ISS-Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Behind the Baekgeommun guest quarters, an empty clearing where no one was around.

I looked at the blade I had drawn out in the moonlight, then slowly raised my gaze toward Wang Pal, who was standing blankly in front of me.

“U-Uicheonmun Master. Why are you here…”

“You looked like your mind was troubled, so I brought you here. You have many thoughts, don’t you?”

I didn’t hear everything. But I picked up a few words he was muttering. They were all words lamenting his own circumstances.

Well, it’s a common thing. If you’re a martial artist, you’ll inevitably hit a wall someday. There’s no need to meddle with a disciple of another sect—I could have just passed by pretending not to see.

That’s what I should have done.

—Great Leader. Even someone like me… may I learn martial arts…?

I simply couldn’t pass by because of the sense of déjà vu.

“Most troubles ease to some degree if you swing your sword. What are you doing? Not drawing?”

At my words, Wang Pal, who had been staring at me blankly, asked back with a bewildered expression.

“Wait, you don’t mean sparring…”

“Don’t want to? If you don’t want to, there’s no need to force it.”

“N-no!”

At my question, Wang Pal hurriedly shook his head and drew his sword from his waist. A pure white blade reflecting in the full moon’s light.

‘A good sword.’

I don’t mean in terms of quality. Even if Baekgeommun has fame in this area, how good could a mere disciple’s sword be?

If you go to a blacksmith and say “Give me a sword,” it’s nothing more than a common iron sword you can see anywhere. But even so, there’s something that shows itself.

A sharply well-honed blade emanating sharpness, and beneath it, a worn sword hilt. The aspect of a sword that can’t be seen without going through long, arduous training.

A good sword. That’s the only way I can express it.

Wang Pal, who had taken a middle stance and aimed his sword strike at me while keeping silent, spoke cautiously.

“…You don’t need to concern yourself with me, Uicheonmun Master.”

“Mm?”

“I understand it’s sympathy. I can tell that Uicheonmun Master is a good person… somehow. But I…”

Wang Pal, who couldn’t finish his words and hung his head low.

Looking at his tone, I can tell what he wants to say. Roughly that he has no talent, those kinds of stories.

“I watched Young Lady Seohua’s match well. Rather than spending time on me out of sympathy, wouldn’t it be more efficient to invest more time in Young Lady Seohua?”

“Hmm. Efficient?”

“Yes. I understand your heart in caring for junior students, but I don’t have talent…”

I chuckled at the sight of Wang Pal speaking with a bitter smile. Wang Pal blinked at that.

“Why consider efficiency?”

“…Pardon?”

“I’m asking why you’re considering efficiency.”

What kind of words are these?

At my question, I lowered my sword strike to the ground while looking at the confused Wang Pal.

“Do you think the race called martial artists is an efficient race?”

“…Pardon?”

“What don’t you understand? Martial artists are the extreme of inefficiency.”

Martial artists have no productivity.

You can’t farm with a sword. And can you treat people with it? That’s not the case either. As for the talk of accumulating merit to broadly benefit people, one can only laugh upon hearing it.

“The technique of fighting is martial arts. Martial artists can only be those who master better ways to fight. If you consider efficiency, you shouldn’t fight in the first place. Isn’t that right?”

“Well, that’s…”

“If you want to establish your name and raise your status, you can just study and become an official. If you want money, just become a merchant. To commoners who haven’t learned martial arts, would the name of the number one under heaven be more renowned, or the name of a eunuch?”

Needless to say, it’s the eunuch.

“The methods by which those without talent can make a name for themselves are infinite. Even if it’s not about fame, it’s the same. The things you can obtain by learning martial arts are things you can obtain more easily by attempting other paths.”

“…Yes.”

“Yet martial artists are endlessly supplied to the martial world. Even if thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands die each year. Do you know why?”

“Why…”

Why, for what reason.

Looking at Wang Pal making that expression, I let out a small laugh. Because the answer was extremely simple.

“Because martial arts are the extreme of inefficiency.”

Sssssss—!

When I slowly lowered my sword strike to slowly draw a circle, the wind responded and swept the ground. Wang Pal just watched that scene with a blank expression.

“All martial arts were born from inefficient contemplation. How can I contain the supreme ultimate in a sword, how can I make plum blossoms bloom with a sword, how can I split the sea with a sword?”

