Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 004
Chapter Title: Serendipitous Encounter (2)
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Seok Du-myeong stood in an unfamiliar place.
It was truly somewhere he'd never been in all his life.
If there was such a thing as a separate paradise, would it look like this?
The season was undoubtedly the onset of winter, yet this place felt like a cozy spring day, with the sky clear and bright.
Birds chirped, bees buzzed around, and flowers bloomed everywhere.
Seok Du-myeong could see a small, quaint pavilion right in front of him.
Surrounded entirely by mountains, the lone pavilion stood out unmistakably.
Behind it stretched a dense thicket of bamboo that seemed to cradle the structure, while a wide clearing lay in front.
For now, Seok Du-myeong headed toward the pavilion. As he drew closer, he spotted a single person standing inside.
In the center of the pavilion, a hunched old man dressed in a faded white robe gazed up at the sky with his hands clasped behind his back.
His disheveled white hair was roughly tied back, and the staff gripped in one hand dangled crookedly, giving off a lopsided air. The sleeve on his other arm hung loose and empty—he seemed to be missing a limb.
Not sure what else to do, Seok Du-myeong stepped into the pavilion.
Sensing his approach, the old man turned around to face him.
From his head to his eyebrows, everything was stark white, suggesting great age, but his skin was ruddy and taut, his sharp eyes brimming with vitality. He had the plain face of a rural villager, etched with a prickly demeanor.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Seok Du-myeong."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine..."
'Wait, why am I even answering? To some random old coot I don't know.'
"What do you do?"
"Low-rank warrior in the Demon-Exterminating Corps."
Regardless of his racing thoughts, Seok Du-myeong found himself answering the old man's questions automatically.
He had no idea how he'd ended up here or why he was responding so readily to a total stranger.
It felt like he was entranced, compelled to reply.
"...So who are you, old timer?"
Seok Du-myeong finally posed a question of his own.
Curiosity had gotten the better of him, after all.
"Dan Mun-hyeok."
The name Dan Mun-hyeok rang a faint bell, but Seok Du-myeong couldn't place it.
'Dan Mun-hyeok... Dan Mun-hyeok... Where have I heard that before?'
It teased at the edge of his memory but wouldn't come into focus.
"Where is this place?"
"Inside your dream."
"...My dream?"
'So I'm dreaming, then. But why would a dream feature some old geezer like this? What a weird-ass dream.'
Seok Du-myeong was thinking he needed to wake up fast when...
"Let's sit first. At my age, even standing's a chore."
Dan Mun-hyeok took a seat at the simple table in the pavilion.
There was just a plain table and two chairs inside.
Seok Du-myeong sat opposite as directed.
'But is this really a dream?'
It felt far too vivid for one.
He pinched his cheek lightly.
'Ow.'
It hurt.
Seok Du-myeong rubbed the table with his hand. The rough grain of the wood felt real.
'...Definitely a dream?'
He tilted his head in confusion.
The old man stared at him for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh.
"Half-wit with no manners. I can't even return to the sword manual... Guess it's fate. How could I presume to know heaven's will?"
He sighed again at length.
Seok Du-myeong bristled.
Sighing right in front of him like that, sizing him up like some piece of merchandise—who wouldn't be annoyed?
Then the old man's heavy voice rang out.
"From this day forward, you're my disciple. You don't get a say in it."
Seok Du-myeong's temper flared.
'This crazy old bastard...'
That was as far as his inner rant got.
Crack!
The moment he sensed something whooshing by, sparks flew from Seok Du-myeong's eyes.
Dan Mun-hyeok had whacked him on the head with his staff.
A jolt of pain shot through his body, and Seok Du-myeong clutched his head, collapsing forward.
"The nerve, talking about your master like that. We'll start by fixing that foul mouth of yours."
'I didn't even say it out loud yet... Damn...'
"I can tell just by looking. You were cursing me out."
'I didn't say anything! Why hit me?!'
Seok Du-myeong couldn't voice even that.
Meeting the old man's gaze unleashed an overwhelming pressure.
'This lunatic's a master. One wrong move, and I'm dead. Gotta wake up quick.'
How do you wake from a dream?
No clue.
This wasn't a dream he wanted, and he'd heard you wake by dying in one.
Given how real it felt, that might actually kill him.
'Buy some time first.'
A moment later, rubbing the lump on his head, Seok Du-myeong looked up.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
It was a calculated stall—starting with a meek protest.
"Foolish child, you've been chosen by the Clear Wind Sword Manual. Any ordinary warrior would kill to dream of such a fated opportunity."
Then it clicked for Seok Du-myeong.
'Ah, that Clear Wind Sword Emperor, Dan Mun-hyeok! The one who squared off against the Heavenly Demon and... died?'
The situation was starting to make sense.
The sword manual from the Demon-Exterminating Corps leader was genuine, and somehow, he'd stumbled into this serendipitous encounter.
"...So you're that Clear Wind Sword Emperor who clashed with the Heavenly Demon, old timer—or should I say, venerable elder?"
"The world did once call me that."
"No way—over two hundred years ago. How are you still hanging around here instead of crossing to the afterlife?"
"You cheeky brat, with that mouth of yours. I don't like you much either, boy, but fate's fate. Can't fight it."
