Unto the Final Stage
The semifinals had all come to an end, and a short waiting period settled over the grounds before the final match.
The spectators, clustered together over quick snacks or chatting about this year's Imuhoe-u tournament, suddenly found their attention pulled in a single direction.
"Move aside! Out of the way! Patient coming through!"
Hwang Jong-baek shoved his way through the crowd blocking the path, his belly jiggling with every step.
Just then, one of the association's officers furrowed his brow and shouted.
"I say there! No, I mean—I say there, Director Hwang!"
"Gah! As-Assistant Director!"
"What in the world are you doing?"
"Well, you see, a patient from the Cheongun Martial Arts Academy came down with something, and……"
"Then why is Director Hwang the one running about?"
Hwang Jong-baek's mouth flapped open and shut, words failing him.
With so many eyes watching, he'd only spoken in circles, but the meaning was clear enough: why was he helping a rival academy he'd just fought against?
…Now that I think about it, that's a fair point?
He'd been swept along in the moment, and only now did his surroundings actually register. The academy directors belonging to the association were eyeing him with unmistakable suspicion.
What would they say if things continued like this?
His relationship with Jin Cheong-un was already under scrutiny. If he went so far as to openly throw in his lot with the man, wouldn't they brand him an outright traitor?
It was terrifying.
He was afraid of falling out of favor with the people in this world, afraid of Jin Cheong-un too—honestly, he was afraid of everything.
In the midst of the greatest dilemma of his life, Hwang Jong-baek came to a decision.
Y-yes. Honestly, what deep connection could I possibly have with Director Jin anyway?
Drawing a clear line right now was for the best.
Having steeled himself to be ruthless, he opened his mouth—
"W-well, still…… the child's sick, you know……"
This accursed, scatterbrained mouth of his spouted something entirely unlike what he'd resolved in his head.
"What was that?"
Hwang Jong-baek flinched under the directors' piercing stares.
"N-no, it's not what you think…… It's just, the boy's ill, and I couldn't very well turn my back on him……"
"What on earth are you saying?"
"I—I'll explain everything later! Later, I swear!"
He fled the scene like a man escaping a fire, his face gone ash-gray.
How was he supposed to untangle this mess?
It would all come up at the next association meeting. What excuse could he possibly offer? Would he have to return the gifts they'd sent? Would that smooth things over?
"Thank you, Senior."
At Jin Cheong-un's voice from behind, Hwang Jong-baek shrieked.
"Don't thank me!"
"But the debt of kindness—"
"Don't! I said don't thank me! Aigo, what did I ever do to deserve this!"
"……?"
Arriving at the guest hall shortly after, Jin Cheong-un kicked the door open with enough force to nearly tear it off its hinges.
Then, with the gentlest of care—so very gently—he lowered Jeong So-ryong down and personally folded the boy's legs into a proper meditation posture.
"So-ryong, you're doing well. Keep the Cheongun Heart Art circulating."
"Hoo. Hoo."
"That's it. Hold on just a little longer. I'll make it better soon."
Whether conscious or not, Jeong So-ryong's face was deathly pale, and he did nothing but draw slow, labored breaths.
Jin Cheong-un sprang to his feet and gestured sharply.
"Cho-sam, clear everything out of here. All of it."
"Clear it out, sir?"
"Remove everything within one jang of where So-ryong is sitting. Tie the windows shut with cord, and push all the furniture and decorations against the walls. I need the space empty."
"Y-yes, sir!"
Having finished his orders, he turned to Hwang Jong-baek.
"Director Hwang, from this moment on, please send the disciples I indicated to the positions I described and set up a perimeter."
"R-right! They just need to stand guard, yes?"
"Make sure there's no noise, and see that no one enters this room. Now then, I'll just——"
At that moment, he sensed footsteps approaching the guest hall.
"W-wait just a moment…… Director Jin! Director Jin!"
Three or four men were hurrying toward him, alarm written plainly across their faces.
They hastily bowed with fists cupped and spoke.
"The men of White Horse Academy have just left the grounds. They rushed out of here in a hurry—has something happened? Are you alright?"
"My disciple's chronic condition took a sudden turn for the worse, so I stepped out. My circumstances are pressing, so might I ask you to get to the point?"
"Ah, our sympathies. If you need a physician, we could——"
"The point. Please."
