Rebuilding from the Foundation
It was late at night, long after everyone in the manor had gone to bed, yet a faint light still flickered at the window of the detached quarters where Jin Cheong-un stayed.
Rustle, rustle.
By the glow of an oil lamp, Jin Cheong-un turned a page.
One page.
Then another.
He would stop at a single passage for a long while, hesitate, sometimes flip back to read it again — and then turn another page.
Only when the night had deepened and the moon began to sink behind the western ridge did he finally close the book.
Thud!
He stared down at the volume resting on his desk.
Palhwangmu.
The title, written in a refined and elegant hand.
Jin Cheong-un hesitated a moment longer, then flipped through the pages once more.
"I've come across my share of martial arts in my time, but this one……"
Was deep.
Yes, that was the word that fit best.
'It feels a step beyond Myeongwang's Ten Absolute Steps — no, in some respects, easily several steps beyond.'
And the Myeongwang Heart Sutra had been classified as a supreme art even in the Martial Alliance's official records.
The problem was that only those "certain respects" were so exceptional.
'It's extreme.'
Jin Cheong-un's eyes deepened.
Not all of them, of course, but orthodox martial arts generally prized balance above all — a careful, even distribution of strengths.
Geoncheon Art, however, was like an awl. It specialized fanatically in certain elements, to the point that, if one were being harsh, it seemed to have holes punched clean through it here and there.
As if to say, fill in the gaps with other arts yourself.
'That's the hallmark of demonic or heterodox techniques, though……'
Surely his master hadn't been some unorthodox heretic?
Hm. No, that couldn't be it.
Jin Cheong-un's gaze quietly settled on the words inscribed on the very first page of the manual.
'"First, make it easy"…… So that's why it's built this way.'
Even so, the art's extreme qualities were brilliant enough to cover every one of its gaps.
So brilliant that half of what was written here might be enough to restore his ruined body to what it once was.
Jin Cheong-un tapped the edge of a page, thinking.
'No. Maybe even more than that.'
Perhaps he could hope for something far beyond mere restoration.
In the past, he had learned his martial arts the way a man flees a fire — harried, driven, always in a rush.
Because he had needed stronger techniques and tougher internal energy right now.
Thanks to that, he had raised a tower of respectable height — and, at the same time, run headlong into its limits.
What he had lacked was one thing.
Foundations.
The wide, solid bedrock upon which a tall tower is built.
But what about now?
His body and his arts had both collapsed once, and he now possessed more than enough martial knowledge to fill the gap left behind.
It meant he could finally scoop up water that had been spilled.
No — perhaps he could forge a vessel larger than before, and fill it even fuller.
Of course, mastering it might reveal some unforeseen side effect or fatal blind spot. But then again, no one could know that until they actually learned it, could they?
And knowing his master's personality, surely he'd have attached commentary if the art were truly dangerous. This was the kind of thing you simply had to trust.
"So I end up learning martial arts all over again, from the very beginning."
Without delay, Jin Cheong-un folded himself into a cross-legged position and drew a long, deep breath.
Wuuuuum!
He felt a vast, fathomless sea.
The qihai — the Sea of Qi. The acupoint at the lower dantian bore that very name.
But at the moment, his Sea of Qi was closer to a lake than a sea. Still water that neither flowed nor stirred, merely pooled in place.
From tonight, however, that would change.
"Hooowuu."
Jin Cheong-un slowly recited the mantra of the Geoncheon Art from Palhwangmu, stirring the Geoncheon Origin Qi within him.
In that instant—
Whoosh!
The oil lamp went out.
"Ssii, hoooowuu……"
Exhale and inhale followed one another in unbroken rhythm. Exhale to receive, inhale to draw in — the breathing method called tonap. Through the breath, external qi was drawn into the body, converted into internal qi, and poured into the sea of qi.
Tsts-tsts-tsts!
And so the squatter that had occupied his dantian uninvited all this time stirred from its sleep.
A pure, proud current of energy began to flow along meridians that were wounded and withered.
Before long, the Geoncheon Qi was soaking through and filling the eight extraordinary meridians and the countless lesser channels, spreading outward through his body.
'Good.'
Now, time to lay the foundation.
His meridians had already been perfected through the Myeongwang Heart Sutra.
He had confirmed that the Geoncheon Origin Qi did not clash with it, but he would have to remain as careful as possible.
'No rush. Like when I first entered inner cultivation — start with simply accumulating qi……'
That was when it happened.
DUUUUNG!
A deep, crushing tremor — like a colossal temple bell being struck — rippled through his meridians without warning.
"……?!"
The tension that had been unwinding snapped taut all at once. Jin Cheong-un's face hardened.
FLASH!
It woke up.
