Clash at the Pinnacle of the Martial World (3)
I opened my eyes to find the sun had already set. On the table sat food meticulously prepared—probably by the maid sisters, who left it there when I didn't wake up.
"Did I sleep too long?"
I opened the door, and cool night air flowed into the room. Facing the evening breeze, I sat at the table and dug into the food. It had all gone cold, but it was still delicious as ever. My belly full, I lay back on the bed for a bit before deciding to stroll the courtyard instead.
"Who's there?"
Someone reacted to my presence. It was such a faint discrepancy that I wouldn't have noticed before. Now, it hit me crystal clear—and that was the problem.
"Impressive. How did you spot me?"
A figure stepped out from behind a tree. I eyed him with genuine surprise.
"Are we close enough to meet like this in the dead of night?"
"Not particularly, but I do have permission to be here."
"Permission from whom? I'm the master of this place."
"With the master sleeping for two straight days, I had no choice but to get it from his subordinates."
Two days? Not just one?
I was getting used to these shocks by now, but my voice still betrayed my astonishment. "Two days?"
"I've been waiting two days."
What, does sleeping make you lose your mind or something?
"So why wait around for me two whole days?"
The one-armed old man who emerged from behind the tree—I'd seen him before. Not just once, but multiple times. Maybe even every day. I'd always pegged him as just some old guy sweeping the Namgung estate courtyards.
"You've trained in martial arts, old timer."
Before drifting off—and it still hadn't fully sunk in that it was two days ago—I'd come straight out of the Manhak Seogo library, been dragged off by my second brother, faced my father, got dragged somewhere else... and all that after passing out for three straight days from the ordeal.
Yeah. Back then, mentally exhausted and dying for sleep, I'd pretended not to notice. Now it clicked.
The pruning grandpa was a martial artist too.
A pretty decent one, at that. A bit sloppy, sure.
And this old man in front of me seemed the same.
"You can sense that? Even with me fully concealing it?"
"I don't feel any inner energy from you, old timer."
"Then what makes you say that?"
If I had to answer, I'd say: I can just see it.
After cultivating the Yang-ui Simgong and something taking root inside me, I'd changed. My father had asked if I could see it.
Yes, I can see it.
That's what I'd told him. Father would know exactly what was happening to me.
If you know, just tell me straight up. Don't be petty about it.
I had a rough idea why. Maybe in the Manhak Seogo, I hadn't learned the Yang-ui Simgong—I'd grasped something beyond concepts.
I can feel it.
Something small had taken root in my body. I couldn't pinpoint what to call it, but if forced, a tiny seed.
And over the two days I slept, that seed—hilariously—had sprouted roots all on its own.
I'd dubbed it the seed for now. Thanks to it, my eyes saw a different world.
The old man looked scrawny and pathetic, one-armed and all.
"I see a massive mountain."
"A mountain?"
His back was hunched, his eyes sunken deep.
"Yeah. One that's held its ground for decades, centuries—maybe even millennia. Whether I'm seeing it from you or feeling it... anyway, it's one stubborn peak."
"Heh heh. You're definitely different from anyone I've seen before. Maybe like someone I know."
I didn't know who he'd seen, but one thing was clear: he was different too. Calling someone like him ordinary would mean no one was.
"You're no ordinary guy either, old timer. Not an assassin, are you?"
"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have waited for you to wake."
"Phew... good."
I let out a relieved breath and continued. "I'm sensitive about that stuff."
Yeah. Mountains were a sore spot for me. Especially the bandits living there.
"You a bandit by any chance?"
They say test a stone bridge before crossing.
"Don't compare me to those fools."
"Fine then. As long as you're not a bandit, we're good. Come sit. Your legs must ache after waiting two days."
Right then, the old man grinned slyly.
"I haven't revealed who I am yet. I could still be here to kill you."
I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't care who you are. Except! No bandits."
"Why's that?"
"This is Namgung territory. No matter how great a master you are, you couldn't harm me and escape alive. And..."
The old man's eyes flickered.
"If you were dangerous, the maid sisters and head maid granny wouldn't have let you in to begin with."
"That's your reason for dropping your guard?"
"Yep. Come on, sit. The breeze feels great. I've always thought the night wind here is so refreshing."
He chuckled.
"You're one weird kid."
I straightened up. "I'm perfectly normal."
For some reason, his words made me feel lumped in with that lunatic.
Speaking of, I need to catch that psycho and smash his head soon.
The old man approached and plopped down beside me.
"True enough."
He said curtly, then flopped back onto the ground.
"The wind feels nice."
I stared at him, dumbfounded. "I didn't say lie down."
Ahem. He cleared his throat awkwardly and sat up.
"I'm a man of the martial world."
Then came the explanation. Why he'd waited two days for me.
"And in the past, I was a far greater martial artist than you imagine."
"Greater than Father?"
"Let's leave Mushin out. Have you no shame?"
"My bad. What about the Heavenly Demon?"
"...Leave him out too."
"Aw~ Then you weren't that big a deal."
"Should I just go?"
He started to stand. He meant it. If I didn't stop him, he'd leave for real. Getting sulky over a little teasing.