The White Horse warriors flinched as one.
Under the indescribable pressure radiating from Jin Cheong-un, they terrifiedly fumbled out their words.
"W-well, you see, there's to be a rest and preparation period of about one shijin, and then the final match will be held…… What will you do?"
"The final match?"
"Yes. We wondered if perhaps you intended to withdraw……"
At those words, Jeong So-so, standing nearby, shouted as if to say, what a time to even ask that.
"His brother's sick—now's hardly the time! I'm sorry, but we'll have to forfeit——"
"We'll compete."
"Master?!"
She whipped around to stare at him, startled.
"Forfeit, my foot. You said it yourself—it was your dream."
"But this is hardly the time——!"
"If So-ryong wakes up and hears that you gave up because of him, do you think he'd be pleased?"
"……!"
"Honestly."
Jin Cheong-un let out a dry chuckle.
"You worry about everything. I told you I've got this, so why are you carrying on? Who do you think I am? I'll take full responsibility and fix So-ryong up good as new, so stop fretting."
Good as new? He's a child, not a piece of furniture.
"Besides, when your master gives an order, all you need to say is 'yes, Master.' Now go on. Shoo, go. Eh?"
Jin Cheong-un flapped his hand about lazily, as if shooing off an unwelcome guest.
Something was strange.
His master, so utterly at ease in such a desperate situation—and stranger still, herself, her heart that had been hammering wildly at that grim expression now quietly settling down.
"……Alright. I'm going."
Jeong So-so clenched her fist tight and declared,
"I'll trust you, Master, and see this through!"
"Good girl."
"Let's go! I'll compete in the final match!"
She shouted it with vigor, then sprinted off alongside the White Horse warriors without looking back—no, trying not to look back.
"Well then, I suppose it's time to show you what a master's dignity looks like."
"I—you……"
Hwang Jong-baek shot Jin Cheong-un an incredulous sideways glance, then froze.
The pompous, lecturing air he'd worn toward Jeong So-so moments ago had vanished entirely; with an expression gone serious in an instant, he was walking into the room.
"Director, we're finished!"
"Then clear out. Director Hwang, I'm counting on you."
"Eh, uh…… understood."
The door closes. Jin Cheong-un sat down behind Jeong So-ryong and murmured, low and quiet.
"So-ryong. Don't answer—just listen while you focus on your circulation."
"Hoo. Hoo."
"Starting now, I'm going to guide your true qi and tear down every last trace of turbid qi that's been hardening your channels."
Until now, the plan had been to slowly filter out the turbid qi so as not to strain the child's body, then have Jeong So-ryong gather up and consolidate his own stagnant energy himself.
In other words, rather than hitting the illness with harsh medicine or a blade, they had coaxed the body itself toward health so the sickness would fall away on its own.
Well, that approach was now water under the bridge.
A blade had to touch the body. Accepting some measure of side effects along with it.
And it was a dangerous undertaking in more ways than one—not only was the body receiving the blade unsafe, but the one wielding it was in just as much danger.
"Not that any of that's particularly difficult for a master like me."
Jin Cheong-un said it offhandedly, as if it were nothing.
"From here on out, all you have to do is trust me. Understood?"
He reached out slowly.
In that instant—
Sreuk.
Jeong So-ryong's head moved, slow and deliberate.
Jin Cheong-un's eyes flew wide open.
"You're still fully conscious?"
The head nodded once more.
"……!"
Hurriedly extending his qi-sense to probe, Jin Cheong-un sucked in a sharp breath.
He's been circulating the entire time?
The energy kept swelling, growing ever larger.
And yet its temperament remained exactly the same.
Only the volume of qi flowing outward had increased; that flow was as calm and placid as it had ever been.
So that's why he stayed so quiet after that one flare-up……
Impossible.
If anything, by now the boy ought to feel like he was plunging between a boiling cauldron and a freezing bath, back and forth without end.
No—the two forces should have been tearing through his insides like a burst dam……
This kid, honestly.
He'd known the boy had talent. But it went this far?
In that moment, Jin Cheong-un felt goosebumps prickle across his entire body.
He'd talked a big game, and honestly speaking, this was no easy feat for him either.
The man he'd been in the past would have burned it all away with his inner power—but the man he was now had lost everything and only just begun learning a new martial art from scratch.