There was no other way to describe it. Something long asleep stretched itself awake; a fierce energy lifted its head from his lower abdomen and came surging upward.
'What is this?'
The moment he tried to force his focus inward—
BANG!
An impact like a thunderclap rocked his meridians.
BANG!
His body shuddered again and again.
"Ghk."
Reflexively, he swallowed down the ragged breath that tried to escape.
The Geoncheon Qi was hammering through every meridian in his body like a thing possessed.
Jin Cheong-un clenched his teeth.
'Am I really about to fall to qi deviation? Here? Now?'
No. It was flowing along the correct path.
And yet the Geoncheon Qi churned through his channels without pause, as if demanding to know why it had been roused only now.
'Slow down. This is an orthodox art — orthodox arts go slowly. I literally just started learning you. Work with me here.'
Gently, gently, Jin Cheong-un soothed the Geoncheon Qi and drew it back toward his dantian.
Wuum!
Thankfully, its momentum eased, and it began to slip quietly back toward the Sea of Qi.
'Phew. There we go.'
He'd just added ten years to his lifespan. He'd genuinely thought he might die of qi deviation the moment he retired.
Still — why had it suddenly cowered like that? A moment ago it had been rampaging like it wanted to kill him, and now it was coiled like some great beast crouched just before it pounced on its prey……
'…Just before it pounces?'
Jin Cheong-un flinched.
His dantian already had a proper owner.
The true qi he had cultivated his entire life — the lingering internal energy of the Myeongwang Heart Sutra, not yet fully dispersed.
His brow twitched.
No. Surely not.
Orthodox true qi didn't do things like that.
KWAAAANG!
"Kgh."
The Geoncheon Qi erupted.
As if it had no intention whatsoever of coexisting, it slammed headlong into the Myeongwang Heart Sutra's energy.
BUHBUBUBUBUK!
His whole body shook; it felt like fireworks were detonating right before his eyes.
Behind the pain of his meridians twisting in their tracks, Jin Cheong-un felt a change.
'Ah……!'
A sensation he had never known flooded his mind stark white.
The Geoncheon Qi, now in complete dominion over his meridians, began burning away whatever displeased it, one thing after another.
Paradoxically, Jin Cheong-un felt a strange, piercing relief amid the agony. Together with a coolness he had not felt once since his injury, something seemed to be prying at his throat, forcing its way out.
"Khurk! Khurk-khurk! Ghk!"
SHWAAA!
A full bowl's worth of blackish, clotted blood came pouring out.
This was no ordinary blood. It was the turbid filth that the Geoncheon Qi had burned away, finally expelled from his body.
Pssssss!
Wisps of pale vapor began to seep from the crown of his head, the point between his brows, the centers of his palms and the soles of his feet.
Before he knew it, Jin Cheong-un felt his consciousness fading.
And even then, the Geoncheon Qi flowed on, proud and unhurried, tracing the pathways of his body.
Palhwangmu, the Geoncheon Art. Geon — the first of the eight trigrams, whose symbols were heaven, strength, and purity. Befitting its name, the art burned away the turbidity left within the body in an instant, like a blazing fire, then seeped into bone, sinew, and meridian alike, laying down a foundation solid as bedrock.
A mere flow of qi, moving as though it possessed will and spirit of its own.
In the Jianghu, such arts bore a particular name.
Shingong Jeolhak — divine arts and peerless learnings.
Chirp! Chirp-chirp!
With the birdsong heralding the early morning, Jin Cheong-un's eyes snapped open.
"Hoo!"
He stretched himself wide — then froze mid-motion.
'No pain?'
Miraculous as his recovery had been, his injuries hadn't left him untouched. Even a single stretch used to catch and grind like a shoulder about to seize up. Now there was nothing.
Hurriedly examining his body, Jin Cheong-un clicked his tongue.
"Hah."
The meridians that had been twisted and blocked by internal injuries had returned to their original state. The misaligned muscles and tendons had regained their spring.
Carried along by the momentum, he kept surveying his body from within, then eventually smacked his lips.
'So not everything's healed.'
Well, of course. Did anyone honestly expect all those vicious internal wounds to vanish just because he'd learned one new art?
'And the Myeongwang Ten Absolute Steps are gone without a trace, too.'
So half a lifetime's martial arts had simply flown away. His internal energy was now maybe half — no, maybe not even half of half — of what he'd commanded in his Martial Alliance days.
But the emptiness lasted only a moment.
He could feel it. The Geoncheon Art's energy settled in his dantian — and the transformation it had wrought in body, energy, and spirit alike. A flow of true qi grown incomparably more serene than before.
'And on top of that……'
A flash of joy crossed Jin Cheong-un's eyes.
The fist he had clenched tight trembled.
