The Secret Technique
White Horse Academy was the most prestigious martial academy in Yichang.
Its halls teemed not only with local talent but with hopefuls drawn from every corner of Hubei, and for six generations it had stood as the region's cornerstone, producing countless masters of the Jianghu alongside civil and military officials. True to its reputation, the academy accepted no one on the strength of tuition alone. Even entry demanded passing an examination, and those who passed were still sorted into ranks by their results. What was more, in the name of fostering an atmosphere of diligent study, it did not hesitate to expel students whose grades fell short.
"Master! Please, just give me one more chance! I only failed because patrol duty kept me from my night training!"
"I'm sorry, but having failed the assessment five times already, there is nothing more to be done. Do not call me Master any longer."
"Please! Master, please!"
THUD!
And so another student was cast out today. Not one of his fellow students spared him a glance. Until moments ago he had been their friend and classmate; now he was nothing more than a straggler left behind.
"Ahem! Do the rest of you wish to be thrown out like him? Focus, and begin again! White Horse Sword Technique, First Form: Flying Strike!"
"Hyaap!"
"Second Form: Distant Guard!"
"Eeyaap!"
Resources rivaling those of a great sect, instruction of the finest quality, and an atmosphere of rigorous study besides — this was precisely how White Horse held its rightful place as Yichang's foremost academy.
"...And so you two, above all, must allow yourselves no shortcomings."
Baek Gun-ak gazed ahead with stern eyes.
"Hah! Heuh! Yes!"
"Yes, Vice Master!"
The two gasping boys steadied their breath and shouted loud enough to ring off the walls. Gwak Yang, and Lee Jeong-gwang — of all the students who had joined within the past three years, these two possessed the finest talent.
"Both of you are doing very well. Jeong-gwang especially."
"Yes."
"Your form pleases me greatly. How did you come to train so diligently?"
"The white horse runs with the wind in its mane, and a galloping horse never stills its hooves. I merely put into practice what I have been taught."
Words spoken by the first master who founded White Horse Academy, and the academy's motto to this day. Baek Gun-ak nodded.
Such simplicity and earnestness. Truly pleasing.
Lee Jeong-gwang. A talent whose attitude and bearing were so fine that Baek Gun-ak had long kept a close eye on him. If the boy had a flaw, it was that he polished himself to look good in others' eyes — though to Baek Gun-ak, even that looked like a virtue.
"Listen."
"Yes."
"Less than a month remains until the Imuhoe-u. So that no blemish falls upon White Horse Academy's name, you must devote yourselves body and soul, just as you are now."
"Yes!"
"Then rest for a quarter hour. We begin again after."
Only then did Gwak Yang let out a long breath and collapse where he stood.
"I'm dying. We train two full hours and get a measly quarter hour of rest? It's not as if we're up against some academy that's been open less than a year — why put ourselves through all this? Haah."
Gripes and grumbles spilled out under his breath. Then Lee Jeong-gwang, still standing at attention in his spot, said gently, "I understand the feeling, but you might want to watch your mouth."
"What? Why?"
"It's the Vice Master's decision."
Gwak Yang hastily stole a glance at Baek Gun-ak. Fortunately, the man was seated in a chair below the training platform, eyes serenely closed.
"Carelessness is forbidden. Who knows? That Cheongun Academy might have strength it's hiding."
"Hidden strength, my foot. Is this about that rumor from the association meeting?" Gwak Yang shrugged. "Even if the rumor were true, it's the students, not the masters, who compete in the Imuhoe-u. Say she enrolled the day the place opened and trained every day since — that's barely eight months. So what?"
"I heard it's nine now."
"Eight, nine — same difference. Besides, isn't she a girl? One who used to do odd jobs at an inn, at that." Gwak Yang snickered.
Lee Jeong-gwang answered with a soft smile. "Gender means nothing in the martial arts. Still, thanks to her, we've been given the chance to be trained by the Vice Master himself. Surely that's something to be grateful for?"
"Hmm. Well, that much is true."
"The Imuhoe-u was going to be held regardless, so let's simply treat this as training to win it. Beating them in that bet is a given anyway."
At Lee Jeong-gwang's smiling words, Gwak Yang laughed and clapped in agreement.
Lee Jeong-gwang looked the picture of refinement at a glance, but in truth he was nothing of the sort. He did not give Cheongun Martial Arts Academy so much as a second thought.
Just then—
"Time's up. Everyone, rise!"