At first, when the world was born, humanity without martial arts couldn’t split rocks with swords, let alone even cut down trees. An era when using a sword for any purpose other than cutting people or beasts was itself a foolish act.

“There was someone who wanted to cut down trees with a sword, and someone who wanted to pierce giant rocks with a spear. There was someone who wanted to pierce an enemy ten li away with a bow, and aren’t there bastards trying to express heaven with a sword? There are even crazy bastards who try to strike people down with a fan the size of their palm. Do you know what we call that?”

“…What do we call it?”

“Founder. Or, Grand Master.”

There are 100 madmen. 99 madmen can’t properly establish direction and bear no fruit. However, one madman, like catching a mouse while stumbling backward, discovers something new.

That is extremely inefficient and unproductive. However.

“That is what’s cool.”

If you’re going to consider efficiency in the first place, you shouldn’t walk the path of a martial artist. Because that is…

“Martial artists are just a race living by their own whims.”

Because they’re martial artists.

“If you’re not a martial artist, leave. If you’re a martial artist, if you want to become one, raise your sword. How about it? Are you a martial artist?”

At my question, Wang Pal silently looked at his own blade, then raised his sword strike toward me again.

“…I request your teaching.”

He declared quietly. Looking at Wang Pal, I raised the corners of my mouth.

Confused eyes. But less of the pessimistic feeling from before. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s thinking himself.

Then my role is to help him sort that out.

“I’ll test whether you’re a martial artist.”

At my low response, Wang Pal bowed his head and took his starting position. And.

Kwaak!

The moment Wang Pal’s foot properly stepped on the ground.

Kaaaang—!!!

Sparks flew.

Kaang! Kaang! Kaaaang—!!!

Within the sparks and flashes illuminating the darkness, Wang Pal thought.

‘What am I doing right now?’

His palms hurt as if they would tear. The shock flowing from his heart through his arms every time blade met blade.

A fierce battle lasting half a shichen. Baek Riyun only defending and Wang Pal only attacking. Even in that strange relationship, Wang Pal’s attacks weren’t reaching even the hem of Baek Riyun’s clothes.

‘It’s a foolish act.’

The more he attacks, the more he can feel it keenly. That Baek Riyun’s level is far beyond Wang Pal’s.

Attacks that won’t reach. Defenses he can’t block. Not a single thing has meaning. Yet despite that.

‘Why.’

Why am I not giving up this match?

Kaaaang—!!!

“Kuhuk!”

Watching Wang Pal, who was sent flying by a strong strike and rolled on the ground, Baek Riyun lowered his sword.

“Is this the end?”

It’s the end.

His stamina is insufficient. His wrist feels like it will break. His internal energy of barely one year’s worth hit rock bottom long ago.

No stamina, no internal energy, no strength remaining. He forgot the meaning long ago. So this is the end.

That should be the case.

“Not… yet…”

Even while grabbing his trembling hand, Wang Pal couldn’t help but rise.

“Doing more is meaningless. It’s inefficient.”

“Haven’t you poured out everything you have? Internal energy at rock bottom, muscles torn. Your head isn’t working properly either.”

At the sight of Baek Riyun loosely lowering his sword and speaking while looking at him, Wang Pal gritted his teeth.

“You’re… right.”

“To maintain the efficiency you like so much, it would be right to turn back at this point. Don’t you think so?”

“I… think so.”

“Then what are you doing, not putting down your sword?”

At Baek Riyun’s question, Wang Pal asked himself. Why am I not putting down my sword?

‘Is there a reason I shouldn’t let go?’

There’s no such thing.

Even if I lose this match, it’s natural. The opponent is a master whose level is far higher than mine, and this isn’t even an official match, is it? I could just say I received teaching and it would be over.

Continuing this match won’t gain me anything either. Even if I keep charging at him, Baek Riyun isn’t an easy man I could beat. For receiving any teaching, Wang Pal’s brain had already reached its limit.

However.

Then, why do my hands grip the sword hilt so tightly and not let go?

“A…gain…”

Wang Pal, who had risen staggering, opened his hoarse throat while aiming his sword strike at Baek Riyun. At that sight, Baek Riyun let out an empty laugh.

“You haven’t come to your senses.”

For the first time, Baek Riyun, who had been standing still, moved his body. Wang Pal just watched that blankly. And.

When he came to his senses, Baek Riyun was already right before his eyes.

