Chapter 10

“Begin.”

Yeon Mujin told the warriors.

He tilted his neck and loosened his wrists as usual, wearing an expression that barely contained his delight.

To the warriors, it looked less like a formal duel and more like a session focused on beating people up.

“Wait.”

At that moment Yang Gwan-wol stepped forward to restrain Yeon Mujin.

“What is it, Dong-nyang?”

“Dong-nyang” was a mocking shortening of his epithet Center Beam Divine Blade, Dongryang.

Yeon Mujin often called him Dong-nyang on a whim.

“My name is not Dong-nyang, it’s Yang Gwan-wol. And today’s sparring will be run a little differently.”

“By whose will?”

“Of course by ours! How long do you think we’ll keep being led around by you?”

His tone was unusually resolute.

Yeon Mujin shrugged.

“Fine. I admit it. None of us can beat you one-on-one with our skill.”

“What, is that a declaration of surrender?”

“Shut up and listen to me till I’m done!”

“Get on with it.”

Yang Gwan-wol said, eyes narrowed.

“But our duty is not to be wandering warriors but guards, so from now on we’ll fight not as martial arts warriors but as guards.”

“Ah, I understand what you mean.”

Yang Gwan-wol sighed in relief.

At least he’s got some sense — I didn’t want to say it outright myself.

“So you’re saying you’ll cowardly gang up on me, right?”

“Hey! Watch your mouth!”

But in the end he got hit.

Seo Nak-il took the cue and shouted.

“You’re the one who explained the difference between a martial arts warrior and a guard warrior.”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Yeon Mujin nodded.

He met the gaze of each warrior gathered at the training ground.

One must know when to be cowardly. He liked their response.

And then.

“Good. Attack all at once.”

Yeon Mujin was a man who wouldn’t lose in cowardice to anyone.

Tatat!

Yeon Mujin moved first.

The closest target was Yang Gwan-wol.

Yang Gwan-wol cried out in alarm.

“Such a cowardly bastard!”

“We’re two of a kind!”

Yeon Mujin reached out with his right hand for Yang Gwan-wol’s collar.

Yang Gwan-wol, unable to draw his sword in time, tried to block with a long strike.

But that was a feint. The real strike came from the left.

Whack!

A familiar impact sounded and Yang Gwan-wol senselessly collapsed.

As expected, one strike per man. Yeon Mujin never wasted force in a fight.

The remaining warriors drew their weapons in unison, barely glancing at the fallen Yang Gwan-wol.

Cha-cha-cha-cheng!

The clatter of weapons being drawn at once stirred Yeon Mujin’s heart.

He loved this kind of fight. He was a fighting dog.

“Come!”

As if in response, three blades lunged toward Yeon Mujin.

One aimed for the heart, one for the dantian, one for the head — killers with no hesitation.

From past experience they knew Yeon Mujin was not someone to be fought gently.

“He’s open below!”

Yeon Mujin crouched like a frog and, pivoting on his left foot, swung his right leg wide.

“Aagh!”

The first man caught by Yeon Mujin’s foot clutched his shin and fell, but the second and third were untouched in that instant.

Thanks to the man who fell and bought time, they pulled back.

A high foot descended toward Yeon Mujin’s lowered head.

Thud!

A crushing kick strong enough to smash a skull — but Yeon Mujin was already gone.

From the kicking posture the attacker planted his foot, twisted back, and Yeon Mujin snapped his leg up; the kicker’s jaw caught on his toes.

“Guh!”

The struck man flew in an arc. The remaining warriors prepared to attack again.

But.

“It’s not enough! All at once!”

Yeon Mujin instead threw himself into their midst.

Yeon Mujin lunged at the enemies like a gamecock, like a moth to the flame.

The warriors facing him felt their chests heat up.

It was their first time feeling their scalps flush like this while fighting someone.

Whether it was anger or excitement, they couldn’t say.

Thud! Thud!

Meanwhile two more men fell to Yeon Mujin’s punches, struck squarely in the face and lying still on the ground.

Blades, spears, and swords rained toward Yeon Mujin’s body.

Yeon Mujin never drew the sword sheathed at his waist.

He dodged what he could, parried what he could, and didn’t hesitate to throw his bare body into attacks that wouldn’t be fatal even if sliced.

He even flustered his attackers; his fighting clothes were quickly ripped to tatters.

