Eyes That See the Fight (2)
Namgung Cheon thrust out his fist. A single strike infused not with martial techniques, but merely with divine power and internal energy.
Kwarrr rumble rumble.
Grandpa Baldhead raised his toothless Songmun Ancient Sword at a slant to block Namgung Cheon's punch. With the screech of metal grinding, fine iron filings rained down from the blade. The Songmun Ancient Sword looked precarious, as if it might snap at any moment.
Namgung Cheon caught the thick scent of the Wudang Sect wafting from Mujikja, who had blocked his blow.
'Four Liang Flying Thousand Catties.'
Namgung Cheon's eyes gleamed. It was the most perfect execution of Four Liang Flying Thousand Catties he'd ever encountered.
"Playing an interesting game, eh! Then try deflecting this one too."
He arched his back as far as it would go. His arm was fully retracted as well. The bulging muscles showed they were primed to unleash the fist at any second.
Mujikja simply lifted his sword in silence once more. I couldn't help thinking that the two opposing figures resembled things from nature.
'Elder Namgung Cheon is an active volcano.'
One that harbored enough firepower to swallow the world upon eruption.
On the other hand, Grandpa Baldhead was...
'A tranquil lake.'
Plop.
A lake merely ripples when something falls into it, then returns to stillness.
Kwarrr rumble rumble.
Elder Namgung Cheon's fierce punch, now twice as powerful as before, came crashing down. He clearly intended to shatter that sword outright.
Grandpa Baldhead's rusted Songmun Ancient Sword blocked the fist again. The blade—barely worthy of the name—bent visibly to the eye.
Crack crack craaaack.
It seemed on the verge of cracking. Yet somehow, the sword held firm without breaking, enduring once more.
"Amitabha."
Mujikja feigned calm on the surface, but he was deeply shocked by Namgung Cheon's monstrous strength. He hadn't expected anything like this.
The pinnacle of brute force combined with even more absurd internal energy. Any ordinary warrior would have crumbled under those two strikes.
"Impressive. I truly envy you. To possess what others lack—that must be what they call talent."
In response to Mujikja's sincere words, Namgung Cheon merely shook out his fist. Iron filings poured from his sleeve like rain.
"Is that really how you see it?"
Namgung Cheon gazed at Mujikja and asked.
"That I'm just some talent born with divine power?"
"Yes."
Mujikja's answer was simple and straightforward.
For some reason, Namgung Cheon seemed irritated.
"What's the problem? It's what you were born with, isn't it? You're admitting it yourself, yet you talk so much. Heh heh."
Namgung Cheon had always hated reactions like that. Everyone he'd defeated justified their loss with the exact same excuse.
'All the same.'
He'd held faint hopes for the Sword Venerable. That he might differ from ordinary warriors.
After all, wasn't he one of the absolute powers of the old Murim?
But upon facing the reality, there was no real difference.
'Boring. Time to end it.'
In that instant, Elder Namgung Cheon's aura shifted.
I took a step back.
'The air's sharp.'
Zzzzt, zzzzt.
'It stings.'
My skin prickled beyond numbness—it burned. My throat stung with every breath. It felt like electricity coursed through my entire body.
I wouldn't last without circulating my internal energy.
'Damn, I don't even have the strength for that.'
Then, a warm energy enveloped me. A familiar sensation.
I looked toward its source.
Ilseon Dosa noticed my gaze and spoke.
"Amitabha. No need for thanks."
He was a lifesaver as I teetered on collapse. But thanks felt bothersome, so I skipped it.
"You're probably wondering why Mujikja deliberately provoked him."
Deliberately? I thought it was just his personality—loving to tease people. He had a real knack for turning stomachs inside out. He'd even flipped the Wudang investigation upside down when there was nothing to flip. A true master at it.
But risking his life for provocation? That didn't fit...
"Why?"
I asked to satisfy my curiosity.
"To show you, Young Master. Tsk tsk, I told you earlier."
If that's the case, why bring it up at all? And he hadn't explained before.
The thirsty must dig the well.
"So what exactly is he showing me?!"
"The form talent takes when it blooms."
The energy from Ilseon Dosa enveloping me shifted.
"Watch closely. We lack such things, so we couldn't show them even if we wanted to. But you have it, Young Master—whatever it is. Seeing it once will help you later."
So Elder Namgung Cheon's form was the direction I should aim for? Lightning practically crackled from his body.
Honestly, that was overkill. I'd only just started martial arts. And I hated the stinging.
Still, it gave me some direction. How to proceed. What kind of foes I'd face.
Then.
'He's trembling now?'
A faint tremor rippled through Ilseon Dosa's enveloping energy.
'Fear...?'
Realizing its nature, I looked up at Ilseon Dosa.
'Whoa!'
I'd let my guard down. Lost in the moment, I'd forgotten something obvious.
Sunlight reflected off his bald head straight into my eyes.
'Nearly blinded me. Pretending not to have something so special! Gotta be careful next time.'
I carefully lowered my gaze and finally saw it. Not his usual sleazy grin, but tightly pursed lips.
'What a sight. This old man's the type to pick a fight with Father out of the blue, yet he's genuinely scared?'
His eyes on Namgung Cheon burned with life.
I quickly turned my gaze forward again.
I couldn't grasp his current mood. So see it with your own eyes if you want to know.
