Chapter 12: Ghost Dance Moves
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 12: Ghost Dance Moves
A Sword Dance, quite literally, is a dance expressed through a sword.
What to show, what to convey within a short three-minute piece of music, was entirely up to the individual participant.
They could maximize their personal strengths by linking confident movements, or aim for high scores in physical ability or creativity by incorporating difficult moves or unique compositions.
‘What can I show?’
In my past life, my strengths came from a precise foundation and stamina, honed by practicing more than anyone else.
That alone had allowed me to win several awards in middle school competitions.
‘But what about now?’
I posed the question to myself.
What could Ki Mu-hyeok, no longer the nineteen-year-old boy filled only with a burning desire for the sword, but a man who had lived twenty years and returned to the past, express through a blade?
I had pondered this quite deeply when deciding to enter the competition, and eventually, I arrived at a single answer.
‘I’ll embody the life of a vagrant.’
So, among the pieces selected by the organizers, I chose <Ghost Dance Moves>.
Because the moment I saw the title, and the moment I heard the first note, I knew it was the piece that best suited the me of my past life.
Lone Noble Ki Mu-hyeok. In my previous life, I was a lonely ghost, always the sole survivor of every fight.
—Your swordsmanship is like a ghost’s, isn’t it?
As the prelude began, I became the me of that era, brandishing my sword.
Thung.
I deliberately let go of my sword, kicked it back up, caught it, then swiftly bent my upper body back before springing up with the rebound, slashing my blade through the air.
Kiiiaaaak- Kiiiaaaak-!
The chilling screams of ghosts intensified, and with them, the sounds of drums, janggu, gongs, and bells began to intertwine.
I staggered across the stage as if drunk, then instantly thrust and swung my sword in all directions. My gaze moved ceaselessly, constantly scanning my surroundings.
I wove the movements of a vagrant, for whom chaotic brawls were an everyday occurrence, and the constant vigilance needed to survive, into my sword dance.
Dung, dududung, duuung-!
Jjaejaejaejaejaejang!
A gruff male voice was added to the frantic, historical drama-esque soundscape.
Begone, foul spirits!
Halt, you devils!
Why won’t you pass on at once—!
It was the cry of a shaman, come to exorcise ghosts. The drumbeats grew louder, and the rhythm quickened.
I hastily retreated, swinging my sword in what seemed like a wild, haphazard manner. It was desperate and tragic, yet equally sharp.
Every sword path traced a trajectory designed to sever an opponent’s lifeline in the shortest possible distance. Sometimes, it was as if I’d offer a part of my body just to ensure I could cut off the opponent’s breath.
—…You stubborn bastard. You survived even after being covered in so much blood? When something knocked on my door at dawn, I thought it was a ghost.
I heard Kim Bok-ja’s voice, and a grin spread across my face.
Yes, I was a ghost, struggling to survive.
A ghost who couldn’t pass on, whose lingering regrets had become a deep sorrow, unable to give up the dream of being a martial artist even after having an Artificial Dantian shoved into my body and losing an eye.
—Heh heh. Look at this one-eyed cripple.
The first opponent I killed after becoming a vagrant was another vagrant from the Underworld, just like me.
He looked old and tired, but he was tenacious. Exuding sticky Killing Intent, he relentlessly targeted my blind spot, the one I had from losing an eye.
Thanks to him, I paid a hefty tuition fee in my first real fight.
Because it wasn’t until I had about five holes in my limbs and was drenched in blood all over that I could finally slit his throat.
—Fucking hell… This sucks…
The vagrant in my mind’s eye stumbled and fell with a thud.
As if shaking blood from a sword that had pierced the air, I flicked my blade to the side and strode forward.
Huuuuuuk. Huuuuuuk.
The mournful cries of ghosts echoed. The shaman’s booming shouts momentarily subsided.
A section where the music’s tempo briefly slowed.
I switched the sword to my other hand, giving my throbbing hand a rest.
—Are you the bastard who took out our boss?
My second killing involved three people at once.
They were waiting for me, hidden in an alley, as I returned from a job. They claimed to be the comrades of the man I’d killed in my first murder.
Fortunately, the second time was a little easier.
—P-Please spare me…
—I’ll never show my face again…
—Draw your swords, you idiots! He’s not the type to spare you!
