The Time for the Tiger to Grow, 2 Years (3)
Most who faced Hyegeom would probably say that its softness was the most terrifying part. An all-embracing vastness, like the sea—that was Hyegeom’s greatest strength and weapon.
But in my eyes, the true terror of Hyegeom lay in its flow.
Could a mere human stand against a waterfall cascading down a cliff? Could one swim out from the ocean's depths? The moment you got caught in that massive current, even once, you'd flail helplessly and drown in the end. That's what they mean by "knowing it's coming and still getting swept away."
To put it bluntly, fighting someone wielding Hyegeom was a battle for initiative.
That's why I chose a sword style that wouldn't let it be taken from me, no matter what. The secret art of Jeomcheong Faction, said to cleave the sun itself if mastered to the extreme.
"What, you think we're gods or something? The sun's no big deal." Not me—I heard that from our Daegalbak No. 17.
Daegalbak No. 17, Jin-do, wasn't fighting himself, but his eyes didn't blink once.
"Hyegeom versus Sail Sword Technique."
It could even be seen as Jeomcheong versus Wudang.
Of course, I still didn't think No. 3 Brother's attacks would land on the Sword Venerable. But!
"Even Elder Mujikja doesn't truly know the youngest young master yet."
In the past six months, the youngest young master had changed. A lot.
There's a world of difference between judging from afar and feeling it with your own body in a clash.
Maybe...
"It might just reach him."
I heightened all my senses and felt certain.
"It'll reach."
Though Hyegeom boasted near-absolute defense, that only applied when blades met blades. If my sword sliced Elder Mujikja before his touched mine, Hyegeom or old man Hyegeom wouldn't mean shit.
My choice to go for a swift strike right as the spar began wasn't bad. The opponent just was.
"Well done."
Elder Mujikja moved only when No. 3 Brother's sword was a hair's breadth from his shoulder.
Huppaljegin—the principle that best embodied Wudang martial arts.
He moved later than No. 3 Brother, but his sword was already batting the other's away.
"Fast!"
I recovered my rebounding blade, retreated, and reset my stance.
That movement...
"I couldn't see it."
By the time I realized, I was already inside Elder Mujikja's flow.
"With just one exchange."
Just that. Ridiculous, but...
"The fight's tilting."
What now? I didn't have the power to shatter this flow. Nor the skill to swim upstream against it to reach him.
Was I giving up here?
"Hell no!"
How to fight from a disadvantage? I'd endured it ad nauseam over six months.
"If you're already caught in the flow..."
I gripped my sword tight.
"Let's see whose daegari spins out first!"
I struck first again. I stepped forward with footwork I couldn't have managed six months ago.
Daegalbak No. 33's eyes lit up watching it.
"Yeonssangbi!"
The technique he'd taught. No— the one the youngest young master had snatched from him.
Ask most about Beggar Clan footwork, and they'd think of Chupal Seonbo. It was their most famous.
But if you asked for the one that best captured the clan's essence, Daegalbak No. 33—once Wanggae, with seven knots of mastery—would pick Yeonssangbi without hesitation.
The Beggar Clan was a band of beggars. Their escape footwork outshone any sect's.
Of course, you couldn't run forever. When there was nowhere left, you fought—that was the murim.
Still...
"A beggar's roots are in running."
Wanggae had once been the fastest legs in the Beggar Clan. His favorite was Yeonssangbi, inspired by twin swallows in flight.
No. 3 Brother swiftly closed on Elder Mujikja. The elder countered with huppaljegin, thrusting his sword.
The late strike reached first, straight at No. 3 Brother.
"Yeonssangbi's real terror starts now."
Made for escape from the start. The first swallow was a feint.
Tak.
No. 3 Brother, seeming to charge straight, spun around Elder Mujikja's blade like a swallow skimming a surface.
So natural it looked like the elder had deliberately missed.
"Time for the second swallow."
The hidden second burst forth—tak!—kicking off the ground.
No. 3 Brother soared, swinging at Elder Mujikja mid-air.
The elder's sword still extended. Too late to retract and block from above.
Everyone watching thought he'd taken the hit. Some had fallen to it themselves.
No matter huppaljegin, with his momentum forward, he couldn't fully execute it.
"Pulling out Beggar Clan arts out of nowhere..."
Elder Mujikja let out a short exclamation.
