False Sparring (2)
“I’m Namgung Do.”
The second trainee to step up introduced himself. It was a name I’d never heard before. With no number on his chest, he seemed to be a fresh new recruit.
“I’ll do five spars.”
“Very well. If no challenger steps forward, I’ll select one at random.”
How will this play out?
Namgung Hwan had just put on a tremendous show against the vice leader of the Changgung Geomdan. If this trainee picked a designated opponent, he’d inevitably be compared to that performance. I figured his choice was a smart one. Since no one could outshine Namgung Hwan anyway, five random spars made far more sense. Better to take the first hit, as they say—if he put on a good showing in those five, he might even pass.
Time to put my plan into action.
I sensed the moment had finally arrived. And I sent a silent thanks to Namgung Hwan. If he hadn’t kicked things off with that overwhelming designated spar, my chance wouldn’t have come this quickly.
Thud.
More eyes turned to the arena than when the second examinee, Namgung Do, had climbed up.
“Already? Unexpected.”
“A bit early, I thought, but no reason not to.”
The leader and vice leader of the Changgung Geomdan—who’d already scouted a satisfactory talent in this year’s evaluation and planned to relax through the rest—spoke up.
“Hey, newbie. What’s the youngest young master like?”
The Changgung Geomdan’s vice leader, Namgung Chiyeol, asked Namgung Hwan, who had just joined their ranks. It was only natural that all eyes turned to him.
Namgung Hwan opened his mouth. His voice wasn’t loud, but no one present could fail to hear it.
“Nothing outstanding, nothing lacking. But diligent, for sure. He’d show up at the training hall earlier than anyone else every day, quietly swinging his sword in the corner.”
Yet despite his words, the trainees watching Namgung Daeso climb onto the arena wore blatant sneers. The Namgung leadership watched in puzzlement.
Just then, Namgung Hwan continued.
“In my eyes, the swordsmanship the young master practiced was utterly perfect. So if there’s a problem, it must lie in that sword art itself.”
“He must’ve learned something impressive, then?”
“No. The young master practiced only one sword art: the Samjae Geombeop.”
“Samjae Geombeop? That basic thing you touch on briefly to polish fundamentals, then never look at again?”
Namgung Hwan nodded.
“Yes.”
Everyone waited with puzzled looks for what he’d say next. Just the Samjae Geombeop? No way. He must’ve learned something else.
“The young master trained solely in the Samjae Geombeop. I never saw him practice any other sword arts or martial techniques. And because of that, we trainees had a nickname for him.”
Fundamentals matter. One plus one equals two. That’s the bedrock of arithmetic—if you don’t grasp it, you can’t advance anywhere. That’s why every mathematician starts there. And most spend less time on it than sipping a cup of tea.
Because it’s basic. Obvious to anyone at a glance. Fundamentals are just confirming what’s already there.
But afterward, those once-crucial basics devolve into a forgotten string of numbers no one bothers with.
“I hesitate to say it, but it fit. Three Talents Cripple. That’s what we called the young master among ourselves.”
“Hm……”
Namgung Chiyeol, vice leader of the Changgung Geomdan, couldn’t help letting out a groan. As a martial artist who prided himself on diligently pursuing the discipline of mu, he knew the importance of fundamentals all too well.
But basics are basic precisely because no amount of effort lets you transcend them. There’s a vast gap between a scholar who spends fifty years on “one plus one equals two” and one who advances beyond it for fifty years.
Martial arts are the same.
Still, no one jumped to conclusions. Everyone knew that. The one up there was no ordinary person—he was direct Namgung lineage. Every direct descendant before him had been a monster, far beyond mortal bounds, always unveiling something new.
The young master simply hadn’t shown it yet.
It’s definitely there.
But……
……right?
Why couldn’t he shake the image of the young master from the welcoming ceremony?
Then, amid the sinking mood, a cheerful voice rang out.
“If you pass today, the maids said they’d make something delicious, so you have to win!”
Everyone frowned. It was that familiar madman by now. And everyone figured he must be on friendly terms with the young master.
“For real?”
Someone sidled up to the madman.
“Heh heh. Of course. Oh, right, Sinui hasn’t tried it yet? It’s killer. Just dies for it.”
“Oh ho! Really?”
“Told ya. Just dies!”
If it were just the madman, they’d shrug it off, but with Sinui joining in, all eyes shifted their way. Sinui smacked his lips, pretending to look around while shooting a glance at Namgung Hancheol, who’d been sitting silently this whole time.
What the hell’s he scheming?
He was the one who’d given Namgung Daeso the Samjae Geombeop manual. When he heard the young master had trained only in that, Sinui hadn’t shown it, but he’d been shocked.
Direct Namgung lineage. The fourth young master’s status. Leverage that right, and mastering supreme arts was like lying down for rice cakes.
And Namgung Hancheol couldn’t be unaware of what the kid had just said. He feigned disinterest in worldly affairs, but in truth, he tracked everything Namgung-related!
Three Talents Cripple. Testimony from a fellow trainee. And the trainees’ reactions watching Namgung Daeso. It wasn’t a lie.
Could the Namgung youngest lack martial talent?
No way!
Cheonmu Jiche. He’d confirmed it himself! And Namgung Hancheol had handed over the Samjae Geombeop personally. Sure, it aided comprehension…… but only for recovery. Compared to other arts, it was just basic swordplay.
But.
