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Yeon Mujin was devoting himself to training alone in a remote part of the Flying Swallow Manor.
Normally he would spar with members of the External Protection Troops at the training ground, but today he needed a quiet space to train alone.
“Huuu…”
Yeon Mujin, holding his sword, slowly lengthened his breath.
At prestigious orthodox sects like Mount Hua or Wudang, they often emphasize the phrase essence· qi· spirit.
It means that to master martial arts, one must achieve the unification of these three elements.
Essence refers to a refined, trained body.
Qi means internal qi, the dantian trained through breathing methods and mind techniques.
Spirit, is the spirit: not only the external body and internal dantian but also the sharpening of one’s mental strength.
The saying goes Essence, qi, spirit -as-one: when essence, qi, and spirit are united, nothing is impossible.
It means that binding essence, qi, and spirit into one allows you to achieve anything.
That’s why martial artists call it martial arts rather than mere tactics.
Because people believe they can attain spiritual cultivation through martial arts.
But not Yeon Mujin.
Yeon Mujin thought martial arts were simply a skill for killing people.
Everything else was just meaning attached willy-nilly by idiots who only knew martial arts.
People, the narrower their world, the more they stick all sorts of meanings onto that world.
Why? Because that’s all there is to their lives.
“Don’t put meaning into martial arts. Don’t assign value or meaning. It’s just a technique after all.”
Because of that, Yeon Mujin’s sword felt lighter than others’.
He didn’t cling to forms or the fundamentals of martial arts; he focused solely on fighting and defeating his enemy.
Any means that fit—poison, surprise, swordplay, fist techniques—he chose without discrimination.
It was his own method developed through countless regressions.
As Mok Gyeong-hae said, rootless techniques mixed together to form Yeon Mujin’s unique martial art.
And even now.
Yeon Mujin, sword in hand, was replaying his fight with Mok Gyeong-hae.
Shiiiiik!
From his hand unfolded Mount Hua’s Nourishing Sword. After the Nourishing Sword came the Three Expert Sword, then the Heavenly Rotation Sword.
Mount Hua’s adepts would be dumbfounded—he was carelessly skipping through the sword styles Mount Hua had painstakingly classified.
But Yeon Mujin imitated exactly what Mok Gyeong-hae had shown. If Mok had done it that way, there must be a reason. When an ordinary man follows a genius, he shouldn’t try to understand—just follow.
First imitate it, and if you get stuck, break through it in your own way.
Shwaaak!
After the Three Expert Sword came the Heavenly Rotation Sword, then the Golden Dragon Sword, the Wind Swift Sword…
The Purple Cloud Divine Sword wasn’t a technique with a fixed form; it was Mok Gyeong-hae’s rearrangement of Mount Hua’s sword methods in his own way.
He infused his internal qi—his violet internal qi—into the sword to multiply its force.
Yeon Mujin copied Mok Gyeong-hae’s sword path from beginning to end.
And again. And again. Repeating from start to finish many times to internalize the flow.
In the process he discarded moves that didn’t suit him and mixed in techniques he knew.
Once, twice, three times…
After countless repetitions, the Purple Cloud Divine Sword’s flow became fully ingrained in his body.
Transformed into Yeon Mujin’s style, it could no longer truly be called the Purple Cloud Divine Sword.
Each time Yeon Mujin swung his sword, a thick mist began to seep out like the tail of a star.
He filled the sword with internal qi just as he had when fighting Mok Gyeong-hae.
The Three Calamities Sword Technique—took on Purple Cloud Divine movements, completing Yeon Mujin’s original sword art.
“Mok Gyeong-hae’s was the Purple Cloud Divine Sword, so should mine be called White Haze Sword? Or Mist Haze Sword?”
Unconsciously thinking that, Yeon Mujin snorted and stopped his sword.
“Look at you. Trying to fill the sword with something again, aren’t you?”
Martial arts have the power to intoxicate one with themselves.
