Drawing Water To One’s Own Field

Along the ridges of Eminent Mountain, early white snow had piled thick.

At the base of the mountain, the village of Yeongam sat high in altitude, facing the cold winds head-on.

Even in the chill, the village children were absorbed in flying kites.

“It looks as if stepping stones have formed in the sky.”

Full Moon Shin Yang-seon sat atop the highest peak of Eminent Mountain, gazing down at the village.

The world had once seemed within his grasp, yet when he opened his palm, only a wisp of wind remained.

“All conditioned phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, bubbles, or a shadow; like dew or a flash of lightning—thus should one regard them. They say all in this world is empty illusion, and indeed it is so.”-

Four years ago at the martial arts gathering, he had been gravely wounded, though not beyond recovery.

Yet the reason he resigned as sect leader was regret over the past.

He once believed he had acted for the sake of preserving Eminent Mountain Sect’s declining prestige.

But only after being drenched in blood did he realize it had been nothing more and nothing less than greed.

“Grand Master!”

Panting as he climbed was In-gyeong, son of the late Go Geun-nam and the tenth successor of the Full Moon Sword.

Though not gifted in talent, his pure and upright nature made him especially beloved by Shin Yang-seon.

Seeing In-gyeong’s face, even Shin Yang-seon’s withered face, dry like a branch, broke into a faint smile.

“Your breath is unsteady—so you still haven’t mastered the third verse of the Half-Moon Sutra. Why are you so lazy?”

Though his heart felt otherwise, Shin Yang-seon scolded his young disciple in a stern voice.

He intended to someday pass all his inner strength to him, and wished to harden his foundation quickly.

“Grand Master, guests have come to our sect, and the atmosphere is strange. The elders ask that you come at once…”

Before he even caught his breath, In-gyeong knelt and reported the urgency of the situation.

Nothing had happened yet, but a foreboding dread made cold sweat run down his back.

It was all the more unsettling that the sect leader and senior uncles were away.

“Hmm. What was the appearance of these guests?”

Suspicion stirred in Shin Yang-seon as his expression grew grave.

“The middle-aged scholar was a neat, handsome man; pale skin and delicate hands made him seem a mere scholar.

“The young man, in contrast, had large features and unusually thick brows, brutish in appearance, carrying a massive blade on his back to match his size.”

“Did the scholar perhaps carry a fan painted with mountains and rivers?”

“Yes, how did you know? Do you know them?”

Shin Yang-seon slowly closed his eyes.

He had expected this day would come, but the timing was too soon.

He had hoped to delay at least until Go Geun-dong was fit to become sect leader, but that too was his greed.

“In-gyeong.”

“Yes, Grand Master.”

Seeing his calm expression, In-gyeong felt somewhat relieved.

If they were truly dangerous, he wouldn’t have spoken so serenely.

“I intended to copy down the 18 verses of the Half-Moon Sutra today, but an old friend has come, and I cannot finish. You must do it in my stead.”

To copy martial formulas in this cold—there was no punishment harsher.

In-gyeong shook his head and played at childish charm, knowing it would not work.

“Copying it isn’t hard, but can’t I do it below? Even starting now, it will take until dawn. In this weather, I’ll freeze to death.”

But Shin Yang-seon firmly refused his plea.

“You must finish it here before you descend.”

Leaving the pouting boy behind, he glided down the rock.

“If I’d known, I would’ve had someone else do it…”

As if mocking his thoughts, a gust of icy wind scraped across his soft, downy face.

At the front gate, the squabble had already dragged on for over two hours.

“Our Sect Leader is away, and the elders are in closed-door cultivation. Please return another time.”

The words sounded polite enough, but the ten disciples of Eminent Mountain Sect all leveled their swords at the two uninvited guests.

If needed, they were prepared to form a battle formation and launch an attack.

“Do we really have to deal with such brats?”

Jeok-woo hefted his great blade Virtuous Conduct onto his shoulder and glared in disdain at the boys not yet twenty.

From their ignorance of who he was, they seemed like fledglings who had only just begun learning martial arts.

“Do you even know where you are, to act so arrogantly?”

Provoked by Jeok-woo’s words, one young disciple stepped forward and retorted firmly.

“Boy, I’ve clearly lived twice as long as you, yet your tongue is far too short.”

Jeok-woo’s thick brows twitched, making his expression far more menacing.

More than that, a strong aura of killing intent poured from his body.

The seventh-generation disciples’ legs trembled so badly they could hardly remain standing.

“We must see Master Full Moon first. Step aside.”

Yi Seomun calmed the agitated Jeok-woo with a glance, then requested the Eminent Mountain disciples to yield the way.

His tone was courteous enough, but his demeanor carried a weight of intimidation.

“Hero Yi, it has been a long time.”

A thin, sharp metallic voice rang out behind them.

It was Shin Yang-seon, who had descended from the peak.

