KYDS 15

Chapter 15

An empty training ground, with no one around except Tang Sowol, Tang Cheon, and myself.

Standing a few steps back from the center, Tang Cheon began to stretch his wrists.

“Let’s go over the rules briefly. This is just a sparring match, so poisons and lethal moves are forbidden. No bladed hidden weapons, either. Given the difference in our martial prowess, we should probably limit our internal energy usage as well. What level do you think is appropriate? I’ll match Little Brother here.”

“First-rate level. Freely, as long as I don’t use sword force—how does that sound?”

“Sounds good. The match ends when one completely subdues the other, or if either side forfeits. Agreed?”

“Let’s start right away.”

“Haha! Aren’t you a bit too impatient, Little Brother?”

“It means I’m that much excited.”

After saying that, I glanced sideways. Looking slightly displeased—perhaps because she felt left out as an afterthought—Tang Sowol pouted. I gave a small smile toward her.

“What’s the matter this time to make a face like that?”

“Displeased… well, plans going awry is bound to happen. Since I’m no longer your kidnapper or savior, but your betrothed, it’s true that I want to understand the Young Master a little better. But it’s also true that I’m glad to see my older brother after such a long time.”

“…If it’s okay even after the sparring ends, I’ll make time. Until the sun sets. No, even after it sets, I don’t mind.”

“Hehe. I appreciate that. But the reason I’m unhappy is for a different reason.”

“A different reason?”

“Aren’t you getting a bit too excited? If it’s a sword, I could have gotten one for you, and I could have happily accompanied you in a sparring match as well.”

Having said that, Tang Sowol briefly avoided my gaze and added a word.

“Please enjoy the time you spend with me a little more. Just like I did.”

“……”

At that moment, something warm and tingling welled up deep inside my chest.

It was a sensation resembling anger, yet neither that fierce nor hot—an itchy, fluttering feeling.

However, I didn’t quite know what to say in times like this. After spending a brief moment searching for words, all that came out was a small nod.

Whether Tang Sowol was no different from me, she nodded back, but we couldn’t quite help the awkward atmosphere drifting between us.

And Tang Cheon apparently didn’t care for this awkwardness.

“…Let’s just start already.”

Tang Cheon frowned, showing his discomfort. The casual aura from his complaining instantly sharpened into a keen edge.

As I reflexively assumed my stance and drew my sword, Tang Cheon finally curved the corners of his lips in satisfaction.

“Unlike Sowol, I’m going to be quite picky.”

“I guessed as much from hearing your moniker.”

Since Tang Sowol was also a martial artist of the Tang family, she had mastered hidden weapon techniques to a considerable degree, but her main specialty was ultimately poison arts. That was why she had been easy to deal with earlier by preparing the Poison-Evading Wine.

On the other hand, as his moniker Dark Dragon suggested, Tang Cheon was likely a martial artist who primarily wielded hidden weapons. Already a consummate Peak master, if he was strong even without poison arts, it was inevitable that he would be overwhelming for my current self to handle.

However, this was a sparring match, not a fight to the death. In that case, there had to be a chance of winning.

As I circulated my internal energy, a faint killing intent naturally leaked out. Originally concentrated on a single person, I spread it out as widely as possible.

“This is…?”

Tang Cheon’s expression stiffened slightly at the faint killing intent filling the surroundings. However, realizing that it wasn’t directed at anyone and was simply released into the air, he let out a dry laugh.

Stepping half a step forward with my left foot, I asked him,

“Is there no such thing as making three concessions to a junior?”

“For a martial artist who is as sincere about sparring as Little Brother here, that would actually be rude. No concessions.”

“Too bad.”

With a faint smirk, I kicked off the ground.

Ta-dat!

Thanks to my acupuncture points having expanded slightly, the circulation of internal energy was much smoother. The surrounding scenery blurred past just as quickly.

However, that didn’t mean it could reach Tang Cheon.

Tang Cheon stepped back by the exact distance I had closed. All that remained in his previous spot were the hidden weapons he had tossed right before throwing his body backward.

The distance was so close that it was impossible to tell precisely where they were aimed.

Yet, I had scattered things around for just such an occasion. Anything moving within this radius had no choice but to churn through my killing intent… the energy of the Guanglang Exterminating Soul Art.

