Clash at the Pinnacle of the Martial World (4)
The old man departed. I stared blankly up at the sky. Rain seemed imminent.
The head maid, that old crone, must have noticed me stirring because she approached and spoke up. “Looks like it's been a while since we last had rain. Maybe I should whip up some green onion pancakes for tomorrow morning—what do you think, young master?”
“Green onion pancakes... Sounds good. But granny.”
“Yes, young master?”
“Never mind.”
I'd almost asked if she knew the old man who swept the courtyard. Come to think of it, ever since I'd come to the Namgung family estate, I'd occasionally exchanged greetings with that courtyard sweeper.
Drip, drip.
Raindrops began to patter down from the sky, one or two at a time.
“Ah! The laundry I hung out today!”
“Ilhyang! Ihyang! Samhyang!”
“Got it.”
The maid sisters, whom I'd thought were asleep in the night, hurried outside to gather the clothes. They must have been secretly watching the conversation between the old man and me from inside.
I rose from my seat and walked toward the eaves as the rain fell.
“Young master?”
The head maid and the maid sisters looked at me with startled eyes. Raindrops soaked the fresh clothes I'd just changed into that day. Rather than feeling sticky, my mind felt refreshingly clear.
I picked up the wooden practice sword leaning against one side, stood in the middle of the courtyard, assumed the starting stance of the Samjae Geombeop, and said to them, “From now on, maybe I should start training hard again.”
My initial goal had been purely to protect my precious gut. Even now, after all this time... the reason was the same.
But starting today, it might be different. A wry smile probably tugged at my lips as I gazed out the door. An inexplicable emotion etched itself into my chest.
Would standing in this downpour wash away some of this stifled feeling? For some reason, I wanted to swing my sword freely all day without a single thought in my head.
Just then, the head maid's low voice overlapped with my breathing. “I'll prepare fresh clothes in your room.”
I gave a short nod, then unleashed the Cheonse toward the sky.
* * *
Ilseon Dosa was lost in meditation. The conversation from moments ago. The withered branch he'd seen two days prior. And everything he'd done up to now.
One day was far too short to sort through it all. But he opened his eyes.
“Shall we go?”
His mind was still a tangle. On top of that, something eluded his grasp, teasing at the edges of perception.
Ilseon Dosa knew exactly what it was, thanks to long years of experience.
Enlightenment.
This chance at enlightenment might never come again in his lifetime. It had been over a decade since the last one.
“Amitabha.”
Murmuring the invocation softly, Ilseon Dosa rose without hesitation. If it had been yesterday's him, he would have strained every nerve to seize it—might even have lost his mind in the effort, to put it crudely.
“Amitabha.”
Chanting again, he steadied his rising excitement. The sight evoked a distant memory: a pure-hearted youth burning solely for the martial way, now faded even from recollection.
“I've spent too many long years missing out on so much.”
Ilseon Dosa kicked off from his spot and departed. Rain poured steadily outside. Undeterred, he trudged onward through it.
* * *
When Ilseon Dosa arrived at a certain building, he encountered someone unexpected yet familiar.
“Hey, you too?”
Mujikja, standing before the building, spotted him. Surprise flickered in his eyes at first, but he soon nodded in understanding as to why Ilseon Dosa was there.
“You too, then?”
Ilseon Dosa felt the same. He proposed to Mujikja, “Shall we go together?”
Mujikja grinned with his old boisterous laugh and nodded. From that, Ilseon Dosa realized Mujikja had grasped something profound, just as he had.
“Good. Better odds together than alone.”
What they were about to attempt was impossible solo. In their past selves, such a proposal—and acceptance—would have been unimaginable.
“Let's go sever it.”
Both had changed. After meeting that young child.
“Aye.”
Now, they advanced. To break the shackles that had bound them—the thick, unyielding chains they'd deemed impossible to snap alone, chains that had grown utterly loathsome.
A duel with the world's greatest, Namgung Hancheol. Not one-on-one, but a two-against-one assault.
To most martial artists, it might be shameful, but the pair seemed utterly unconcerned with such vanities.
As Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja moved to enter the 1st Gajujeon, a warrior guarding it stepped aside naturally.
“Heh, did he know we'd come?”
The warrior showed no reaction to Mujikja's question.
“My thanks.”
Ilseon Dosa offered a one-armed clasp of greeting and entered. Thud, thud. Soon, they beheld him.
A monster, almost unchanged from their memories of the past.
The monster faced them. “You've changed.”
A faint but refreshing smile curved his lips as he regarded them. Their surprise at his reaction was only natural.
He continued, “I don't entirely approve of your current selves, but you're certainly more pleasing than before.”
Ilseon Dosa chanted and greeted Namgung Hancheol. “Amitabha. It's been over a decade since we last faced each other like this. We've come to challenge you today.”
Mujikja followed. “Amitabha boundless. Mind if I join the fray?”
Namgung Hancheol replied indifferently. “Very well. You two merit at least one challenge against me.”
In the past, Namgung Hancheol had taken something precious from them. Righteous, justified, even mutually beneficial as the method had been.
Yet in the end, he was the taker; Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja, the taken.
“You know what it means to duel me, yes?”
“Heh. As if we wouldn't.”
“Tsk tsk. Just a branch-trimmer now, but back in my day, I was a martial artist too.”