You mustn’t be taken in. How small a life is one bound to a single sword?
Yeon Mujin looked down at the sword in his hand and said.
“I won’t be fooled. You are just a tool. Don’t arrogantly try to enchant me.”
That was why he carried a cheap sword anyone could get.
The more expensive and fine something is, the more your life will be swayed by it.
Yeon Mujin had seen many such lives within the Bukgung Family.
“Argh!”
The sword Yeon Mujin tossed clanged and rolled across the floor.
Then a small cry burst from behind him.
“You scared me! What are you doing all of a sudden?”
“What? Since when have you been here?”
“Uh… since captain Yeon started swinging his sword?”
Before he knew it, Bukgung Yoon was sitting with her knees together, watching Yeon Mujin.
“You were swinging it continuously.”
“Not for long.”
“Manor Lord. Do you know it’s rude to spy on a warrior’s training?”
“Ah, have I been rude?”
“Actually, it doesn’t matter. You were just swinging however you could.”
“I didn’t think so, though.”
Bukgung Yoon spoke again.
“When Captain Yeon wields the sword, he seems like a different person. I’ve never really seen him display martial arts seriously.”
Was that so?
Now that he thought about it, maybe it was true.
“The last time I saw it properly was when you fought Jeong Yeo-gwang. I’ve seen you spar with the External Protection Troops a lot, but that’s not proper fighting, is it?”
“Even if members of the External Protection Troops band together and all assail me, they can’t draw out even a tenth of my strength.”
Bukgung Yoon nodded.
She had become someone who could shrug off Yeon Mujin’s bravado without much reaction.
“I caught a glimpse and it was cool. Could you show me once more?”
Yeon Mujin looked at the thrown sword, then at Bukgung Yoon, and said.
“No.”
“…”
It was a firm answer.
“There’s nothing magnificent or grand about martial arts. There’s nothing to boast about. It’s just a technique for killing people.”
Bukgung Yoon’s cheeks puffed out in annoyance.
“Won’t you even look at my guarding skills?”
“I judge a guard’s skill by the master’s safety. There’s no need to watch someone do a reckless sword dance.”
“Honestly, you’re such a secretive man.”
Pouting, Bukgung Yoon glanced at Yeon Mujin and asked again.
“You really won’t show me?”
“Yes.”
“What if I order you to?”
“Then I’d do it begrudgingly. Want me to show you like that?”
“No thanks. I don’t want to see it like that.”
Bukgung Yoon sat and spun her body around.
Looking at her like this, Bukgung Yoon had changed a lot from before.
She used to rarely show emotion.
She always acted mature beyond her years, conscious of the eyes around her.
Now she could express her feelings without worrying about prying eyes.
This was exactly the image Yeon Mujin had wanted.
If the Family Lord of a clan that rules the world cannot even tend to his own heart, what greater tragedy is there?
“What happened with your visit to the Fourth Young Master? What did he say?”
Yeon Mujin tactfully changed the subject.
“My fourth brother didn’t care at all about their deaths. For him, only the result mattered.”
Bukgung Yoon answered while still averting her gaze.
Her cheeks puffed out with each word in a way that was oddly endearing.
“I thought as much.”
“It seems the fourth brother only has money on his mind. He’s the sort who won’t be satisfied unless he earns the most money in the world.”
“Seems that way.”
“I asked him like this: ‘If you could just earn the most money, would you not care about becoming the Family Lord of the Bukgung Family?’”
“Oh?”
Yeon Mujin’s brow twitched.
He had entertained that thought before as well.
“Can you guess what the fourth brother answered?”
An excited Bukgung Yoon turned around.
“What was it?”
Ten Thousand Gold Manor Lord Bukgung Yun-ram answered like this.
—It’s not simply important to earn a lot of money. You must be the one who earns the most money in the world. If I fail to become the Family Lord of the Bukgung Family, no matter how much wealth I accumulate, people will say: ‘The master of the world’s gold is the Bukgung Family!’
