Nine Bows
Gu Mang-gyeol’s eyes flashed with light.
“Can you do it?”
“Those are weighty words. Believe in what, exactly? …Still, for a man, it’s the sort of thing one wants to try at least once.”
The boy pondered a moment, then prostrated himself and began to bow.
One, two… nine times in all.
Only after finishing every last one did he raise his head, calmly bringing the matter to a close.
“This unworthy disciple greets his Master.”
Gu Mang-gyeol, who had watched with indifferent eyes for a moment, gave a slight nod, and with that the relationship between the two was firmly settled.
The affairs this new master-and-disciple pair would stir up—whether they would prove a curse or a blessing upon the murim—could only be known by living through them.
But one thing was certain.
This was no ordinary expulsion from a sect.
“Good. Now to begin the formal transmission in earnest… Tsk. Has time already flown so far? I cannot afford a leisurely approach.”
“Is there some problem?”
“My calculations are a little—no, quite a bit off, yet it is nothing I cannot salvage. We shall simply advance the schedule. I trust you will handle well whatever arises from the process being so drastically shortened.”
“Haah. What am I supposed to do, then?”
“Nothing. Simply do not move. In the martial arts there exists a method called Transmitting Force Across Bodies. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes, to some extent. I’ve heard of it before.”
Gu Mang-gyeol nodded.
He had been thinking it since earlier: this newly accepted disciple was excellent in that he needed no separate explanations—even though he did not seem to have particularly trained in martial arts.
“Then the conversation proceeds swiftly. What we do now is a method that utilizes it. However, where Transmitting Force Across Bodies passes on inner energy, this time it is replaced with knowledge. Efficiency is poor, and outside this space it is impossible—setting those aside, it is not a bad method. So do not refuse; accept it.”
Honestly, he did not understand everything.
But Gu Mang-gyeol had already brought his hand to the boy’s forehead and begun.
In the end the new master gave him no time to refuse and simply pushed ahead.
Ssssss—
Following Gu Mang-gyeol’s guidance, he relaxed every muscle as much as possible and tried to focus solely on the surging sensation.
Before long his mind was being raked through.
Surge—surge—
It felt as if words were being driven into his brain, yet most of them were incomplete. Gaps in the middle, one might say. The speed was slow as well, so a dizzying sensation washed over him, bringing a strangeness he had never felt before.
The moment his concentration scattered, a scolding voice rang straight into his skull.
“Gather the fragments!”
Gu Mang-gyeol’s voice. Whether the old man had foreseen this situation or not, the boy could not ignore the command and somehow tried to act as told.
Whether that effort bore fruit, the holes diminished. If earlier most of the sentences had been missing, now he could at least snag a few words. As time passed he grew accustomed to the task and gradually improved, to the point that several times he could even complete full sentences, receiving quite a bit of what Gu Mang-gyeol was transmitting.
Even so, he still did not know what any of it meant.
Too much information had poured in—and all of it in an imperfect state. With no leisure to analyze anything, he ultimately had no idea what had happened until it ended.
Ssssss—
“Difficult. For now, this is as far as we can go.”
“…You said it was a transmission, correct? Just what are these things you passed to me? They still haven’t settled in my head.”
“They are knowledge itself, just as I said.”
“Knowledge? Even without knowing the details, nearly eighty percent has vanished. Does such a thing exist?”
“The loss is greater than I expected. Still, it cannot be helped.”
In the first place, Transmitting Force Across Bodies was not perfect. The method permanently transferred one’s own power to another—sacrifice, one might call it. Even then, power was lost in the process; mismatched waves simply dissipated into the void.
This time it was a little different. Unlike concrete power, knowledge was something abstract, so the very act of transferring it was nearly impossible. Having forced it into being, this degree of loss was, in a way, only natural.
“This old man does not know what you know and what you do not.”
“Yes.”
“But that knowledge will certainly be of help. Make use of it however you can.”
“Uh… um. Understood.”
Having finished speaking, Gu Mang-gyeol waved his hand. It was a clear order to leave.
