Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 006
Chapter Title: Grandfather Gong Son-chan
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Gong Son-chan looked upon Seok Du-myeong's sharp mind with deep regret.
In these times, the path to learning letters and rising through the bureaucracy was completely blocked for common folk like Seok Du-myeong.
For Seok Du-myeong to succeed as a martial artist, becoming a master was his only way out. But Gong Son-chan knew full well that he himself was just a third-rate warrior.
If he passed on his paltry martial arts, Seok Du-myeong would at best end up as a third-rate wanderer like him.
Gong Son-chan couldn't allow that.
There was only one way for Seok Du-myeong to make use of his talent and become a master in the jianghu: entering a sect with a name for itself.
And that was no easy task.
Even for a major sect—or any decent mid-sized one—raw talent alone wouldn't open the door.
Most took donations in the form of entry fees.
They called it an initiation fee, but it was no small sum. It varied wildly by sect, but even the cheapest demanded at least a hundred silver taels.
Money was needed.
From that point on, Gong Son-chan took any job, no matter how dangerous, as long as it paid. He suffered injuries aplenty, and his life hung by a thread more than once.
Still, Gong Son-chan steadily saved.
"Du-myeong, my boy. From today, you'll be leaving this old man's side to train at the Righteous Martial Hall."
The day he finally scraped together a hundred silver taels.
The year Seok Du-myeong turned nine, Gong Son-chan resolved to send him to the Righteous Martial Hall in Yongso County, Hubei Province—a place with some renown in the area.
It wasn't affiliated with any famous sect, but its hall master, Pa Chon-so of the Righteous Sword, was a first-rate swordsman whose prowess couldn't be ignored in Yongso County.
The Righteous Martial Hall was where he accepted disciples, trained them to become instructors, and had them teach the general students.
The entry fee was steep, but talented students among the ordinary pupils could catch Pa Chon-so's eye and become his direct disciples. That drew crowds of young hopefuls.
In these harsh times, the belief that only money and martial might were worth relying on had taken root even among the common folk.
"Grandpa, I want to stay with you and just learn martial arts from you."
Still just a child, Seok Du-myeong threw a tantrum at the thought of leaving his grandfather, Gong Son-chan.
"You little fool. What's the point of learning third-rate arts and ending up a third-rate wanderer like me? You need to become a proper martial artist, live well without scraping by like this old man. Right, you rascal?"
The young Seok Du-myeong knew well the hardships and dangers Gong Son-chan had endured to earn that initiation fee.
Every time he thought of this grandfather—who wasn't even bound by blood—going to such lengths for an orphan like him, a heavy ache settled in Seok Du-myeong's heart.
"Yes, Grandpa. But once I learn great martial arts and become a master, I'll take care of you. No more dangerous jobs from now on."
Gong Son-chan smiled warmly at the mature words from his young grandson.
"Yes, that's right. This old man may be getting on, but I want to see you marry, have grandkids, and live on before I go. Don't worry."
And so, Seok Du-myeong entered the Righteous Martial Hall in Yongso County as a trainee.
His quick wit and talent for martial arts quickly caught everyone's eye there.
He'd started later than the other kids, but Seok Du-myeong trained harder than anyone and shone with exceptional gifts.
He drew attention from all at the hall. But when it came time to cultivate his qi sea, all that talent and notice vanished like smoke.
They hadn't known before forming the qi sea. It was only after that they discovered Seok Du-myeong's had a fatal flaw.
His qi sea leaked energy—a malformed one.
For any martial artist, the qi sea was life itself.
It might not matter much for scraping by like a local thug, but in the true martial world...
In the jianghu, the qi sea was everything to a warrior.
If third-rate meant having formed a qi sea, then reaching second- or first-rate required expanding it and steadily accumulating qi within.
The size of the qi sea and the amount of qi it held were the primary measures of a warrior's level.
In that sense, a malformed qi sea was a death sentence for a martial artist.
Once word spread of Seok Du-myeong's problem, the interest in his prior talents evaporated overnight.
Even his instructors' attitudes shifted.
They half-heartedly taught him basic external arts—sword and fist forms—and nothing more.
Even that stopped after a year, when the entry fee's worth was up.
The year Seok Du-myeong turned ten, they kicked him out.
There was no point investing time in a trainee who could never become a master and had no money to pay.
Seok Du-myeong trudged back home to his grandfather.
Expelled for a heavenly curse that destroyed any hope as a martial artist—misery.
Relief at returning to live with Grandpa again.
The two emotions tangled in his chest.
Back at the house with his grandfather, Seok Du-myeong hesitated outside the door, unable to enter.
Guilt over Gong Son-chan weighed heavy on the boy's heart.
"Cough, cough."
Gong Son-chan's dry hacking echoed from inside.
Sensing someone outside, he opened the door and started at the sight of Seok Du-myeong.
