50 Ways to Enchant Old Monsters (3)
The sword moved with fluid grace. In response, the wind stirred. It was as if the wind itself cradled the blade. Truly a divine technique.
Ilseon Dosa realized that Mujikja's Hyegeom had now reached utter perfection. There were probably few in the entire martial world who understood Hyegeom more perfectly than Mujikja.
A moment later, the sword and the wind became one. Wind rose along the sword's path, and the sword followed where the wind blew. Perfect natural harmony—the pinnacle of Wudang martial arts, rooted in seamless unity.
Smoothly, Mujikja's sword dance came to an end.
Mujikja wore an expression of profound refreshment, utterly satisfied with his performance, without a single regret.
In truth, it had been perfect.
'Flawless.'
He had swung Hyegeom countless times before, but this rendition was impeccable, without even the tiniest mistake.
Beaming with pride, Mujikja turned to Namgung Daeso. "How was it?"
I nodded. "Yeah, pretty impressive."
At my assessment, Gajachi Nosin's face crumpled in disbelief. "Pretty impressive? That's all you got?"
He clearly didn't buy it. If you don't believe me, why even ask?
At that moment, the one-armed elder spoke up. "Young friend, even so, lying is no good. If it's pride holding you back, just speak your mind—we'll understand."
I looked at the two of them. Their eyes were sincere.
For a second, I wondered if I might have been mistaken. 'Was I?'
'No.'
A few days ago, seeing only traces of martial arts on that tree branch, it might have seemed plausible. Back then, in a situation like this, I would've chalked it up to my own misjudgment.
But not now. What I'd just witnessed wasn't a trace—it was the sword dance itself.
I didn't know just how extraordinary that dance was, but even from a glance, I could tell it brimmed with profound spirit energy.
'Probably some transcendent technique.'
So what? The Namgung Clan had countless martial arts. Whether top-tier or bottom-tier, it didn't matter much.
What mattered was the one wielding it.
Of course, mastering a transcendent art let you surpass others faster. There were things you couldn't catch up to with just basics, like my current level.
But once you'd built a solid foundation, the gap narrowed. I believed that much, at least.
Swing fast, and it became swift sword; complex, and illusory sword; heavy, and forceful sword. To me right now, a sword was just that.
Maybe I was influenced by some self-proclaimed master whose name I didn't even know.
"Hand over the sword. I'll dance the exact same steps you just did."
The two elders' faces soured even more than before.
'Come on, seriously! What did I do wrong?'
You're the ones scaring people. Not that I scare easy.
"You think you can replicate that?" Mujikja asked, still skeptical.
'What's so hard about it?' It was just a dance with a sword in hand. That's how it looked to me.
"Sure. Didn't seem that tough."
"Amitabha. Young hero, you can't just blurt out whatever pops into that open mouth. What he just performed wasn't just a sword dance."
"Dance with a sword in hand, and it's a sword dance. Enough—hand it over."
"Om mani padme hum."
Mujikja chanted a dharani and passed over his shabby old sword. "Fine. Give it a shot if you think you can."
What if—just what if!! If this kid had some freakishly sharp eye for swords, he might've spotted the flaws in that performance.
Growing up in the Namgung Clan, hailed as the world's top family, and above all, having the closest view of the world's greatest swordsman.
Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, that was possible...
'But!'
Replicating Hyegeom? That "what if" didn't apply.
From childhood, embodying Taeguk.
Polished over decades.
Backed by countless insights.
That's what it took to unleash Hyegeom.
'Replicate it after one look? Ridiculous...'
He'd originally planned not to hand over the sword. He'd meant to ignore the brat's nonsense.
Sure, the kid might have solid basics, but he was still clueless about the "mu" in martial arts.
'This is the last test.'
If it was just mimicry, we'd leave the Namgung Clan without regrets. The kid didn't seem to like us much anyway.
'Om mani padme hum.'
Mujikja murmured a dharani inwardly and calmed his gaze.
I took the sword and said to the two elders, "Watch closely. See what’s different."
I rummaged through my memory. Instantly, Gajachi Nosin's sword dance replayed in my mind.
Ever since leaving the Manhak Seogo, my body felt different. Unnatural stiffness gone.
This must be normal. My own body had always felt off before.
I grinned.
This was my first time performing a sword art other than Samjae Geombeop, before or after regression. A strange sensation.
But it wasn't worry about messing up or forgetting midway, like the elders feared.
Simply... I wanted to show them what I'd seen and felt.
Maybe, having sensed that discomfort more keenly than anyone, it stood out to me alone.
Smoothly, I moved the sword. To focus, I closed my eyes completely.
Darkness fell, but in my mind's eye, the elder's sword dance was crystal clear.
I followed it, blade in hand.
It was worlds apart from Samjae Geombeop. No mere straight thrusts or dotting points.
The elder's dance had curves, lines intertwining seamlessly. Utterly natural.
This was no basic sword art. Just imitating from memory, yet the sword's softness enveloped my body.