Kwaaaang—!!!

“Kahak!”

With a rough striking sound, the sword was sent flying from Wang Pal’s torn grip and stuck into the ground. And Baek Riyun stood before him.

“It’s meaningless.”

“I don’t mean inefficient—I mean it has no meaning. No matter how much you fly and crawl, your level is exactly that far. You’re far from enough material to become a martial artist.”

I know. Isn’t it the truth?

At Baek Riyun’s words, which exposed what he was thinking and seemed to pierce his core, Wang Pal closed his eyes.

‘It’s hard.’

I want to be comfortable. I know the way to be comfortable too.

I just need to let go of the sword here. Isn’t that a very easy thing?

Even if I let go of the sword, no one will say anything. Nothing will change either. It will just be a repetition of the life until now.

A meaningless thing.

That’s what he knew.

Kwak!

He grabbed the sword that had fallen and supported himself on the ground with his intact leg. His sense of balance wavered.

His legs trembled. His arms shook so much he couldn’t even keep the sword strike still. But.

Wang Pal stood up.

“Why are you holding the sword?”

At Baek Riyun’s question, Wang Pal answered while his arms, having reached their limit, trembled.

“Because this is all I can do…”

“You know it’s meaningless, don’t you?”

“Yes… hoo, I know. Painfully.”

Every breath hurt his lungs. His arms dangled as if they would break. Yet even so.

I can’t retreat. At least not from this.

“Even after eight years of accumulating qi, I could only gather one year’s worth of internal energy. A junior brother who accumulated qi for five years can crush me with internal energy. I already, I already knew! That I have no talent!!!”

Deceiving himself won’t actually deceive anyone. No matter how much he repeated to himself that he had talent, that never became reality.

However, Wang Pal still continued training. The reason was only one.

“I am a martial artist…!”

Because he wanted to become a martial artist.

“Uaaaaaaah—!!!”

At the sight of Wang Pal, half losing his reason, raising his sword and charging, Baek Riyun swung his sword with cold eyes. Wang Pal, unable to block even that simple strike, was sent flying.

“I, I will become a martial artist…”

He aimed to be a martial artist thinking he had talent. And then he learned he had no talent.

Even so, the aspiration that once took root in his heart doesn’t go out. No matter how much water is poured on it, no matter how coldly the heart is cooled, the brand that’s been stamped becomes a curse that won’t be erased.

“I, I…”

“That’s your limit.”

Looking down at Wang Pal, whose strength had half given out and was trembling, Baek Riyun sheathed his sword.

“Do you want to become a martial artist that badly?”

“You’ll need bone-grinding training. You’ll have to accomplish training that makes the current pain seem laughable. Even so, do you want to become a martial artist?”

At Baek Riyun’s question, Wang Pal forcibly opened his eyes, which were closing on their own, and smiled.

“If I do that… can I become a martial artist…?”

“…I suppose so. Probably.”

“Then.”

Wang Pal, who was continuing his words, lowered his head. A body that had now truly reached the limit of mental strength.

“If I could do that… that would be good…”

Watching his eyelids slowly descending, Wang Pal murmured his heart. And.

“Good.”

When his eyelids had almost completely closed.

With Baek Riyun’s voice digging into his ear as the last thing.

“Then I’ll make you into a martial artist.”

Wang Pal lost consciousness.

Creeak—!

Seohua, who had come out briefly to drink water and turned her head at the sound of the quarters’ door opening, greeted Baek Riyun, who had just returned to the guest room.

“You’re back?”

“…Yes.”

“Where did you go at this hour? I thought you were in your room.”

“For a moment, there was an idiot who thinks he’s truly dull-witted, so I had a conversation with him and got a bit late.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing. More than that.”

Baek Riyun, who had chuckled and waved his hand, looked directly at Seohua and opened his mouth.

“Seohua.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for putting pressure on you, but can you win tomorrow?”

“Huh? Of course I’ll do my best. But you said the odds were fifty-fifty, Sect Master…”

“I did. But a reason has arisen why you must win.”

Looking at Seohua blinking her eyes, Baek Riyun smiled bitterly.

“Can you win?”

And.

“…Well, I’ll try.”

Above Seohua, who was grinning broadly, a notification window appeared.

[Temperament, Responsibility sprouts.]

At that sight, Baek Riyun nodded.