Though he did not know what had been done, he felt as if he were being expelled from the space, and the last sight before vanishing completely was of that infinitely sprawling place seeming somehow much smaller. He had only glimpsed it for a brief moment at the end, so it was not a thought he could be certain of himself.
Left alone, Gu Mang-gyeol chuckled and muttered to himself.
“It has been a long time since things were this lively.”
His voice held a somehow refreshed quality.
He opened his eyes heavily.
The space that had been full of star clusters until just now, the events with Gu Mang-gyeol—everything felt like a dream.
My body still hurts. A dream… or a delusion?
His state was so jumbled that even thinking was difficult; his eyes furrowed of their own accord.
Damn it. I need to resolve this first.
He organized himself with deep breaths. He was not being chased, so he had plenty of time.
Not easy. Still, the knowledge Master bestowed is sitting in my head, so I can’t simply dismiss it as mere delusion.
Even now—no, because he was alone, he was more confused. Living in the murim, he had thought about fated encounters at least once. But not in this manner. Being marked by a master by mistake, the place he had been staying half-destroyed, fleeing in haste, and obtaining this… feeling a bit dazed was only natural.
Still, he had to make the most of this opportunity. He did not yet know the murim deeply enough to judge accurately, but starting with a divine art alone meant beginning two or three steps ahead of others. Yet even that, if not backed by his own efforts, would obviously be something others could catch up to.
He must not waste time.
The boy somehow organized his jumbled mind while carefully examining the surrounding scenery as well. The position was no different from before he had entered that space. Many books lay overturned on the floor. The special book was the same. Unlike before, it no longer felt so strange; the cause had probably been Gu Mang-gyeol.
He quietly reached out and picked it up.
The contents within were simple yet complex, so the languid-eyed handsome youth, despite his complicated head, realized this was that divine art. Rather than understanding the contents, it was more accurate to say they assimilated with what he already possessed.
Something about the contents is coming in strangely well.
The order was a bit odd, but having vaguely heard of the abstruseness of divine arts, he only thought it curious. Soon he knew the reason. Among the knowledge Gu Mang-gyeol had bestowed, some of the divine art’s contents had also been included.
In terms of overall proportion, less than ten percent. But because the volume is so vast, is that why it helps? At this level I could go around calling myself the true successor to the mantle.
Of course, he would never say so directly. Had he not heard it from Gu Mang-gyeol as well? That handling things half-heartedly had instead put him in danger. Considering the power held by the three characters of Gu Mang-gyeol’s name, the position of true successor was not something an ordinary person could bear. Surely those who envied and resented would appear. Even if not, much time had passed, so it would not be strange for some not to believe.
Murim maxims soon rose in his mind as well. Hide thirty percent of your skill. All things must begin from suspicion.
Moreover, Master’s family still thrives. Considering reputation, even if I don’t know why they wouldn’t believe, there are bound to be things known only internally. Best to keep such information in mind as well. What stance they will take is unknowable.
Thus, with a wry smile, he organized the knowledge, and in a single day considerable progress was made. There was nothing else to do anyway. Thanks to the medicinal herbs he barely felt pain, but his arms and legs still lacked the strength to move from the spot. All he could do was read books, more or less.
I see where this divine art originates from.
Yin.
Simply put, a word carrying the meaning of “shade.” But in martial arts its meaning shifts a little.
One of the most fundamental things. In the Daoist school it is said to be regarded as supreme together with the concept of Yang.
There were even stories that some people judged the world by dividing it into yin and yang. Yin was the moon, cold, darkness, the feminine, and so on. Yang was the sun, heat, light, the masculine, and so forth. Not everything, but most corresponded, so it was not a wrong account.
In martial scholarship, is there a view that sees yin and yang as everything in the world? Yin is half of that. Once it reaches the level of a divine art, even if that is not true, it possesses the power to make it so—so I can look forward to it. I want to learn it right this moment.
Because his body hurt, he could not yet. But at the thought of mastering the divine art right after recovering, a smile formed of its own accord.