Chapter 23

I flung both hands up and shouted.

“I’m an internal-energy millionaire now!”

With Moyong Bi’s help I had absorbed the elixir completely. Cool, clean energy filled my dantian and strength brimmed over through my whole body. I felt like I could pulverize a boulder. Power I couldn’t contain came boiling up.

I am invincible under heaven!

I turned around, and my archnemesis was waiting. There was something suspicious about the way he snatched his hand off my back in a hurry, as though he had been on the point of doing something with it.

“Moyong Bi, you scoundrel!”

I used the Butterfly Step to go for his blind spot. In that instant Moyong Bi’s shape blurred,

— Whump!

“Urgh.”

And, intercepted in midair, I went rolling over and over across the ground.

“Good grief. Was that the Butterfly Step just now?”
“Looked like it.”
“I kept telling myself surely not. He’s gone and mastered the Butterfly Step as well. When did he pick it up like this?”

Moyong Bi shook his head in amazement.

Big Bro Un-cheon, who had turned up at some point, looked at me lying there under a coat of dirt and clicked his tongue.

“Let your guard down for a moment and the wild streak comes leaping out. No — is this the true nature? He’s a beast, plain and simple.”
“Don’t act surprised now. This one’s at his strongest when the wild half and the reasoning half are fifty-fifty.”

Still one with the ground, I smacked my lips. The taste of my first elixir was… the tang of lemon¹. The aftertaste still lingered around my mouth, as though I had a lemon candy tucked in my cheek.

Cook with an elixir and it might turn out pretty good?

Moyong Bi prodded me with his foot.

“Get up. You’ve had your elixir and enjoyed it, so let’s put it to proper use.”

I sprang up, bouncing to my feet. An internal-energy millionaire even gets up differently, I’ll have you know.

“Draw your sword.”

— Shhing.

I drew the Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber from my waist. The blade slid smoothly out of the scabbard, snow-white. I licked the edge, white as a steamed rice cake.

“Tasty?”
“Nope.”
“What’s it taste of, then.”
“Metal.”

Big Bro Un-cheon scratched his head.

“Strange. Did they brew the elixir into medicinal wine?”
“They may well have. The family head is fond of his drink, and collecting good medicinal wine is a hobby of his.”

Moyong Bi looked at the Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber and nodded.

“A fine sword. Have you given it a name?”
“Of course.”
“Well?”
“The Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber.”
“A fearsome name. The pigs of the world will tremble.”

A nod.

“Because that is what the Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber is.”
“Run through the Moyong Sword Art. From start to finish.”

I did as Moyong Bi said, took the sword for a brush and unspooled the Moyong Sword Art in winding coils.

“Sing, Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber!”

Moyong Bi, who had been watching closely with his arms folded, let out a cry of admiration.

“Remarkable.”
“How so?”
“You’re running the Moyong Sword Art entirely as you please. The order is completely different.”
“Hm.”
“And yet it isn’t wrong. Every form links to the next as smoothly as a single movement. So it could be unspooled that way as well.”

Well, of course. I learned it getting the daylights beaten out of me by you, so it was bound to come out all over the place. I’ve never once learned it in order, so how am I supposed to run it in order from the start?

Not this, then?

But I am a model student who listens to what his teacher says, so I broke off mid-swing of the Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber and went back to the beginning. The order is different, is it. Then I had better run it properly for him.

From the beginning, in order.

I unspooled the Moyong Sword Art again, a different way, and Moyong Bi let out an empty breath.

“Different again. The order is a complete jumble. And still there isn’t one unnatural place in it. This mad little bastard.”

Hey, why the abuse.

Big Bro Un-cheon, watching from the side, chimed in.

“Anyone else would still be scrambling to learn the routes of the forms and copy them exactly. This one is already past application and variation and has found the freedom of the forms. They say experience of crossing the line between life and death is precious, but is it as precious as all that?”
“He’s made the forms completely his own. Give him a while and he’ll go past reinterpretation to re-creation. The monster. Born with the makings of a grandmaster.”

Is that praise or abuse. Or abuse in the guise of praise. They were dancing a sword-dance along that vague borderline, and it did not make me feel especially good.

— Snap.

I leveled the Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber at Moyong Bi.

“Teacher Yong-bi.”
“What is it?”
“The Moyong Sword Art. This should be enough of it, shouldn’t it?”
“It certainly is. The Moyong Sword Art is the foundational sword art that forms the skeleton of every sword art in the Moyong Family. Pile another sword art on top of it and it won’t so much as wobble.”
“Then teach me, please. Another sword art.”

— Shhing.

Moyong Bi drew his sword slowly.

“The Sword of Flashing Light and Parting Clouds, and the Sword of Heaven and Earth, Sun and Moon.”

He flowed into the opening stance and said.

“Steal it with your eyes.”
“Gladly.”

