Taking Up the Sword (2)
Nyeong Ryeo-un hadn't expected Cheon Muyang to go this far.
And precisely because of that, he had no choice but to take up his sword.
"You must keep your promise."
"…Fine."
At this point, there was no avoiding it.
He had said he wouldn't make an issue of this if he won—so all he had to do was win.
"…."
The two continued to face each other.
Rain still poured down onto the empty training grounds.
Shaaaa—!
What had begun as a drizzle had turned into a torrential downpour.
Standing beneath the sheets of falling rain, Cheon Muyang did not waver in the slightest.
"Ugh…!"
He was supposed to be nothing more than a pathetic, brutish young lord.
And yet, Nyeong Ryeo-un couldn't bring himself to move carelessly.
What is this… this inexplicable aura?!
His instincts screamed a warning.
Don't underestimate him.
It was the same instinct that surfaced only when facing a true powerhouse.
"What? Afraid?"
"I-Iik!"
"If you won't come, then I will."
"…!"
Cheon Gwang moved.
It was nothing more than a simple swing—a horizontal slash from left to right.
I knew it!
There was no reason he couldn't block that.
Nyeong Ryeo-un ignored his instincts.
How crude and clumsy could an attack be?
Whoosh!
Though his sword moved a moment later, it far surpassed Cheon Muyang's in speed.
It wasn't too late.
Clang!
The two swords met in midair.
Nyeong Ryeo-un was confident he had the advantage in strength.
"…!"
Thud.
But it was an illusion.
Overwhelmed by the rebound force, Nyeong Ryeo-un was pushed back—and his sword slipped from his grasp.
It was a fatal mistake.
Whoom!
Chk!
The vibrating Cheon Gwang pressed against Nyeong Ryeo-un's throat.
Drip.
A shallow cut opened on his neck.
Blood trickled down.
Nyeong Ryeo-un couldn't move.
He could have killed me in a single strike.
Meeting Cheon Muyang's cold, sunken gaze sent a chill through him.
When did he become this strong?
He couldn't believe it.
How could that brutish eldest son have become this powerful?
As Nyeong Ryeo-un stood there in a daze, frozen in an awkward posture, Cheon Muyang's icy voice rang out.
"Is this how you were taught in the Cheon Clan?"
"…!"
"You clearly said it was a fight to the death. And yet you swung your sword so carelessly?"
"Ghk!"
"How pathetic. You are not worthy of holding a sword."
Cheon Muyang withdrew his blade.
Then he picked up the sword that had fallen to the ground.
"Think about why you hold a sword in the first place. When you find that reason, come seek me out again."
"…!"
"At that time, we'll cross blades once more over this sword."
Why was it?
Despite Cheon Muyang's harsh rebuke, Nyeong Ryeo-un couldn't utter a single word.
"I—I…!"
Unable to find the words, Nyeong Ryeo-un could only stare as Cheon Muyang looked at him coldly before turning away.
"Wolyeong."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Let's go."
"Yes."
Perhaps his interest had faded.
Cheon Muyang left the training grounds.
Glance.
Just before departing, his gaze shifted toward somewhere unseen.
But no one noticed where he was looking.
Step. Step.
Watching his retreating back, Nyeong Ryeo-un tried to stop him.
"W-wait!"
Halt.
Cheon Muyang stopped walking.
"Do you have something to say?"
"…!"
Nyeong Ryeo-un couldn't speak.
Because of Cheon Muyang's eyes—deep and sunken like an abyss.
If this had been a real battle…
He would have been cut down.
He was already a dead man.
"If not, I'll be going."
Tap.
What could he possibly say?
Nyeong Ryeo-un couldn't stop Cheon Muyang as he left.
And so, Cheon Muyang departed.
Left alone, Nyeong Ryeo-un asked himself—
Why did I take up the sword?
The question struck him.
A fundamental question about the very reason he wielded a blade.
To find the answer, he questioned himself again and again.
Shaaaa—!
The downpour continued.
Within it, Nyeong Ryeo-un stood motionless.
No… what was it that I wanted to confirm?
Nyeong Ryeo-un had hated Cheon Muyang.
But over the past month, Cheon Muyang had clearly not been the brute he once knew.
Did I want him to remain a brute forever?
Maybe he did.
Mocking Cheon Muyang had made him feel superior—like he amounted to something.
What on earth have I been doing?
And so, Nyeong Ryeo-un remained unmoving in the rain.
"…."
At that moment—
A gaze observing both the departing Cheon Muyang and the remaining Nyeong Ryeo-un quietly shifted.
Wolyeong suddenly stepped in front of Cheon Muyang and bowed deeply.
