Each to Their Own
Silence.
A state of stillness so complete it bordered on the sacred. That was exactly what hung over the hall now.
What in the world just……?
Twich. Twich.
Seo Cheol-yong, eyes rolled back white, was twitching at irregular intervals.
Into the ears of the stunned onlookers, who had yet to process what they'd witnessed, Jin Cheong-un's voice cut through like a blade.
"It came down to a hair's breadth. Your junior has learned much."
Only then did everyone snap back to their senses.
How is this possible?
Did he use internal energy? But there was no sign of him drawing on his power……
It was just the basic Three Talents Stance with Plum Blossom Fist, wasn't it?
Being martial arts instructors in name if not always in deed, they began to analyze what they had just seen. And every single one of them arrived at the same conclusion.
Lord Seo got careless!
After all, promptly admitting defeat was never the way of the Jianghu. Get floored in a single strike, and it was never a gap in skill — you were simply caught off guard. Wasn't that the time-honored tradition and sacred covenant of the martial world?
"……Master Baek of the Blue Dragon Academy."
Baek Gun-ak looked toward the seat beside him.
"Yes, Vice President."
"Might I ask this of you?"
Kang I-ryang, Master of the Blue Horse Academy, gave a solemn nod.
"Haha. But of course."
Kang I-ryang rose from his chair with a flourish.
Swish!
Robe trailing majestically behind him, he alighted upon the sparring stage with all the grace one could ask for.
The crowd's eyes sparkled.
Master Kang is on another level!
He's stepping up himself!
Where Seo Cheol-yong had brute strength, Kang I-ryang had refined artistry. He was the orthodox martial artist of the association, proud of the most polished techniques among them all.
Now, at last, that insolent whelp's nose would be broken!
"Heh heh. So you had a trick up your sleeve after all. I had my eye on you."
Kang I-ryang drew his sword with theatrical flair and called out.
"But unlike Lord Seo, this master does not lower his guard. Do not hope for luck!"
In that instant, he raised one knee to his chest, balanced on a single leg, and—
Fwoosh!
—spread both arms wide like wings, striking an extraordinary pose.
Jin Cheong-un was mildly flustered.
It brought to mind a peacock mid-courtship. It certainly *looked* impressive — in fact, it looked so impressive it was frankly uncomfortable to watch.
Yet around him, gasps of admiration erupted.
"The Crane Wing Sword Art!"
"Master Kang really means to do it properly!"
Oh. Not a peacock — a crane, then?
Kang I-ryang smirked, his face flush with self-satisfaction.
"What's the matter? Get ready."
"Is it perhaps hard, standing on one leg like that?"
Kang I-ryang's expression froze. But he quickly recovered his smile.
"……Your tongue is nearly as sharp as your fists. But did you think provocation would work on me?"
Hm.
Jin Cheong-un had genuinely just been curious.
Whoosh! Thwack!
Just then, Kang I-ryang slammed his folded leg into the ground and bellowed.
"Today I shall teach my junior a lesson! My blade has no eyes — be careful!"
His leg was hurting after all. Then why stand on one leg in the first place, if you were going to put it down?
Whoosh!
Before his words had even finished echoing, Kang I-ryang flew across the stage and thrust his sword.
Every observer in the hall marveled.
His blade moved like a crane fluttering its wings — supple, fluid, elegant. The long arc it traced through the air split at its midpoint and came flying in from two directions at once.
Tap.
Jin Cheong-un stepped back a single pace and evaded it, his eyes narrowing.
It was, admittedly, a sword art worth being proud of.
And at the same time, he thought himself fortunate his disciples weren't here to see it. Children who watched that sort of preening, flash-over-substance martial art might start chasing gaudiness for its own sake, and that would give him a headache.
Martial arts carry the heart of their practitioner.
A technique saturated with nothing but the desire to show off — how could that be a good influence on children only just beginning to learn?
Well, I suppose even that technique might have some meaning and depth to it, in its own way.
Crack!
Jin Cheong-un clenched his fist, eyes flashing.
Everyone has a plan, after all.
Up until the moment they get beaten down.
Whoosh!
Facing the onrushing sword shadow, Jin Cheong-un charged straight into it.
Knocking a man flat didn't require anything fussy. Just be fast. Be strong. Land one clean, precise strike. That was more than enough.
You're coming in here?
Startled, Kang I-ryang began to swing his sword — then aborted the motion and pulled it back.
And that was a mistake.
"Guh?"
Jin Cheong-un's fist shot out like a spear.
Simple, but blindingly fast.
Straight for Kang I-ryang's solar plexus.
WHAM!