Watching the incoming hidden weapons with my eyes and sensing them with my gigam (sensory perception), I swung my sword.

Clang! Clang-clang!

I deflected a copper coin aiming for my right shoulder and dodged a metal ball targeting the top of my foot by stepping back, but that wasn’t the end of it.

Behind the incoming metal ball—hidden in an angle blind to my eyes—a smaller sphere that had bounced off the ground earlier shot straight toward my wrist.

The Mother-and-Son Ball (Jamhwan)? It was a type of hidden weapon that used large and small balls to confuse the opponent’s perception.

Merely tricking the eyes with a primary thrown weapon was a tactic frequently used by unorthodox martial artists, but considering angles where they bounced off each other like this was a first.

Pulling my grip tight, I turned the hilt to shield the spot where my wrist had been.

Clang!

The Ja-hwan (child ball) bounced far away, struck by the pommel of the hilt. If it had hit properly, even if my wrist wouldn’t have broken, the numbness would have made it hard to hold the sword for a while.

If that had happened, the sparring would have ended right there. If it had hit, that is.

As I readjusted my stance, I saw Tang Cheon narrowing his eyes from afar.

“Skilled.”

“Though its caliber was exceptional, befitting the Tang family’s martial arts, the technique itself was something I often saw among unorthodox folks who fancied themselves good at throwing hidden weapons.”

“Come to think of it, you said you were from Zhejiang Province?”

“Yes.”

To an unorthodox martial artist, martial arts are merely tools for winning. Naturally, poison and hidden weapons, taking hostages, bribing with money, or approaching someone acting friendly only to stab them in the back happen without a second thought.

The prevailing ethos was that whoever got tricked was the fool, so that said enough.

Well, things were severe right now precisely because orthodox martial artists had nearly vanished, leaving only the unorthodox bastards behind.

Once the Sacheokryeon (Four Black Alliances) properly established themselves and exerted definitive influence over the entirety of Zhejiang Province, things improved a little.

Even an unorthodox organization apparently needed order to maintain itself.

While I nodded inwardly, Tang Cheon grinned, his lips curling up.

“Then beware from now on. What I’m about to show you will be martial arts Little Brother has never seen before. Even though we aren’t showing lethal intent, a hidden weapon once it leaves the hand cannot be stopped, can it?”

“Hyungnim, you should be careful too. A sword can be stopped midway, but I’m quite clumsy at holding back.”

“…Little Brother is rather provocative when holding a sword, aren’t you?”

“…It’s just a habit, it doesn’t mean anything special.”

“Ah, right. Among unorthodox martial artists, there were one or two acting like they’d die if looked down upon. Little Brother’s picked up some strange habits, too.”

Clicking his tongue, Tang Cheon whipped his arm out in a surprise attack.

This time, he threw them quite openly, yet it was impossible to know clearly what hidden weapon he was holding, where he was throwing it, or even when he was releasing it.

This was because the loose clothing characteristic of the Tang family’s martial arts uniform concealed the contours of his shoulders, hiding more than half of his hands.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

Perhaps due to the peculiar shape of minted coins, the copper coins flew in erratic trajectories. The Jamhwan were shot low, as if skimming the ground. And hidden amidst all of them, aiming for my mahyol (vital death points), were the feather-hair needles (umochim).

Especially with the final feather-hair needles, it would have been difficult even to properly detect them if I hadn’t been utilizing my loosely spread killing intent like sensory perception.

Though, being able to detect them didn’t mean I could respond to all of them.

If killing intent had been imbued in them, I could have read their trajectories… but this was merely a sparring match. To pierce through them purely with eyes and sensory perception, the level of Tang Cheon’s hidden weapon technique was quite high.

In the case of the Jamhwan bouncing off surfaces, even if killing intent had been imbued, predicting the trajectory would have been nearly impossible.

So, I decided to do what I was capable of and what I did best.

I threw myself toward the front, where countless hidden weapons were surging.

“What?!”

Letting Tang Cheon’s startled voice go in one ear and out the other, I triggered the internal energy concentrated in my legs.

Bang!

The internal energy bursting from the Yongcheon acupoint made the soles of my feet sting, but I ignored it and swept my sword widely.

