The Power of Every Single Day
"Uuuggh!"
Sung Mugeol let out a groan and stumbled backward, reeling.
Jeong So-so moved with buoyant, springing footwork and swung her wooden sword.
WHAAAM!
A spine-chilling crack rang out across the training stage.
The duel had tilted one-sided in an instant, but the referee hesitated, unable to bring himself to stop it. In fairness, Sung Mugeol held the edge in both speed and power, and by some miracle he wasn't letting any vital points or finishing blows through.
A situation where the one with superior skill on paper was getting beaten black and blue!
Having stepped in rashly, the referee risked being accused of a biased call if he ruled either way, so he found himself frozen between action and inaction.
And sure enough—
"Sung Mugeol, you scoundrel! What do you think you're doing! Counterattack! I said counterattack!"
His master leaped to his feet, unable to hold back any longer, and roared at the top of his lungs.
What a mess.
Jeong So-ryong had been watching the whole spectacle in a daze when he finally spoke.
"Master."
"Yes?"
"What exactly… did you do to her?"
Jeong So-ryong swallowed dryly.
"To my eyes, her opponent looks several times stronger."
Sensing qi was part of So-ryong's gift, and to him the auras of the two combatants were laid bare. If Sung Mugeol's internal energy was a ferocious wolf, Jeong So-so's was a cuddly little cat.
And yet the cat was chewing the wolf up and swallowing it, plain as day.
"That's fair enough. She's trained far longer in her martial arts than So-so has, so of course she carries more inside."
"Then why is she losing?"
"Because the shell never got a thought spent on it—she only ever filled the inside. It's only natural."
Jin Cheong-un turned away from the training stage entirely and faced Jeong So-ryong.
"So-ryong. What did I say the three elements of mastering martial arts were?"
"Righteous body, mind, and spirit—refined energy, refined body, and mindset. In other words, internal power, external power, and attitude… ah!"
So-ryong's eyes went wide.
"Don't tell me it's the external power?"
"That's right."
Jin Cheong-un grinned.
"When people think of martial arts, they assume internal power is everything. It seems mystical and special, so it's only natural."
Nobody neglects internal cultivation. And besides, it has its own genuine appeal.
"But what about the external side?"
"Hmm, it doesn't show."
"Exactly. It's plain and unglamorous."
The training methods are grueling and tedious, while the results seem to amount to nothing more than a harder body and stronger limbs.
So people thought: strength can come from internal energy anyway, and the body can be protected later with defensive treasures, can't it?
Internal power is supreme, clearly!
And such people would one day beat the ground in regret, stranded just short of the pinnacle where internal and external power merge into one.
"Martial arts, in the end, is the art of using your own body to bring an opponent down. External power is the cultivation and use of 'your own body'—that vessel. True martial arts means expressing your external power through your internal power."
Jin Cheong-un tipped the teapot on the table and filled a cup.
Then he tapped the now-empty pot lightly against the rim of the teacup.
Ting, ting. A clear, ringing sound.
"Think about it. What happens when an iron vessel strikes a porcelain one?"
"The porcelain breaks."
"Good. Now watch again."
Jin Cheong-un pointed at Jeong So-so.
"An unshakable stance, and a body that moves with both suppleness and strength."
So-so held her opponent's sword off as solidly as Mount Tai, then slipped in to strike with effortless grace.
"Keen senses, and concentration that never wavers."
Sung Mugeol charged.
So-so moved a beat slower than he did, but her eyes never lost him for an instant.
"The discipline to move the body exactly as the mind intends."
The moment Sung Mugeol slashed with everything he had, So-so spun lightly on the ball of her foot, whirling away from the blade with room to spare.
"And when all of those come together…"
Blade path crossed blade path, and in the instant both fighters' openings and flaws were laid bare—
Jeong So-so's wooden sword split the air first.
WHAAAM!
Jin Cheong-un smiled, broad and unhidden.
"That's exactly what it looks like."
Jeong So-ryong asked, as if he still didn't understand.
"But, Master—it's a simple enough principle that even I can grasp it. Do people really not know this?"
"Not know it? They know it very well."
Jin Cheong-un leaned back in his chair, unconcerned.
"It's just that most people, even knowing, don't actually do it."
Now then—here is the secret to becoming a supreme master even without talent.
And the secret is this.
Regulate what you drink and what you eat. Practice circulating your qi at dawn. Spend three hours each on swordwork, footwork, and external conditioning during the day. Study martial theory in the evening. Go to bed early at night.
Too obvious?
Attach a single word to all of it, and everything changes.