"So, what came after great martial artist?"
"How'd I end up begging a kid like this?"
It was a mutter, but it rang clear in my ears. He said it for me to hear.
"Got it. You were a great martial artist! I won't interrupt now."
"Ugh..."
He still seemed miffed, but continued.
"Long ago, I challenged your father, Mushin, and lost. That's how I became one-armed."
"..."
I just stared at him silently.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
He looked a bit uncomfortable at my gaze. "What? You pity the one-armed old man?"
"No."
I shook my head softly.
"I can really feel what you're going through right now."
As someone who'd lost a body part myself, there was this kinship.
This damn Namgung clan had issues. Punching holes in bellies, chopping off arms.
"Must've been tough."
"Y-yeah."
He hadn't spilled for pity, but getting outright sympathy felt awkward.
Come to think of it, it had been ages since he'd heard words of comfort.
Not a bad feeling.
"You're not hiding here for revenge or anything, right? Not that I'm taking Father's side—he really only knows martial arts. And he's insanely good at it! Super ridiculously! Absurdly! If you must get revenge, there's only one way."
"What's that?"
"Wait till he's about 130, then fight and win."
"..."
"Age beats all."
Kid, won't I die first?
"Ahem. Thanks for the advice."
"No problem."
I'd regressed. Twenty years, even. People think regression lets you achieve anything. But whether regressing, reincarnating, or remembering past lives, some things can't change.
Yeah. Like getting a hole in your gut and then seeking blanket revenge on the guy who did it and his whole group. Ridiculous.
The old man laughed hollowly. "Heh heh. Took me over a decade to realize something so simple."
No, it wasn't simple at all. I only got it after dying.
"Quitting's always easier."
That's when it happened. The old man's aura shifted.
A serene energy poured from him steadily, like he could topple someone with a flick. His hunched back straightened. Shriveled muscles swelled.
It felt like a great general stood beside me.
I stared in shock. "Old timer... no way, you?"
"Heh heh. Yeah, quitting's easier."
I'd just seen a massive mountain in him. Now, fully revealed, I knew what mountain it was.
Like the earth itself. Silently rooted in place.
Mountains support countless climbers. Guide lost beasts. Shelter the homeless.
The Central Plains has endless mountains, but only one cradles so much life.
"You've trained in Shaolin martial arts."
Thousand-Year Shaolin.
"Glad I came to see you. Tell the vice strategist: if I return alive, I'll accept his offer."
Hold up!
"What offer?"
He raised his lone arm, pointing at me like it was obvious.
"He asked me to join your faction, didn't he?"
Then it hit me like a headbutt.
"That lunatic?"
"Heh heh. Namgung Je-cheon is a madman, true."
You're laughing now!?
"Factions" imply numbers.
"That psycho proposed this to others besides you?"
He kept staring like he couldn't comprehend me.
"Haven't you met one already?"
Huh? Me?
When?
"And wasn't that your intent?"
"Me?"
"The pruning guy. I thought you met him on purpose, gave that advice on purpose!"
I'd just said it because the tree looked pitiful...
"Wasn't it all your scheme?"
The tree was sad...
"You even drew me here personally!"
That was your delusion...
"Anyway, that's not important now."
I took a deep breath to steady myself.
Right. In this moment, Namgung Je-cheon and factions don't matter.
Moths flock to flame. The fault's with the one who lit it, not the blindly drawn bugs.
I could guess what the old man had resolved. Revenge, probably.
And I wasn't the type to watch a moth burn.
Those who live must keep living. Hole in the gut or missing arm.
"Old timer, why not just stay like this?"
"Didn't you say it? Quitting's easier."
"True! Super easy. Think it over..."
"Amitabha."
An indescribable something emanated from the chanting old man. I couldn't speak.
"As you said, I'm off to quit."
"..."
I was speechless.
Finally, my mouth opened. "Not to die?"
Pure instinct blurted it out.
"Heh. That wouldn't be bad either."
"You're laughing?"
Hah... insane.
How do all these martial world folks think whatever they want?
"Do what you want. I tried to stop you."
"Don't worry. Thanks to you, I've had a realization. Might even come back alive. See you later."
Will there be a later?
"..."
I didn't reply. Not sulking.
I just... didn't know what to say.
"Old timer!"
He stopped at my call.
"Might be our last time—let's exchange names."
"Good idea."
"I'm Namgung Daeso, the youngest young master of the Namgung clan."
"I was an orphan, became a Shaolin monk, now just a courtyard sweeper for Namgung... and right now..."
His eyes gleamed fiercely.
"I'm a man of the martial world."
Whoosh. He vanished.
I blinked, scanning around. He was gone.
"Hey!"
I yelled at empty air.
"What's your name!?"
* * *
Heh heh.
Outside the hall, Ilseon Dosa walked on, hearing Namgung Daeso's irritated shout from afar.
He muttered what he'd been too embarrassed to say.
"In the future, if we meet again, I'll introduce myself properly then. Now I'm curious about the world you'll build."
This day marked the birth of the martial world's greatest grandpa squad, dubbed the Murim Old Monsters.
A secret known only to them.
The eve of the clash at the pinnacle of Murim.