Sinui glanced between Namgung Hancheol and Namgung Daeso. A third-rater’s world differs from a peak master’s. A super peak master’s from a Hyeon Gyeong master’s—even greater than that gap, never less. And Sinui knew what this Namgung place was.
A den of inhuman freaks.
Overflowing with prodigies, geniuses, transcendent talents. And those here were their fully realized forms. The unripe kids seemed shaken, but……
Sinui scanned the room. They all knew the rumors—no real agitation. No great expectations for the young master on the arena. To them, he was just average. Nothing more.
But that shut-in old fart dragging his heavy ass here is suspicious too.
If Namgung Hancheol had martial insight. Namgung Ilro handled strategy. A man overlooking the world saw differently from mere mortals.
Anyway.
It’d reveal itself soon. Sinui’s gaze turned to the arena. This spar’s outcome would say it all.
“I’m Namgung Daeso. Please go easy.”
“I’m Namgung Do. Likewise.”
Brief greetings exchanged.
I drew the wooden sword from my side. My opponent did the same.
“Begin!”
At the grand elder’s shout, Namgung Do circled slowly, probing my eyes. Not a hint of disorder in his stance. But staring right into those eyes, I could guess his thoughts.
Jackpot, he’s thinking. Ecstatic inside.
Alright! How should I lose, as wished? How to etch my pathetic self into everyone’s minds?
Got it!
First loss like this.
A fun idea hit me.
“Taa!”
Namgung Do shouted in unison, thrusting his sword. Replicating Namgung Chiyeol’s earlier stab in his own style.
Smart cookie.
Then I spotted his foot slide back slightly. Prep for a horizontal sweep if the thrust failed.
To show I didn’t need to struggle for the next move, I precisely met his thrust’s endpoint with my wrist. Naturally, via an Samjae Geombeop motion. It’s all I knew.
Thwack!
A dull thud echoed through the training ground.
Roll roll.
Followed by the wooden sword tumbling across the dirt.
The trainees nodded as if it were obvious.
“I win!”
Namgung Do calmly celebrated his victory. The clan heads watched the young master’s first official outing, maintaining expressions suited to their positions. Tension eased from the first faction’s faces. Same for second and third.
Their assessment matched the “me” from the welcoming ceremony—and now.
“It’s fine! Not his turn yet. He can lose this! My banquet’s still alive!”
Vice strategist Namgung Je-cheon alone hadn’t grasped the situation.
Hm……
Sinui eyed Namgung Daeso with faint disappointment. Thought there was something. Cheonmu Jiche, after all. Truth known only to him, Namgung Hancheol, and Daeso in Namgung Sega. Sure, it wasn’t absolute for martial learning, but……
No reason for that guy to move without cause.
Sinui glanced at Namgung Hancheol.
Paternal feelings finally kicking in?
Even he couldn’t escape fatherhood. Natural to fret over the youngest.
Changgung Geomdan vice leader Namgung Chiyeol couldn’t hide his letdown either.
Even as the youngest direct descendant, just this level?
Expected something. Turned out to be delusion. From today, he’d ignore the young master entirely.
The next trainee stepped up. I picked up my fallen wooden sword, retreated to the corner.
Ow, wrist hurts.
Miscalculated distance at the end. Meant to perfectly deflect, but grazed off. Back then, this hit would’ve cracked bone or swelled ligaments. Thanks to Cheonmu Jiche, bones seemed fine.
The second trainee sadly went 0-4 after me, vowing next time. The next chose five spars too.
By the time over half the trainees had tested……
Alright, wrist pain’s gone. Time to head back up!
I climbed as opponent again. The trainee up for five spars beamed innocently at me. Like he’d drawn the short straw. Most gazes felt familiar.
Been a while.
No expectations. Wasting time, why up again? Back then, I had grit at least.
Thwack!
Again, one clash—wooden sword flew, defeat.
“Man~ Guess I’ve got no talent for martial arts.”
A swordsman would grab his sword in shame, but I shrugged, pointing at Namgung Je-cheon.
“Hey, Vice Strategist? Mind teaching me letters instead? Martial arts just ain’t—”
“Young master! What about our banquet?”
“Banquet? Win first, then eat. Right?”
“Well, yes, but……”
Namgung Je-cheon finally shut up. As if on cue, contemptuous glares shot from all sides.
Sue me!
“Fine. Next, I’ll pick opponents myself instead of waiting. Gotta wrap this up and sleep.”
I tossed that out and sauntered down. Sneaking a peek at Father. My act was a bit over-the-top for a martial artist. Luckily, he sat stone-faced.
This trainee went 3-2, failed anyway.
“Next.”
The grand elder called. Spars had flowed nonstop till now, but none stepped up despite his shout. Thanks to my declaration.
“Hyup!”
I hopped up with a frivolous shout.
“Designated opponent or five spars?”
“Five spars.”
“Anyone challenging Namgung Daeso, step up.”
Instantly, watchful trainees swarmed faster than ever—over ten at once.
“Haha, popular, huh.”
“Tch. You, you, you, you, you—rest go down, in order.”
Grand elder clicked his tongue, annoyed, picking by arrival. The five chosen cheered briefly.
“Yes!”
“Chance!”
“Finally!”
“One win secured!”
“Gonna shine this time!”
The excluded five looked like they’d failed the exam.
“Ah……”
“Should’ve been faster.”
“Damn.”
I slung my wooden sword over my shoulder, addressing the five.
“Who’s first?”