But if it was like this, that changed the story entirely.
"Right then. Let's see what we can do."
He drew one deep, steadying breath and spoke.
"Beginning now."
His hands reached for the very center of Jeong So-ryong's lower back.
Woooooong!
A single thread of wind slips into the silent room.
The heat-haze rising from master and disciple alike tangles together in the empty air.
Two people's meridians join into one.
And in this instant, when flesh and mind and qi intertwine—
the master knocks, ever so carefully, upon his disciple's gate.
Then passes through the door that opens.
The Gate of Life itself—and beyond it.
"……And so, we will now begin the final match of the Imuhoe-u tournament."
To the sound of cheers that seemed to wash over her from far away, Jeong So-so slowly opened her eyes.
Gripping her wooden sword, she made her way toward the arena.
As she calmly surveyed her surroundings, she could feel the weight of every gaze upon her.
Most of them seemed to be cheering for her—but they were not eyes that expected her to win.
If money were riding on this match, most of those people would cheer her with their lips while betting against her.
Her opponent hailed from a lineage of prestigious academies, had claimed victory in every match of the tournament within twenty exchanges, and was a true prodigy whom even Jin Cheong-un had acknowledged.
Compared to that, she was a novice who'd clawed her way up barely, narrowly, luck riding on her back—exhausted past the point of exhaustion.
The outcome might already be decided, for all anyone knew.
But even so—
Even so, she would face it with utmost sincerity.
Like her brother, who was even now wandering the edge between life and death, and like her master, who had braved every danger to treat him yet still sent her here.
Sreureuk.
Jeong So-so fixed her opponent with eyes as straight and unclouded as her upright blade.
"Jeong So-so of the Cheongun Martial Arts Academy."
"……Lee Jeong-gwang of White Horse Academy."
Lee Jeong-gwang did not focus on Jeong So-so; instead, he stole a glance around the arena.
How strange.
A feeling he had never once experienced in his life crept up on him, drawing his brows together of its own accord.
He had lived his entire life basking in nothing but expectant gazes.
But never, not once, had those gazes looked like this.
And even the Assistant Director, of all people.
The very man who had urged him toward victory was now unable to meet his eyes, sending him a look of tangled, unreadable complexity.
Why?
Could it really be because of that opponent over there?
Because of that woman, whom no sane observer would call a match for him?
Lee Jeong-gwang narrowed his eyes and asked.
"May I ask you one thing before we begin?"
"What is it?"
"Why do you go this far?"
"Go this far with what?"
Lee Jeong-gwang clicked his tongue.
"Isn't this just a friendly exhibition match?"
"……Just?"
"You're already worn out, and you're injured. Why didn't you withdraw? What if you push yourself and your body gives out?"
"……"
"And I don't know what happened, but…… ever since you went somewhere and came back just now, your mind's been somewhere else entirely. You look like a woman possessed."
Lee Jeong-gwang tilted his head, genuinely baffled.
"So why? The outcome is obvious to anyone with eyes. Don't tell me you're actually counting on that one strike that felled Gwol Yang at the end?"
"……"
"I hate to say it, but that strike only works if it lands. Now that I've seen it once, I will never let my guard down again."
At that moment, Jeong So-so's lips moved.
After a long, thunderous sigh, she opened her mouth, her face brimming with sheer exasperation.
"Does your academy not teach people to speak politely?"
Lee Jeong-gwang's expression went blank.
"……What?"
"I know. I know it'll be hard. Yes, fine—but why are you talking down to someone you've never even met? How annoying can you get."
Confronted with a manner of speech cruder than he could have imagined from a street vendor, Lee Jeong-gwang floundered.
She clicked her tongue once and continued.
"For someone like you—well-fed, well-raised—maybe this really is just a small thing."
"……?"
"I know. I know it's really just a village festival, and that I don't need to push myself this hard."
Drawing a long, deep breath, she looked out over the arena around her—as if to carve this moment into her memory forever.
"But for someone out there, this might be a scene they've only ever seen in their dreams."
"I don't follow."
"I figured you wouldn't."
That was enough talk.
Jeong So-so pushed away, as far as she could, the worry for her brother that kept clouding her mind, and fixed her gaze on her opponent alone.
With utmost sincerity.
"Here I come."
Her foot struck the earth.