Sunlight flashed off the flats of the blades, and the two swordsmen threw themselves at each other.

“Ugh.”

A dull throb.

My body was screaming.

Courtesy of Moyong Bi beating me mercilessly on the grounds that the sword’s paths are learned with the body. As though dulling the blade were the end of it. A person can die from a beating with a club too, you awful man.

Sinking, sinking low.

Before I knew it the sun was going down in the western sky.

“Get up.”
“Nngh.”

I took Moyong Bi’s hand and pulled myself up.

“Well? Getting the feel of it?”
“A little.”

I said so, and gave the sword a rough swing or two.

The Sword of Flashing Light and Parting Clouds was a sword art as fast and keen as a flash of light splitting the clouds, a swift-blade art that, true to its name, boasted tremendous speed. In the instant of a flash the point of his sword was already tapping my vitals.

The Sword of Heaven and Earth, Sun and Moon, by contrast, was a sword that prized balance. It channels the principle of heaven and earth, of sun and moon, into the blade, or so they say. Its harmony of attack and defense was near perfect, which made it a sword well suited to the Moyong Family’s defense-minded martial arts. In practice more of them learn this one, apparently.

“Whoa… the mad bastard.”
“Has he really not even had a day at that?”
“I see it and I still don’t believe it.”

I turned my head at the voices, and there were the kids my own age seated in a neat row along the wall like sparrows on a clothesline, graciously taking in the show.

Hang on, when did that lot get here.

Besides my regulars, Danho and Moyong Rin, there were others too, who by the look of it had come trailing along after the pair of them.

Moyong Bi saw them, broke into a grin, and gave my shoulder a light knock.

“Your friends have come. Popular, aren’t you?”
“Just the natural course of things.”

That last mission had a lot to do with it. The kids who had given me nothing but the cold shoulder had started, little by little, to come closer after that day. Last time one of them actually said hello first, believe it or not.

Moyong Bi snorted a laugh and said.

“So. Now that you’ve swung it about to your heart’s content, do you like the sword?”
“The Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber?”
“Yes, that. The nightmare of pigs.”
“Hard to say. A sword’s just a sword.”
“Is that so? Then it seems that isn’t your sword.”
“Meaning what, sir? The family head himself acknowledged this Pork-Slicing Demon-Cleaving Saber as my property.”

I clutched it to my chest, scabbard and all, so it couldn’t be taken off me, and Moyong Bi gave a hearty laugh.

“That is not what I meant. I meant it isn’t your life partner.”
“Life partner?”

I had heard that swordsmen commonly liken a sword to a woman.

“I mean it isn’t the sword you’ll spend your life with. However renowned a famed blade may be, what use is it if it doesn’t fit the hand? Handle enough swords and there’ll be one that fits you exactly. That is what a life partner means.”
“Hm.”
“Still. It isn’t a bad sword, so use it well. It’ll do for a sweetheart, at least.”
“So how do you find this life partner, then?”
“Handle enough of them and the day will come, won’t it? Sometimes a weapon finds its owner.”

Moyong Bi left me with that riddle and went off.

The show was over. The kids who had been watching, perched in a row like sparrows on a clothesline, were starting to look as though they might drift off.

“Hey!”

I hurriedly called the sparrows together. A precious chance like this to get friendly was not one I could let slip.

“Since you’re here, why not stay for dinner?”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah. My martial arts may be shallow, but I can cook a bit.”

The sparrows looked around at each other and chirped.

“His martial arts are shallow?”
“Just how good at cooking is he?”
“How arrogant. O Hidden Dragon.”

I ushered the curious sparrows inside.

“Come in, first of all. You’re hungry, right? Have some griddle cakes while I cook.”
“Griddle cakes?”
“Yeah. I made a batch for snacks.”

I went into the kitchen to fetch the griddle cakes,

“Huh? Where have they gone?”

And what was this? Not one of the whole pile of griddle cakes I had made was left.

“Boss, did you eat them?”

The boss, who had been running about handing out tea to the guests and asking them to look after our Gwang-seon, answered in an aggrieved voice.

“Why, you little wretch. Do I look like a man who sneaks food?”
“Yes.”
“…So this is the thanks I get for raising a black-haired beast.”

If the boss didn’t eat them either….

My gaze slid over to greedy Moyong Rin.

“Yong-rin.”

A guilty conscience needs no accuser. Moyong Rin leapt up.

“It wasn’t me!”
“You could have just said if you wanted some. I’d have given them to you.”
“I said it wasn’t me!”
“Who was it, then?”
“How should I know. A thief got in, I suppose.”

A thief, in the Moyong Family? And a griddle-cake thief with no appetite for valuables, at that? It was not remotely convincing.

I let out a sigh and said.

“Yong-rin. Next time, say so if you want some. Don’t go stealing them.”
“I’m telling you it really wasn’t me!”