“Master Full Moon, Eminent Mountain Sect is clumsy indeed at receiving guests. My patience was wearing thin—had you been any later, your disciples might never have shown their faces again.”

Yi Seomun smiled, baring his unusually white teeth.

Feigning ignorance of his sinister words, Shin Yang-seon motioned the disciples still holding swords to withdraw.

“Let us head inside.”

At Shin Yang-seon’s signal, the great hall’s firmly shut doors slid open.

A stone-laid corridor stretched out, revealing the long history of the Eminent Mountain Sect at a glance.

“A splendid sight indeed.”

Jeok-woo forgot for a moment why he had come, his eyes wide as he took in the surroundings.

Though much of its renown had waned, it still bore the majesty befitting the cradle of the Five Great Mountain Swords.

“Grand Master!”

The eight elders and disciples gathered in the hall knelt and paid respects when Shin Yang-seon entered.

Terrified by the visit of the Taiyi Divine Sect, they were reassured simply by his presence.

“Is it not shameful to treat guests in such a manner?”

Shin Yang-seon strode to the center of the hall and suddenly barked out.

It seemed aimed at the elders, but Jeok-woo couldn’t shake the feeling it was directed at them, leaving him deeply offended.

“Eldest Sahyung, what scheme is that old man plotting?”

Yi Seomun simply watched with his mocking smile as Shin Yang-seon carried on.

“Hero Yi, this old man will apologize on their behalf.”

Expressionless, he walked unhurriedly to the vacant seat of honor left by the elders and sat heavily.

And then—

“Yet barging in unannounced is not proper etiquette either. So no tea will be served. This old man is too aged to see you off, so mind yourselves on your way.”

Only then did the elders realize Shin Yang-seon’s intent, each letting slip a chuckle.

How dare leaders of the Demonic Cult presume to step foot into the sacred ground of the Five Great Mountain Swords?

None of them had forgotten what happened four years ago.

Even if they couldn’t take sweet revenge, they at least wanted to disgrace them.

“We came in goodwill, yet you turn it into hostility—such a pity.”

Yi Seomun raised one corner of his mouth in a smirk, then snapped open the fan in his right hand.

Each slow waver made the painted waves upon it ripple faintly.

“I’ll grant you until the Hour of the Pig¹. If you wish to live, leave this place by then.”

“What did you say?”

“You wretch!”

The Eminent Mountain disciples in the hall erupted in outrage and curses, shocked beyond belief.

“I sincerely hope many of you will choose wisely.”

Yi Seomun swept his gaze across Shin Yang-seon and the elders, then turned his back and walked out.

Following him, Jeok-woo swung Virtuous Conduct broadly and added:

“My heart longs to sweep you away with Virtuous Conduct right now, but I pity you, so I grant you this chance. If you survive, carve it in your hearts and be grateful for life.”

When Jeok-woo disappeared with a booming laugh, only a strange silence lingered in the great hall.

“What are we to do?”

“Surely those two can’t be all there is?”

“You all saw it. Just those two alone could annihilate Eminent Mountain Sect.”

The elders voiced differing opinions, yet the one feeling none could erase was fear.

With their true leaders absent, it was clear that old elders and young disciples alone could not defend the sect.

“Would it not be wiser to retreat and plan for another day?”

While no one dared voice their thoughts, Baek Cheon—Shin Yang-seon’s senior brother and the most senior of the elders—hesitantly spoke.

Well past ninety, he was a living testament of Eminent Mountain Sect’s history.

“At the very least, should we not preserve the lives of the young disciples?”

Though they did not show it, some elders silently sighed in relief.

None of them wished to leap into the fire, knowing death was certain.

If they could endure brief humiliation, revenge could come later.

“Sahyung, what are you saying?”

Unable to contain his fury, Shin Yang-seon leapt up and pointed at Baek Cheon.

“Eminent Mountain Sect has stood for over two hundred years. Who dares defile this place?”

His wrathful voice thundered through the great hall.

The atmosphere, quivering with fear, instantly grew solemn.

Baek Cheon, too, could not reply further and bowed his head.

Who had been the one to raise Eminent Mountain Sect when it was collapsing?

There was no one here who could oppose Shin Yang-seon.

Congestion surged up into his chest, reddening his face until even the blood vessels in his eyes burst.

With bloodshot eyes, he looked carefully at the faces of his disciples.

Some held resentment in their gaze, others despair.

‘We have already lost before the fight has even begun.’

Shin Yang-seon resolved to cast his final gambit.

Striding through the long corridor to the front gate, he drew the Full Moon Sword.

Without hesitation, he slashed the floor, carving a thick, straight line upon the stone.

“Whoever wishes to leave, I will not stop. But cross this line, and you are no longer a disciple of Eminent Mountain Sect!”

From the sky, snowflakes began to fall, one by one.

And surely, among them, someone secretly wished the snow would thicken and forever bury the line at the gate.

아전인수(我田引水), Drawing Water to One’s Own Field:

To draw water only to one’s own field—acting solely for one’s own benefit.