Chapter 19
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Long Time No See
“Huff... huff...”
“Gah.”
“Hngh... hngh...”
The training ground was filled with ragged breaths.
Just as Ha Mu-baek had said, it was grueling. Truly the kind of exhausting that made curses spill from your lips.
How could it be this brutal?
All the training up until now felt like child’s play.
The intensity was on another level.
“Tch. It’s a problem if you’re collapsing already. This is only the first day.”
Ha Mu-baek clicked his tongue at the five sprawled on the ground.
The western sky had already turned red, now gradually darkening.
“Alright, now for the last one.”
At Ha Mu-baek’s words, life returned to the five’s eyes. The end was finally in sight.
“A five-on-one spar.”
Ha Mu-baek grinned.
The five struggled to their feet, swallowing hard.
A spar, of all things.
This was a first.
All five knew full well just how monstrous their instructor was.
Hadn’t he personally demolished a peak-level master right before their eyes?
“I’ll adjust to your level, so don’t tense up too much.”
Ha Mu-baek beckoned with his hand.
“Come on. Hurry up.”
Even so, the five hesitated.
“If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you. So get in here already.”
Urged on repeatedly by their instructor.
Dan Mok Un-roe was the first to step up. He kicked off the ground and charged at Ha Mu-baek, but his legs felt like lead.
The punch he threw lacked any real power.
He was sent flying back all too easily.
“That’s what happens when you charge in blindly.”
At the instructor’s critique, the remaining four circled slowly. But none dared to rush in.
In the meantime, Dan Mok Un-roe picked himself up and rejoined them.
This time, Dang Jin-san charged. At the same moment, Baek Ri-pyeong moved to strike Ha Mu-baek’s flank.
As Ha Mu-baek blocked the two, Yeon Ha-min aimed for his back.
It was a fairly clever coordinated attack.
They hadn’t even discussed it beforehand—how had they divided roles so seamlessly?
Not bad.
Ha Mu-baek felt a flicker of satisfaction, but he didn’t show it. If anything, his fists grew even more merciless.
Though the five threw everything they had at him, they couldn’t last even half a breath before collapsing to the ground.
“Huff... huff... We were already drained from training... A spar on top of that? You’re too harsh, Instructor.”
Dang Jin-san grumbled.
“In the middle of war, enemies don’t show up considerate of your stamina.”
“......”
Dang Jin-san fell silent at the response.
“The Summer Combat Festival is no different.”
Darkness had now enveloped the surroundings.
“Well, sunset’s passed, so it’s technically after-hours for combat. But honestly, that’s too soft. Banning fights at night? What a joke.”
Ha Mu-baek muttered in dissatisfaction.
“Night is when war’s hellscape truly unfolds. Tch.”
Ha Mu-baek’s face soured as he clicked his tongue softly. A complex mix of emotions flickered across his expression, ones words couldn’t quite capture.
“Eat a good dinner, then. See you tomorrow.”
Ha Mu-baek waved as he left the training ground.
He washed his sweat-soaked body in the cool valley stream.
Today’s training had been satisfying.
“Come to think of it, is this the mountain where they hold the Summer Combat Festival?”
Ha Mu-baek murmured as he surveyed the darkened slopes.
This was the only mountain near the Dragon Training Pavilion sizable enough for it. That’s why he’d come here to train.
After rinsing off the sweat, Ha Mu-baek stepped out of the water and picked up his sword.
It had been ages since he’d brought it along.
“First time since arriving at the Dragon Training Pavilion?”
He stared at the scabbard and muttered to himself.
In truth, he’d long surpassed the stage where personal practice was necessary.
Still, external arts and strength training were habits he maintained daily.
Today, after sparring for the first time in so long, his blood was pumping a bit. That’s why he’d brought the sword.
Shing.
With a clear ring, the blade slid free of its sheath.
The pristine white sword body gleamed under the moonlight.
“Long time no see.”
Ha Mu-baek gazed at the blade and murmured lowly.
