My Way (1)

Back in his quarters, Jin-hyeon sat down before the table.

‘Now there are truly only a few left.’

He had already passed along many martial arts of the Tianshan Sword Sect.

Starting with the Seven Purities Sword, Ice-Wheel Heart Method, the Half-Moon Step, the first and latter halves of the Tianshan Light-and-Shadow Divine Art, and even the annotated version of the supreme footwork, the Moon-Blade Divine Step.

Of course, that was not all. Jin-hyeon had also handed over arts not belonging to Tianshan.

Gratitude was part of it, but there was something about the Seol Clan he could not turn away from. And Seol Hong-baek, being the meddlesome sort, made him all the more mindful.

‘Still, they saved my life. Their clan deserves to soar high.’

The additional arts he had given were the Five Kings Heart Method and the Seven Steps Ghost-Suppressing Art of the Wisdom King Sect, annihilated a century ago.

The Wisdom King Sect had been one of the strongest heretical factions of its time, yet its martial arts were pure Buddhist orthodoxy. Its founder had been a defrocked monk, so it was likely the martial arts had drifted in from beyond the borders.

The Five Kings Heart Method was, as the name implied, an internal cultivation art. The Seven Steps Ghost-Suppressing Art was an extraordinary footwork. When mastered, it was hardly inferior to the Moon-Blade Divine Step.

They were arts well-suited for the Seol Clan’s swordsmen.

‘With those two, the debt will be repaid.’

Indeed, the faces of the swordsmen in training were grave, yet full of passion.

Their expressions alone showed how deeply they trusted Seol Hong-baek. In other words, the riffraff had all been weeded out—only the loyal remained.

By giving them such gifts, Seol Hong-baek’s prestige would also be upheld.

‘There are only two left.’

Only two martial arts of Tianshan were left to pass on.

‘I’ll need time.’

One of them was the Tianshan’s Ten-Thousand-Year Only-White Art, which formed the internal branch of the Body-Refining Art.

The reason more time was needed to compile the manual for it was because the Eight Waste Alliance Leader had once read the Tianshan’s Ten-Thousand-Year Only-White Art and, combining it with the half-formed formulas of the Body-Refining Art, created an entirely new version on the spot.

Thus, it was not merely a matter of extracting the internal cultivation art—it had to be separated while restoring its original form.

The Alliance Leader’s memories were not like books on a shelf, perfectly preserved. He could not remember everything. The only reason he could record the manuals was because he had lived those moments dozens of times over.

Had he been the Eight Waste Alliance Leader himself, he could have done it instantly. But as Jin-hyeon, it required time.

“Huuh.”

For now, he needed time to sort his thoughts.

Jin-hyeon sprawled flat onto his bed.

‘The Seol family… the Seol Clan…’

The affair with the Mighty Tiger Merchant Guild was troublesome, but concluded. How to handle them was Seol Clan’s problem, not his.

What tangled his thoughts was the stark contrast between Seol Hong-baek and Lee Ho-gon.

‘Lee Ho-gon, that bastard is rotten through.’

Though he had not shown it, Jin-hyeon had been furious.

Not at Lee Ho-gon’s past, nor his arrogance—but because he had failed to act as a true father.

His son had been beaten and he was enraged. That was natural parental anger.

Yet to him, the merchant guild’s business mattered more than his child.

Had he flown into rage and brought the merchant guild’s top masters, that would have been understandable. Instead, he belittled the Seol Clan and treated the matter as mere “business.”

And what of Seol Hong-baek?

‘He drew the line between public and private matters, yet showed that as a father and as the head of a clan, he was one and the same.’

It was similar, yet completely different. Before being a righteous man, he was one who wisely led his own people in his own way.

Even had he bowed his head first to quell matters, he would never have shown humiliation. Yet he would still have apologized wholeheartedly, because that was his responsibility.

He had no thought of becoming like Seol Hong-baek, but the responsibility shown impressed him.

‘And what of me?’

What Jin-hyeon desired, returning from death, was to stand tall alone.

To stand in this world by his own strength, without parents or siblings to shelter him, as in childhood.

