Please, Just Be Normal (3)
If someone asked me about the current situation, I'd throw the question right back at them—what the hell kind of situation is this?
I'm losing my mind, for real.
This was undoubtedly the first time in all my lives that I'd ever drawn out sword qi. This moment was the greatest feat of my entire existence.
A normal sword beam carried a single color when infused with inner energy. Occasionally, those who'd cultivated unusual arts might produce red, blue, or purple hues. Aside from those exceptions, white or blue were standard. The countless sword beams I'd witnessed at the Namgung Clan had all followed that rule.
But look at mine right now. If I unleashed this at dusk, it'd make for one hell of a spectacle.
Especially if I danced a sword dance with it in the marketplace—I'd rake in the cash.
I might even have to go on a Central Plains tour.
Wooong.
No matter how many times I looked, it was a dazzling, radiant energy. Seven colors... Don't all stare at me like that. I have no idea what's going on either.
For now, let's sort this out quickly.
Sword qi forms based on inner energy. So this must be my inner energy.
Normal martial artists build their inner energy through ungijo-sik meditation. I wasn't much different... or so I'd thought.
There's a slight gap between me and them.
I'd never settled on a fixed method for cultivating inner energy.
When I felt like dancing with my sword at night, I'd use the Donggong method.
When I wanted to steadily build power, the Juagong.
To loosen up lightly, Wudang's heart method.
On rainy, lonely days, the Haemnam Sect’s heart method.
Under the blazing sun, the Jeomcheong Sect’s.
As autumn leaves fell, Hwasan's.
When I felt like trash, the Beggars' Sect's.
And when I craved a drink, the Namgung Clan's.
...Come to think of it, I'd learned way too many, all jumbled up.
I hadn't noticed any issues in my body while practicing, so it never seemed like a problem. The fact that I was fine even after this madness was downright miraculous.
They were definitely different energies. Yet somehow, every one that entered my dantian got along perfectly.
I had a rough guess why.
Samjae Geombeop.
To say it again, my master said he'd created the Samjae Geombeop to wield any sword art. "Any sword art" meant essentially any martial art, since eight out of ten martial arts in the world were sword-based. And advanced sword arts demanded specific inner energies.
As my master said, to unleash a variety of sword arts, you needed a variety of inner energies. Otherwise, you could mimic the flash, but drawing out the true essence of each art? Tough luck.
Well... sort of. It wasn't entirely certain.
In the end...
It all traces back to that guy in my family...
In that moment, I realized doubt was a luxury.
Dad would definitely know!
Unnecessary anxiety crept up.
Surely he hadn't done something shady to his own kid?
...
Honestly, he was the type.
One more reason to hurry back to the Namgung Clan.
A sword beam's a sword beam, color be damned.
I shoved all those thoughts from my head. No point agonizing now—the answers wouldn't come.
Huuu.
After a deep breath, I faced forward.
I-gwon was swinging his arm wildly, eyes brimming with anticipation.
"Smash it! Smash anything new!"
Crazy bastard.
Fine. Let's give it a shot.
The energy bent to my will. Just the color was weird—otherwise, same as any sword beam. But what about the power?
I unleashed the Cheonse I knew best.
Huh?
Thud.
My foot advanced naturally, without intent. I-gwon flinched for a split second.
The spot Namgung Daeso stepped into was exactly where he'd planned to go.
But I-gwon quickly pivoted to another spot and stepped forward.
Then the seven-colored sword descended.
I-gwon started to raise his arm again but froze. Goosebumps erupted from his fingertips, spreading across his body.
That's... dangerous.
Instinctive hunch. No reason, just pure danger.
Meanwhile, I was having a novel experience.
Perfect control over my entire body. No—over the whole world.
Info on the seen and unseen flowed in naturally: wind strength, ground firmness, sword weight, inner energy flow, muscle tension.
And though I was using Cheonse now, switching to another art felt effortless. Countless techniques flooded my mind—over ten just from Cheonse.
I get it now.
I vaguely grasped the true value of the Samjae Geombeop.
My sword writhed like a living thing, ready to shift to any art at a moment's notice.
Playfulness vanished from I-gwon's eyes. His usual goofy grin turned deadly serious.
He clenched his fist, twisting his arm. The surrounding energy seemed to suck toward him—an illusion.
My stance wavered slightly. Instinctively, I corrected it.
And I knew.
This is!
No illusion. It was real!
The world's info feeding me faded. My senses linking to it snapped one by one.