Bam! Whump! Crack!

As Yeon Mujin’s wounds increased, the number of eliminated warriors steadily rose.

The more he was wounded and bled, the faster he became, like a madman addicted to blood.

He struck temples with his heel, punched chests, headbutted, and if necessary aimed for the groin.

Yeon Mujin was showing the warriors in person what a real fight was.

He challenged them with his body: when you meet an opponent who fights this dirty, what will you do?

You can’t surpass me clinging to pride and face. If you can’t win with a sword, stab the eyes; if that fails, bite with your teeth.

And so the warriors did.

“Grab him!”

“Kill that bastard!”

Voices filled with pain and hatred burst out here and there.

Now it was truly indistinguishable from a back-alley brawl.

Men of good lineage and trained in martial arts reduced to such low-level fighting?

At the bloody end of the fight, the only one standing in the training ground was Yeon Mujin.

The rest writhed on the ground, moaning as they normally would when dying.

“Phew…”

Yeon Mujin looked down at his torn, blood-soaked clothes.

It had taken exactly 30 minutes to knock them all down.

It took twice as long as before.

This much, he thought, pleased him more than expected.

He said, looking down at the groaning warriors.

“For the time being, I’ll temporarily suspend the spinning match.”

The warriors looked up at Yeon Mujin with expressions that said, What’s he blathering about now?

“I think I’ve achieved my goal to some extent.”

Taoist thought speaks of heart, qi, and body.

These are said to be the three components that make up human life.

In the murim world these are sometimes referred to as the upper dantian at the crown point, the middle at the chest, and the lower at sole.

There’s some truth to that, but I prefer my own categorization.

Among three principles, first is the heart.

You know those martial arts men whose skills are high but who are always full of resentment like slighted women?

Those men have their hearts broken; they’re often said to be consumed by heart-demons.

Heart governs equanimity.

Body (Shen) is the head — the mind’s clarity.

Even if the heart and qi are sound, if the head fails, one loses reason and becomes a madman.

Those in the murim world with the epithet ‘Mad’ all have that head broken and thus are problematic.

There are exceptions — some are born with that head opened and die young…

Anyway, if you want to live long, don’t poke this part.

Qi is the body — the physical form.

The body is also the vessel that holds the spirit.

Murim folk most often train this body.

After regression, my qi level lagged behind my heart and mind. My mind was intact and normal, of course.

No matter how much I achieved small rebirth with the Travelling Swallow Qi Cultivation, I couldn’t raise the body’s senses.

To sharpen senses required fights where blood spattered and flesh tore.

The sacrificial lambs for that were the warriors in the guard unit.

They were low-level men, but they served well enough.

And one more thing.

There was a reason I ate with the idiots and played the part of a household member along with the all-at-one match.

“This should be annoying enough in their eyes.”

They used my origin as an excuse to snub me, gave me the shabbiest room, excluded me from duties. They ostracized, mocked, spat, humiliated…

They tried every bit of turf-assertion they could, but I didn’t flee — I’m a man used to being insulted.

“You can’t drive me out with this.”

Was it only at Flying Swallow Manor?

There were many elsewhere who snubbed and ostracized Yeon Mujin using his origin and temperament as excuses.

If anything, it was worse elsewhere.

I was a man who could tell real insults from fake ones.

True insult isn’t given by others; it’s the one I give myself.

I endured.

Enduring and holding on, I secured my place.

Now it was natural for all the guard unit’s warriors to eat with me and socialize.

And there would be men who disliked this more than anyone.

Those who didn’t want my influence to grow inside this manor.

“How’s it feel — anxious?”

Anxiety drives people into a corner.

A cornered person will take risks.

It’s a kind of tug-of-war testing each other’s patience.

I was waiting for just that.

Head of the Guards Jeong Yeo-gwang.

Housemistress Wang Ga-hwa.

The moment they began to overreach to expel me.

“Guard Jeong.”

“Yes, Lady Wang.”

“How did this happen?”

Jeong Yeo-gwang bowed his head, cold sweat pouring under Wang Ga-hwa’s sharp glare.

“Well…”

“Was my instruction to ‘properly educate’ Yeon Mujin so difficult? Or are you too stupid to understand such a simple order, Guard Jeong?”

“No, that’s not it…”

“Then why is that eyesore still swaggering around the manor? I hear he’s been living and eating with the guards lately, acting like their friend.”

