A World of Strength
For a solid month, she trained under Danmok Han-so by day and studied alongside Ryeon by night. The duel with Geum Jongha loomed just tomorrow. The entire West Lake region buzzed with the news once more.
"No training today since the martial display is tomorrow. Rest up properly."
Even at Danmok Han-so's words, Danmok Seong's face remained stiff. "Master! Spar with me at least."
"No need."
"Still..."
"More importantly, you need to decide what comes next."
As the talk shifted from tomorrow—not even tomorrow, but further into the future—Danmok Seong's focus pulled that way. Ryeon caught the mischievous glint in Danmok Han-so's eyes as he watched her cousin and inwardly shook her head.
Danmok Seong, oblivious to the expression, asked gravely, "Does that mean I can't learn the dao any further?"
"Hm. If you want, we could continue."
"...!"
"But who knows what your mother might say."
"Mother..."
Only then recalling her mother, Danmok Hyeon-yo, Danmok Seong's face hardened slightly. Who could be more attuned to their parents' desires than a child? She knew exactly what her mother wanted. When she'd brought the duel with the Geum Clan lord's heir—and thus earned the chance to learn the dao—her mother's silence had stemmed from assuming it was a one-time allowance.
Danmok Han-so smirked, studying her expression. "Hm. Back in my youth, no one in the family approved of me taking up the dao either. This house is full of fools who only know the sword."
Danmok Seong nearly burst out laughing at the sudden slander, then belatedly realized it lumped in her mother too. She bit her lip hard to stifle the giggles.
"In times like that, you show them with this." Danmok Han-so patted the massive dao at his waist. "Win big enough to shut them up, and no one dares say a word."
"...!"
"The murim is a world of strength. In a world of strength, you speak not with words, but with power."
"...Yes, sir!"
"And... as the young mistress said before. He could wield anything."
"Pardon?"
Ryeon perked up at the mention of her father. Danmok Han-so leaned in, whispering conspiratorially to the girls. "Everyone raved about his sword genius, but that wasn't it. There was no weapon he couldn't master. If I'd been the only one in this house practicing the dao, I wouldn't have reached this level."
"Ah..."
"So if you're chasing him, why not master the dao first, then think about the sword later?"
Ryeon coughed softly. She doubted Danmok Hyeon-seong had truly wielded every weapon under heaven—and even if he had, only a once-in-a-millennium genius like him could. Once you grasped the dao and achieved real mastery, who'd force you back to the sword, excuse or no? But Danmok Seong nodded eagerly, as if it were the most reasonable advice.
Danmok Han-so let out a booming, satisfied laugh.
Before wrapping up the day's work—readjusting his worn sword and bidding Ryeon farewell—Jeong Yeong sensed a presence. His body tensed in an instant, then relaxed as he identified it.
"Captain?!"
"Hey! If it isn't our Yeong. Long time no see."
"We heard you were back a month ago—how have you not shown your face once?"
At the sharp rebuke that flew out immediately, Danmok Han-so shrugged. "Nah. I'm not captain anymore."
"How can a person just be like this? You up and left saying you were done, and now you sneak back without a word?"
He grumbled as if Danmok Han-so weren't even there. The man looked uncomfortable but held his tongue.
"And you think one 'not captain anymore' fixes it?"
"Hey, there's a big reason for it. This captain..."
"Not captain, you said."
"This brat's grown up."
Everyone knew Ryeon had awakened with help from the Tang Clan of Sichuan, but the exact great technique used remained secret—to protect those who performed it. Danmok Han-so had his own reasons for keeping it hidden too. He followed Danmok Cheon-gi more deeply than most, and distant blood tie or not, Ryeon was family. But he didn't want the estate's warriors thinking they had to sacrifice their inner power and everything for their lord.
We're not Demon Heavenly Cult or anything.
Word was, their cult leader absorbed his subordinates' inner power. This was a righteous orthodox sect, wasn't it? They couldn't know his noble intentions! Swallowing pointless grievance with a cough, Danmok Han-so patted his shoulder.
"You've grown a lot taller in the meantime, huh."
"You just said that."
"You know that's not what I mean, and you still—?"
"Have I grown that much in the last year?"
Jeong Yeong swiftly changed the subject. Danmok Han-so sighed. "Yeah. A real lot."
"So you're fully back at the estate now, Captain?"
Subtle hope flickered across the sullen youngest's stoic face. Danmok Han-so smiled inwardly but didn't show it. The Yuseong Sibalsuk—Danmok estate's elite strike force—wasn't limited to exactly eighteen. There were eighteen reserves below them, and thirty-six below those. Now, they couldn't even maintain the reserves' reserves, but Jeong Yeong had been the eighteenth reserve—the baby. Even if everyone shifted up a rank when he left, no one would slot below Jeong Yeong. Still the runt.
"...Thinking about it."
Danmok Han-so grumbled, imagining Danmok Cheon-gi booming with laughter at the words. The old man was already glaring over the "just a month" teaching stint.
Jeong Yeong caught the deeper, more resonant timbre in Danmok Han-so's low voice—more profound than before he left. He'd never have noticed such a change once, but lately his mind felt clearer, sharper. He'd sensed the man's approach instantly moments ago.
"Captain, has your attainment...?"
"What? Smell it on me?"
"I didn't say it smells..."
Danmok Han-so quit sniffing his collar, roared with laughter, and dragged Jeong Yeong along. "Let's grab a drink!"
"Tomorrow we head to the Geum estate. Lady Seong's duel."
"You dueling? Lady Seong is."
He used full names when teaching, but otherwise stuck to "young miss."
"Still..."
"You're off duty now, right? Off means free."
"Ah, got it. One sec."
Jeong Yeong headed inside. Peeking in with a small bow, the door opened to reveal a tiny girl. Eyes shimmering with starlight—Danmok Ryeon. Danmok Han-so was mildly surprised at their evident closeness.
Ryeon beckoned Jeong Yeong, who bowed. She whispered softly. Though they stood at a distance, Danmok Han-so could eavesdrop effortlessly.
—Does Master Yuseong... like his liquor much?
—Pardon?
—Does he push drinks a lot?
—Ah, a bit. He's a drinker, sure.
—If you don't want to, skip it. Say I told you not to.
—Yes!
What do they take me for?! As Danmok Han-so grumbled inwardly, Jeong Yeong finished bowing to Ryeon and returned.
"Ahem. Let's go. Got a spot in mind."
They settled at a somewhat secluded inn near West Lake, where the water peeked distantly. As the drinks arrived—before even pouring—Danmok Han-so asked, "You've made solid gains too."
"Still sorely lacking."
Jeong Yeong's voice stiffened slightly.
"How's your cultivation going?"
"Two hours before duty, two after. Rest days otherwise..."
Straightening further, he answered earnestly. Danmok Han-so was captain of the Yuseong Sibalsuk—and their spiritual mentor.
"Yeah? Young miss hasn't helped with anything?"
Jeong Yeong's hand twitched on his knee. Suspicion flickered in his eyes as he met Danmok Han-so's gaze.
"Why ask that?"
"Your attainment's surged lately, and the only one around you is the young miss."
Jeong Yeong pondered, staring at his knee with a guarded expression.
He says no now, but still the Yuseong Sibalsuk's top sword. Loyal to the Grand Patriarch.
And him?
Yuseong Sibalsuk's bottom rung. Warrior guarding the young miss's quarters... and...
Nothing special. Someone who'd gotten a bit of advice from the young miss.
Jeong Yeong thought of Danmok Ryeon unbidden. The tiny girl frantically honing her martial arts, shuttling to the pharmacy, striving daily to revive the clan.