Gwak Yang heaved a deep sigh and pushed himself up, leaning on his wooden sword like a cane.
"Then begin."
"Yes!"
Thwack! Clatter!
The two wooden swords let out dull thuds in the air.
"Your sword path is unraveling! Again!"
A wooden sword reinforced with an iron core made the hands tremble with every swing. If their form faltered midway through a bout, they started over from the very beginning. Rest came only after two full hours of training — and even then, a single quarter hour. It was training straight out of hell.
And they found themselves wondering. Just how was that Cheongun Academy preparing for the tournament? Could it possibly be matching even half of this?
At that very moment, Cheongun Martial Arts Academy.
CLAAANG!
"Huah! Huah!"
Jeong So-so bounced up and down again and again, letting out breaths that might have been screams or groans. She was a grimy mess, caked head to toe in dust, with thick sandbags strapped to her limbs and a long, heavy iron staff — hewn from a single block of metal — in her hands. And standing before her—
"So-so. I went to the trouble of giving you a precious elixir, so why are you so weak? Did you skip breakfast?"
"That precious thing is the one you looted from the Black Tiger Gang's warehouse!"
"Precious all the same."
One hand tucked behind his back, Jin Cheong-un twirled a long tree branch and grinned.
WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!
"Your waist! Your waist is wide open!"
Swish! THWACK!
"Ooh, that must sting. But So-so — this time your arm's open?"
"Eeeek!"
WHOOOSH!
The wind-splitting whistle was fierce indeed. Jin Cheong-un smirked. "Better this time."
Irritatingly enough, he slipped past So-so's attacks with room to spare, swinging that thin branch that could hardly be called a wooden sword. But the moment it met the iron staff—
CLANG!
The staff was knocked sharply back, and the branch, carried through its arc, gave Jeong So-so's entire body a thorough thrashing.
WHAM!
"Kyaa!"
"Ouch. So-so, are you all right?"
"I-I'm fine..."
"No, I can see an opening at your shoulder — are you all right?"
WHAP!
"Eeeek!"
"Tsk. Your breathing's a mess. Your lower body's too light. No, wait — if you plant your lower body and your limbs go heavy, what then? Strength, as they say, is not everything..."
"I know, I know! I know, and I'm doing it!"
"If you know, why can't you do it? You have to pour your whole heart into it. Your will is lacking. It all comes down to will. Reach the mindset of the Foolish Old Man Who Moved the Mountains!"
"Aaaaargh!"
In an instant, murder lit So-so's eyes, and she hurled herself at Jin Cheong-un.
BOOM!
The iron staff, swung without a shred of mercy, went for his jaw.
"Die!" So-so screamed.
"Now, now — turning on your own master is a bit much."
A single strike brimming with the resolve to snap her master's jaw, master or no! Jin Cheong-un grinned and flicked his branch.
"You're ten years too early to come after this master."
CRACK!
With that sound, So-so took flight. Her brief journey through the air ended with a wet slap as she sprawled across the training ground. Staring blankly at the sky, her eyes grew mournful.
Master, you're the worst.
This wasn't hellish training. It was just hell.
Jeong So-so's eyes flew open.
"Awake, are you?"
She staggered upright and stared blankly into the air. "Master."
"Yes."
"I... I think I just saw a river. I think I met my grandfather — the one who died before I was born..."
"Sounds like a nonsense dream. If he passed before you were born, how would you even know his face?"
"..."
So-so clenched her fist tight. Just once! Just once, she wanted to commit the sin of striking down her own master!
"If you've rested enough, get up. We start again."
"Rested? When did I ever...?"
"You lay down, so you rested."
"I'm afraid your disciple did not rest — she fainted and took a round trip to the River of Three Crossings."
"Rested so deeply you even dreamed. Good for you."
"Aha! So you have no intention of listening to a word I say?"
Grumbling all the while, So-so obediently picked up her iron staff and rose.
How long had it been since training began? The past days flickered through her mind. Her daily life had come to include frequent round trips to the threshold of the afterlife.
"It's an elixir, so eat it and be grateful."
"Something this precious, for me?!"
Once she had grown accustomed to the Cheongun Heart Technique, Jin Cheong-un had fed her some manner of ginseng root.
"Ah, right. Be careful — qi deviation could set in."
"You tell me that before I eat it?!"
That day she laid eyes on the River of Three Crossings for the first time, and thanks to it, the qi circulation and accumulation methods were drilled perfectly into her body. And then—
"From now on, we add sparring."