He could barely remember the last time he’d drawn it.
At some point, he simply hadn’t needed to. His fists alone could topple most foes.
After the war ended.
Nothing had compelled Ha Mu-baek to draw his sword since.
So yes, it had truly been ages.
Yet the blade shone with a coldly pristine light, as if it had just been polished.
Ha Mu-baek held the sword steady.
He began to move slowly—agonizingly slow, almost frozen in place.
The epitome of slowness.
The Late Sword.
A training method his master had drilled into him harshly.
A sword form executed with pure muscle power, no internal energy at all, moving at an excruciatingly slow pace.
To an outsider, it would look utterly baffling—what even was that?
Few could discern the sword forms within such motion.
The Infinite Ruyi Eight Absolute Sword Techniques.
Ha Mu-baek’s signature art unfolded languidly beneath the moonlight.
After executing all eight forms, from first to last, he regulated his breathing.
“Not bad.”
He nodded, seemingly pleased.
Truth be told, it was more than just not bad.
Ha Mu-baek’s swordsmanship had advanced another level in the interim.
He could feel it himself.
After the war, he had deliberately distanced himself from the sword.
His training focused on external arts, strength work, and energy circulation.
He had intentionally avoided the blade.
It was a backlash from seeing far too much blood during the war.
Yet his skill hadn’t regressed—in fact, it had elevated.
Ha Mu-baek could only chuckle wryly.
‘Breathing, seeing, hearing, experiencing, acting—all of it is training in itself.’
His master’s words from long ago echoed in his ears once more.
“I wonder how he’s doing.”
His master suddenly came to mind.
Was it because he now had five kids under his wing, even if not true disciples?
His master’s face floated up unbidden.
He resolved to visit someday when he had time.
Since descending the mountain, he’d only sent occasional letters, never visiting in person.
Or rather, he hadn’t been able to.
He lacked the confidence to show his bloodstained self.
And he couldn’t let that child see him like this either.
So he’d only shared news through letters.
“I’ll go when I visit. Once the stench of blood fades a bit more.”
He felt that time wasn’t far off.
Unfurling his sword art tonight had given him that certainty.
He washed once more and dressed.
Leaping into the air, he headed back to the Dragon Training Pavilion. As he vaulted the wall, a familiar presence caught his attention.
“Hm...”
His steps naturally turned that way.
It was a presence he wouldn’t normally sense.
“You’re here.”
Dang Jin-san spoke calmly upon spotting Ha Mu-baek.
“Were you waiting?”
“Un-roe said he saw you training past midnight.”
“Yeah. Un-roe was actually training. Not just sitting around idly like you.”
“It’s past two in the morning already? I really waited a long time.”
Practicing his sword had delayed him by about an hour past usual.
Ha Mu-baek chuckled at Dang Jin-san’s quip.
“So. What’s up?”
“Can we really get revenge?”
His voice trembled slightly with anxiety.
“If you train like hell, it’s possible.”
“There’s only a month and a half left until the festival.”
“That’s plenty.”
Ha Mu-baek replied flatly.
“But compared to the years I’ve wasted, it’s an incredibly short time.”
His voice brimmed with regret.
“Tch.”
Ha Mu-baek clicked his tongue.
“Follow me.”
He led Dang Jin-san to a rundown tavern outside the Dragon Training Pavilion.
No customers in sight—just the shop boy dozing off.
Simple snacks and a cheap bottle of liquor.
Ha Mu-baek filled a cup and handed it to Dang Jin-san.
“Just one. So you can train like hell tomorrow. Alright, what’s on your mind?”
Dang Jin-san took the cup and wet his throat with a sip.
“My father is the head of the Sichuan Tang Clan. I’m his fourth son.”
“I know.”
“There are these three called the Tang Clan’s Three Prodigies. Even I admit they’re exceptional. They’re the clan’s top young talents right now. My eldest brother and my younger sister are two of them.”
Ha Mu-baek listened quietly.
“And the last one... is that guy from earlier today. Dang Chu.”