Every single day.
Of course, the world holds its share of the unfortunate, those who were never given the chance.
But most people know and still don't act; they see the path and look away.
"Your sister, though, is someone who could do it—and did do it, every day."
He wasn't just talking about the past year.
Night after night, bone-tired, So-so would fall asleep—and every morning she rose and returned to her labors.
Crushed under debt, she still kept the household together and looked after her sick little brother.
She never gave up her dream, and clung to her external conditioning, practicing however clumsily.
And that child got her chance.
A golden opportunity to pour a heart of utter devotion into her martial arts.
"So of course she won."
WHAM!
Jeong So-so's strike cracked like lightning.
Jin Cheong-un cast a sidelong glance at the VIP seats.
Baek Gun-ak's face, once swollen with pride, had hardened into stone.
A short while later.
THWACK! CRUNCH! THWACK!
"Th-that's enough! The match is decided, is it not!"
Jeong So-so froze mid-swing.
"What? Already?"
"What do you mean, 'already'? The victor should show mercy—what is the matter with you!"
"B-but he hasn't even passed out yet, and he's not bleeding…"
"Wh-what! Such gruesome talk in the middle of a formal duel!"
"Uh, oh…"
She stared across the stage with a bemused expression.
There, curled into a ball, Sung Mugeol was trembling.
"…Sob."
"…?"
"Khhk! Ughk! M-Mommy. Hnngh…"
Sung Mugeol began to weep, mournful and unrestrained.
Is he… crying?
Still, how hard must she have hit him, to make him cry?
Either way, So-so's courage failed her, and she hurried over to him.
Then, purely, without a shred of malice, and with genuine concern, she asked:
"A-are you all right? Are you badly hurt?"
"…?"
"I'm sorry. To tell the truth, this is my first duel ever, so I didn't know it would turn out like this."
"…"
"Oh! But you were really strong too! So don't be too discouraged…"
"G-get away! Get away from me! Uwaaah!"
Jeong So-so descended from the training stage with a vaguely dissatisfied look on her face.
The referee muttered "How utterly merciless…" with an exhausted expression, but alas, she didn't hear a word of it.
Trudging down from the stage, So-so suddenly tilted her head.
Oh?
Hold on.
So that means, right now, I…
I won?
At that moment, Jin Cheong-un's voice reached her ears.
"See? I told you you'd figure it out once you tried."
Only then did the realization flash through her.
"D-did I really win?"
"Of course you won."
"Ah…"
Jeong So-so looked down quietly at her palms, still trembling with leftover excitement.
She clenched them into fists, lifted her head, and looked at Jin Cheong-un.
"Master."
"Yes?"
"I… was I actually a prodigy at martial arts all along?"
Silence.
Jin Cheong-un swept a worried gaze up and down her body.
"Fire madness, perhaps?"
"Big Sis, you can't go insane. Snap out of it."
"It's a joke! A joke! I said it's a joke!"
When So-so thrust her lips out in a pout, Jin Cheong-un's lecturing began.
"You only properly executed your sword forms a handful of times, and you fumbled your footwork eleven times. I counted at least three or four outright mistakes. A prodigy? So such prodigies walk the earth. This master learns a great deal from his own disciple."
"I know. I know, okay. I'm sorry…!"
A person's allowed to get a little carried away! Honestly!
He snorted a quiet laugh.
"Well, no need to apologize."
"What?"
Jin Cheong-un playfully pressed down a few times on the crown of her head.
"You did well. You worked hard."
"…!"
"This is the result of your effort. Of course, it's not over yet, so don't let your guard down."
Jeong So-so pressed her lips together tightly.
More than the victory itself, it was her master's recognition that made her chest swell.
"…Thank you."
"Mm."
"Um, but by any chance…"
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"You didn't eat something strange this morning, did you?"
"…"
"You? Complimenting someone? So-ryong! Did you hear that? Did you hear it!"
Jin Cheong-un watched his disciples bounce around in giddy celebration and let out a soft laugh.
Then, all at once, he tilted his head.
Hm. What is this.
He'd predicted the outcome long ago, and all they'd done was rack up a single win—yet somehow his chest felt oddly buoyant. Was he pleased at having stuck it to the Association, or was there some other reason? He couldn't quite tell.
So, for no particular reason, he barked out:
"Less chattering, more stretching and qi circulation! It's one lousy win!"
"Yes, Master! Hehe!"
Jin Cheong-un stared blankly at his disciple as she folded herself into a cross-legged position.
Strangely enough, the corners of his mouth kept trying to creep upward.