The first meeting between master and disciple—after two centuries of waiting—was anything but warm.
*
Above all, Seok Du-myeong couldn't wrap his head around one thing.
"Out of all the geniuses and prodigies in the world, why me? I'm no spring chicken. I can't fathom why the Clear Wind Sword Manual picked someone like me."
"You've got a malformed dantian that leaks qi, don't you?"
"How did you...?"
Seok Du-myeong flinched. This was a secret he'd never shared with anyone.
"How do I know? Because I have the same kind—qi leaks right out."
Things were getting more confusing by the minute.
How could a guy with a busted dantian tussle with the fearsome Heavenly Demon? It defied all logic.
"I know what you're wondering. I felt the same at first. Listen well from here on."
The founder who first created the Clear Wind Sword Technique, Jang Jin-cheon, was a Taoist of the Quanzhen Cult.
Back then, before the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families had risen, the Quanzhen Cult wielded immense power and fame through its martial prowess.
Among them, Jang Jin-cheon stood out from childhood for his exceptional talent and intellect, hailed as a once-in-a-century genius and the cult's great hope.
But as he began cultivating inner arts, he discovered his dantian was congenitally malformed—unlike others'.
A leaking dantian couldn't accumulate qi, a fatal flaw for any warrior.
Devastated, he abandoned the martial path.
Lost in despair, Jang Jin-cheon lived dissolutely, wandering the world after leaving the cult at twenty.
Eventually, near Baekdu Mountain, he encountered Taoists from a sect called the White Blossom Sect, founded by Han people.
They wielded mighty martial arts without forming a dantian.
From this revelation, he secluded himself deep in the mountains for decades, devising the Clear Wind Heart Formula, Clear Wind Sword Technique, and Clear Wind Throw.
He then passed them down through the Heaven-Connecting Sect, a one-man lineage.
To master the Clear Wind Sword Technique and Clear Wind Throw required the Clear Wind Heart Formula.
But it had a bizarre restriction: only those with an incomplete dantian, like Jang Jin-cheon himself, could cultivate it—making suitable successors exceedingly rare.
"So any malformed dantian works? There must be plenty of folks with weird ones out there."
"No. It has to leak qi. And congenitally so."
'Damn, first time hearing something this ridiculous in my life. You've gotta have a dantian, but it has to be broken in exactly the right way?'
Easier said than done.
Not just any broken—specifically defective.
Ordinary folk never form a dantian, so they live blissfully ignorant, and it doesn't affect their daily grind anyway.
That left only martial artists who'd formed one—and those cases were vanishingly rare.
You couldn't go around forcing dantians on random people to check, either.
'It's not like a damn pet name you can just call out!'
"You don't look happy, boy. When I met my master, I was so thrilled I thought I'd conquered the world—didn't sleep for days. You know what an incomplete dantian means for a warrior. This is heaven-sent, the ultimate serendipity."
Seok Du-myeong had to admit, it was true. But staring at the old coot soured the mood somehow.
Still, this was the real deal—a fated opportunity.
Without it, Seok Du-myeong becoming a master was a pipe dream.
When he'd formed his dantian to learn martial arts, he'd learned it was malformed.
No matter how hard he cultivated, qi drained away.
A curse for any warrior.
Had he been born to a prestigious clan or harbored grand ambitions, he'd have despaired.
But Seok Du-myeong had long abandoned such dreams.
His ideal? Open an inn somewhere nice, hire a manager, and live leisurely.
In modern terms, he dreamed of being a landlord.
He had no big plans for martial arts. He'd joined this war for the money, suckered by the Murim Alliance's hype...
Not a fortune—just enough for that inn and a decent life.
Though inns weren't cheap.
In his eyes, masters didn't always become the world's best—they just died more often to someone stronger.
Years as a ronin had shown him plenty.
His philosophy? 'Stay out of trouble, safety first.'
Signing on here was his final gamble to escape ronin life and score big.
If not for the Murim Alliance's shady contract tying him till war's end...
He wouldn't have come if he'd known how brutal it was.
And the war was dragging longer than expected.
Still, to survive, he needed stronger martial arts.
Seok Du-myeong had one thing to confirm first.
"Just one question. If I join this sect, do I have to uphold justice, slay evildoers for the righteous cause, that sort of thing?"
His tone had grown polite.
If the terms fit, even this old coot could be his master.
"Nothing like that. The Heaven-Connecting Sect aims only to preserve its lineage. No strict rules for disciples."
Perfect.
Seok Du-myeong's face lit up.
'Learn the arts and bail. He's fought the Heavenly Demon, so he's the real deal. What's to hesitate? Life or death on the line—go for it.'
Harboring irreverent thoughts inside, he adopted a humbly emotional tone outwardly.
"Master, your unworthy disciple Seok Du-myeong offers his respects."
Seok Du-myeong swiftly bowed nine times.
Dan Mun-hyeok accepted without protest, despite the nagging unease.
"You are now the thirteenth disciple of the Heaven-Connecting Sect. I know you have questions, but I'll teach you in your dreams from here on."
Seok Du-myeong realized this serendipity came with...
A nagging sense of arduous trials ahead.