Cutting the Heavens (1)
Early morning.
Someone had already been running around the training grounds since dawn.
The steady rhythm of footsteps and controlled breathing echoed again and again.
"Hoo…."
How long had he been running?
Beads of sweat dotted his body.
Only when his breath rose to the very edge of his throat did he finally slow to a stop.
Before long, Cheon Mu-ryang stood there, looking as though some of the excess weight he had carried was beginning to come off.
"Two sijin!""Is that so? A little longer than yesterday.""Yes!"
After hearing how long he had run from Wolyoung, Cheon Mu-ryang sat cross-legged in a corner of the training grounds.
He turned his awareness inward.
With a mere five-star Heavenly Sun Divine Art, this seems to be the limit.
The Heavenly Sun Divine Art was a yang-based martial art.
As such, it was fairly effective at melting away the yin energy within Cheon Mu-ryang's body, but far less effective when it came to refining yang energy of the same nature.
I can't let the balance collapse. Even if it's slow, this is the only way.
Refining the medicinal energies within his body had to be done strictly while maintaining the balance of yin and yang.
Cheon Mu-ryang clicked his tongue, disappointed but resigned.
"If only I could enter the Heavenly Dragon Archive and learn a higher-grade inner art, things would be different. Tsk."
But what could he do?
This was the karma Cheon Mu-ryang himself had accumulated.
I'll just have to be satisfied with this much.
Flash!
Cheon Mu-ryang opened his eyes.
Though it was only a tiny amount, every time he finished circulating and regulating his inner energy, he felt his muscles loosen.
"Shall we start again?"
Rising to his feet, Cheon Mu-ryang lifted Cheonggwang with a reverent heart.
The blade rose high toward the heavens.
It was so well maintained that sunlight gleamed off its surface.
Whoong!
A sharp sword cry rang out.
The wounds he had suffered while swinging his sword against Neung Ryun had now hardened into calluses, and the pain was gone.
Is it tomorrow already?
The wager with Cheon Seonhak.
It was a bet that required him to defeat the top disciple personally put forward by Cheon Seonhak.
For the past month, he had devoted himself to training with desperate intensity.
Did I really do my best?
He had practically lived in the training grounds.
He increased the intensity of his training day by day, and he had lost count of how many times he had vomited along the way.
Even so, Cheon Mu-ryang felt lacking.
I meant to take it easy… maybe I grew impatient.
Fifteen years later, the Cheon Clan would collapse in vain due to the schemes of the Demonic Cult.
Knowing that future, Cheon Mu-ryang had grown unconsciously anxious.
"Excess is as bad as deficiency," they say. A gentleman's revenge need not be late even after ten years.
He steadied himself with those thoughts.
Rushing would bring no good at all.
Focus only on what I can do right now.
First came the wager with Cheon Seonhak.
"Ah, whoever gets picked is really lucky. They get a legitimate chance to punish the First Young Master, don't they?"
It seemed the rumors had already spread widely throughout the Cheon Clan.
This too was likely Cheon Seonhak's intention.
If he was afraid, he should have given up long ago—that was the message.
Looks like he has nothing better to do. He could spend that time honing his sword instead. Tsk.
For those who did nothing but stay cooped up in the clan training, this small commotion was prime entertainment.
As a result, people were already talking endlessly about the upcoming duel.
Of course, most of it is about how disgracefully I'll lose.
Though only a tiny minority—
There were a few voices saying the First Young Master seemed to have changed.
A very small number, but still.
It was progress worth noting.
Whoever comes out…
It didn't matter.
Winning or losing held no real meaning.
All he wanted from this wager was a small measure of acknowledgment from Cheon Seonhak.
"Heh heh! Still the same as ever. Haven't you learned any sword techniques? All you do is slash over and over."
A mocking voice rang out.
Wolyoung bristled, but Cheon Mu-ryang stopped him with a glance.
Still, First Young Master, at least there's one person cheering for you.
Cheon Mu-ryang suddenly chuckled along.
Then he strode toward the trainee who was laughing at him.
"Are you, by any chance, the top disciple?"
Cheon Seonhak had been very clear.
Fight the top disciple.
