Sworn Secrets and Enlightened Paths
“Exactly. To anyone else too. To no one…… It’s a secret just between us two.”
“I get it already. Should I swear an oath or something? On this sword, maybe?”
Danmok Cheon-gi tapped the tip of his beloved sword with his finger. It was a blade with history, one that had been with him even through the Dongjeong Blood Massacre. Selling just that sword might be enough to rebuild the Danmok family estate. After all, it carried the pathos of the world's greatest martial artist—its value was beyond measure.
Ryeon brightened and nodded eagerly.
“Yes!”
“What? No, this…… Fine. I swear on this sword that I won’t tell a soul.”
“You can’t just give it to me and then go blabbing about it.”
“I won’t, I promise!”
Danmok Cheon-gi teased her playfully. Only then did Ryeon relax and flash a bright smile. Watching the smile spread across his still young and innocent granddaughter’s face, Danmok Cheon-gi chose his words carefully.
“Ryeon-ah.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“That spiritual energy you possess…… It’s the power that humans slowly refine and accumulate into what we call neigong.”
“Yes? Yes……”
It was something she already knew, but with Danmok Cheon-gi’s expression so grave, Ryeon simply nodded quietly.
“Yet the fact that you, who harbors it, cannot use neigong—that you cannot wield a corresponding power—doesn’t make sense, does it?”
Ryeon scratched her cheek. She’d thought about this a lot herself.
“I…… I thought human neigong was like a stream. You cultivate a small pond in your dantian. But mine’s like crashing waves, so it doesn’t work.”
“But what that stream is meant to do is turn mill wheels, unleash torrents, and douse fires. Surely seawater should be able to do the same, no?”
“Huh?”
Ryeon, who had been listening silently, widened her eyes and tilted her head. Now that she thought about it, he was right.
What did you do with neigong? Run faster, wield sword qi, and eventually swing sword gangs. It wasn’t like you ate or drank neigong—so what did it matter if it was seawater or a stream?
Wait, does it really not make any difference at all?
“You’re finally realizing there might be a way to adapt your power to martial principles—even if no one knows it now, it could exist somewhere.”
“……!”
“Let’s seek it out together.”
Ryeon’s eyes went wide. Danmok Cheon-gi gazed softly at his granddaughter’s face, feeling a vitality he’d long suppressed slowly returning. He’d sat in the shadows for so long, with no reason to rise. His granddaughter had just given him that reason.
Danmok Cheon-gi’s eyes gleamed fiercely. Ryeon met his gaze and nodded firmly.
Returning to the Geum family estate, Geum Jeokgeol stroked his chin as he examined the paper Danmok Ryeon had written about the sparring match.
“Is this it?”
“Yes……”
Geum Jongha’s face fell as he answered, his energy completely drained. Geum Jeokgeol glanced at his son. As his only child and a prodigy, he cherished him deeply. He’d never seen his son so cowed anywhere, and even after rare scoldings, the boy would bounce back within half a day and talk back defiantly. Yet here he was, dejected for days after one spar.
“Does losing the spar weigh on you that much?”
“It’s……”
He’d wanted to explain that his father’s infamous reputation was a misunderstanding, but realizing too late that unlike himself, she had no father had filled him with guilt. The secret second spar, hidden from the adults, had left a fatal wound on his heart. And in that second bout, Danmok Ryeon had toyed with him. Just like when his father, Geum Jeokgeol, taught him a technique. She’d pinpointed his weaknesses twice, three times, four times with ghostly precision, thrashing him and rolling him on the ground……
On top of that, he’d received a long letter detailing how he’d lost due to his own shortcomings, and upon returning home, he’d been thoroughly scolded by his mother, Song Yeongnang, for recklessly challenging the Danmok family to a spar out of nowhere.
Naturally, Geum Jongha wasn’t happy at all.
But Geum Jeokgeol ignored his son’s expression and unfolded the paper. He thought it was better that this happened while Geum Jongha was still young.