Moyong Rin stamped her feet, her face crumpling.

Won’t do you any good, kid.

The sparrows whispered among themselves and edged away from Moyong Rin.

“As punishment, you’re helping me.”
“It really wasn’t me….”

Moyong Rin followed me into the kitchen with her lip stuck out, and Danho came along behind her as a matter of course.

“Gwang-seon. Have you seen General Hwa Mu-hong? I went to thank him and he wasn’t there.”
“Haven’t seen him.”
“I see. I’m a little worried he might have left without a word.”

A question occurred to Moyong Rin.

“Hey, though. The General. Why was he so good to us?”
“Good question.”

Following us all the way up Phoenix Mountain, granted,

but he cut down the One-Eyed Dragon and handed the head over to us. He could have offered it up to the imperial house.

And that was not all. The whole way back he carried Danho, whose injured leg made walking hard, on his own back. It was hard to believe such conduct from one of the Ten Generals, men whose authority and prestige pierce the heavens.

From what I had heard, his martial power alone was enough to call him a one-man army, ranked alongside the sect leaders of the Nine Great Sects and the family heads of the Five Great Families. That alone said it all.

Nor did he stop there. He yielded even the monster he had caught to us, with the odd excuse that he had no use for it. Taking a monster alive is an enormous merit, and there is no way he didn’t know that.

It was rather too much to be simply a kindness done for the orthodox sects’ rising generation.

“Is he just like that, normally?”
“Hardly. Do you know General Hwa Mu-hong’s byname?”
“What is it?”
“The Iron-Blood General.”

A general of steel and blood. A fearsome byname indeed.

“So why would a man like that….”
“Ah!”
“What? Did you think of something?”
“Don’t tell me he fell for my cooking?”

I felt a chill in the looks that came my way.

“As if.”
“What. He looked like he was enjoying it.”
“In what way? The way I saw it, he’d have eaten tree roots exactly the same.”

Fair enough. Even to me he had looked like the sort who doesn’t live to eat but eats to live. He chomped away at whatever you gave him like an ox, and as Moyong Rin said, he would not have complained about the side dishes if you had served him tree roots.

While we talked the cooking gradually came together, and a rich, savory smell rose up.

“Danho. Did he not say anything to you separately?”
“Hard to say. He’s a man of very few words. Ah, he did say this.”
“Say what?”
“That if I had nowhere to go, I should come to the Imperial Army.”

Moyong Rin’s eyes went wide.

“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“So it was all groundbait for some high-level talent scouting?”
“What are you on about. Anyway, that’s impressive, isn’t it? If the General asked you himself.”
“Hard to say. I think he may have said it in passing. What he saw in me to say it, I don’t know.”

By the time we had finished chattering the cooking was done. I was dishing it into bowls to carry out when I noticed an empty place.

Moyong Rin must have thought the same thing, because she said.

“Where has Uncle Un-cheon gone? He always comes to eat.”
“Good question. Has something come up?”

Outside the provincial capital.

General Hwa Mu-hong gazed steadily in the direction of the Moyong Family. A lesser dragon lay coiled there.² Only, when the day came that it turned dragon and rose into the sky, whether it would be a demon dragon or a divine dragon was more than anyone could know.

“…”

The General watched, his expression giving nothing away. Presently he turned his head away and strode off.

“Will you be reporting it?”

At some point a swordsman had fallen into step beside him.

“No reason to. As I said, this is a personal hobby.”
“Mm. A personal hobby, is it.”

The Cold Moon Wanderer scratched his head.

“Only, since it’s literally a personal hobby, I might just mention it to a personal acquaintance.”

Baek Un-cheon’s brow drew tight. His hand moved toward his hilt.

“And this personal acquaintance would be?”
“Not a superior of mine, but there is one person I serve as though they were.”

Baek Un-cheon thought for a moment and nodded.

“…If it’s them.”

The hand that had been going for the hilt groped awkwardly at the air instead.

The General, watching him quietly, said.

“Cold Moon Wanderer. Will you really not come back.”
“Can’t go back to a place I never stayed.”

Baek Un-cheon, who had been keeping step alongside the General, turned around.

“I’m fated to drift like the wind. The army doesn’t suit me.”
“Is that so.”

And so the two warriors parted. One swordsman after the wind. The other after orders.

By the time the provincial capital was out of sight,

General Hwa Mu-hong took out the griddle cakes he had hidden away.

“Mm.”

He took a big bite of a griddle cake and sank into thought for a moment,

then drew a small booklet from inside his robes and set about making his corrections, scribbling in small strokes.

Moyong Gwang-seon

• Waiter at the Peace Inn, Fallen Star Village

Very

• ∨ Good at cooking
• Martial talent outstanding enough to be called a once-in-a-century genius
• Is it really that much? Honestly, no idea. Needs verification
• Verification complete