Kang I-ryang's mouth fell open.
Every ounce of strength drained from his body at once, and he felt as though his stomach might come rocketing up out of his throat.
But Jin Cheong-un did not stop.
He advanced another step toward the staggered man and swung his fist up toward the underside of his jaw.
No technique, no flourish — just a crude, honest, brutally simple single punch.
Yet Kang I-ryang was forced to wave both arms frantically and scream:
"I— I lose! I yield!!"
Fwoosh!
A vicious gust of wind brushed beneath his chin.
Kang I-ryang cracked open the eyes he had squeezed shut and beheld a fist like a boulder, frozen a hair's breadth from his face.
"A lesson learned."
The quiet words rolled gently across the silent sparring stage.
The academy masters slowly turned their heads toward the incense burner.
The incense stick hadn't even burned a third of the way down.
"Th- this is absurd."
"Carelessness…… even Master Kang was careless……"
"He did say, with his own mouth, that he never gets careless."
"……"
The academy masters hung their heads like beaten roosters and gazed up at the stage.
Kang I-ryang, who had ascended with such pomp and swagger, came back down with a face bright red, fleeing as if from a fire.
At that moment, Baek Gun-ak's ringing voice rang out.
"Next. Is no one else stepping forward? Lord Seong — didn't you say you had to leave?"
"Wh- when did I ever say such a thing?"
"Then what about you, Lord Seo?"
"As it happens, I sprained my wrist during training yesterday, so……"
"……"
The atmosphere turned strange in an instant.
Honestly, it might have been better if they'd simply followed the usual script from the start. Trade a few perfunctory exchanges while saving face — 'Heh heh, impressive.', 'Ah, I've learned a thing or two.' — fix the match beforehand, and there'd have been no reason for anyone not to step up.
But that's not how it's supposed to be, is it?
Staying quiet right now IS the way to keep your dignity!
Sensing that mood, Baek Gun-ak clicked his tongue and muttered.
"……Nothing to be done, then."
Snip!
He snipped the incense stick clean in two and dropped it, then rose from his seat.
"It seems no one else wishes to step forward, so the grand display will end here."
Only a low murmur filled the hall.
Baek Gun-ak stared hard at Jin Cheong-un for a long moment before speaking.
"Young Master Jin. Your martial prowess is remarkable indeed. Might I ask where you trained?"
"I told you earlier — the Cheongun Martial Arts Academy."
"Not simply borrowing the name, but…… you actually trained *there*?"
"That's correct."
Baek Gun-ak's expression hardened.
"He said he'd come back…… surely not, really……"
"……?"
Jin Cheong-un tilted his head.
The man had murmured it half to himself, so he hadn't caught it clearly — but from the sound of it, Baek Gun-ak knew something about the Cheongun Martial Arts Academy.
"I've never heard your name before, young master. Where were you before you came here?"
"I was with the Martial Alliance."
At those words, everyone's eyes went wide.
Well, that explains it!
The Martial Alliance — where the dragons and tigers of the Jianghu, the supreme masters of the age, all gathered!
"Did you hold some position within the Alliance……?"
"Well, I worked as a guard."
At that, a flicker of relief crossed Baek Gun-ak's face.
Thank goodness — not someone of importance.
He'd felt a chill at the thought that this man might have brushed up against a senior officer or a scion of some great clan. Apparently not. Of course — those types went into the frontline combat units, not the honor guard.
Still, no ordinary martial artist, that much is certain.
A gleam of interest rose in Baek Gun-ak's eyes.
A master, and a relatively young one at that, joining the association would be a windfall for them all. The beginning had been rocky, but surely things could be smoothed over from here?
Smiling as though the earlier tension had been nothing but a bad dream, Baek Gun-ak cupped his hands in a formal salute.
"Master Jin. Welcome to the Yichang Martial Arts Academy Association."
The hall stirred at his words.
Hwang Jong-baek clapped his hands wildly, letting out actual whoops of joy.
"Ah — so he passed!"
"It would seem so."
Then Baek Gun-ak continued, smile still in place.
"Membership dues are two silver nyang per month. They go toward the development of the Yichang Jianghu. Once you receive your membership plaque, you'll be free of any troublesome matters henceforth."
"……"
"Additionally, as a member, you'll be obligated to periodically manage the association's related enterprises. There is fair compensation, of course — it will help your academy's operations as well."
"……"
"And finally, training equipment such as academy uniforms and wooden swords must be purchased through the designated merchant."
Jin Cheong-un simply stared at him from atop the sparring stage.
After a moment, he asked, in the most solemn voice he had produced all day:
"May I ask one thing?"