At that, Ha Mu-baek tilted his head.
He seemed talented enough, but not quite prodigy material—especially not for a prestigious clan like the Tangs.
Plus, his personality was sorely lacking. It felt like he’d been shoehorned in just to make three.
“He’s my cousin. Same age as me—technically my younger, since he was born later. He was direct lineage, but became collateral. When my grandfather was head, he was the son of my uncle, thus the head’s grandson and direct line. But when my father took over, he became collateral. Clan law states anyone not the head’s direct line is collateral.”
It was a ramble.
So Ha Mu-baek just listened, occasionally sipping his drink.
You couldn’t hear a story like this sober.
Dang Jin-san also took sips now and then as he spoke.
“He was overflowing with talent, but the moment he became collateral, his treatment changed. There are things passed only to direct lineage, after all. It happened around when we were ten, so it must’ve wounded his young heart deeply. And that resentment turned toward me.”
Dang Jin-san paused. He tilted his head back and let out a deep sigh.
“...I truly had no talent. Yet just because I was direct lineage, I learned secret arts forbidden to him.”
As he continued, Dang Jin-san’s head drooped lower.
“And yet I couldn’t master a single one properly. Pathetic, really. The Tang Clan’s Greatest Dullard—that’s my nickname there. Heh.”
A self-deprecating laugh escaped him.
“Hm. From what I’ve seen, it’s not that bad...”
At Ha Mu-baek’s words, the corners of Dang Jin-san’s eyes twitched upward.
“Thank you for saying so. But didn’t you see it today? I couldn’t even dodge a blatant cheat move when I knew the form and trajectory. My talent’s too poor to learn the All Streams Returning to Origin Art passed to direct lineage. I’ve only mastered the Three Yangs Returning to Origin Art.”
“Still, things were a bit different today, weren’t they?”
“......”
Dang Jin-san didn’t deny it. It had indeed differed from back at the clan.
There, he hadn’t dodged even once and got trounced miserably.
“Chengdu Playboy, was it?”
Ha Mu-baek set down his cup as he spoke. Dang Jin-san bowed his head.
“A shameful nickname I earned when I despaired over my meager talent and tried escaping reality.”
“Seems like that’s why the Tang Clan head sent you here.”
“...Yes.”
“And in just two months, you dodged once.”
Ha Mu-baek’s words.
Dang Jin-san clenched his fist briefly, then reached for his cup.
It was already empty.
Ha Mu-baek sighed softly and refilled it. He’d said one cup, but it wasn’t so easy to cut it off precisely.
“You know the saying ‘great talents mature late’?”
Dang Jin-san nodded at Ha Mu-baek’s question, puzzlement in his eyes. Why say that to him?
“I won’t call you a ‘great talent.’ But maybe the Tang Clan’s mold just didn’t fit you.”
“......”
“The fact you went from never dodging to doing it once in two months might prove that.”
Ha Mu-baek refilled his own empty cup.
Dang Jin-san still hung his head.
His chatty nature, cheerfulness, even his petty rebellions.
Were they all shields to hide his shallow talent?
Since exposing his raw lack of gift today, he’d been utterly dejected.
He’d rage and burn with resolve for a moment, but soon reverted to this.
“If you truly had no talent, you wouldn’t have built that much internal energy with the Three Yangs Returning to Origin Art. Nor followed my teachings.”
“......”
Ha Mu-baek sighed with exasperation.
“You have talent. If you can’t trust yourself, trust my eye for it.”
With that, Ha Mu-baek stood.
“Let’s head back.”
Dang Jin-san followed, mulling over the words.
They arrived at the Fierce Dragon Dormitory.
Ha Mu-baek placed his palm on Dang Jin-san’s back and circulated his energy.
“Wha—”
Dang Jin-san startled. But before he could finish, a warm energy swept through him, banishing the alcohol’s haze.
“Come tomorrow thinking you’re already dead.”
Ha Mu-baek waved and strolled off leisurely.