He'd half-expected something like this. He'd watched the youngest young master absorb arts from the Nine Great Sects and Five Families up close.
But actually getting hit? Absurd.
Beggar Clan arts. A rare one even for beggars.
He hadn't dreamed it'd fly at him.
Could anyone else wielding multiple arts pull it off so perfectly?
"Probably not."
This transcended human cognition...
"Instinctual movement."
Innate talent. Overkill for six months' work, but Elder Mujikja hadn't slacked either.
His off-hand moved. Those who spotted it gasped.
"Wudang Palm Strike!"
That alone wouldn't shock them.
"Yang-ui Simgong!"
One man unleashing two arts. As a Wudang man, he naturally knew it.
I didn't panic, eyes locked on the incoming arm.
"I expected that much!"
I'd hoped not, but hadn't ruled it out.
"Wudang Palm Strike."
I vaguely knew what it was. If I hadn't listened to the Daegalbak chatter, I'd have dismissed it as ordinary.
It looked unremarkable, but inner energy flowed endlessly behind it. Get swept in, and his monstrous power—two jia at least—would crush you.
I unleashed my second prepared art.
The spar's premise hadn't changed. Palm strike or whatever, it was still a fight for the flow.
I felt the massive energy enveloping me.
Inside this flow, anything I did...
"Would be read."
Elder Mujikja had flinched slightly at Yeonssangbi. The flashy palm was just more deception.
Hyegeom wasn't over. He still gripped his sword tight.
I kicked up my right foot.
"Seonpungkak."
Then my left.
"Hoesonkak."
Slashed down with my sword.
"Iltoyangdan."
Thrust my left palm.
"Uitajang."
And as expected, all blocked.
Elder Mujikja recovered his sword, looking far more relaxed.
The watching Daegalbak kept their eyes sharp, knowing No. 3 Brother's terror started now.
He shattered common sense. He pulled back the blocked Uitajang.
"Fine attacks in their own right, but useless against me."
He sheathed his sword too. Feet the same.
Again: whoever seized the flow won. My method? Reading moves.
Who read more, more accurately?
Luckily, I roughly knew Hyegeom's patterns. If he used Yang-ui Simgong and palm to fool my eyes, mine were feints too.
I extended everything at once.
"Tsk tsk, useless, I said."
I saw him click his tongue.
"Whether it works or not, we'll see later."
My sword thrust. Starting with Sail Sword Technique again.
He moved to bat it up, same as before.
I used the rebound, spun, and struck down.
"Sail Sword Technique, Second Form."
Original Sail Sword Technique had no such stance. Why just thrust when sun-slicing allowed more?
Elder Mujikja hesitated.
"This is... Sail Sword Technique?"
Doubt answered itself.
"The youngest young master's version."
It kept escalating. Seonpungkak flew, then changed. Hoesonkak came, changed. Iltoyangdan swung, changed. Uitajang charged, changed.
Changes didn't stop. He flicked his index and middle fingers after batting the palm.
A subtle qi-infused finger strike shot out.
Followed by...
"Hah..."
Elder Mujikja's deflated voice filled the gap.
This time, he truly paused. A barrage of hidden weapons flew at him, utterly unexpected.
-Young master! Think hidden weapons are cowardly in a fight? That's excuses from the dead.
Daegalbak No. 44's advice.
I scooped and scattered sand from the ground.
"Such filth!"
Elder Mujikja raged.
-Righteous folk are all so rigid. Spit, sand, poison, eye pokes—what's wrong? Win and done.
Daegalbak No. 18's counsel.
Through the sand, I aimed for his eyes.
"Amitabha."
His heavy Buddhist name resounded. His eyes sank like an abyss.
-That's when the chance comes. Rage blinds eyes, deafens ears, numbs reason.
Daegalbak No. 18—once Sapa's top late disciple, Gal Ji-hyeok—said it.
-Hits old righteous fools hardest.
"You bastard! So sneaky!"
The elder's controlled movements grew larger.
My eyes gleamed. The waited chance arrived.
That instant.
The old flow vanished, overlaid by a new one.
"This!"
"You're still a century away."
A flow from an unseen art. Immense beyond compare.
And for me now...
"Unreadable."
Bak!
"F... u... ck... ing... head... again..."
No. 3 Brother collapsed.
Elder Mujikja eyed his sword.
I hadn't expected the new Hyegeom so soon.
And so, two years passed.