Stranger still was the realization that even if So-so lost her next match, it somehow wouldn't feel so bad.
The martial exhibition continued.
The mood in the stands had shifted unmistakably.
"That girl is unbelievable!"
"Woo! Yes! Go on! Fight!"
"Cheongun Martial Arts Academy, was it? Turns out that teacher wasn't talking big for nothing!"
Cheers poured down from the spectators.
People love a good story by nature. And of all stories, they love best—rightfully so—the tale of the weak toppling the strong…
SWISH!
A wooden sword shot skyward.
Beneath it, long hair settled softly across her shoulders as Jeong So-so broke into a bright smile.
"Thank you for the lesson!"
"D-damn it!"
One down.
Taptap! Whump!
"Ugh!"
"Whew! Thank you for going easy on me!"
Another one down.
WHAAAAM!
"AAAGH!"
"Hah. Hah. Thank you… phew. For your hard work."
And yet another.
"Phew! Master! I won!"
"Splendid, my disciple! Come, come, sit down quickly. Let me get your blood flowing!"
"Waaah! Big Sis, it's the semifinals! Semifinals! You're the best, Sis!"
The Cheongun Martial Arts Academy seats were nothing short of a festival.
And the martial arts association's seats, watching them, were nothing short of a funeral.
"Tsk, such a ruckus. Teacher and disciples alike, so frivolous…"
The academy heads clicked their tongues, faces like chewed-out rind.
Had their students lost to fellow members of the Association, they could have laughed it off. It would sting the pride, but they were all one family, after all.
But the Cheongun Academy was different. There could be no feeling more mortifying than this!
'She was supposed to be some girl who did lowly labor—what in the world is happening!'
'Whew. Thank heavens, though. Ours never had to face her.'
The heads whose students hadn't drawn Jeong So-so were relatively fine, but the heads of the defeated could no longer contain themselves, and their killing intent burst free.
"Losing to a opponent cruder than you in both internal power and swordsmanship—and you call yourself my disciple!"
"Staining your teacher's name in front of all these people! How am I supposed to hold my head up after this!"
"You hopeless fool! Learn some shame!"
These were the very heads who, until recently, had sneered at Jeong So-so and badmouthed her with their own mouths.
Words once spoken couldn't be taken back, so the arrows had nowhere to land but on the easiest target—their own disciples.
The exhibition, once the Association's private celebration, was quietly turning into a funeral.
"…"
Seated in the VIP row, Baek Gun-ak's face had gone rigid.
Watching the atmosphere split so cleanly down the middle, he clenched the armrest of his chair.
The wager was already over.
Five straight wins.
The Cheongun Academy had already won five times.
It was a wager where winning or losing shouldn't have mattered either way—but something about the mood was turning strange.
'At this rate—'
The trap laid to destroy the Cheongun Academy was turning into a stage that announced their name to the world!
Just then:
"Vice Master. Have you a moment?"
Baek Gun-ak's expression froze.
Break time before the semifinals—and Jin Cheong-un had come straight up to the VIP seats.
"…What business brings you here? Have you something to say?"
"Well, I came to apologize, actually."
"…?"
Baek Gun-ak's eyes narrowed.
Don't tell him he was trying to smooth things over at this late hour. It was laughable.
"Spare me. I have no intention of hearing your apolog—"
The next instant, he cut off mid-word, eyes bulging.
He was smiling.
Jin Cheong-un was grinning, as sly and infuriating a grin as ever there was, eyes and mouth stretched into long, lazy crescents!
"The wager's mine, as it happens. Mm, truly a matter of a hair's breadth."
"…!"
"Impressive, truly—right as expected of an association that is the Yichang Jianghu itself. Such a high standard of skill. I was on pins and needles the whole time, afraid I might lose."
"…!!"
"It's made fine publicity for our academy too, so consider all past grievances forgotten. I've apologized like this, so you may set your mind at ease as well. Ah—my disciples are calling. I'll be off."
Jin Cheong-un poured out his words in a single torrent, then swept away.
"Y-you—!"
Baek Gun-ak clutched the back of his own neck, face burning crimson.
He felt his surging blood pressure turn the world white before his eyes, and he roared:
"Gwak Yang! Gwak Yang! Are you here!"
"Yes, sir!"
"When the break ends, you'll be the one facing that girl! Are you confident?"
"Of course, sir!"
"Merely winning won't do. You must stake the honor of the White Horse Academy and crush her utterly! Do you understand!"
"Yes, sir!"
Baek Gun-ak ground his teeth, grinding them harder still.