"Hmm…"
At Cheon Woo-ha's words, Cho Mudo stroked his chin and fell into thought.
If his opponent were a master whose name carried weight across the martial world, that alone might be proof enough of his qualification as a martial instructor. But in the absence of such fame, there were only so many ways to demonstrate his worth.
'The best way is, of course, a spar…'
The boy had devoted himself only to his studies until now. If he were to directly clash in person and experience the mysteries of martial arts, surely his thoughts would change.
Besides, such a match would also establish hierarchy between master and disciple—two birds with one stone.
'The real problem is… how much should I hold back against this child?'
Cho Mudo pondered briefly but soon shook his head.
If the opponent were a martial artist of similar age and standing, that might call for careful calculation. But against a boy barely ten years old—what calculations were necessary?
"Very well. Let us do it this way."
Having reached a decision, Cho Mudo smiled faintly at the corner of his lips and spoke.
"For one quarter of an hour, young master, you may attack me freely. I will not use inner strength, only pure sword technique to receive your blows."
"A whole quarter of an hour?"
"If, during that time, even the edge of your strike grazes my robes, I shall acknowledge your talent and step down. But if you fail, you will serve me respectfully as your teacher. What do you say?"
Cheon Woo-ha narrowed his eyes at the proposal.
He hadn't expected such concessions. He only wanted a simple exchange to gauge Cho Mudo's skill—that would have been enough.
Suppressing a laugh, Woo-ha nodded.
"Well… fine then."
"Good. But before the match, I shall teach you how to properly grip a wooden sword and perform the basic forms."
"There's no need to go that far—"
"No. This is a necessary procedure before we can spar properly."
"…"
"You have never even held a wooden sword correctly before, have you?"
Though it was a mere wager against a child, Cho Mudo was surprisingly strict.
Woo-ha's eyes briefly flickered with a trace of interest.
'Unexpected.'
For someone barely of second-rate skill, this man carried himself more like a proper martial artist.
That was not something Woo-ha had often seen among the heretical martial artists of his past life.
It softened his impression of the man, if only slightly.
"…Very well then."
"Now, focus for a moment."
When Woo-ha nodded obediently, Cho Mudo began to explain the grip of the wooden sword in earnest.
"When you hold the sword, grasp the hilt with four fingers excluding the thumb, and use the thumb to press against the top of the handle. Of course, depending on the shape of the sword or situation, the grip may change, but for cutting motions, consider this the foundation."
After explaining the grip, Cho Mudo demonstrated the basic motions of slashing and thrusting.
Nearly half an hour passed before his instruction ended, and at last the two of them stood apart at the center of the training ground.
"Now… come at me."
Holding the wooden sword tilted downward in one hand, Cho Mudo deliberately leaned his upper body forward in a taunting stance.
Woo-ha's eyes grew calm as he watched.
'Transparent.'
He intends to guide my strike in a desired direction, then dodge with flexible body movements. Not a bad idea, but with both feet rooted like that, a single attack at his lower body would break his stance immediately.
'I'd tell him as much… but…'
For someone who just picked up a sword today, offering advice was pointless.
Casting aside idle thoughts, Woo-ha stepped forward and swung his wooden sword at Cho Mudo's lower body.
Whoosh.
Clack!
Perhaps not expecting an attack aimed low from the start, Cho Mudo hastily shifted his grip to block Woo-ha's strike.
But the low attack was only a feint meant to disturb his balance.
The moment their swords clashed, Woo-ha twisted his blade and thrust straight at Cho Mudo's face.
"Wha—?!"
Splat!
Cho Mudo instinctively leaned far back to dodge the sudden thrust, but in doing so, his stance collapsed completely.
And then—
Swish.
Woo-ha reversed his wooden sword, the tip turning down to strike directly at Cho Mudo's chest.
Thud.
Plop.
"…Huh?"
"That's the end, isn't it?"
Cho Mudo collapsed to the ground, having taken the strike to his chest.
Dumbfounded, he looked back and forth between Woo-ha and his own chest before nodding blankly.
"Uh… well, yes, but…"
"Then it's settled."
Ssshh.
"Well then, I'll be going."
Lowering his wooden sword, Woo-ha turned and began walking away.
Step, step.
'…Wait. Did I just lose?'
In only three exchanges?
Unable to accept the reality, Cho Mudo sat in confusion.
Just then, Woo-ha paused mid-step, glanced back at him, and asked:
"There's something I want to ask."
"Eh? Y-yes?"
"During your demonstration earlier, the sword seemed rather heavy. But now, why does it feel so light?"
"Ah… that is…"
"Is it because basics and actual combat are different? Something like that?"
"…"
"So martial arts… perhaps the basics aren't as important as I thought."
With those words, Woo-ha turned again and left.
Even long after his figure had completely vanished, Cho Mudo remained sitting dazed on the training ground.
"Did he at least understand what I meant?"
From a distance too far for the naked eye to clearly discern, Woo-ha watched Cho Mudo sitting blankly.
At first, he hadn't cared. But seeing a flash of martial spirit in the man's demeanor, he had been reminded of someone and let slip a word of advice.
'Gwak Muryeong, the Leader of the Blood-Tracking Division.'
He had started as a lowly member, yet through endless effort, rose to the very top.
Despite lacking talent compared to others, through perseverance alone, he had broken the wall of talent.
At the time, even Sa U-myeong had been shocked. He had never believed effort could surpass innate talent.
Afterward, he came to wonder if, someday, someone like Gwak Muryeong might reach the same height as himself.