Then, the dance's end approached.
'A shame.'
Tasting transcendent martial arts for the first time was intoxicatingly sweet. Was this why martial artists risked life for superior arts?
The memory's dance neared its final strokes. Regret tinged the disappointment.
'Dance a bit more?'
So maybe that's why I thought that. Feet leading, hands flowing, heart guiding.
A little extra wouldn't hurt.
'Yeah. Dance a tad more, then show the elders.'
I knew exactly what was off in his performance.
Smoothly. At the end of Hyegeom's first form.
"I've seen your sword dance well enough. But it's not that big a—"
Mujikja cut off mid-sentence, eyes widening in shock. His mouth gaped open.
"That's... Hyegeom's second form...?!"
Ilseon Dosa's reaction was much the same. But as someone who could view it more objectively than Mujikja, he noticed what the other missed.
'No wind has stirred since earlier.'
Mujikja's dance screamed masterwork to any observer.
Namgung Daeso's? Like a third-rate hack flailing a sword. Nothing palpable.
Yet...
'Could I replicate it if told to?'
He shook his head.
Ilseon Dosa gawked, mouth agape, drool dripping unnoticed, watching Mujikja still transfixed by the dance that should've ended long ago.
He didn't know what was happening, but one thing was clear.
'When that sword dance ends... we might...'
Have to swing by the sect for some "borrowing."
Thud.
I lowered the sword, ending the dance. No more memory to follow.
And I was satisfied enough.
Worthily transcendent—it washed over me with far more clarity than Samjae Geombeop ever could.
Looked like the art he'd swiped from Wudang was top-notch.
'Anyone hearing this would think he stole Taeguk Hyegeom itself.'
I called to Gajachi Nosin. "Hey, elder."
Mujikja stood frozen, mouth still open.
I wiped the drool from his face with my sleeve. 'Tch, what a mess.'
Only then did he snap to. "Y-you!"
Gajachi Nosin blurted without preamble. Yeah, yeah, I get it. He'd finally spotted the flaw.
"How about partnering with me to make Wudang the world's top Daoist sect? I'll make you sect leader!"
Huh?
Then from the side: "Amitabha. You've heard of millennium-old Shaolin, right? Care to make us the top Buddhist sect?"
What the hell? These old coots suddenly losing it in stereo? Creepy as hell.
And even if I said yes, it made no sense. Wudang? Toothless for ages. Shaolin? Shave my head for life?
This ain't the old days!
I cut them off flat. "Nah. And now you see what's wrong, right?"
The core of this sword dance? Just let it flow.
Squirm~!
Yeah, you miss it too, huh. That unruly damn seed and this dance shared the same root. Both Wudang stock, maybe.
What a fuss it made during my dance. All I did was pave the path.
Letting go birthed natural order. The rest was up to them.
"Alright, I'm out. Bring 200 nyang, and I'll explain in detail. One-armed elder, want in too?"
Ilseon Dosa answered hastily. "No! I'm good."
He'd watched Hyegeom get "stolen" right before his eyes. Mujikja was still dazed, drooling.
He didn't want to end up like that. No—he wanted to prove Shaolin was different.
But he couldn't deny a flicker of curiosity: what if she performed his arts?
A faint incense scent lingered.
'They say even Bodhidharma emanated it from his body.'
Still, he refused to negate a lifetime's effort.
"Sure. If you're interested, come to my hall."
"Got it."
"And elder, take care of that other elder. He doesn't seem fully recovered."
"Will do. Don't worry."
After Namgung Daeso left, it took a while for Mujikja to come around. He straightened his robes, preparing to depart.
Ilseon Dosa stopped him. "Hey! Where you off to?"
Mujikja turned, eyes half-rolled back.
'Lord...'
"Gonna hit up Wudang for a bit."
"You in your right mind?"
"How could I be? Didn't you see that?"
"I did. Talent unseen in the world. Not just perfectly mimicking after one look, but grasping its true essence and extending it beyond what even he saw. A genius among geniuses."
"No, you missed it."
Mujikja groaned low and shook his head.
Ilseon Dosa blinked in confusion. "Missed what?"
"Hyegeom, originally."
There was a tale passed only to Wudang's Hyegeom heirs.
—Mujikja.
—Yes, Master.
—I took you as disciple for your outstanding talent, but your temperament doesn't suit a Daoist.
—I've mellowed lately, Master. I don't beat up the juniors anymore.
—Mujikja.
—Yes, Master.
—True Daoists don't beat people.
—...
—Anyway. Now that you're a proper Hyegeom heir, I must tell you the legend passed only to heirs.
—What's that?
—The day Hyegeom stirs no wind, the world shall quake beneath Wudang's blades.
—Pfft, how's a sword swing windless?
—That's why it's a legend, eh? Heh heh.
Mujikja looked to the sky.
'You watching, Master?'
Wudang my ass. The Namgung name's about to shake the world!