Chwaaaak!
With a single strike, I severed three necks. The phantoms of the past scattered into the air.
At the same time, the shaman, who had paused, threatened me with an even louder voice.
Begone, foul spirits!
Halt, you devils!
Why won’t you pass on at once—!
My opponents kept changing.
The moment I first encountered a Monstrous Being, something I’d only heard tales of.
The day I fell into a trap, lost all my comrades, and returned alone.
The memory of suffering a great loss after getting entangled in a Gratitude and Grudge, yet still laughing it off with a small, pleasant smile.
My entire past life melted into the sword dance.
Dung, dududung, duuung-!
Jjaejaejaejaejaejang!
The melody sped up then slowed down, arbitrarily shrinking then swelling, repeating the cycle.
Just like my past life, where I couldn’t see an inch ahead.
—…Ki Mu-hyeok? Could it be that Ki Mu-hyeok?
Shin Kang-heon, Korea’s Greatest Swordsman, also appeared before me.
He fiercely clashed with me for dozens of exchanges, then let out a hearty laugh and vanished.
And beyond the stage, far in the distance, a man stood.
‘Richard Han.’
My idol and hero. The world’s greatest martial artist, whom I had admired my entire life.
Even after becoming a vagrant, wanting to chase after him, I replayed dozens of YouTube videos analyzing his martial arts every day.
As I strode closer, he slowly shook his head. Then he blurred and disappeared.
‘Does that mean I’m not yet worthy of challenging him?’
Did it mean I wasn’t even worthy of crossing swords with him in my imagination?
Such confidence, truly befitting the world’s greatest. I shrugged and turned my body in the opposite direction.
At the center of the stage, my final opponent awaited me.
‘As expected, my last opponent is you.’
He was the past me.
Lone Noble Ki Mu-hyeok curled one corner of his mouth into a sneer and smiled.
A man with a body full of scars, a bushy beard, his left eye closed, exuding a sense of weariness and age.
I dashed across the stage and lunged at him in an instant.
Cha-cha-cha-cha-chang!
I clashed swords with my past self, dancing a spirited battle.
It was a fight where blood splattered and bones cracked. Even though it was an imaginary duel, the places I was ‘cut’ throbbed faintly.
And at the end of it.
Shunk.
As I slowly withdrew the sword that had pierced Lone Noble’s heart, he stared at me for a moment, then curled one corner of his mouth into a smile.
As if he had let me off easy.
‘Farewell.’
We exchanged a silent glance.
Swoosh…
With a sound like winter wind rustling through fallen leaves, the ghost, having completed its final dance, passed on and vanished.
“Huuuh…”
The sword dance piece, <Ghost Dance Moves>, had ended.
Having finished my competition choreography, I took a moment to regulate my breathing.
Due to the stage lights, I couldn’t read the judges’ expressions. And martial arts experts aren’t exactly people who easily show their emotions.
‘Was I too unrestrained?’
The thought came to me belatedly, but I quickly shook my head to dismiss it.
It was enough that I was satisfied with myself. If I didn’t meet the judging criteria and didn’t win an award, then so be it.
I bowed my head in greeting, then left the stage without a second thought and returned to the waiting room.
“…”
“…”
The other contestants, who had surely been watching my sword dance on the monitor, none of them spoke to me first.
Oh Jung-min merely glanced at me with a stiff expression.
‘This feels good.’
Because it was clearly the look of someone observing a threatening competitor.
*
Three masters sat in the judges’ seats for the Creative Sword Dance Competition.
Yeom Myeong-hwan, Vice-Sect Master of the Pine Moon Sect.
Gu Ja-seung, the Great Heaven Sect’s youngest elder.
No Gu-cheon, an elder of the Martial Alliance.
These three, renowned mid-sized and elder masters of the Korean Martial, willingly attended as judges to scout for future pillars of the martial world.
But they, too, were human, and judging the sword dances of dozens of participants could inevitably be somewhat tedious.
“It’s supposed to be a Creative Sword Dance… but they’re all so similar.”
“Hmm. These days, children only know how to display flashy techniques; they seem to lack contemplation about the sword.”
Yeom Myeong-hwan and Gu Ja-seung conversed with rather bored expressions.
It was an unavoidable aspect, given the nature of a competition.
