A Massive Hit
“Young lady, did you sleep well last night?”
Yeo Un hurried over to Ryeon and greeted her with a clasped-hand bow. Ryeon pressed her palms together and dipped her head in return.
“I slept like a rock, thanks to you... but it looks like you two didn't get much rest.”
“Haha! I stayed up all night mulling over your words. Or should I call you Master now?”
Taeheo teased, insisting that one couldn't call themselves a true Daoist without properly honoring their teacher. “If you did that, my grandfather would scold you.”
“Who’s scolding who?”
Danmok Cheon-gi suddenly appeared behind them, his voice gruff. He looked ready to split in half anyone who dared scold Ryeon. His fierce gaze, mingled with the scars on his face, would have made an ordinary person's legs buckle.
“I was just saying I'd call young Ryeon Master, but she refused, Elder.”
“Master? What nonsense—for a tiny duckling without even a nickname yet?”
“A duckling? How can you speak so rudely to such a lovely granddaughter?”
“She sticks out her lips and quacks every time.”
“Grandfather...”
Ryeon furrowed her brow and looked up at Danmok Cheon-gi. He flinched, caught mid-rant with her right there, then cleared his throat awkwardly and averted his eyes.
With everyone fidgeting uncomfortably, Ryeon grabbed Yeo Un's hand. She declared she'd focus on training with him to prepare for the upcoming spar with the Geum Clan—no distractions. The adults could only nod helplessly.
* * *
“No need to worry anymore.”
Taeheo gazed down at the two children exchanging swords, his eyes fixed on their blade tips.
“Worry about what?”
“With Hyeon-seong's eldest born possessing such immense talent and a gentle heart, what in the world is there to fear?”
“Talent, you say...”
“Heavens above. She's a once-in-a-millennium prodigy, Elder. I've eaten fewer bowls of rice than you, but in all my years... I've never seen the like. Even when I first met Hyeon-seong, I was astonished...”
He recalled Danmok Hyeon-seong, now long gone from the world. If talent could be forged into human form, it would bear his likeness. Among countless people, none had shone brighter.
Even as a child, Danmok Hyeon-seong knew exactly how to overpower his opponent the moment he gripped his sword.
It was the year he turned fifteen, just before Blood Valley erupted like wildfire. He'd sent Namgung Gyeong-hae, second son of the mighty Namgung Clan and five years his senior, flying in a single exchange.
Da... Danmok Hyeon-seong! Victory!
The judge's hollow voice still echoed in his memory, resounding over the dust cloud on the sparring platform.
When asked about it, Danmok Hyeon-seong had shrugged it off casually.
I could see exactly how Brother Gyeong-hae would move. Haha. I just knew how to counter it, so I did.
His tone light and cheerful. That's when Taeheo thought, This is heaven-sent talent. This man truly possesses it.
“The world teaches us there's always a sky above the sky. Once that child builds her neigong, who could even approach her?”
Taeheo Jin-in's words rang with fervent praise, but Danmok Cheon-gi pressed his lips tight and swallowed his response. Even if Taeheo was a comrade who'd crawled through hell with him, he couldn't casually reveal that his granddaughter's body couldn't hold neigong. The unspoken truth stabbed at his chest.
With talent like this, surely it compensates even for lacking neigong. Yet every time he dwelled on her limitation, his heart ached.
“...Is that how it looks to you?”
“I didn't sleep a wink last night. Revisiting what Ryeon showed and told us... dawn had broken by the time I'd processed it. Yeo Un was the same.”
In that light, Danmok Ryeon was the perfect heir. Eldest grandchild of the clan, heaven-blessed talent, compassionate yet extraordinary temperament.
“And she's only just turned eight... Her future is almost frightening.”
“Who knows how the world turns? Enough empty talk.”
“Why so stingy with praise?”
Taeheo Jin-in chuckled, assuming Danmok Cheon-gi was holding back to keep Ryeon from growing arrogant. But his laughter cut short.
Ryeon's wooden sword tip flowed like a swimming fish, successfully batting away Yeo Un's blade.
As Taeheo rushed between them, chattering about the technique, Danmok Cheon-gi watched in silence. A faint smile played on his lips.
* * *
Yeo Un's enthusiasm far exceeded expectations.
Wasn't he here to help with my spar?
It was almost bewildering. What did he think of this? How about that? He'd devised this approach—what did she think? Was training tough?
More than that—he was sulking over his sparring loss.
When she glanced at him in mild surprise, Yeo Un caught the meaning in her eyes, flushed deeply, and looked down.
“Truth be told... it's my first time making a friend I can really talk to. Have I been talking too much?”
“Ahhh...”
Ryeon inwardly smacked her forehead.
At his age, already so prodigiously talented and sharp-minded that even peers felt distant in conversation.
“No, no! Truth be told, I've never had a friend either.”
Her acknowledgment lit up Yeo Un's face like dawn breaking.
Yeo Un, Daoist Yeo Un...
With such talent and drive, he'd have become a renowned master. But as a Kunlun Sect disciple, he faded from her memories—too distant, literally a thousand ri away.
Still, that shining potential was real. What if she nudged him further?
Taeheo Jin-in came all this way himself. He's a man of yi—righteousness.
His disciple wouldn't forget a debt of gratitude.
Come to think of it, it's odd. Why did he visit so suddenly?
Things had already diverged, but in her past life, Taeheo never came. Why now, on a whim that Danmok Cheon-gi crossed his mind?
What was different?
“Now that we're friends...”
Ryeon moved to continue their discussion from last night, but footsteps approached from outside. She paused.
Hwaryun, stationed a short distance away, relayed the message from the outer wall and approached. He shot Yeo Un a sharp glance before whispering to Ryeon.
“Nui, someone from Mansong Merchant Group came rushing for you. On horseback, no carriage.”
“What for...”
Startled, Ryeon turned to Yeo Un. He rose with evident reluctance.
“I'm reviewing what you taught me last night. Elder Taeheo will help, so don't worry.”
“Yes, Daoist Yeo Un! See you soon.”
No sooner had Yeo Un left than two figures hurried from beyond the wall. One was Gyeon Wiun, properly attired unlike last time; the other, her servant.
The servant, stomping anxiously with flushed cheeks, trailed behind, taking deep breaths to compose himself.
“Aunt Wiun?”
What? Trouble at the merchant group? If it's something to tell me directly, it must be about Qinglian Water. But with the Geum Clan spar next week, what problem now...
“Ryeon.”
Gyeon Wiun, half-running up, called softly. Her usually cool face seemed faintly flushed.
In a voice hoarse and low, she murmured.
“Qinglian Water...”
“Yes?”
“It's a hit.”
“Pardon?”
“Jackpot... total jackpot.”
“...!”
Gyeon Wiun's voice trembled slightly. In that instant, the words “Geum Clan” vanished cleanly from Ryeon's mind.
Gyeon Wiun gave a swift rundown of events in Hangzhou. She'd raced here because Ryeon's Qinglian Water had sold out like a storm everywhere.
It had already been gaining traction in Hangzhou on its merits alone, but rumors of it aiding Gyeon Wihak's top imperial exam score had swept through Zhejiang Province—and even Hui Prefecture in Namjikrye Province, where he'd studied. Demand now outstripped supply; it was priceless.
“Nowhere... nothing left in stock?”
“The pharmacies are cleaned out. Spotless.”
Gyeon Wiun's deadpan “cleaned out” drew a brief chuckle, but it faded as Ryeon pictured her abacus flying.