"Ah. Yes, First Young Master. I am the top disciple."
"I see."
"Don't worry, Young Master. I'll end it gently."
The way he grinned slyly rubbed Cheon Mu-ryang the wrong way.
Suddenly, a face came to mind—similar, yet subtly different from what he remembered.
Now that I think about it…
So he asked,
"Very well, top disciple. What's your name?"
"My name is Lee Seok-hak."
"Ah!"
Lee Seok-hak.
He remembered.
His face had changed, so he hadn't recognized him at first—but how could he ever forget that name?
Traitor bastard.
In the past, he had been one of Cheon Mu-ryang's close aides.
After joining the Heavenly Dragon Sword Unit, he had risen to the very center of power through political maneuvering rather than swordsmanship.
Back then, Cheon Mu-ryang had favored Lee Seok-gi, who excelled at flattery, over nameless men who spoke only the truth.
He still had a fairly sharp-looking face back then.
The reason he hadn't recognized him was that, by that time, greed had settled into his features, and he had grown fat and bloated—just like the pig Cheon Mu-ryang himself had once been.
Eventually, Lee Seok-gi fell for the Demonic Cult's temptations and began leaking all manner of information.
By the time I realized it, it was already too late.
It truly was too late.
Crunch.
Cheon Mu-ryang ground his teeth.
Anger surged within him.
I thought it didn't matter… but I've changed my mind.
Whoever the top disciple was—
At first, Cheon Mu-ryang had only wanted to show his sword to Cheon Seonhak.
But now, it was different.
I've been given a chance to cut down that traitor early.
As he looked at Lee Seok-hak's sly smile, Cheon Mu-ryang smiled as well.
"I see. Lee Seok-hak—I'll remember that name."
"Then I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes. Let's do that. Let's fight fair and square."
"Yes, Young Master."
Leaving behind a faint, mocking grin, Lee Seok-hak walked away.
It was the kind of sly smile that the old Cheon Mu-ryang would never have noticed.
"Tsk. Looks like I've found yet another reason to swing my sword with everything I've got."
A judgment he had failed to carry out in his past life.
Of course, the present Lee Seok-hak hadn't committed any crimes yet—but Cheon Mu-ryang felt it was time to collect the debt anyway.
And so, once more, he swung his sword.
Whoong!
Still, all he did was repeat the same slashing motion.
How long had he swung?
Suddenly, a lesson from Cheon Seonhak in the past surfaced in his mind.
"What is it that you wish to cut?""Pardon?""Just as I thought. Simply swinging your sword won't solve anything.""Please teach me.""There's nothing special to teach. The essence of swordsmanship lies in cutting. What you choose to cut determines the value of your sword.""What I choose to cut…?""Yes. Look at the sky. What you must cut is not some mere scarecrow."
Whooong!
Cheon Seonhak's sword moved.
The blade shot skyward like an ascending dragon, and the enraged dragon cleaved the heavens as it rose.
It was the sword of Heaven-Slaying.
"…!""The heavens. Cut the heavens."
From that day on,
Cheon Seonhak's sword became both a goal Cheon Mu-ryang had to reach someday, and a signpost pointing the way forward.
What I must cut… is the heavens.
Cheon Mu-ryang closed his eyes.
The key was mental imagery—heart-intent.
Fortunately, he remembered the sword with which Cheon Seonhak had cut the heavens.
He entered a boundless state of self-forgetfulness.
Wooooong!
A fragment of that sword seemed to faintly overlay Cheon Mu-ryang's blade.
He could no longer feel the sword.
When its weight vanished completely—
Cheonggwang became a part of Cheon Mu-ryang himself.
A fragment of that heaven-cutting mental image overlapped with Cheonggwang.
Paaaat!
Blinding rays of light scattered in all directions, so bright that even with his eyes closed, Cheon Mu-ryang's vision was flooded with white.
And within his imagination—
The sky split apart.
Ah…
In that instant, the state of self-forgetfulness shattered.
Overwhelmed by exhaustion throughout his body, Cheon Mu-ryang collapsed where he stood.
"Hoo—hk, hoo—hk!"
He let out a ragged breath.
