50 Ways to Enchant Old Monsters (5)
He stood motionless in the courtyard, sword in hand. The sword dance he'd just performed lingered in his mind the whole way back.
Amazing.
Just thinking about it calmed his heart. The movements from earlier naturally resurfaced.
Shall I try it again?
Smoothly, the sword dance began.
Ilhyang, Ihyang, and Samhyang sat in a row on the veranda, watching Namgung Daeso intently.
The moment he'd returned, he'd gripped his sword and headed straight to the courtyard. Without a word, he'd launched into the sword dance.
They knew a thing or two about martial arts... but not much. They just knew it was supposed to be rough, brute-force stuff—relentless and overpowering. And that it didn't suit them at all, which was why they'd always shied away from it.
But the youngest young master's sword dance was nothing like what they'd imagined.
Just watching it soothed the soul, like a balm for the heart. Before they knew it, the three maids were utterly captivated.
Creak.
"Head Maid?"
"I happened to finish my work."
Sinyejang had appeared at some point and settled beside them, quietly observing the young master's dance. She soon headed to the kitchen, returning with a plate of pancakes baked that morning, which she set before them.
"Watch while you eat."
The moment the three maids took a bite, that vague emptiness they'd felt earlier was filled. Snacks really do make spectating better.
From now on, they should ask the young master to give them a heads-up before his next performance. They'd need more pancakes, after all.
"Munch munch. But Head Maid, is martial arts supposed to be that beautiful?"
If they'd known, they would've started practicing ages ago.
"Munch munch. Well, I haven't seen much in my life, but even so, the young master's dance feels a bit different. If that's what martial arts is, I'd love to learn it myself someday."
Even the head maid thought the same.
"Munch munch. Gulp! See? The young master is incredible! So cool! So handsome! So cute!"
"Munch munch, munch munch. Tsk tsk, I've known all along. You girls have no eye for this."
"Uh... Head Maid."
"What is it?"
"You just took two."
"The rule is one at a time..."
"Hoho, old age makes my eyes fuzzy."
"That's a lie..."
"You're spotting stuff way over there just fine."
That was when it happened. Sinyejang's serene expression, which had endured the maids' banter with gentle amusement, suddenly hardened.
"Hic!"
Ilhyang choked on her pancake.
"Hic!"
"Hic!"
Ihyang and Samhyang too. They'd realized they'd gotten too carried away. Sure, she was milder now, but back when Namgung Daeso was three, the head maid had been terrifying.
Sinyejang gazed toward the main gate.
"Looks like we have visitors."
"Pardon?"
The maids still sensed nothing.
Sinyejang rose.
"I'll go prepare. You three make sure they don't disturb the young master's sword dance."
"Huh? What's happening all of a—"
Creak.
The gate swung open, and a crowd poured in.
"Uncles? And grandpas?"
They were familiar faces—the estate's handymen, whom even the maids recognized.
"Shouldn't you all be working now?"
"Wait, hold up!"
Unlike the other two, Samhyang snapped to attention and hurried over. She guided them away from Namgung Daeso, seating them on the veranda in a bunch.
Ilseon Dosa greeted her with a nod.
"Heh heh, sorry for the sudden visit."
Mujikja apologized too, seeking understanding.
"We have urgent business, so we dropped by unannounced. And we've already discussed it with the young master."
Ah, so that's it.
It's all been arranged.
Ilhyang and Ihyang regained their composure, slipping back into their usual poise. They stood before the group.
"Then, would you mind waiting until the young master's sword dance ends?"
To honor the head maid's request—and keep the performance undisturbed.
"He only just started."
And truthfully, that's what they wanted too.
I want to see more of the young master's sword dance.
And that sentiment...
"Tsk tsk, not a bad idea."
The maids whipped their heads toward the voice. There sat an unfamiliar old man.
He met their puzzled stares—it was Geum Dondong, the mastermind behind this gathering. Right on cue, Sinyejang brought out assorted snacks.
The three elders thanked her warmly before digging in with delight. The others, however, looked grim.
They'd come to refuse.
Most were over fifty—not young, not ancient. Outside, they'd have families and grandchildren to dote on. Serving some fresh-faced kid against their will? No thanks, even if he was likable. The age gap aside, they had their own burdens.
Just see him once and decide.
Without Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja's pleading bows, they wouldn't have budged.
We can decide then. This might open new paths for you.
They were all in similar boats. Stagnant martial arts.
