A Servant Acquired
He'd paid good money to join a dojo as a child, hoping to learn martial arts properly, but they hadn't taught him right—his qi and blood channels got all twisted up. Because of that, his body couldn't build proper inner energy, and when they kicked him out, Baek Ui-myeong didn't even get his money back or any compensation for the damage.
But the young Baek Ui-myeong didn't give up. If I can't have inner energy, I'll master outer arts, he thought, training until he dropped. Without inner energy, realms like Sword Qi Wounding were a pipe dream, but he figured he could at least reach the levels below that.
And he did. Sure, in the process he tumbled into all sorts of trouble, eventually getting nabbed by the collar and swept into the Haomen—the shady underbelly even Black Heaven Union keeps an eye on—but still...
The boy said as much, then let out a short sigh, tilting his head to eye the sun before clenching his fist.
Those hands really do look like delicate fern fronds, Baek Ui-myeong thought absently.
"I've been thinking I need at least one person around anyway. No helping it. Might hurt a bit—bear with it."
"Haha, kid. What nonsense are you—urk!"
And then it started. He was just getting pummeled. Like beating laundry by the stream, or thumping a quilt to shake out the dust.
The boy was half his size, but impossible to block. Flashing east, then west, pounding him barehanded. One slip, and Baek was down, after which it was just a blur of agony.
If he'd had inner energy, he'd be shaking the entire murim by now. Even without it, he prided himself on being strong for his age!
"Guhhh, urk, urk, eurk!"
He'd drilled outer arts to death, confident no one could match his durability—yet each childish fist felt like a blade stabbing his five viscera and six bowels. Midway through, tears and snot streamed unbidden.
He wanted to beg forgiveness, but screams were all that escaped.
Then, like magic, the boy stopped.
Baek Ui-myeong, curled tight with arms shielding his face, held his breath for a long moment before peeking up...
"Hweeeek!"
"Where do you live?"
The boy's face was right there. Baek screamed.
The refreshingly smug boy frowned at the noise and swung again.
His voice choked off. No sound came, no matter how he tried.
"Ah! Should've sealed your mute acupoint first. You were loud enough to kill."
I really thought I was dying!
Tears still poured. But the boy didn't care, tucking away the pouch—that baby's guardian's—securely.
"I'll unseal it, so no screaming. Answer well. Got it? Or it'll hurt more."
'Hurt'? If this is 'hurt,' what's real pain?!
Baek wanted to bite his tongue, but knew he lacked the grit. He just nodded through sobs.
"Where do you live?"
"O-over there, at the Huanbi Tower..."
"Rich enough to eat and sleep in a pleasure house? Then why steal this?"
"N-not with my money. I, uh, chase out rowdy guests and such... to get by..."
Terror made honorifics spill out before this child. No ordinary expert. How's a kid reach this level? Rejuvenation of an old master?
Indignation sparked insight. Rejuvenation. When transcendent experts surpass boundaries, regressing not just young but childlike.
It fit. The boy's refined face screamed noble birth; the shabby clothes... Old folks dress sloppy for comfort.
"Hm. With your skills... you can do that? Chase people out?"
"No inner energy doesn't mean no skill!"
"Didn't look like it..."
Curses swirled unspoken—he lacked the guts.
"Anyway, Huanbi Tower. Got it. Wait there. Run, and you die. No joke."
"W-wait? What do you—"
Darkness swallowed him. He wanted to die.
One botched pouch, and this?
"Figure you're useful. Dumb, but gritty. Not bad."
Saying it to his face—like some demon lord rejuvenated. Tears gushed anew. Chills everywhere.
"P-please, I was wrong. I'll reflect, donate everything stolen, live right..."
"Do what you want. I'm off. Run and die, I said. Bet you won't want to by the time I return."
The boy smirked, smacked Baek's back once more, and stood.
Pain like bamboo snapping in half engulfed him. Baek blacked out.
* * *
"Ryeon! Where've you been?"
"Selling Bingdangho up ahead? Went to buy some. And found this. Isn't it your pouch, Sister?"
"Eh?"
Ryeon looked down in surprise, then sighed deeply.
"My training's sorely lacking... Didn't even notice losing it."
Lots of spiritual energy doesn't mean great presence sense. That's inner energy or qi sense territory...
That's why she'd aligned with Grandfather Danmok Cheon-gi to find ways to use it beyond Qinglian Water and Baekyakcheong, but no luck yet.
"Aigoo, little miss, let me take that."
The wet nurse snatched the pouch, tucking it away.
As Ryeon, Hwaryun, and the nurse huddled, Jeong Yeong approached from a distance.
"Young miss, something wrong?"
"Nothing. I must've dropped my pouch. Ryeon found it buying Bingdangho."
"...My failure to watch."
"Nah, don't say that. You two eat these."
As Ryeon handed two Bingdangho to her guards, Jeong Yeong met Hwaryun's piercing stare.
Wh-what.
The pitiful, dimwitted gaze made him swallow dryly. Should feel insulted, but tension gripped him—like facing a master's scolding.
Grabbing the Bingdangho Ryeon offered, the stare intensified—until she turned to Hwaryun, vanishing clean.
"But how'd you buy Bingdangho?"
"Pocket money last time."
"Don't spend it on this. It's for you..."
"I did."
Ryeon patted the adorable Hwaryun's head—he scurried behind the nurse—then bit into a red Bingdangho fruit.
"Checked on Yeo-cheong, so head back now?"
Ryeon had come for Yak Yeo-cheong, to settle the herb shop buying her herbs cheap.
She couldn't forgive it, but Yeo-cheong refused. Only they bought even at rock-bottom; without it, she'd have folded before meeting Ryeon.
Fine for them?!
If their success was her herbs' merit, they'd flop now. Yeo-cheong just smiled innocently.
But fearing what they'd do to her grandma alone while gathering, they agreed to move her in with the estate.
"Head back now... Huh? Uncle Seok!"
Ryeon blinked wide at the unexpected face.
Seok Ban-an, emerging from a nearby pigment shop, approached in surprise.
"Ryeon? Out today?"
"My hired herb gatherer lives nearby. Checking on her. You?"
"Grabbing ink and pigments... Like picking myself."
"Lots of pretty ones?"
"Got a vibrant orange this time. Donghwang Powder—deep, rich yellow. Goldmoss bloomed lovely back home; thought I'd paint it."
Her spiritual energy revived the wilted garden, blooming myriad flowers—her favorite, goldmoss.
Wijicheong clipped branches, planted saplings, doted endlessly. Fearing her sorrow if they wilted, Ryeon helped too.
Now the estate brimmed with sweet goldmoss scent and blooms.