This Shouldn't Be Happening (1)
Let me recap the current situation. I had clearly collapsed while performing ungijo-sik. The injuries I'd sustained weren't the sort that could heal in a day or two. It would've taken at least three years of recuperation just to move again.
It doesn't hurt. No, I actually feel clearer than before.
Strength overflowed through my entire body. Enough that I could leap up and run right now if I wanted.
"If you're awake, get up already. What're you doing?"
A middle-aged man I'd never seen before barked at me. I gave him a quick once-over, then looked to my father beside him and rose from my seat.
"How long was I out? A month? Two?"
"Hancheol, is this really your son?"
"I wouldn't know myself."
"Tsk tsk, this airhead's different from the others. This is gonna be fun."
What the hell?
I was getting more and more confused. The guy had called my father by name out of nowhere, so I'd figured he was a dead man walking. No one in the martial world dared address my father that way.
Yet Father took it in stride, firing right back like they were old pals.
Does Father even have friends in the martial world?
By rank, he was on par with other sect leaders. And among them, only a handful could even hang with Father...
Shaolin's Abbot or Wudang's Sect Leader.
Those two were the only possibilities. But even they...
No way.
Even the Shaolin Abbot or Wudang Sect Leader couldn't chat so casually with Father—the Martial God, the supreme master of our era.
So who the hell was this middle-aged guy? And why was I perfectly fine?
"You young punks have no manners. I saved your life, and you can't even say thanks?"
He saved me?
So that's why my body was back to normal—this guy was the reason.
"Th-thank you, sir."
I bowed my head in gratitude. It seemed legit, and given how chummy he was with Father, he had to be at least on the level of the Shaolin Abbot or Wudang Sect Leader.
The problem was...
Damn it! My plan's ruined.
My face twisted as I kept my head down. I'd meant to wake up with a wistful smile and declare I had no interest in martial arts.
This is driving me nuts.
I lifted my head, my expression back to normal. No way could I let on in front of Father, even if the plan had gone sideways. I'd just make a new one.
I asked, "Uh... who might you be, sir? And Father, why are you here?"
Only then did Father, who'd been silent, speak up.
"You pulled off quite the stunt."
His voice was flat as ever. I racked my brain for any hidden meaning, but came up empty.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
I played dumb for now. But one thing nagged at me.
He might've figured it out.
If he'd watched me deliberately mess up my qi and blood flow, that is.
No way. Father left before the event even started.
I forced a gentle, wistful smile, hiding my thoughts.
"Heh heh."
"Even your smiling's pathetic. Whatever, I'll let the small stuff slide. Your schemes will come out soon enough anyway. But I won't tolerate my own flesh and blood falling into qi deviation from something as basic as ungijo-sik."
This was the longest conversation I'd ever had with Father, hands down. From past to present, it'd always been just a few curt words—yes, no, that kind of thing.
Today's Father was different from the one I knew. It was... interesting.
I won't tolerate it.
That wasn't like him. The Father I knew would've written me off as worthless the moment he saw me today.
"Hey, brat! Move around a bit."
The middle-aged man spoke again, his face lit with excitement.
"Anywhere sore?"
I twisted and stretched every which way.
"Nope."
"Heh heh. Figured as much. Your body was always bottom-tier for martial arts anyway. Compared to before, you probably feel like you could fly right now."
Not even exaggerating—I could probably kick off the ground and soar.
"Dumb luck or instinct, who knows... You nearly died today without me here. Got that?"
"I nearly died?"
"Yeah. You were born with tangled qi passages. No matter how hard you tried, you were doomed to stay third-rate."
I went blank-faced. Of all places, here, today—I was finally learning why my efforts had always stalled.
I'd thought it was just lack of talent...
"Even I might not have noticed if the tangle wasn't in a minor vessel off the main channels. But you figured it out yourself and forced it loose. Not sure if you knew what you were doing, but... damn. First time I've seen a reckless idiot like you."
I didn't catch every detail, but one thing was crystal clear.
My tangled qi passages were untangled.
"So, isn't that a good thing?"
"Kekeke. Yeah, you're an idiot alright. What do you think happens when you untangle knotted passages?"
I knew damn well what happened when they were tangled—I'd lived it countless times. Ungijo-sik wouldn't work right. Qi wouldn't flow properly, so techniques came out sloppy. Even day-to-day, it'd feel foggy and exhausting, no matter how much I slept. Not a sickness, just born weak.
That was my old reality. So the opposite had to be the answer.
"If qi flows right, ungijo-sik and techniques should come naturally. That's good, right?"
"Yep, you did it blind. If you'd known, you wouldn't have tried that crazy stunt. Simple terms: the passages will tangle right back up. They've been knotted for years. Force 'em open once, and your body's homeostasis snaps 'em shut again. And if you loosened them even slightly off the original path? You'd be dead on the spot. Get how dangerous that was now?"