He had no intent to live as Gyeong Se-hwi had before death, as a magnanimous man. He could not. He was completely changed now.

‘I am…’

His past self, the Eight Waste Alliance Leader of a hundred years ago.

And the present Seol Hong-baek, Lee Ho-gon, and himself as Jin-hyeon rose one by one in his mind, then merged as one.

“……”

After a moment’s reflection, Jin-hyeon smirked and rose.

“How laughable.”

He had been worrying far too much.

People did not know it, but the Eight Waste Alliance Leader too had been full of worries. How to smash that sect, how to burn this clan, what could be gained from this skirmish, whether that battle should be abandoned…

So had he lived until founding the Eight Waste Alliance.

As Gyeong Se-hwi, his worries were fewer, yet for a man, a fleeting moment can feel like eternity.

When he was dying on the blade of Gyeong Do-cheon, he had felt every agony—worry, terror, betrayal, grief.

Such worries were over now.

“I am only now beginning my life.”

In life, there is no need to always set a single purpose.

As one lives, the future reveals itself. A baby who once could not speak learns to talk and walk—not because he set a goal in life.

It is only the will to do. If one devotes fully to the present moment, life already has value.

‘The time has come.’

Having died and returned, only now did his true life begin. He was no different from a newborn babe.

Yet his will was firm, and so he set at least a modest aim—sketching a colorless future like idle doodles.

But now was not the time to brood. It was the time to advance.

Then what should he do next?

Jin-hyeon drew the sword leaning at his side. It bore the twisted intent of some nameless craftsman.

Tak!

He sheathed it again, tossed it aside, and began to loosen his body slowly.

‘First time in this body, is it?’

Martial arts, too, had stages.

Just as he had begun not with the Heavenly Wolf True Art, but with the Body-Refining Art and Soul-Refining Art, now he had no need of a sword.

No—rather, to properly wield a sword, he had to temper his body first.

After stretching for over a quarter-hour, Jin-hyeon took the horse stance.

‘I’ll rebuild it all, slowly, piece by piece.’

Jin-hyeon closed his eyes.

A quarter-hour later.

His legs began to tremble.

To hold a fixed stance so long was hard for anyone.

Considering he had lain bedridden for days since his return, and had done no external training, lasting even this long was impressive.

Naturally, this was pure bodily training, without using internal energy. Sweat beaded across Jin-hyeon’s frame.

Another quarter-hour passed.

After half an hour, the pain remained, but he had grown used to it. Unwittingly, though, his hips had begun to sink lower.

Jin-hyeon did not employ the Body-Refining Art or Soul-Refining Art at all, focusing only on form.

Thus half an hourglass passed.

Only after enduring that long did Jin-hyeon collapse on the spot.

His legs were numb, his whole body drenched in sweat.

Normally, training untempered parts so harshly at once would cripple the body.

But not for Jin-hyeon.

The Body-Refining Art, as its name implied, was a martial art that maximized the body’s potential. From its creation, it had aimed for a body perfected to the individual.

Chiiiik.

White steam rose from Jin-hyeon’s body.

The Ten-Thousand-Year Only-White Art, unlike the Tianshan Light-and-Shadow Divine Art, was exceedingly cold in nature. Depending on its cultivator, it could manifest as a Yin Art, or if taken to extremes, become an Ice Art.

Because the internal energy itself was cold, with a single circulation it cooled overheated muscles. And as a proper orthodox art, its recovery was swift, while its transformative nature rapidly conditioned the body.

Calming his body with Body-Refining Qi, Jin-hyeon once again entered the horse stance.

Collapse, recover, and begin training anew.

No matter how excellent the Body-Refining Art was in restoring and developing the body, without effort it bore no fruit.

To grow faster than others, the same areas had to be continuously trained. Jin-hyeon repeated extreme pain and recovery without end.

At dawn he rose to stretch and record manuals, after breakfast he tempered his body until sundown, then at dusk he ate again and trained the Soul-Refining Art for one hour before sleep.

He passed each day as if possessed, yet wholly fulfilled.

And so, in the blink of an eye, ten days passed.

“Master, your meal is ready.”

“Hff! Hff! Leave it there.”