Clang!

Accompanied by a clear metallic ring, the deflected copper coins tumbled across the floor.

I hadn’t seen and parried them properly. If I had tried that, I could only have dealt with half of them. Strictly speaking, this wasn’t so much deflecting the hidden weapons as it was placing my sword where the hidden weapons were bound to arrive.

We were in the middle of a spar, weren’t we? The areas that wouldn’t cause life-threatening harm or permanent damage were limited. Among them, the spots to cleanly subdue an opponent were even scarcer.

I had simply swung my sword toward such places.

“Hmph!”

Instead of recovering the swung sword, I spun my body widely to match the sword’s momentum, concentrating the internal energy that had been in my legs just moments ago into my arms and sleeves.

Puff!

The hem of my robe whipped through the air, stirring up wind with a loud noise.

Naturally, internal energy was imbued in the feather-hair needles as well… but needles this thin couldn’t withstand the shock I generated, causing their trajectories to wobble or their power to drop significantly.

This was something that would have been impossible if Tang Cheon hadn’t restricted his internal energy.

Thus, the tips of the needles were thrown off course, or the weakened feather-hair needles were absorbed by my back and one arm.

These were mere needles, not coated in poison. Unless one was stealthily stabbed in the acupuncture points, there was no reason to fear them.

Indeed, aside from a slight stinging sensation, it didn’t hinder my movement at all.

What remained was the Jamhwan surging from below. The large and small spheres flying as if to graze the ground actually struck the floor, collided with one another, and spread out wide.

It was a range covering the entire lower body, not just the ankles. Blocking it with a single sword was difficult, and dodging it was too late after blocking the first two hidden weapons.

However, exquisite techniques are bound to collapse beyond control once disrupted.

Extending my right leg deeply, I bent my body sideways. At the same time, I stretched my arm straight, thrusting my sword between the Jamhwan.

Thud!

A heavy sensation transmitted through my hand. When I struck one targeted Mohwan (mother ball) with the tip of my sword, the bounced-off sphere collided with another ball.

The ball that collided thus hit yet another ball, and the ricocheting sphere repeatedly bounced against surrounding ones, scattering in all directions.

It was the same principle as how Tang Cheon had earlier scattered the already-thrown Jamhwan wide. However, instead of drawing a plane with the Jamhwan, I had simply induced as many balls as possible to collide with each other.

Tap-a-tap-tap!

A fierce sound of collision reminiscent of flying sparks. The Jamhwan began scattering in all directions.

Some flying over my head, some crashing into the ground, some ricocheting far off to the side…

Though I succeeded in deflecting them in various directions, I hadn’t managed to block all of them.

Even though I twisted my body sideways to minimize my surface area so that I was aligned with the incoming direction of the Jamhwan, metal balls still grazed my forearms and thighs.

Still, it was manageable, likely because they weren’t hit square-on but glanced off as they ricocheted sideways.

That was enough.

Grinning, I put strength into my aching legs.

Ta-dat!

The distance closed. Tang Cheon, opening up distance again, threw hidden weapons; I dodged what needed dodging, deflected what needed deflecting, and took what needed taking.

Instead of hesitating this time, I continuously executed my Gyeongsinbeop (lightness skill).

While throwing one or two hidden weapons might be fast, throwing dozens at once required Tang Cheon to pause for a single breath.

Just by rushing forward without stopping from this end, the distance closed bit by bit.

Step by step. Each time the distance closed, minor wounds and bruises accumulated, but it wasn’t to the point of being unable to move.

When we finally reached the distance where my sword could touch him, Tang Cheon let out a dry laugh.

“Did you know, Little Brother?”

“I don’t. Since it’s exhausting, could you please stop talking, Hyungnim?”

“The Tang family likes people with fierce spirit. Just like Little Brother here.”

“Then please just take one hit from me.”

“Don’t say such terrifying things while holding a real sword.”

Realizing there was no longer distance to throw hidden weapons, Tang Cheon changed his stance and assumed the opening posture of his boxing art (Gwonjangbeop).

If it was close-quarters trading of blows, I was confident. I swung my sword with the intention of merely slicing the hem of his clothes at his flank.

Clatter—

“…?”