"Y-yeah."
I'd just planned to convalesce or whatever...
"Good. Not a total fool. But if those weakened passages tangle again? They'll snap for real. Into pieces."
Severed qi passages meant death. Cold sweat trickled down my back.
"Tsk tsk. Reckless or brave, take your pick."
They were already wrecked and frail. If they'd retangled...
I wouldn't have even opened my eyes. But here I was, fine as hell.
He said it was thanks to him. He'd mended the weakened passages and reset the ones trying to knot up.
No two people's qi passages are identical. Just like people aren't. Positions of acupoints, shapes of vessels—all unique. Mess with them wrong, and it's worse than before.
He made it sound easy, but you can't do that without knowing every intricate bodily structure—tens of thousands of variations per person.
That's when I realized who he was. Only one man in the world could pull off this miracle.
And it explained his familiarity with Father.
"Thank you again, Sinui. For saving my life."
"Unlike your brothers, seems you actually swallowed some manners."
Sinui it was. And from his words, I gleaned one more thing.
My brothers have already met Sinui. Unlike me in the past.
"Hey, kid. What's your name?"
From "brat" to "kid"—progress.
"Namgung Daeso."
"Namgung Daeso... Two Cheonmu Jiche in one era. Father and son in the same clan. What luck. Even heavenly fortune doesn't stack this high."
Right. I'd overheard "Cheonmu Jiche" earlier.
"You mean me?"
"Who else is here?"
No one. Just me, Sinui, and Father. And if memory served, this was the 2nd Gajujeon. Only Father and his direct subordinates entered here.
If anyone else was around, my level couldn't detect them anyway.
"Anyway, rejoice. You were supposed to die, but heavenly luck and my presence saved you. Maybe you were fated to die young. Not sure if saving you was smart. Two Cheonmu Jiche in one generation? Never happened in history. Who knows what it'll do to the martial world."
That's when Namgung Hancheol cut in.
"So the upshot is he's such a dimwit he tangled his passages during basic ungijo-sik."
"Well... you could put it that way."
Sinui sounded bewildered.
"Ah... yes."
Sorry for being dim.
I gave up trying to figure out Father. Once I left the clan, I'd never see him again anyway. No need to impress.
Resentment toward Father? Not even a twinge.
"Ihan, can he learn martial arts?"
Sinui's name is Ihan.
"Just stabilized the passages. Most arts would be too much."
"Even Daecheong Simbeop?"
The Namgung clan's foundational heart method. Top-tier stability, like Hwasan's Six Harmonies Qi Gong or Wudang's Taiji Divine Gong. Downside: glacial inner strength buildup, the curse of stable methods.
"Even that. Weak passages can't handle it. Start circulating, and they'll tear right back open. Even I couldn't fix it then."
Namgung Hancheol eyed me with utter disdain. I couldn't meet his gaze.
"Makes me doubt he's mine."
Not disappointment in Father—it was me stifling a laugh at Sinui's words. Couldn't learn martial arts? Perfect.
"Number One."
Father's curt call. A man in black night clothes burst from empty air.
My eyes widened. The Shadow Guard. Namgung's strongest force, dedicated solely to protecting the clan head.
I'd suspected someone else might be here, but seeing it? Shocking.
Sinui didn't bat an eye.
He knew about Number One beforehand?
Another surprise. Rumor had it Sinui didn't practice martial arts.
Obvious lie if you think about it.
This one incident showed how naively I'd viewed the martial world. Surviving its dangers for over fifty years without martial arts? Not just from medicine.
Estimating Sinui's level: The Shadow Guard were all super peak experts at minimum.
Super peak?
That was my max guess.
"Bring it."
"Yes, sir!"
Number One vanished at Father's command. Moments later, he reappeared with a book, handing it over. Father chucked it at me.
"Fits a loser like you. Pathetic punk gets the pathetic technique."
I caught it and looked: [Samjae Geombeop].
Basic third-rate sword art you could buy at any market. Everyone knew it required no inner strength—just the fundamentals for total beginners.
I gave a bitter smile. Father hadn't changed a bit.
And I was relieved.
I'll half-ass learning it and plot my escape ASAP.
No plans to seriously train anyway. Samjae Geombeop wouldn't mess up my future schemes, and it suited me fine now.
Father left without another glance, like there was nothing more to see. Sinui flashed me a meaningful smile and followed.
I stepped out soon after.
Gurgle.
My stomach suddenly roared with hunger.
And at that moment—no one knew.
The ripple that Samjae Geombeop from Namgung Hancheol would cause in the clan.
* * *
Namgung Daeso dashed along frantically, a single book tucked under his arm. The cover was faded, its original color indeterminable.
But in the corner of the cover, so faint and tiny you'd miss it without close inspection, one character remained.
-Sword Emperor's Records