too?"
"Yes."
"Everything you'll learn will be futile. You won't defeat anyone, and no one will truly recognize your sword. A sword without inner power is like that. Look at the character for 'person' (人). Without the first stroke, it's a collapsed letter; without the second, it's not even a letter. In martial arts, outer arts are the first stroke, inner power the second."
Rather than let her suffer futile efforts years later, her grandfather hoped she'd never start. Understanding his heart, Ryeon smiled gently.
"I'm not learning the sword to defeat others or earn their recognition. I want to learn it to know our clan's sword."
"...."
In her previous life, just before her death, a outer arts master named Baek Ui-myeong had made a name. Born with twisted meridians from some childhood mishap, unable to cultivate inner power, he'd still become a renowned expert through outer arts alone—not peak, but respectable.
She'd forgotten until recently, but firming her resolve to learn from Danmok Cheon-gi brought it back.
If things go south, I can go that route too, right? Might as well try.
"Bi will become the world's greatest who shines our clan, and Aunt and Uncle will lead it with their help, so I have no worries."
Ryeon's words were logical, straightforward, even cheerful. In an ordinary family, they'd praise her brilliance and dote on her as the wise eldest grandchild. But not here.
This was a martial house.
"It will be different later."
"Pardon?"
"As learning deepens and time passes, resentment, anger, injustice, and grievance will inevitably arise. Your intelligence will make you feel them more acutely."
Ryeon hesitated briefly, then nodded.
"When that time comes, I'll... bear it with all my might, giving my very best."
"...."
Danmok Cheon-gi gritted his teeth at her words. Hard to believe they came from his granddaughter, not yet ten.
His youngest son's voice echoed, singing her praises for her cleverness and wit.
And now, the most aggrieved was Danmok Cheon-gi himself.
At that age, she didn't claim such things wouldn't happen. She acknowledged the anger and injustice to come, yet vowed to endure.
So brilliant a child. Inheriting her parents' superior bones. Awakened after the Balsa Sesu. Now, when he could give her everything...
"...I understand. Since you say so, I'll teach you our clan's martial arts step by step, excluding heart methods."
"Yes!"
Gazing at Ryeon, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, Danmok Cheon-gi sighed deeply and spoke.
"Do you know our family's most basic sword art?"
Falling Star Twelve Swords!"
"Correct. The foundation of Falling Star Twelve Swords is clarity."
"Clarity?"
Without a hint of hesitation now, Danmok Cheon-gi continued like flowing water.
"When swung, it must be as swift as starlight yet clearer than a star, so unmistakable that, just as no one in the world misses a falling star, everyone knows the intent when a Danmok swordsman swings. Do you understand?"
Ryeon wasn't sure from words alone but nodded quietly.
Danmok Cheon-gi stared at her steadily, then drew the sword at his waist and stood before a straw dummy. The atmosphere shifted instantly.
A chilling aura like the night sky flowed.
Compared to when I first saw him, he's changed so much.
Seeing him almost daily, Ryeon only now noticed.
Only when he held the sword.
The scars on his face and hands remained, but his grip was steady, his emanating presence fiercely unyielding, without flaw.