The sword that should undoubtedly have been in my hand was lying on the ground, clattering.

No, I was still holding the hilt. The blade had simply shattered.

Having been subjected to the accumulated shock of deflecting numerous hidden weapons while already overworked, it wasn’t entirely strange for it to snap under the force of a swing.

“Ha.”

Though I hadn’t expected it to break precisely at this moment.

If I could pull out a long streak of sword force like before regression…

No. This was a sparring match, after all. That was why Tang Cheon hadn’t fully drawn upon his internal energy, and had only used hidden weapons without blades.

I had to admit what needed admitting.

Sighing deeply, I sheathed the sword broken right in the middle. Then, I politely cupped my fists.

“I have lost.”

“Huh? Oh-oh. I see. It was a good match, Little Brother.”

With a dazed expression, Tang Cheon dissolved his opening posture and returned the bow.

Just as the spar ended with my regrettable defeat, Tang Sowol—who had been anxiously watching from afar—hurriedly ran over and rounded on Tang Cheon.

“Oppa! How can you turn someone who has just finished medical treatment back into a patient!”

“A, a patient you say?”

Tang Sowol pointed to my arms and legs as if to show the flustered Tang Cheon.

“Look! He’s trembling like a baby bird caught in the rain!”

“…It’s not that bad, though.”

My arms and legs were trembling softly from getting battered so much by the Jamhwan, but it really wasn’t that severe.

I tried to deny it in a subdued voice over the unexpected metaphor, but my words didn’t seem to reach Tang Sowol.

“I’m going to take the Young Master to the Medical Hall, so Oppa, please take care of tidying up here!”

“Now see here, Sowol-ah. Little Brother’s martial prowess turned out much greater than expected, so I couldn’t help—”

“Hmph! You still should have held back appropriately. How can someone much older and far superior in martial prowess persecute Young Master Cheon, who is younger than me?”

Pouting her lips, Tang Sowol cut off Tang Cheon’s words and forcefully pulled me toward her.

Plop.

It was a posture practically hugging me.

Actually, ever since my regression, I had harbored quite a few grievances about this younger body. How frustrating the shortened height and weakened muscles had been.

“Hmm.”

Right now, however, the soft sensation pressed against the back of my head made me appreciate the regressed body for the first time.

Though Tang Cheon, noticing my reaction, violently scowled.

“Oppa, go see Father instead of me. If you’ve arrived, shouldn’t you go pay your respects?”

“S-Sowol-ah…?”

Buffeted by Tang Sowol’s huff, Tang Cheon sat down on the ground with a miserable expression.

At that pitiful sight, I buried the back of my head a little deeper and nodded.

Squish.

“Mmm.”

I had clearly lost the spar, but somehow it felt like a win.

Tang Cheon watched with a bewildered mind as his only younger sister walked away, cradling Cheon Hui as tenderly as if he were her own child.

He somehow gathered his wits and rose from his spot. And then—

Swish.

“Huh?”

A slit collar caught his eye.

“…”

Cheon Hui’s sword had definitely broken. Because it broke right at the moment he applied force to swing it, the blade hadn’t even reached him.

Then, what on earth was this fluttering hem of his robe?

“…Sword wind?”

Wind imbued with the sharpness of a sword. Its power was limited at best to cutting clothes or hair, entirely insufficient for killing a person.

Yet it wasn’t something just anyone could use, either.

It was a technique that could only be executed by a swordsman who had attained at least the realm of Shingeom-hapil (Sword and Self as One) or a realization comparable to it.

“And Little Brother’s realm was at most the first-rate level.”

It was hard for Tang Cheon’s common sense to comprehend.

Quietly looking down at his own collar, Tang Cheon scratched the back of his head.

“Looks like I’ll have to ask Father quite a few things.”

Muttering thus, Tang Cheon headed toward the Master’s study where Tang Jintian was, but when he had taken about three steps out of the training ground, he turned his steps around and came back.

“…Still, I have to clean up before leaving.”

With a depressed expression, Tang Cheon began picking up hidden weapons piece by piece.

It was a rule in the Tang family not to leave cleanup to the maids, out of fear of poison leaking.

Sigh.

Tang Cheon felt the world had grown a little more hateful.