Danmok Ryeon had only turned eight this year, and though her power control felt immature, her handwriting was surprisingly neat. Once she matured, she’d make a name as a calligrapher.
“Hm……”
Most of it detailed how she’d countered Geum Jongha’s sparring, with almost no mention of the Danmok sword style—only a breakdown of the Geum family’s saber arts.
“Ahem.”
Geum Jeokgeol furrowed his brow. He could understand his son’s unhappy look. The writing used simple words—likely within the Thousand Character Classic range—and read smoothly, but strangely, many phrases struck at the heart.
“……Father?”
While Geum Jeokgeol reread the paper three times, peeking at his reaction, Geum Jongha tilted his head.
“Hoo……”
“Father? What’s wrong?”
Geum Jeokgeol rubbed his arms, chilled with goosebumps. The paper rustled, startling him into holding his breath before exhaling. It was natural to feel upset when pointed out flaws, but this felt like being seen through from above, every inch pierced. A chill ran down his spine first.
That was the emotion Geum Jeokgeol felt now. The writing kindly—and meticulously—suggested paths to amplify the Geum saber arts’ essence without erasing its color. It was as if an enlightened ancestor, absent from the Geum family, had appeared to pave the way for Geum Jongha from one to ten. And perhaps for Geum Jeokgeol himself.
Did she hear something from my father before he passed?
Geum Jeokgeol thought, then realized the timeline didn’t match. Danmok Ryeon would’ve been only two then. Had Danmok Hyeon-seong left documents? Had she memorized and reproduced them?
Complicated thoughts swirled briefly, but as he read on, they scattered, and he became immersed.
The day after the spar with the Geum family ended, Taeheo Jin-in and Yeopun stood side by side before Wolyeongjae. It was time for them to leave Hangzhou too.
“We came down the Yangtze by boat, so now we’ll take the canal north, visit a few places, then head back to Kunlun Mountain.”
“Can’t you stay a bit longer……”
Ryeon’s reluctant words drew a hearty laugh from Taeheo Jin-in as he patted her head.
“The old saying goes that guests and fish stink after three days—we’ve overstayed. And detouring on the way back to Kunlun will make for a tight schedule.”
Hangzhou to Kunlun Mountain was nearly ten thousand li away, so it made sense they’d be in a hurry. Ryeon felt inwardly regretful. She doubted she’d ever go that far herself. In truth, Taeheo Jin-in coming all this way was already astonishing.
Yeopun’s face was full of regret too.
“It would’ve been nice to talk more……”
Reluctance dripped from his gaze at Ryeon. Since arriving at the Danmok estate, he’d achieved in one go what would’ve taken years. No amount of tanghulu could taste this sweet, nor a whole cow fill him this full.
“I feel sorry for not helping you much, young lady.”
“You helped tons! Before you came, I’d only seen the Danmok sword style. Without you, I couldn’t have prepared for the Geum spar.”
“That preparation was mostly…… Er……”
Hardly any, right? She spent all day making Qinglian Water.
But perceptive as he was, Yeopun trailed off. Ryeon quickly changed the subject.
“Here, a gift for you. True Qinglian Water.”
It was a fairly large jar.
“Pardon? This precious thing……”
Yeopun panicked, and Taeheo Jin-in looked shocked, about to refuse, but Danmok Cheon-gi pressed Taeheo Jin-in’s hand down.
“It’s the child’s heart—accept it.”
“Still……”
Taeheo Jin-in was set on declining. He’d overheard on the wind that it relieved headaches and helped scholars focus. An expensive item unfit even for personal use—likely meant to be sold for travel funds……
“Rub a little on your temples and meditate morning and night.”
Then Ryeon added, as if reading his mind, and placed the jar in Yeopun’s arms.
“Pardon? Meditate?”
“It’ll help. Soon, when we take new disciples here, everyone will use it too.”
Yeopun glanced at Taeheo Jin-in. Danmok Ryeon never spoke idly or boasted. If this girl said it would help, it was true.