Explaining it would be so much easier.
I looked ahead.
"Hup!"
I couldn't help but gasp in shock.
From childhood, Namgung Cheon had hated being born with something different from others. They called it talent.
—"If only I had your talent, I'd have beaten you easily."
'Bullshit.'
—"Without your talent, what are you? A corpse. Brain full of muscle, you lucky bastard."
'Losers' delusions.'
—"Lost by a hair. You're so lucky. If I were born with it, I wouldn't have to try so hard."
'Lucky? Try hard casually?'
Namgung Cheon crushed such fools utterly. Until they couldn't even meet his eyes.
Thus, he earned the moniker Mugwang—Martial Maniac.
A madman obsessed with martial arts.
He trained twice as hard as others. To avoid falling behind. To prove he wasn't just relying on talent.
To show he could be strong without divine power.
From the moment he harbored that resolve, he threw ten thousand punches daily, five times a day. Without rest, even to this day.
He'd vomited blood from exhaustion, his muscles torn and arms immobile. Yet he never stopped.
Still, others said...
—"Life's all luck."
—"Of course I'd lose. Look at those muscles. That's no human—it's a monster."
—"Wonder what it's like being born like that. Damn, I'm jealous."
The words were always the same, even after his fair victories.
Then one day.
—"You're the new elder? Tsk tsk, Namgung Clan must be washed up. Seating a weakling like you as elder."
In my day, we didn't do that. The council's gone blind.
Namgung Hancheol. The man called Tianxia's First.
—"Weakling with no talent, but persistent effort, eh? Keep at it another century, maybe you'll brush my hem. Good! As family head, I should test my elder's skill myself. Attack for real."
The result was utter defeat. His first loss ever.
He learned of such monsters' existence that day.
Afterward, Namgung Cheon actively harnessed the divine power he'd deliberately ignored. All means at his disposal.
To grow stronger. Just to graze that hem once.
Time passed. He still couldn't touch it, but he grew far stronger than before.
No more excuses about talent from the defeated.
'Thunderbolt Thirteen Strikes.'
His unique art, derived from Lightning Thirteen Sword Thunder.
Zzzzt. Zzzzt.
Internal energy manifesting around Namgung Cheon crackled vividly.
Hwagyeong was the realm of wielding nature's energies. Namgung Cheon's choice: thunder qi.
In Murim history, those who mastered thunder qi arts occasionally appeared, shaking the world each time.
Hard to wield, hard to gather. But once mastered, it became the ultimate weapon—the strongest of all energies.
Zzzzzzt. Zzzzzzt.
Thunder qi gathered, enough to incinerate a bystander.
"Amitabha."
Mujikja had never seen such thunder qi in his life.
His eyes turned to Namgung Cheon's absurdly developed muscles. Likely the key to this impossibility.
Regardless, amassing that much required unimaginable effort.
Namgung Cheon spoke lowly.
"Here I come."
Zzzzzzt—
In that instant, Namgung Cheon vanished from the arena.
Zzt. Zzzzt.
Thunder qi flashed where he'd passed.
'What the—?'
I scanned the entire arena at a glance, but saw nothing.
"Relying on eyes alone, you won't see it."
Ilseon Dosa's voice, still tense, reached me. His pupils darted, tracking something.
"Use all five senses. Then you might follow his movements a bit."
I nodded slightly and focused on hearing first.
Thud.
A faint but clear footfall. Yet the intervals were impossibly short.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.
Next, smell and touch. Toward the burnt scent. Toward the stinging skin.
Still, no sign of Elder Namgung Cheon.
Then I spotted Grandpa Baldhead. Eyes closed, sword pointed straight ahead, utterly still.
Had he given up? No—the aura from him was anything but surrender.
Serene. Tranquil. As if awaiting something.
Grandpa Baldhead twisted his body ever so slightly. Could he see it too? How? Eyes shut. Even with other senses, no difference.
"The flow. Recall your bout with Mujikja well."
Ilseon Dosa spoke again.
'The flow...?'
I closed my eyes instantly. I think I knew what Grandpa Baldhead used to "see."
Why he'd evoked a tranquil lake. Why he felt serene.
Not chasing with sight, but sensing the flow permeating this space.
Mirror Still Water.
Steady the mind unshaken by any disturbance.
That was Grandpa Baldhead's mantra in every duel, worn thin on his tongue.
One must manifest Mirror Still Water amid countless distractions.
'Compared to then, this is a piece of cake.'
No disturbers now.
Everyone emits unique auras. Internal energy, nature too.
The blowing wind. Coarse sand scent within. Nose-curling sweat.
...Not that.
And faintly mingled: internal energy traces.
I sensed the Daegalbak elders behind me.
The sweaty monk grandpa plastered to my side.
The packed spectator stands.
Our lunatic with eyes bulging wide.
The three maid sisters and head maid with hands clasped in prayer.
The old man trembling his legs in anxiety.
Over there, Singui bellowing at the top of his lungs.
Finally, one presence locked on. The most savage, rough, intense energy here.
Swish, thud, swish, thud...
It moved at tremendous speed.
'Found you!'
I opened my eyes, staring behind Grandpa Baldhead.
Flaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaash—
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK—
Elder Namgung Cheon's fist, laden with massive thunder qi, descended.