'Of course, compared to him, this Cho Mudo fellow is woefully lacking…'
Even at his lowest rank, Gwak Muryeong had been far stronger than Cho Mudo.
Perhaps his advice would amount to nothing—but maybe, with luck, the man would at least find a direction forward.
Whoooosh—
'That should be enough.'
Whether he advanced further or not depended on his own will.
Woo-ha hadn't acted for any grand reason—just on a passing whim. Still, if Cho Mudo grew even a little stronger, the clan would benefit in some way.
With that, Woo-ha turned leisurely, the night breeze brushing his face. He headed back slowly to his quarters, where piles of homework assigned by Go Seok-jeong awaited him.
"What… what did you just say?"
Cheon Myeong-hak stared wide-eyed across the table at Cho Mudo, as if doubting his ears.
This second-rate master, invited at great expense to strengthen the clan's lacking martial force, had been asked not only to train the warriors but also to personally instruct his only son.
"And now you say you cannot teach Woo-ha? Did the child offend you somehow?"
Cheon Myeong-hak's tone, unusually cautious for someone of his standing, reflected his awareness of Cho Mudo's worth. High-level masters were not easily swayed by money, so offending him would be costly.
"The boy may be awkward in social graces since he has studied only books from a young age. If he was rude, I shall discipline him sternly. Tell me what the problem was."
"You misunderstand, sir. The problem is not with the young master—it lies with me."
"What do you mean by that?"
"To be precise… with my current ability, I cannot teach the young master."
With an awkward smile, Cho Mudo delivered an unexpected confession.
Cheon Myeong-hak's face filled with even greater puzzlement.
"What are you saying? Please, speak more plainly."
"He is a genius."
"…What?"
What kind of nonsense was this?
When Cheon Myeong-hak blinked, Cho Mudo continued earnestly.
"It may sound absurd, but it's the truth. To teach the young master, someone far superior to me must be brought. I am not enough."
"How could we possibly find someone greater than you? And Woo-ha is talented in scholarship, yes, but in martial arts…?"
"Whatever his scholarly gifts may be, they pale before his talent in martial arts. I stake my name on this."
Cho Mudo's gaze was grave.
He had thought on this since last night, mulling it over ceaselessly until he came here today.
Was Woo-ha's sword heavier than his own, even without inner strength?
Did it contain some hidden principle of martial truth beyond his comprehension?
No—neither.
What Woo-ha displayed against him was simply…
'The basics.'
The very slashes and thrusts Cho Mudo had just taught him.
The shifting grips he had demonstrated depending on the situation.
Nothing more.
Yet when those basics came back at him, he could not defend.
That was all.
"…Clan Leader, you must believe me."
Cho Mudo's eyes gleamed with conviction as he looked at Cheon Myeong-hak.
"The young master is destined to become a great martial artist. Whatever it takes, we must bring a true master to guide him!"
"Haa…"
Cheon Myeong-hak exhaled slowly, falling silent.
He could see Cho Mudo's sincerity, but…
'Perhaps teaching Woo-ha has become more burdensome than he expected.'
He did not take Cho Mudo's words at face value. A boy who already had exceptional talent in studies—could he also be a martial prodigy? That was rare indeed.
Most likely, Cho Mudo simply felt the greater pressure of teaching not a group of warriors, but the future heir of the clan.
'Still… where would we even find a teacher greater than Cho Mudo?'
Perhaps they could find someone suited only for teaching the heir, not the whole clan. He even considered abandoning the idea of martial training altogether.
Yet, as the future young master of a clan tied to the martial world, Woo-ha would surely benefit from at least some martial training.
And so Cheon Myeong-hak fell into troubled thought.
"Pleasure to meet you, young master. From today onward, I am to be your instructor. My name is Seol An-geum."
A slim man with long, narrow eyes greeted him with a sly smile tugging at one corner of his lips.
Cheon Woo-ha tilted his head.
'…What's this now?'
He had assumed his martial lessons were over.
After defeating Cho Mudo in their wager, two weeks had passed without incident.
And yet—
Sssk.
Woo-ha's gaze slid over to Cho Mudo, who stood beside Seol An-geum, as if demanding an explanation.
Understanding the meaning of that look, Cho Mudo spoke with a bitter smile.
"The Clan Leader has invited this master with great effort to be your martial instructor."
"…"
"Master Seol is far more skilled than I. He will not remain as a clan warrior but solely as your instructor."
Perhaps worried Woo-ha might take offense, Cho Mudo made it clear that Seol An-geum was not part of the clan's retinue but here only to teach him.
Woo-ha shifted his eyes back to Seol An-geum.
"A superior… master?"
That man?
Woo-ha's face showed not awe but thinly veiled disbelief.
Seol An-geum's eyebrow twitched.
"Haha… It seems I don't meet your expectations, young master."
"Well… not exactly. It's just…"
It was more accurate to say he found the claim laughable.
To his eye, Seol An-geum was hardly different from Cho Mudo.
'Did I hold back too much that time?'
He had gone easy on Cho Mudo for the sake of teaching him properly, ending it neatly. Perhaps that had left others unable to grasp the true difference in level.
Which, honestly, was understandable. After all, anyone sharp enough to sense such things wouldn't remain stuck in the second rate.
At times like this, there was only one solution.
'Make it obvious by crushing him.'
Woo-ha organized his thoughts simply, then looked up at Seol An-geum and spoke.
"Did Instructor Cho tell you already?"
"You mean, that you will not acknowledge anyone as your teacher unless you accept them yourself?"
"Correct."
At Seol An-geum's reply, Woo-ha smirked.
"Well then… how will you prove yourself to me?"
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