Sometimes a change of pace is good. Who knows? It might spark a breakthrough.
Yeah. A light step, barely wasting lunch hour.
So that's Namgung's youngest young master.
After a brief glimpse, their snap judgment was...
They wanted to watch more of that sword dance.
"Have some snacks while you wait."
And hey, lunch they thought they'd skip appeared too.
The courtyard grew noisy.
Not enough to halt his dance and check, though. Which meant...
The current sword dance must be that captivating.
His internal energy kept clamoring.
Yeah, yeah, earlier there were too many eyes, so I held you back by force.
And there were good reasons to.
Now he was alone, no one around—should be fine.
He cautiously released the energy from his dantian. Just a little.
Couldn't let it rampage like last time.
His acupoints eased open, and energy flowed like a brook through his meridians, up his arms, into the sword.
Rumble!
It was getting excited again. You love teaming up with internal energy that much?
Not a bad feeling, honestly.
The instant it merged with the sword for the technique, he grasped martial arts' true essence for the first time. Why folks obsessed over internal energy. Why they killed and died for it.
He opened his eyes.
Second time, right? Still just barren ground.
Is this the mental image training I've heard about?
He danced above it.
Whoosh.
A breeze stirred, new this time, brushing his robes. With each step, it expanded.
After a while, the dance reached where it'd cut off before. Where he'd yearned to continue but couldn't, then contentedly sheathed his blade.
Should he stop again? Just then—
Trickle. A new path emerged.
Carved by his internal energy.
Ah, so that's it.
It clicked naturally. Why he hadn't seen beyond then.
This is where internal energy comes in.
He continued the dance.
* * *
Mujikja was so entranced by Namgung Daeso's sword dance—precisely, Hyegeom—that he didn't notice his neighbor swiping his snacks.
He'd seen it earlier. Knew the dance was Hyegeom upon entering. He'd even anticipated this.
His first encounter with Hyegeom had floored him just like that. Days, weeks, months lost to it.
He viewed Hyegeom not as martial arts, but a lifelong scholarly pursuit. He prided himself on knowing it better than anyone.
Yet this scene...
Midway matched what he knew. Past the first form, into the unrevealed second—shocking, but familiar.
The shift hit mid-second form.
"What... is that?"
Mujikja mumbled blankly, voicing his raw awe. No other words fit.
It hadn't started that way. When the breeze died and the dance normalized, he'd sneered inwardly. No genius could grasp Hyegeom from one watch.
"What the hell!! What is that?!"
Now he was outright furious. His snack thieves fled in panic.
Undeterred, Mujikja bellowed.
"Does that even make sense?! Huh?!"
Geum Dondong tsked at him.
"Tsk tsk, guess it's my time to go. Never thought I'd see the day."
He turned back to Namgung Daeso.
He wasn't a martial artist. Never learned arts, hated the idea. Hated watching too.
When forced to, he'd gripe: Why sweat for that nonsense?
Here too. Kid picks up sword, starts flailing—what the idiots called a sword dance. Some praised it; others hated a man prancing.
Then it changed. For the first time, Geum Dondong thought, Might as well watch a bit longer.
Just one issue.
"No booze, pity."
"Shall I bring some?"
A voice replied like a ghost. He turned—a pretty woman.
Sharp kid.
"Good. Bring booze."
"Yes. One moment. But... isn't that ornament yours the Pair Heavenly Wings, made by a craftsman a century ago?"
"Ho? You recognize this?"
A tiny accessory, unnoticeable without close inspection. Geum Dondong was stunned.
Not just perceptive—knows treasures too?
"Just a bit. Someone here is into these things."
"Then you know its value?"
Samhyang spoke slowly.
* * *
Smoothly, his sword hand dipped right.
Smoothly, the other rose left.
Sword dance wasn't just arm-waving. It was dance—whole body in motion.
Sword down, opposite arm up.
Right foot forward, left dragged back.
Sword thrust long; energy surged along the blade.
Tip flared with a clear ring.
Ching!
Wind rushed ahead. Rear breeze filled the void.
Here.
Beyond, no path visible. Energy shortage? His limit? Unknown.
But now, he didn't need the next step. Not exactly.
He felt this sword dance's essence, roughly.
Barren plain, breeze blowing.
Perfect for dancing.
So he'd dance now. One no one had seen.
His world premiere.
What to call you?
Rumble!
Wur? Rumble!
Wul? Yeah—Cloud Sword.
...Rumble?