Karma's threads tangled inextricably, like knots impossible to unravel.
“We're prepared.”
“You wouldn't come without that resolve.”
Their eyes transcended death.
“A gaze I like.”
Even Namgung Hancheol, largely disinterested in the martial world, remembered a few warriors. The Heavenly Demon once, and these two elders now.
But before the fight, one curiosity arose.
What had suddenly changed them? He'd anticipated their eventual visit, but not in this form.
He had a suspect. Only one in the Namgung family could spark such shifts, as far as he knew.
Hearing confirmation from them wouldn't hurt. Their answer might even justify sparing them.
For some reason, today held no thirst for blood.
“May I ask what changed you?”
“Why ask? Compared to you, our change is but a single step.”
Not yet complete, but enlightenment let Ilseon Dosa clearly see the gulf between himself and Namgung Hancheol. Realizing it exposed his past folly.
Humans cannot reach the heavens.
Past him would have despaired. But after meeting that child, he'd changed.
A tiny step, negligible against the sky—like earth to heaven.
Still, he climbed, bit by bit. Rest when weary, admire the view. Descend if bored.
Living wasn't just forward. There were sides, below, behind.
Yes.
And above, like now. An unimaginable height, occupied by him. He didn't know where, but he was there!
Now he knew clearly.
“Who knows.”
He still wore that faint smile. “That reason might be why I let you live.”
And Ilseon Dosa grasped a new truth.
This one too!
Mujikja realized it simultaneously. Similar smiles bloomed on their faces to Namgung Hancheol's.
His eyes widened slightly. Changed again.
Or rather, still advancing this very moment.
Now he truly wondered. What had unbound them after a decade-plus?
Ilseon Dosa raised his lone arm. Mujikja drew his weathered pine wood sword.
Calmly, they declared, “Win against us, and we'll tell you.”
They raised their auras.
And in this duel with not even 10% odds of victory, the reason they could smile.
They saw it too.
Namgung Hancheol. That inhuman monster.
Beginning to look human.
Had they not seen it together, they never would have noticed.
And what they realized... Namgung Hancheol had yet to perceive.
Grin. Grin.
Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja flashed deep smiles and launched forward.
Tahat! Hahat!
Finally, a way to land one on that monster.
* * *
I swung my sword all day in the rain. The bitterness in my heart eased somewhat.
The moment I headed to the Manhak Seogo, I'd resolved to learn martial arts. And if I was committing, half-measures were out.
No more fretting over others. My own path was burden enough.
Back in my room, I changed into fresh training robes and ate the meal the maid sisters prepared. I felt it now: time for new martial arts.
The Samjae Geombeop was fine, but it was foundational.
My future foes wouldn't fall to basics.
So...
“What martial art should it be?”
Most martial artists chose arts suiting their build and temperament. Brutes picked power amplifiers; agile types, fluidity enhancers.
Me? Hm...
“Neither?”
With my Cheonmu Jiche. A cheat-level body, basically.
“Just try anything?”
That seemed fine—then.
“Young master!”
The head maid rushed in urgently.
“What? Something wrong?”
Has Second Brother already made his move?
She'd said she'd give time, but no specifics.
“Ilhyang, Ihyang, and Samhyang went to the market and stopped by the Uiyakdang. Apparently, those folks who've been quietly helping the girls are badly injured and receiving treatment.”
“And?”
“Well...”
She hesitated, so I nodded. “It's fine. Speak freely.”
“Yes. The girls want to nurse at the medical hall just for today...”
No wonder the annex felt so quiet.
If that was the reason, no need for permission.
“Let them. They've helped a lot before. Actually, better—I should go pay my respects personally.”
“No need for that much...”
“No, it's right. Any healing pills left from the deputy strategist?”
“Which ones?”
Hm?
“There are that many kinds to choose from?”
“Yes. He brings a bundle every visit.”
Damn... Embezzlement? Straight-up illegal.
The Namgung family was rotting. Or that guy was nuts.
“What've you got?”
“Hard to say without checking, but off the top: Suryongdan, Hwasindan, Bingbongdan, Tojudan, Mokjindan, Gongjindan.”
“...A lot.”
“Quite a few, yeah.”
Honestly, half the names meant nothing to me.
“Pick a few good for the body.”
“Yes. Heading out now?”
“Obviously.”
“Understood.”
I took the pills she gathered and headed to the medical hall.
* * *
Meanwhile, in the patriarch's quarters.
“Heh.”
Namgung Hancheol let out a hollow laugh, rare for him. The look of someone who'd taken a hit.
When Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja unleashed their ultimate techniques and the duel ended.
He asked the pair kneeling before him, “So, what's the reason?”
“Do you know this?”
Not an answer—a random question.
Should I kill them?
Namgung Hancheol pondered briefly, then shook his head.
As he stared silently, Ilseon Dosa continued. “That you've changed too.”
“Me?”
The most absurd thing he'd ever heard.
“Tsk tsk. You haven't noticed yet. But we see it. We changed for the same reason.”
After a brief reflection, Namgung Hancheol spoke. “Changed, you say...”
-You saw it too, didn't you? In that child, Namgung Daeso.
“Perhaps I have.”
And another realization. “You've handed me something amusing again.”
* * *
Uiyakdang.
Eh? Why are you guys here?