When Cheon Mu-ryang opened his eyes like that, he realized that the surroundings had turned pitch-dark.
"Ah…."
It was deep in the night.
A night when no one should have been around.
And yet, Wol-young was there.
After all, she was the moon's shadow.
"Y-Young Master?"
Wol-yeong, who had always been his constant supporter, was different today.
"J-Just now… what on earth was that?"
Her eyes were wide open in shock—an expression Cheon Mu-ryang was seeing for the first time.
In response, he smiled faintly and asked.
He was curious about Wol-yeong's impression.
"Why? How was it?"
"N-No, well… I don't really know much about swords, but…"
"Just tell me what you felt."
"For a split second, it felt like the sky itself had been torn apart."
At those words,
it was Cheon Mu-ryang who was startled instead.
The sky he had cut was nothing more than an imaginary one.
'She saw that?'
How could she have seen it?
Cheon Mu-ryang laughed.
'How could no one have recognized such talent? Not even me?'
Wol-yeong was an unexpected prodigy.
A talent too precious to be kept as a mere maid.
"Wol-yeong, about the duel tomorrow."
"Yes?"
"Don't look away for even a moment. Watch it carefully. And later, tell me what you thought."
It was a sudden, puzzling request to Wol-young.
They had been talking about impressions of swordplay, and now he was bringing up tomorrow's duel.
"All right. I will."
"So it really is true—deungha-bulmyeong (Can't see the forest for the trees." (similar, but broader))."
"Y-Young Master?"
Though exhaustion was clearly written on his face, Cheon Mu-ryang laughed as if the sky itself might split.
Deungha-bulmyeong—the darkness right beneath the lamp.
The trainees' training grounds.
From early morning, a large crowd had gathered.
Yet everyone merely hovered around the perimeter of the grounds.
No one stepped onto the stage itself.
"He's coming!"
Someone approached from afar.
Cheon Mu-ryang had been at the training grounds until dawn, but he had gone back briefly after enduring Wol-yeong's nagging to change into clean clothes before coming out.
All eyes turned toward him.
"Did he… lose weight?"
"Looks like it?"
He had noticeably lost weight.
How many years had it been since his jawline looked that sharp?
Those seeing Cheon Mu-ryang for the first time in a while were surprised in their own ways.
"So what? That doesn't change his nature."
"Exactly. What good is losing weight if he doesn't lose his thug instincts? And it's not like that erases his past misdeeds."
The mood was still negative.
Cheon Mu-ryang was well aware of it.
He simply accepted the gazes focused on him in silence.
"You've come."
Cheon Seon-hak also stepped onto the training grounds.
"Yes, Uncle."
"That's enough. You're prepared, I assume."
"Anytime."
"Good. Step up, Head Disciple."
"Yes! Chief!"
Lee Seok-gi came up as if he had been waiting for this moment.
His face was filled with the confidence of someone who believed defeat was impossible.
'Right. He's probably still thinking about how to cook me up.'
This place was a stage of opportunity.
Cheon Seon-hak was here.
Which meant the leaders of the Cheonryang Sword Unit and the Cheonbong Sword Unit were also present.
A chance to make a good impression on both—of course Lee Seok-gi would be agonizing over it.
'But what can I do? I don't care about either of them in the slightest.'
Cheon Mu-ryang intended to smash that entire "stage of opportunity" to pieces.
"This continues until I say stop. Understood?"
Nod.
Both men nodded.
"Take your wooden swords."
"..."
Cheon Mu-ryang and Lee Seok-gi received their wooden swords.
A duel with real blades was not permitted.
Whatever else might be said, the title of First Young Master meant the next head of the family.
He could not be allowed to be injured.
Cheon Seon-hak stepped down from the training grounds.
Then, as if declaring it to everyone, he shouted,
"Begin!"
The start was announced.
Lee Seok-gi was completely off his guard.
Even now, he was probably only thinking about how to bring down the First Young Master in the most impressive way possible.
"Idiot."
"Huh?"
And so, Lee Seok-gi failed to react in time.
Cheon Mu-ryang's sword, which had soared high into the sky, came crashing down like lightning.