Wind paths vanished. Inner energy flow grew sluggish, hard to control. Ground vibrations silenced.
No way—that guy...
I-gwon stepped forward—right where I'd aimed before.
For a split second, lost, I hesitated.
Then I saw his sly grin.
I-gwon had seized my path again.
...He can see it too?
Everything visible to me was visible to him. Maybe more.
I swiftly shifted Cheonse to defense against his thrusting fist, angling my blade to guard my side.
Bang!
His fist struck the sword. I'd deflected most of it, but the impact shook my body.
A split-second slower, and my ribs would've said goodbye to the world.
But this time...
I didn't budge.
The seven-colored sword qi still gleamed. The blade inside unbroken.
I-gwon shot me a frustrated—or excited?—glare.
"Good! Very good! Enduring this? I love it!"
Wrong. Not frustration—pure thrill.
You could call it even—one solid exchange each.
Those watching Namgung Daeso and I-gwon's spar naturally gathered around Jinheo, Jingak, Ilseon Dosa, and Mujikja.
"Master, you know what that is?"
No respect in the tone, but the master seemed touched just to be called that, answering promptly.
"I have a guess."
"What?"
"The youngest young master is... a bit special."
...
Everyone awaited Ilseon Dosa's follow-up, but he fell silent after that.
"You messing with me? Who doesn't know that?"
Jinheo grumbled, and Mujikja supplemented Ilseon Dosa's words.
"Don't try understanding it with common sense. Just watch and think, Oh, so that's a thing."
Not much help—same as before.
But the repeated explanation had some effect. A few nodded, Jinheo included.
I-gwon, that kid's similar too.
Even so!
"A seven-colored sword beam is impressive, but it won't beat our I-gwon."
Soon, everyone grasped Jinheo's meaning.
Deep in I-gwon's heart, two desires clashed.
One: to protect.
The young master is my precious friend...? Little brother...? Yeah! First time feeling this!
The other: to destroy.
Destroy! If I smash the young master, can I shatter this wall blocking me?
But he's precious, but I want to smash him, but he's precious, but...
I-gwon couldn't choose.
He'd said he'd go all-out before starting, but could Namgung Daeso handle it? No guarantee.
Until now, he'd never truly unleashed full power.
Everything else had shattered first.
Would this be the same?
Thankfully, his test punch hadn't broken Daeso—he hadn't even budged, solidly countering. Reading the earth's breath too...
I-gwon decided.
I want to smash him!
With resolute voice, he declared,
"From now on, full power."
"So?"
"Dodge if it looks bad. Or your whole body shatters. This is real. No bluff."
"Crazy bastard."
"I warned you. No complaints later."
In that instant, I-gwon's aura shifted completely.
Wait!
I startled back.
A massive golden Buddha statue. Like the white tiger over Jinheo, I-gwon's form overlaid with gold—not soft flesh, but gleaming metal.
I rubbed my eyes.
"What the...?"
Not just aura. His body shone golden.
"Geumgang Bulgoe Singong."
Jinheo, lips sealed till now, spoke up.
"Know how many Shaolin arts have 'Geumgang' in the name?"
..."Six."
Ilseon Dosa answered instantly. He'd been shocked plenty at the Namgung Clan, but this stunned him again.
"Geumgang Bulgoe Singong, Geumgang Budong Sinbeop, Geumgangji, Geumgangdu, Geumgangkwon, Geumganggak. Total six. Master's not rusty yet. Remember what I said? The youngest young master can't match I-gwon."
Through Shaolin history, many monks mastered over half of the 72 Arts. Jinheo, Jingak, Ilseon Dosa here had over 30 each.
But all six? Not a single one.
Simple reason.
"Can't touch 'em with just talent."
Endless beatings. Fragile flesh breaks. Bones shatter into pieces—pain beyond words.
For Geumgangdu, crack the skull. Geumgangji, every finger. Geumganggak, every toe. Geumgang Bulgoe Singong, every inch of body shattered and reformed.
Beyond effort—pure grit! Harsher than demonic arts.
Unshakable conviction, burning thirst! Only then, the foundation for Geumgang.
"That kid's the purest of all. And the strongest-willed in this Shaolin."
Geumgang energy filled him, coating his skin.
Geumgang Bulgoe Singong—7th Star. Geumgang Dongin.
Pride lit Jinheo's face.
"He's the divine prodigy fulfilling Shaolin's hopes, appearing once every century."