Because high-difficulty moves that earn high scores are fixed, and one must stay within that framework as much as possible to secure stable points.
“Still, I thought the General Division would be a little different…”
“The habits ingrained from middle and high school seem to be formidable. Everyone knows it, but it seems difficult to break out of a framework once it’s learned.”
“It would be better if they tried a groundbreaking sword dance, even if it’s a bit unrefined.”
“But if done wrong, wouldn’t that just become a flashy, superficial sword dance?”
“True…”
They were just then conversationally scoring the sword dance that had just finished, out of habit.
Yeom Myeong-hwan, checking the bottom of the participant list, murmured with a slightly surprised expression.
“…Ki Mu-hyeok?”
“Do you know the boy?”
“He’s a boy I often saw when judging the middle school competitions. I remember his sword as orthodox and flawless.”
Elder Gu Ja-seung rubbed his chin and said,
“Orthodox and flawless, you say… If that’s the case, it might work in high school, but it would be difficult to pass in the General Division.”
“Well, it’ll be a good experience, won’t it?”
Even Yeom Myeong-hwan, who recognized Ki Mu-hyeok, didn’t seem particularly expectant. The difference between the High School Division and the General Division was that significant a barrier.
A moment later, participant number 42, Ki Mu-hyeok, stepped onto the stage.
The judges looked at the appearance of the young contestant with more concern than expectation.
“He chose Ghost Dance Moves. It’s a piece rarely selected due to its complex composition, and for a high school student to choose it…”
“I just hope he doesn’t make a string of mistakes out of nervousness.”
At that moment, the sword dance piece began.
Thung.
When Ki Mu-hyeok, who seemed to have dropped his sword, kicked it up and caught it again, the judges let out small chuckles at his cleverness.
However, as they watched his feet move ceaselessly across the stage, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings, and his sword imbued with a sharpness unbefitting a high school student, their eyes gradually widened.
“…Huh!”
“At first, I thought it was some kind of prank…”
Among the three judges, there was no one so unskilled as to fail to grasp the intent behind Ki Mu-hyeok’s movements.
Though seemingly chaotic, every single sword path traced a precise trajectory. The tip of his sword, where his gaze landed, remained unwavering until the very end, and there was no hesitation in extending or retracting his blade.
That boy was currently performing a sword dance, imagining a fictional opponent. It was as if that phantom figure was faintly visible even to the judges.
“What incredible focus…”
“And the Killing Intent…”
The judges felt the hairs on the back of their hands stand on end.
Because it was like watching a wolf quietly crouching, waiting for the moment to sink its teeth into its prey’s throat.
Gu Ja-seung, his eyes still fixed on Ki Mu-hyeok, asked Yeom Myeong-hwan,
“Was ‘orthodox and flawless’ meant in that sense?”
“No, it wasn’t. The Ki Mu-hyeok I knew didn’t wield a sword like that… What could have happened to him in the interim?”
Yeom Myeong-hwan was even more surprised. The Ki Mu-hyeok he knew was a student who performed honest and upright sword dances.
‘Even an Underworld vagrant wouldn’t be like that…’
And then, No Gu-cheon, the Martial Alliance elder who had been watching without a word until then, spoke for the first time.
“That boy.”
The sword dance piece had already ended.
The moment Ki Mu-hyeok sheathed his sword and smiled strangely while looking at the ceiling, No Gu-cheon also let out a hollow laugh.
“He’s a natural.”
The other two couldn’t help but agree.
Because it was a performance they had watched with such immersion that they hadn’t even noticed how three minutes had passed.
Ki Mu-hyeok bowed deeply and descended from the stage, and the judges immediately engaged in a heated debate.
“There’s no need to even look at the other contestants. Ki Mu-hyeok. Who else could it be but that boy?”
“But Elder Gu. Up until now, a high school student winning the gold prize in the General Division…”
“There is one precedent. About twenty years ago.”
“…Are you referring to Richard Han?”
The name of the martial artist currently known as the world’s greatest was mentioned.
But No Gu-cheon neither seemed surprised nor objected.
He merely replayed the sword dance Ki Mu-hyeok had performed, quietly in his mind.
‘That boy’s swordsmanship…’ No Gu-cheon thought. It resembled the swordsmanship of someone he knew, not Richard Han.