Taking Up the Sword (2)
Neungryun had not expected Cheon Mu-ryang to come this far—but precisely because of that, he had no choice but to grasp his sword.
"You must keep your promise."
"Fine."
Since things had come to this, there was nothing to be done.
He had said he would not make an issue of this matter if he won. Then all he had to do was win.
"..."
The two faced each other in silence.
Rain continued to pour down over the empty training grounds.
Swaaah!
What had begun as a light drizzle had grown into a pounding downpour.
Standing beneath the sheets of rain, Cheon Mu-ryang did not waver in the slightest.
"Ugh…!"
He was certainly a pathetic, reckless young lord.
And yet, Neongryun could not bring himself to move rashly.
'What is this… this inexplicable presence?!'
His instincts screamed a warning.
Don't underestimate him.
It was the kind of instinct that only stirred when facing a true powerhouse.
"What? Are you afraid?"
"You—!"
"If you won't come, then I will."
"…!"
Cheon Gwang moved.
It was a simple swing—nothing more than a horizontal slash from left to right.
'Just as I thought!'
There was nothing about it that couldn't be blocked.
Neongryun ignored his instincts.
How could such a crude attack pose any threat?
Whoosh!
His sword moved a beat late, but in terms of speed he far surpassed Cheon Mu-ryang, so it wasn't too late.
Clang!
The two swords met in midair.
Neongryun was confident he held the advantage in strength.
"…!"
Thunk.
But that confidence was an illusion.
The rebound sent him staggering backward, and he lost his grip on his sword.
A fatal mistake.
Whooom!
Chk!
The vibrating blade of Cheon Gwang came to rest against Neongryun's throat.
Drip.
A shallow cut opened on his neck.
Blood trickled down.
Neongryun couldn't move a muscle.
'He could've killed me in a single strike.'
Looking into Cheon Mu-ryang's cold, sunken eyes, a chill ran down his spine.
'When did he become this strong?'
He couldn't believe it.
How had that reckless young lord grown so powerful?
As Neongryun stood there, dazed and awkwardly frozen, Cheon Mu-ryang's ice voice rang out.
"Is that how you were taught in the Cheon family?"
"…!"
"This was supposed to be a duel to the death. And yet you swung your sword so carelessly, with your opponent right in front of you?"
"Ugh!"
"Pathetic. You have no right to wield this sword."
Cheon Mu-ryang sheathed his blade.
Then he picked up Neongryun's sword from the ground.
"Think about why you take up the sword at all. When you find that reason, come seek me out again."
"…!"
"At that time, we'll cross blades again over this sword."
Why was it?
Despite the scolding, Neongryun couldn't say a single word.
"I…!"
Unable to find anything to say, he looked on blankly as Cheon Mu-ryang regarded him with cold eyes—then turned away.
"Wolyoung."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Let's go back."
"Yes."
Perhaps he'd lost interest.
Cheon Mu-ryang left the training grounds.
Glance.
Just before leaving, his gaze flicked somewhere.
But no one noticed it.
Step. Step.
Watching his retreating figure, Nyeong Ryeoun tried to call out to stop him.
"W–wait…!"
Halt.
Cheon Mu-ryang stopped.
"Do you have something to say?"
"…!"
Neongryun couldn't speak.
It was because of those eyes—deep and cold like an abyss.
'If that had been real combat…'
He would have been cut down.
He was already a dead man.
"If not, I'll be going."
Tap.
What could he possibly say?
Neongryun could not stop Cheon Mu-ryang.
And so, Cheon Mu-ryang left.
Left alone, Neongryun asked himself:
'Why did I take up the sword?'
The question struck him.
It was a fundamental question—why he wielded a sword at all.
In search of the answer, he kept asking himself, again and again.
Swaaah!
The downpour continued.
And there, in the rain, Neongryun stood motionless.
'No… what was it that I wanted to confirm in the first place?'
He hated Cheon Mu-ryang.