—…Then what meaning would there be in amassing wealth? To surpass the wealth the Bukgung Family has amassed would take at least decades. It would take decades more before people noticed that the world’s master of gold had changed. In that case, it is better to become the head of the Bukgung Family. That’s what I mean when I say I want to be this family’s Family Lord.
Bukgung Yoon relayed his words to Yeon Mujin without getting a single word wrong.
Yeon Mujin thought.
“Indeed, an answer worthy of the Ten Thousand Gold Manor.”
“Why did you ask that?”
This was what Yeon Mujin was curious about.
“Were you perhaps thinking of maneuvering your brothers so they’d give up the Family Lord position?”
Bukgung Yoon hesitated, then nodded slightly.
“Yes. I thought it might be a breakthrough for my third sibling.”
“That will be difficult. Though the sizes of their desires differ, all the young masters wish to become the Family Lord.”
Bukgung Yoon stared at Yeon Mujin intently.
“Always acting like you know everything. You’ve never had a proper word with the brothers, yet you act so confident.”
“Because I’m right.”
“That’s exactly the problem. It’s always like captain Yeon’s words turn out correct. Once I’d like to be right and flatten his nose.”
“What good would flattening my nose do? You’d have to knock out the brothers outside.”
“I will.”
Bukgung Yoon dusted off her skirt and stood up.
“I came here to talk about that very thing.”
“What is it?”
“There are three manors currently tied to our Flying Swallow Manor. We are in opposition with the Drunken Flower Manor, under the protection of Heavenly Martial Manor, and in cooperation with Ten Thousand Gold Manor.”
“That’s right.”
“Flying Swallow Manor is slowly being absorbed into the structure of the other manors. So, which places have not yet formed ties with us?”
That’s easy.
“The Third Young Master’s Ghost Valley Manor and the Second Young Master’s Imperial Decree Manor remain.”
Bukgung Yoon nodded.
“Now, the next matter. The Ghost Valley Manor Lord, Bukgung Dam-deok, has requested a visit to the Flying Swallow Manor.”
“…Huh?”
Wait a moment.
…No, that guy?
During seven regressions, Yeon Mujin had met all the direct members of the Bukgung Family.
From Second Young Master Bukgung Kang-geon to the youngest daughter Bukgung Yoon.
Some were dogmatic, some calculating, and some outright ruffians.
Among the motley, varied, ever-changing brothers, there was one whom Yeon Mujin could say with certainty about.
It was that what resided in Third Young Master Bukgung Dam-deok’s head could not be understood by ordinary common sense.
Bukgung Dam-deok was a madman. Not a reckless madman—just genuinely insane.
“Yu, yu, yu, Yeon a, a, a, hello…”
“Ugh, so frustrating.”
A suffocating frustration as if even the spoon of noodles eaten in a past life would climb up his throat.
Yes. This is it. This is Dam-deok’s true flavor.
The frightening thing about Bukgung Dam-deok wasn’t that he came to the Flying Swallow Manor, but that no one could predict why he came.
If Yeon Mujin was a feigned madman, a disguised lunatic, or a sane man pretending to be mad, that kid was truly mad.
It seemed to him that he must have eaten the wrong thing as a child, or missed eating what he should have.
Yeon Mujin tensed.
That madman might suddenly come and say: ‘Yu, Yu, Yeon. So, so, sorry but for a new experiment I think I need your ar, ar, arm. Just give me one arm.’
Sounds exaggerated?
Would you believe it if it were a true story he had actually experienced?
Yeon Mujin tightened his grip on the hilt, staying on full alert.
He intended to draw his sword the instant any madness came from Bukgung Dam-deok’s mouth. That guy had no backup.
“Yes, Brother Dam-deok. What brings you to the Flying Swallow Manor?”
And Bukgung Dam-deok spoke.
“O-oh, our family’s carp isn’t e-eating, and I, I need yo-your he-help…”
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