A new routine began: dawn qi circulation, external conditioning and form practice, and sparring that ran late into the night. No — that was no sparring at all!
"Not knowing means getting hit. Learning while taking hits is the fastest way there is."
Right. She got hit. Thoroughly, bone-deeply hit. She fainted again and again — and the most infuriating part of all was...
When I wake up... it doesn't hurt.
If she were actually injured, at least she'd get to rest! Instead, every morning she woke brimming with vitality, her internal energy grown by leaps and bounds — she couldn't even scrape together an excuse!
Hnngh.
She had no way of knowing. That it was a technique called Pushing the Palace, Crossing the Blood — one that pried open sealed meridians and roused her power to life. That in all the world, those who could receive it, and those who could perform it, numbered but a scant few.
"Hah!"
Even without thinking, So-so breathed according to the principles of the Cheongun Heart Technique, exhaling in one sharp breath.
"Okay! Let's start again!"
"Oh ho. Full of spirit."
"Only days are left — time to kick it up a notch!"
Clack! Clack-clack-clack!
In an instant, blows were traded by the dozen, and the din rang out across the training ground.
It was a very simple, fundamental sword art. The Flowing Cloud Sword Technique — the entry-level sword art of Cheongun Martial Arts Academy. Only days ago she had been scrambling just to keep up with the forms, but at some point her blade had begun to trace genuinely respectable arcs.
"Master. May I ask you one thing?"
"No chatter during a bout."
WHOOSH!
"Ah, seriously! I knew you'd do this!"
"You're dodging THIS?"
"Hold on! A q-question! I have a question... I do!"
PAH!
Mid-sentence, So-so thrust her wooden sword out like a bolt of lightning.
"A sneak attack while asking a question? Heheh. You've learned well. So what's on your mind?"
So-so leapt back a good distance and asked with the gravest expression she had ever worn.
"Master. Can I really win?"
"..."
"I've trained properly for barely a year. No — not even a year. I'd practiced external arts before, but nothing proper."
"That's true."
"Meanwhile, the other entrants may have joined their academies less than three years ago, but they'll have been conditioning themselves long before that."
"Hmm."
Jin Cheong-un's eyes deepened. Certainly, in the sheer density of effort packed into these past few months, no one could outdo Jeong So-so. But martial arts was a ledger of accumulated toil. Could two months' worth bridge a three-year gap?
Difficult, most likely.
Of course, in his eyes the association's trainees looked like counterfeit martial artists who had learned nothing but hollow shells of technique. But the one stepping onto the stage would not be him — it would be So-so. And the difference in years was real.
Jin Cheong-un smiled faintly. "In that case — are you confident you could push yourself any harder than you already have?"
So-so froze, then shook her head. "No."
"Right. You've done all there is to do. That's enough."
"..."
The encouragement set her heart trembling, yet she could not turn away from the grim thought smoldering in a corner of her mind.
"But... effort isn't always rewarded, is it?"
"..."
"S-sorry. Forget I said anything. I'll just treat it as good experience and won't be a burden! I'll focus on training, nothing else."
So-so hastily rearranged her face and waved her hands. She was still young enough to believe that effort would see her through — but she had learned the futility of effort far too young.
Jin Cheong-un called to her quietly. "So-so."
"Yes."
"It seems you've forgotten..."
Then his eyes flashed.
"I will never stand by and watch a disciple of an academy bearing my name get beaten down anywhere."
"...What?"
"A burden? Of course you should carry one. Experience? You can get that some other way! Win. No matter what. Cowardly, if you must! Dirty, if you must! Lose? That will not happen. The word 'defeat' does not exist at Cheongun Martial Arts Academy!"
So-so's expression went blank. Wait — isn't this the part where you rally my spirits with something cool?
"Therefore."
Jin Cheong-un's eyes gleamed.
"I shall teach you the secret technique."
"Secret technique?"
"Hmm, don't they call this a cram course in the academy business?"
"There's only a week left! Can anything really change in a week?"
Jin Cheong-un chuckled. "Learn it and you'll see."
"Wh-what kind of technique is it?"
"Learn it and you'll know."
Looking at her master's utterly serene face, chills raced down So-so's spine.
"It's your mindset."
"...!"
"So-so. Reach the Utmost Sincerity of heart!"
"W-wait—!"
WHAM!
Jin Cheong-un sent So-so flying with a single blow, grinning all the while.