Black Wind Saber Heaven Path
Danmok Han-so was one of the two men who had performed the Balsa Sesu ritual on Ryeon. A martial artist's accumulated techniques were as precious as their very life, yet he had let his inner power leak away to revive her—and not once had he breathed a word of complaint about it.
Instead, seeing the frail descendant of the clan he'd poured even his own inner power into reviving react so mildly to her condition, anyone would think he was some kind of saintly paragon.
"Good. Now that you've caught your breath... I'll show you the Heukpung Dancheondo that you'll learn."
At last, Danmok Han-so halted the two girls and picked up his thick saber.
Ryeon swallowed hard and activated her Divine Eye.
Starry light began to flicker over her pupils.
And her expectations were not disappointed.
Divine Eye 6 Stars Achieved (1▲)!
Can now see strengths.
Can become inconspicuous to the eye.
Can see strengths.
Can purify malice.
'Whoa...'
Ryeon gaped, blinking in awe.
There must have been people who tried to dissuade or worry when he insisted on wielding a saber in a sword clan—much like how everyone fretted over Ryeon and Danmok Seong now. Yet here he was, demonstrating exactly what it meant to claim the top spot among the Yuseong Sibalsuk with a different weapon. His movements were proof.
In the fierce whipping wind, Danmok Han-so's saber moved freely and without restraint. Less like stars tracing predictable arcs and more like embers from a roaring bonfire—unpredictable, wild, radiating untamed heat.
'Books alone can't capture it precisely.'
What had only been vague notions flooded in clearly, wave-like. Every puzzling motion now made perfect sense. And she could even sense how Danmok Han-so himself interpreted them.
A free-spirited young man who preferred the saber over the sword had met Danmok Cheon-gi. As he rose to become a key pillar of the clan, needing to prove his worth, those days were etched into his blade's path.
"This is the saber art you'll learn. Hm. Not sure if a month of training will cut it."
He probably shouldn't have added that last bit.
"Now, you try it."
"Pardon?"
"Pardon?"
The two girls echoed in unison.
Danmok Han-so furrowed his brow.
"You saw it. You know it. Try it."
'Grandpa's people are all the same.'
Danmok Cheon-gi had done the same—shown a sword form once and told her to replicate it.
"Th-the... formulas?"
Danmok Seong stammered in panic, but Danmok Han-so just crossed his arms and jerked his chin toward their practice wooden sabers.
No choice when the master commanded. The girls gripped their wooden sabers side by side.
Ryeon recalled his movements in her mind and slowly swung hers. By the time she'd finished all the forms, Danmok Han-so's face had stiffened far more than at the start, for some reason.
Danmok Seong, panting from blindly mimicking the first-time motions, sensed the odd tension and rolled her eyes. And Ryeon was even more out of breath.
'Huff, haa, huff—why's he glaring?!'
Even after Danmok Cheon-gi had drilled her plenty, she still fell short. At least she wasn't at the "watch once and done" stage anymore—a small mercy.
Danmok Han-so said nothing at first, then nodded curtly, allowing them to lower their sabers.
"...Hm. Looks like stamina training comes first for both of you."
No praise or critique. He simply pressed on.
"From the first form again!"
* * *
Danmok Seong realized for the first time that learning martial arts could actually be fun.
Swords and sabers looked similar but moved in entirely different ways. With the saber, she felt herself more vividly than when swinging a sword.
Crack!
"Ack!"
"Again! Look at your opponent, not just your own saber—I told you that!"
"S-sorry!"
"Talent means nothing without focus—I said it a hundred times!"
"I'll focus!"
As Danmok Seong yelled back and readjusted her training saber, Danmok Han-so's expression softened—just a touch. But when it turned to Ryeon, it hardened again.
He wasn't very expressive to begin with, so the change was subtle. But Ryeon saw it.
'Is low stamina really worth that glare? Grandpa said I did decently, at least.'
Ryeon grumbled inwardly, gripped her wooden saber, and stepped up. It was her turn for the spar—better phrased as "get thrashed by him."
Even against peers who could barely circulate inner power, she could win despite stamina issues. But against a battle-hardened master like Danmok Han-so? No chance.
Yet midway through getting pummeled like Danmok Seong, as his wooden practice saber whistled toward her—
It halted abruptly.
"...?"
She'd braced to fail the block and tumble from lack of strength. Instead, his sudden stop startled her into wide eyes.
"Why...?"
"Why did you move your saber like that?"
"Pardon?"
His voice came a bit quicker.
Ryeon glanced at her saber, held at an angle, then shifted back toward her prior stance. To counter his attack, she'd used the eleventh form of Heukpung Dancheondo.
Just with the opening half-breath faster, and the mid-form half-breath slower.
"Hm, well... I figured the attack would come to my left shoulder."
"Why'd you think that?"
Ryeon hesitated on honesty, then shrugged inwardly and spilled it.
"B-because... I'd confidently blocked the right side just before, so I thought you'd target my left weakness now..."
"..."
Danmok Han-so scowled deeply, then relaxed and continued.
"Fine. Putting that aside—the eleventh form wasn't quite what I taught."
"No! The black wind of Heukpung Dancheondo is fierce enough to fell stars, and you said wind seems irregular but follows patterns humans struggle to grasp."
"Hm."
"So I just applied that pattern... to make it look irregular. It was exactly the same motion."
Danmok Han-so fell silent.
As Ryeon said, the speed varied slightly, but it was identical.
"How did you apply the pattern? No—why did you?"
A master like him could see the how. What mattered was the why behind choosing that motion.
Feeling his intensity, Ryeon scratched her cheek.
"And, um, since you're stronger than me... I thought move the weapon fast first, then plant a precise, firm stance to counter."
She fidgeted with her fingers, then added quickly.
"Truth is, the art's designed to handle irregular motions smoothly from the start, so I just tried it."
But his sharp gaze didn't soften.
Danmok Seong, listening intently beside her, stared deeper at her own hands.
* * *
Ryeon sensed the complex mix in Danmok Hyeon-yo's gaze boring into her back.
Danmok Seong threw herself into saber practice with more zeal than ever. Midway on, she'd barely thought of Geum Gajang at all.
So Danmok Hyeon-yo wrestled with wanting her daughter to master the sword—and joy at seeing her so absorbed in what she loved.
Having learned the saber from Danmok Han-so, the diligent Danmok Seong had dragged Ryeon along after class. "Shouldn't we review what we learned without the master?"
Thus this afternoon snack-and-theory session—the brief identity crisis vexing Danmok Hyeon-yo.
She'd served tea and quietly withdrawn.
Danmok Seong glanced at her mother's departure, crossed her arms, and eyed Ryeon.
"We agreed—one question each. You first."
She seemed to think helping her fragile cousin came before receiving help.
"Alright, Seong. About Heukpung Dancheondo—why the half-turn back in the fifth form?"
Danmok Seong stiffened briefly, shrugged her shoulders in, and pondered gravely.
She'd never questioned the form's reason until Ryeon asked.