And yet, over the past month, Cheon Mu-ryang clearly hadn't been the reckless brute he once knew.
'Did I want him to stay a brute forever?'
Maybe he did.
Mocking Cheon Mu-ryang had made him feel like he amounted to something.
'What on earth have I been doing?'
And so Neongryun remained there, unmoving in the rain.
"..."
That was when it happened.
A gaze that had been watching both the departing Cheon Mu-ryang and the remaining Neongryun finally shifted.
Wolyoung hurried ahead and blocked Cheon Mu-ryang's path, bowing deeply.
"I–I'm sorry, Young Master. I shouldn't have stepped in… but seeing them mock your efforts made my blood boil, and I just—this wasn't like me. I'm sorry."
It really wasn't like Wolyoung.
In Cheon Mu-ryang's memories, she was a woman who always kept her composure.
But he didn't dislike it.
After all, she had stepped in entirely for his sake.
"There's nothing to apologize for."
"…Pardon?"
"You stepped in for me, didn't you?"
"Ah…"
"You remember what I said, right?"
Wolyoung clearly recalled his words.
"I'll endure insults directed at me. But I won't endure insults directed at those who stand by me."
Flush.
Her face reddened.
"That's exactly what I meant."
"..."
"I won't tolerate anyone insulting my people—no matter who they are."
Wolyoung bowed her head.
Maybe because the rain hid it—
tears welled up for no reason at all.
"Young Master…"
Wolyoung never thought Cheon Mu-ryang had changed.
'You've come back.'
He had simply returned to the Cheon Mu-ryang she remembered from the past.
Her emotion barely had time to settle when a heavy pressure flowed in from somewhere.
"Can you take responsibility for those words?"
Wolyoung's heart dropped.
Whip!
Her head snapped around in an instant.
But Cheon Mu-ryang had already turned fully, facing the owner of that voice.
"Yes, Uncle."
Cheon Seon-hak.
He was Cheon Mu-ryang's uncle, the grand commander of the Cheon Mu-ryang Sword Corps and the Cheonbong Sword Corps, and one of the three pillars supporting the Cheon family.
He was also the warrior Mu-ryang had trusted most in the past.
'I never expected to face you like this, Commander.'
Even after Cheon Mu-ryang—the infamous wastrel—had become head of the Cheon family, the clan hadn't immediately collapsed, and its name had somehow endured. A large part of that was thanks to Cheon Seon-hak's presence.
Because of that, Cheon Mu-ryang felt deeply moved.
Though Cheon Seon-hak did not.
"Uncle, you say…"
Cheon Mu-ryang showed him proper courtesy.
But Cheon Seon-hak did not return it.
"I never thought you'd know how to show such manners."
A chill emanated from him.
It was only natural. To Cheon Seon-hak, Cheon Mu-ryang was nothing more than a hopeless wastrel beyond redemption.
'That's why Young Master Cheon Mu-ryang feared Commander Cheon Seon-hak more than anyone.'
Even a wastrel's authority only worked on those it could reach.
It didn't work on someone who possessed both overwhelming power and status.
'Strong against the weak, weak against the strong, I suppose.'
Cheon Mu-ryang cursed Cheon Mu-ryang.
What could he do?
It was the truth.
"I was ignorant and failed to pay my respects to you, Uncle."
Cheon Seon-hak not only commanded the Cheon Mu-ryang and Cheonbong Sword Corps, but also—though only occasionally—personally guided the training of the disciples.
As a result, Cheon Seon-hak would occasionally appear even at the training grounds where Cheon Muryang ran every single day.
"I hear you haven't missed a single day of running the training grounds for the past month."
During that month-long period, the two of them hadn't even acknowledged each other's existence.
So Cheon Seonhak's appearance now was completely unexpected for Cheon Muryang.
"Yes. That's correct."
"What wind blew you this way?"
"I'm merely fulfilling my duty as the eldest son of the Cheon clan."
"How laughable. To hear you speak of duty."