“Yes, sir…”

Do-min’s face was plainly aghast as he answered.

Out in the courtyard, Jin-hyeon was standing on his hands. And that was not all.

Balancing not on his palms but his fingers, he lowered himself until his crown brushed the ground, then pushed back up, repeating over and over.

‘How long has he been at this?’

At first, when he trained bare-chested, sheI hadn’t known where to look—not that there had been much to see on his scrawny frame.

But now it was different. Six meals a day had all turned into muscle, and in just ten days his body showed real definition.

Unfortunately, though there was finally something to look at, it couldn’t be watched—Jin-hyeon’s training was too brutal, too overwhelming.

‘Heavens… if the Patriarch had ever trained us like that, I’d have run away long ago.’

Seol Hong-baek had taught the Seol Clan’s higher martial arts to only a few stalwart, reliable servants. Do-min had been among them.

Naturally, she had undergone most kinds of training—tempering her body before cultivating qi, and refining it after.

But never had she trained ceaselessly like Jin-hyeon. Save for meals and a brief moment of circulation, he pushed his body so relentlessly it hurt to even watch.

The actions themselves were not difficult—but the sheer persistence was staggering.

Worried, Do-min spoke up.

“Master, you’ll ruin your body like this.”

“Hff! Hff!”

“Master?”

“Grrnh!”

At last, Jin-hyeon curled his body, setting his feet back on the ground.

He tried to rise, but his body would not obey. He flopped flat instead, and as Do-min hurried over in alarm—

Chiiiiik!

A chill aura burst suddenly from Jin-hyeon’s body.

Do-min’s eyes wavered.

‘A Yin Art?’

“Hoo…”

His breathing calmed with frightening swiftness.

Even after lying for half a quarter-hour, he suddenly sprang upright.

“What’s the side dish?”

“Chicken breast, two bowls of rice, and raw vegetables, Master.”

“Thanks.”

“But Master, aren’t you sick of chicken? Three of your six meals are all chicken.”

“If I get sick of that, it means I haven’t trained properly.”

Do-min’s face twisted in disgust.

Jin-hyeon devoured the food like a ravenous dog. He should have chewed slowly, but he was too exhausted to control himself.

“Shall I brew you some tea?”

“No need.”

Jin-hyeon belched loudly. It was so loud it sounded like a crow’s caw.

“Min.”

Do-min, who had been waving her hands absentmindedly in front of her nose, instantly straightened up.

“Yes, Master.”

“There’s been no problems with the Seol Clan, has there?”

“I’ve heard no such news.”

“Good.”

Jin-hyeon patted his swollen belly as he spoke.

“Perhaps they’ll invite me to a meal.”

“Eh?”

Just then.

“We come from the Seol Clan. Is Teacher Jin within?”

Do-min looked to the gate in surprise.

Jin-hyeon chuckled and gestured, as if to say there was no need for such surprise.

“Show them in.”

“Ah, yes!”

Do-min was bewildered.

‘Is this a coincidence?’

Moments later, a Seol Clan warrior bowed crisply to Jin-hyeon.

“I greet Teacher Jin.”

“Well met.”

“I bring a letter from the Patriarch.”

“Give it here.”

Unfolding and reading it, Jin-hyeon spoke to Do-min.

“I’ll be off to the Seol Clan.”

“Ah, I’ll prepare at once.”

“No need. I’ll go alone. I’ve memorized the way.”

“Yes! Then I’ll rest easy for once!”

“That’s the loudest reply I’ve heard from you in ten days.”

“Heh-heh.”

“Don’t laugh—you’ll grow on me.”

“Heh-heh-heh.”

The sun was setting.

Walking the street neatly dressed, Jin-hyeon suddenly halted.

“……”

Looking about at the passersby, he slipped into a side alley.

The alley was empty.

Jin-hyeon’s lips parted.

“Who are you?”

Srrrk.

Five men vaulted the wall.

Their movements were agile—no rustle of cloth against stone.

“Jin-hyeon?”

“That’s me.”

“You have somewhere to go with us.”

Jin-hyeon smiled.

In a hundred years, buildings, clothes, food—everything had changed.

But people had not.