"By all means."
"I was told this was an assembly of people whose profession is teaching others."
Baek Gun-ak paused briefly, then replied.
"That's accurate. It is also, at the same time, an organization representing the Yichang Jianghu."
"Then what happens if one doesn't follow the association's rules?"
Baek Gun-ak chuckled.
"You're not entertaining some strange notions, are you?"
Then the smile vanished from his face in an instant, and he turned serious.
"Naturally, there would be disadvantages."
"Such as?"
"You've already experienced one. You opened your academy, and you received no customers — did you not?"
"……"
"That was because you had no proof of the association's certification."
Jin Cheong-un laughed hollowly to himself.
When he thought of a local merchants' association, he thought of something like — keeping competition among neighbors from getting ugly, sharing information, pooling dues to help members through hard times, throwing the occasional festival. Wasn't that how these things went?
This, though, was just a club where the old guard colluded to fleece and milk anyone new.
It's not a martial arts academy association. It's a martial arts extortion racket.
He could guess what those "disadvantages" would look like, too. Pressure on operations, malicious rumors and slander, or sending their own disciples to disrupt his classes.
"I see. Then I'd truly be a fool not to join."
"Glad you understand. Heh heh — of course, it's not compulsory."
"How magnanimous of you."
Baek Gun-ak grinned and waved a hand.
"Right, then — let's go. We've prepared a banquet for our new member. We'll discuss the details there."
Amid the warm, convivial air, the academy masters who had been watching began rising from their seats one by one.
"Hm."
Jin Cheong-un nodded.
The Yichang underworld was gripped tight by these people — refusing to join would be idiocy. And the compensation seemed reasonably concrete, too.
He knew. He knew all that, and yet……
"Yes, I've heard your terms clearly. However."
Something about it sat entirely wrong with him.
"I'm afraid joining will be difficult."
"……What did you say?"
"I came here hoping to join an assembly of academy masters. Not an assembly of merchants."
Baek Gun-ak's expression froze solid. The air turned hostile in a heartbeat.
Just then, Hwang Jong-baek rushed out, pale as a ghost.
"H- hey there. Master Jin! What's gotten into you!"
"I'm ashamed to say it, but……"
Jin Cheong-un swept his gaze across the entire hall as he spoke.
"I can't make my disciples go door-to-door peddling, or manage businesses for the association."
"……!"
"I can't raise fees just because the association tells me to. I can't shove the untalented kids aside and pour extra effort only into the ones with good bloodlines and good families."
If making money were the goal, why would anyone run an academy teaching people at all? Just go into trade.
Not that Jin Cheong-un disliked money. He loved it. But he didn't simply want to make money — he wanted to make money doing the thing he believed in.
He did not want the Cheongun Martial Arts Academy he had inherited, nor the one he would build going forward, to become that.
A place where people taught and learned.
A place where that intent was carried on.
Like the blue clouds that gather and scatter, drifting freely across the sky, he wanted the Cheongun Martial Arts Academy to be a place that valued that continuity above all else.
"Heh heh. Youth, I suppose — you seem to have no grasp of reality……"
"By the way, I've been wondering — what is it with the 'young one' this and 'young one' that? How great is the difference between us, exactly?"
It couldn't be more than ten years or so, honestly.
"……You."
Baek Gun-ak's face hardened, but Jin Cheong-un felt nothing but mild, distant indifference.
You want a man who retired because he hated working to polish the floors behind a bunch of village academy masters?
Not a chance.
No grand philosophy required. That one reason alone meant joining was impossible, short of death.
"I paid my money and opened my own academy, so I run it my way. Don't go trampling on my turf. Let's each mind our own business. Each. Our. Own."
Jin Cheong-un waved his hand dismissively and turned to leave.
"Do you think you can accomplish anything alone?"
Baek Gun-ak's eyes bored into him, colder than ever.
"Think carefully. The moment you walk out of here, it's over."
"……"
"We are people who have spent our whole lives building roots in this place, weathering every storm it could throw at us. Do you truly believe we'd sit back and watch some outsider waltz in without shedding a drop of blood and simply pull up a chair to the table? Is that what you call proper manners?"
Jin Cheong-un tilted his head.
"And making your own disciples earn money for you — is that proper manners?"
"……!"
"I'd be too embarrassed to be called a teacher if I did that."
If the academy failed, it failed.
But he would never, ever put his So-so and So-ryong out on the street to hustle coins for him.
That was the Cheongun Martial Arts Academy's version of proper manners.
"Well then. Good day."
Jin Cheong-un waved his hand once more and walked away.