A storm-like pressure erupted from Cheon Seonhak.
He looked ready to draw the sword at his waist at any moment.
"Speak. What scheme are you plotting?"
"…I've already told you."
Cheon Muryang's entire body trembled.
He still lacked the training needed to withstand Cheon Seonhak's overwhelming presence.
Even so, while his body shook, he did not avert his eyes.
Cheon Seon-hak is a true martial artist. Empty words won't work on him.
He wasn't the kind of man who could be persuaded with clever talk.
"…."
"I don't trust you."
Cheon Seonhak's distrust of Cheon Muryang went beyond imagination.
So instead of questioning Cheon Muryang,
he turned to the maid attending him.
"What is your name?"
"M-my name is… Wol, Wolyoung."
"I see. Then you tell me. What is this reckless young master you serve plotting? And mind you—do not speak falsehoods."
Whooooom!
Cheon Seonhak did not draw his sword.
Yet his sheer presence alone felt sharp enough to cut someone down.
"I would rather not draw my blade."
It was a clear warning.
Tremble, tremble.
Wolyoung's slender body shook violently.
Her lips turned pale in an instant.
This was pressure no mere maid could endure.
It was the aura of an absolute being—nothing like Neungryun's sword.
Crunch!
Cheon Muryang clenched his teeth and tried to step forward despite himself.
That was when—
"T-the young master… for the past month, he's always been smiling."
"Smiling?"
"Yes. While running the training grounds, the young master was always smiling."
"...."
Glance.
Cheon Seonhak's gaze flicked toward Cheon Muryang, if only for a moment.
Huh. Was I?
It seemed he had been smiling without even realizing it.
Honestly, it's because it was so exhausting.
The lesson of the former clan head—when things are hardest, smile instead—must have carried over even after his reincarnation.
Wolyoung continued.
"And even when people mocked him, he barely paid attention. If this were the old young master, he would have gotten angry… or run away— I'm sorry. He would have left the training grounds."
Cheon Muryang simply shrugged once, signaling that it was fine.
Flinch!
Of course, Cheon Seonhak's pressure wrapped around him even more strongly, a warning not to act rashly.
"But the young master never got angry even once, n-nor did he run away. Instead, for the first time, he drew his sword—for my sake."
Cheon Seonhak's aura remained.
Yet somehow, Wolyoung felt it had softened, just a little.
"I believe in the young master."
"Believe, you say…."
There wasn't a shred of falsehood in her words.
Knowing this, Cheon Seonhak said nothing.
After a brief silence, he suddenly spoke to Cheon Muryang.
"I hear you wished to enter the Cheon Mu-ryang Archive?"
"Yes. I lacked the qualifications, so I couldn't."
"What martial arts do you know?"
"Only the Cheon Mu-ryang Divine Art."
If he had learned the Cheon Mu-ryang Divine Art, that meant he had mastered only its basic techniques.
In other words, he stood on the same footing as trainees aspiring to become full-fledged warriors of the Cheon clan.
"Two months."
"…?"
"I'll give you two months."
Two months.
Cheon Muryang vaguely grasped Cheon Seonhak's intent.
"Within those two months, defeat the top trainee."
A grin spread across Cheon Seonhak's face.
It was always like this.
He tested unknowns in this manner.
And every time, those unknowns made his trials even harsher.
"No."
"...."
"One month will be enough."
"One month, you say?"
"Yes."
Cheon Seonhak nodded.
"Very well. We'll do it that way."
With those words, the pressure surrounding them dissipated.
"I'll be looking forward to it."
Cheon Seonhak departed.
Shhhhhh!
The torrential rain continued to pour.
Yet Cheon Muryang's body burned with heat.
"This won't do. I need to run."
"Young master!"
"Going back to the training grounds feels awkward, so I'll just run around inside the estate."
"Do your best. I'll prepare some warm water."
"Yeah. Thanks."
Wolyoung left first.
Then Cheon Muryang plunged into the downpour, running freely to cool his overheated body.