'My back doesn't hurt!'
His joints felt brand new!
He'd suffered in the Jianghu since he was a child — everything ached, everything creaked, every single time!
What kind of martial artist gets this excited over that, you ask?
If you've never had an aching back or bad knees, kindly keep your mouth shut. Do you have any idea how much those things drag down your quality of life?
Born scions of great clans raised on the finest of everything might never understand, but most people of the Jianghu wore their bodies down just living, and sooner or later their joints began to ache all over.
'Now THIS is what they call a divine art.'
Damn right. Is there any divine art worth the name if it can't do this?
Just then, he heard footsteps outside his door.
"Master? Are you still asleep, by any chance?"
It was Jeong So-so. Jin Cheong-un tilted his head and answered.
"I'm up. What is it, this early? I told you there'd be no training today — we're supposed to pack for the trip, remember?"
"Ah, that's actually what I came to talk about. May I come in?"
"Mm. Sure, come in."
"Yes! I hope you slept well last night…… GASP!"
Suddenly Jeong So-so recoiled, clamping a hand over her nose.
Jin Cheong-un blinked at her in bewilderment.
"What's wrong?"
"Wh-what is that smell? Why is there a stench rolling out of your room……?"
"A stench?"
Tilting his head, Jin Cheong-un looked around the room.
That was all he did — and Jeong So-so recoiled, scrambling backward in a panic.
"St-stop! Please stop moving your body! The s-smell is…… Ugh!"
Jin Cheong-un's expression turned faintly wounded.
"I was very nearly offended just now."
"I-I'm sorry. It's just……"
"Where on earth is this smell supposedly coming from?"
As he glanced about, his gaze soon locked onto a single spot. Jeong So-so's eyes were fixed on the very same place.
The spot where he had sat cross-legged in cultivation the night before.
There, smeared across the floor, were the turbid qi and bodily waste expelled during his training.
In the form of one large, dark, sticky stain.
"……"
"……"
Jeong So-so stared at Jin Cheong-un with an expression of pure contempt.
"How can a person……"
"Fine, I'll…… just let it go."
"It's not about 'letting it go,' that's literally what happened! Look for yourself, I'm telling you!"
"That's exactly what I'm doing when I say I'm letting it go! Stop waving it around! Aagh! I don't want to see it! No! Absolutely not!"
Even after he had explained the whole story from beginning to end, Jin Cheong-un was left tasting a frustration so profound it nearly drove him mad.
"So. What did you actually come to talk about?"
"Ah! Right. Master, could I ask you to look after So-ryong for a bit today?"
Jeong So-so said, looking troubled.
"I'm working at the medicine hall today, and it's a bit of a distance away. If I drop So-ryong off at the Baekun Inn first and then go to work, I don't think I'll have enough time."
The Jeong siblings were leaving the house empty starting today. Since Bai Seo-gun had only come by last night, there was no real need for such haste. But a rushed departure was surely better than dawdling and letting something go wrong.
"Sure. Today's the day the stonemason comes, so I have to be at the academy anyway. I'll take him over after I finish up in the evening. I was planning to take it easy and monitor my condition during the day regardless."
"Thank you!"
"You remember what I told you, yes?"
"Yes, Master."
Before long, Jeong So-so had hastily finished preparing for work.
Glancing out the window, he saw Jeong So-ryong rubbing his eyes, seeing his sister off.
"Why are you awake? You could've slept more."
"Mmn. It's fine. I'm okay. How could I sleep when Noona's leaving?"
"All right, So-ryong. See you later, then. You'll listen to Master, right? Don't be a bother, mind what Mr. Seo says at the inn, and Noona's coming in the evening, so make sure you eat your meals — and if you feel sick, don't just endure it……"
Despite the rapid-fire stream of nagging, Jeong So-ryong answered with the composure of a small adult.
"Noona, I'll be fine. You're the one who shouldn't overdo it at work. If you get sick, everything falls apart — the guest becomes the host."
Her little brother's perennially mature tone drew a snort of laughter from Jeong So-so.
"Look who's talking, you little crybaby."
"How am I a crybaby?"
"You brat."
Jeong So-so ruffled Jeong So-ryong's hair into a mess.
"Don't you worry. Ever since you stopped being sick, I've got more energy than I know what to do with! Noona's off!"
"Okay. Have a good day."
"Yep!"
And with a bright smile, Jeong So-so stepped out through the main gate.
A short while later, she smacked her own cheeks and muttered under her breath, as if casting a spell on herself.
"Everything's going to be all right!"
Leaning against the windowsill, Jin Cheong-un snorted quietly.
She had, presumably, lowered her voice so no one could hear — but his disciple apparently still had no idea just how sharp a martial artist's ears really were.