‘Like a friend?’

Jeong Yeo-gwang inwardly scoffed at her words.

Jeong Yeo-gwang had obliged because he was threatened by Yeon Mujin.

Yeon Mujin had made two requests to him.

First, arrange a place for him to eat with the other warriors — he’ll decide the food.

Second, don’t interfere when Yeon Mujin sparred in the sparring match during guard training hours.

The first was trivial; the second was the issue.

Jeong Yeo-gwang had assumed Yeon Mujin would not withstand the warriors’ turf-assertions and would leave.

Even if the Flying Swallow Manor guard unit was a gathering of rejects pushed out from the main house, they still officially drew pay from the Bukgung Family.

They weren’t third-rate drifters from town.

But…

‘These idiots — they can’t beat a single wanderer and just get beaten?’

It was something Jeong Yeo-gwang couldn’t comprehend with his common sense.

He didn’t see the guard unit’s warriors as befriending Yeon Mujin.

They cowered before him like sheep before a wolf, like herbivores before a predator.

So Wang Ga-hwa’s words were all the more infuriating.

“Today the young lady asked me: what happened to the new guard? Why isn’t he visible? Rumors travel, you know — even if Bukgung Yoon acts like a tamed cat, she’s a keen-sensed woman.”

Wang Ga-hwa gleefully bit into Bukgung Yoon when the latter wasn’t around.

“That girl Yoon always waits for me to make a mistake, eyes narrowed. If Head Guard Jeong makes a mistake like this, what happens to my position?”

“…”

Jeong Yeo-gwang bowed his head in humiliation and said nothing.

Anger rose in him at being scorned by that fat, pampered woman.

“Are you listening to me, Head Guard Jeong!”

“…I’m sorry, Housemistress. I’ll take responsibility and handle it.”

Smack!

Wang Ga-hwa opened the large fan she always carried and shielded her face.

“How will you?”

“Hm?”

“How will you take responsibility?”

“By threatening him, by paying him off — somehow…”

“Hmph!”

Wang Ga-hwa snorted.

She flicked the fan and said.

“Enough. I can’t leave this to Head Guard Jeong any longer. You must show responsibility with action, not just words.”

“What…”

“I’ll arrange the setting; you, Head Guard Jeong, must ruin that mongrel’s life.”

“How do you want me to do that?”

“There are many ways — shatter his dantian, cut off limbs. If unavoidable, there’s always neck-cutting.”

“…”

Jeong Yeo-gwang looked at Wang Ga-hwa dumbfounded.

If he did such things against a fellow guard inside the manor, what would become of Jeong Yeo-gwang’s reputation?

“Are you serious right now?”

“It must be ‘accidental.’ If you swing a sword and stab someone it’s murder, but if someone walks into the blade you hold, what then?”

“What nonsense is that…”

“There’s a hallucination herb we can request from the sixth young master.”

Jeong Yeo-gwang froze stiff.

What? A hallucination herb?

“He likes to eat, so lacing his food won’t be hard. I’ll set the stage; you, Head Guard Jeong, will tie the knot. If you fail this time… I think even you, dull as you are, know what word will reach the young master.”

“So you’re saying we’ll drug him and then have him fight me?”

“Of course. And make a big scene. Call Yoon too. That wench seems to be having other thoughts about Yeon Mujin lately. Seeing someone die before her eyes will put her in line for a while, won’t it?”

“No matter what, that’s too…”

Thwack!

Wang Ga-hwa hurled her large fan at Jeong Yeo-gwang’s head.

“Too much, you say?”

“…”

“You coddled that old jackal and he doesn’t even know the master’s favor. Now you suddenly get a conscience when I tell you to use any means?”

Wang Ga-hwa spoke to the bowed Jeong Yeo-gwang.

“Head Guard Jeong. Think about who keeps you in that position. Finish it with your own hands, or go to the young master and tell him with your own mouth that you can’t do it.”

Of course Jeong Yeo-gwang had no real choice.

“If you can’t do it, then at least make sure the guard unit’s mouths don’t leak anything later.”

Wang Ga-hwa picked up her dusty fan, snorted, scoffed, and left.

Left alone, Jeong Yeo-gwang clenched his fists and swallowed his anger for a long time.

It happened on a moonlit night somewhere in Flying Swallow Hall.