"...Grandpa."
In just a year, Gong Son-chan looked years older—deeper wrinkles, more white hair.
"What? Du-myeong, my boy, what's brought you here?"
Gong Son-chan stepped out, eyes mixing joy and confusion at seeing his grandson after so long.
"Come on, what are you doing out here? Get inside—the weather's turning cold."
Hearing his grandfather's warm voice, Seok Du-myeong felt all his pent-up resentment melt away. Sobs escaped as tears flowed.
"Tsk tsk, crying like a big boy now? Come on, let's go in."
Once inside, grandfather and grandson sat facing each other for the first time in over a year.
"Here for a break?"
As Seok Du-myeong hemmed and hawed, Gong Son-chan studied his face closely.
"Du-myeong, what happened? Did some bastard look down on you for our humble origins? Or say the fees weren't enough?"
After a long pause, Seok Du-myeong spoke.
"Grandpa, I guess I just don't have the talent for martial arts."
"Who said that? Those fools who can't see my grandson's gifts... This old man will find you a better hall."
"No, Grandpa. I'm not going anywhere else. I just want to live with you."
Gong Son-chan silently gazed at Seok Du-myeong. Quiet hung between them.
Seok Du-myeong decided he had to tell the truth straight.
"Grandpa, they said my qi sea's malformed, so I can't learn strong arts. That's why they kicked me out."
Silence fell again between them.
"Did you form the qi sea?"
"Yeah."
"Circulate your qi once. Let me see."
Gong Son-chan had spent sixty years building internal energy with the Clear Mind Technique—a third-rate market-bottom heart formula—accumulating just fifteen years' worth.
Partly due to his mediocre talent, but mostly because the Clear Mind Technique accumulated qi so agonizingly slowly. A lifetime's effort barely pushed him past second-rate.
Still, it was just enough to infuse his qi into Seok Du-myeong and examine the boy's qi sea.
His low level meant no precise diagnosis, but he could tell it was incomplete.
"Hmmm."
Gong Son-chan pulled his hand from Seok Du-myeong's back with a deep sigh.
"Have you eaten, Du-myeong? This old man suddenly craves a meal cooked by his grandson."
Back when they lived together, once Seok Du-myeong passed seven, he mostly handled cooking and prep.
Seok Du-myeong went to the kitchen, lit the fire, boiled noodles with what ingredients remained, and stir-fried vegetables for a side dish.
Well past dinner time, grandfather and grandson sat across the table from the simple spread.
"Delicious. It's been too long since my grandson cooked for me."
Gong Son-chan praised the plain fare endlessly, devouring the noodles and veggies with relish.
Seok Du-myeong, who hadn't eaten all day walking back, wolfed his down just as fast.
After cleaning up, Seok Du-myeong lay on his old bedding for the first time in ages. Relief washed over him—he was home. Sleep claimed him swiftly.
The modest thatched hut had just one room with two simple beds. From Seok Du-myeong's first day there, they'd lived together like this.
Gong Son-chan couldn't sleep.
Seok Du-myeong's steady snores suggested deep fatigue from the journey.
Tossing on his bed, moisture gathered in Gong Son-chan's wrinkled eyes.
"You've been through a lot, poor boy."
From that day, grandfather and grandson lived together again.
The strange part? Gong Son-chan began teaching Seok Du-myeong martial arts.
"Now, this heart formula is the Clear Mind Technique. I'll recite the incantation—memorize it."
"Grandpa, I told you my qi sea's messed up."
"That's exactly it, you rascal. It leaks qi, right?"
"Yeah, but what's the point of learning a heart formula?"
"Du-myeong, do you know why I never taught you the one I know?"
Seok Du-myeong gave a look that said of course not.
"Because it's so slow to build qi, you can't become a master with it. Normal formulas give you a year's worth after a year of diligent practice. I cultivated this one without fail for fifty years and barely got fifteen years' worth. Abominably slow. But its greatest strength is stability—qi builds so gradually, it handles almost any technique without clashing internal energies. Since your qi sea leaks anyway, making big accumulations pointless, this might suit you best. It hardly builds any to leak in the first place. Get it, Du-myeong?"
"But Grandpa, even if I learn arts, I won't become a master. Why bother?"
"Listen, boy. I won't push you to live by the sword, but this old man has seen the world—it's brutal. You need enough skill to protect yourself if you want a long life."
"Besides, the only arts I know are the Clear Mind Technique and Piercing Swift Sword Technique. No one else to teach them to, so think of it as learning for your health."
Seok Du-myeong understood. He'd learned venturing out alone: the world was vicious.
Even broad daylight roads saw frequent robberies and murders—law and order were ghosts.
The realm was in an age of warring warlords. Nominally under the Yan Dynasty with an emperor and court above, but local control was lost everywhere.