"I—I'm sorry, Young Master. I shouldn't have intervened… but seeing them mock your efforts made my blood boil. I lost my composure. It wasn't like me. I'm sorry."
It truly wasn't like Wolyeong.
In Cheon Muyang's memories, she had always been a woman who maintained her composure no matter the situation.
But he didn't dislike it.
After all, she had stepped forward for his sake.
"You don't need to apologize at all."
"…Pardon?"
"You stepped in for me, didn't you?"
"Ah…"
"You remember what I said, right?"
Wolyeong vividly recalled his words.
I'll endure insults directed at me.But I won't endure insults toward those who stand by me.
Her face flushed red.
"That's exactly what I meant."
"…."
"I won't tolerate anyone insulting my people—no matter who they are."
Wolyeong lowered her head.
Perhaps because they were hidden by the rain—
Tears welled up for no reason.
"Young Master…"
Wolyeong never thought Cheon Muyang had changed.
You've returned.
He had simply returned to the Cheon Muyang she remembered from the past.
Her emotion barely had time to settle when a heavy presence suddenly pressed down from somewhere.
"Can you take responsibility for those words?"
Wolyeong's heart sank.
Whoosh!
With that sound, Wolyeong's head snapped around like lightning.
However, Cheon Muryang had already turned his entire body and was facing the owner of the voice.
"Yes, Uncle."
Cheon Seonhak.
He was Cheon Muryang's uncle, the Grand Commander of both the Cheonryong Sword Corps and the Cheonbong Sword Corps, and one of the three pillars that supported the Cheon Clan.
He was also the martial artist whom Mu-myeong had trusted and followed the most in the past.
I never imagined we'd meet like this, Grand Commander.
Despite Cheon Muryang—an infamous rogue—becoming the head of the Cheon Clan, the reason the family had not immediately fallen into ruin and had somehow maintained its prestige was largely due to Cheon Seonhak's presence.
That was why Cheon Muryang felt deeply moved.
Of course, Cheon Seonhak did not.
"Uncle, you say…."
Cheon Muryang showed proper courtesy to Cheon Seonhak.
However, Cheon Seonhak did not accept it.
"I never thought you'd be capable of such manners."
A chilling aura emanated from Cheon Seonhak.
It was only natural—after all, to him, Cheon Muryang was nothing more than a hopeless, incorrigible scoundrel.
That's why the young master Cheon Muryang feared Cheon Seonhak so much.
Even a scoundrel could only act like one toward those beneath him.
Such behavior did not work against someone who possessed overwhelming power and authority.
Strong against the weak, weak against the strong… I suppose that's one way to put it.
Cheon Muryang inwardly cursed himself.
What could he do?
It was the truth.
"I was ignorant and failed to pay my respects to you, Uncle."
Cheon Seonhak not only commanded the Cheonryong and Cheonbong Sword Corps, but also occasionally guided even the trainees in their cultivation.
As such, he would sometimes appear at the training grounds where Cheon Muryang ran every single day.
"I heard you haven't missed a single day at the training grounds for the past month."
During that entire month, the two had never once acknowledged each other.
Cheon Seonhak's appearance today was completely unexpected.
"Yes. That is correct."
"What wind brought this about?"
"I am merely fulfilling my duties 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 as though he might 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.
His training was not yet sufficient to withstand Cheon Seonhak's aura.
Yet though his body shook, he did not avert his gaze.
Grand Commander Cheon Seonhak is a true martial artist. Empty words won't work on him.
No amount of flattery or excuses would sway such a man.
"..."
"I do not trust you."
Cheon Seonhak's distrust of Cheon Muryang went beyond imagination.
And so, instead of questioning Cheon Muryang—
He turned to the maid attending him.
"What is your name?"
"W-Wolyeong, sir."
"Very well. You tell me. What is this scoundrel young master plotting? Speak truthfully. Do not dare lie."
Hwoooong!
Cheon Seonhak did not draw his sword.
Yet his presence alone felt capable of cutting a person down.
"I have no desire to draw my blade."
It was a clear warning.
Tremble. Tremble. Tremble.
Wolyeong's slender body shook violently.
Her lips turned pale in an instant.
It was pressure no mere maid could endure.
Compared to this, even Neung Ryeoun's sword was nothing.
Clench!
Cheon Muryang tried to step forward by force.
That was when—
"Th-The young master… smiled every day this past month."
"Smiled?"
"Yes. Whenever he ran at the training grounds, he was always smiling."
"..."
Cheon Seonhak's gaze flicked toward Cheon Muryang, if only for a moment.
Huh. Did I?
He hadn't even realized it himself.
Honestly, it was because it was so exhausting.
Perhaps he had subconsciously followed the former clan head's teaching—when things are hard, smile instead—even after reincarnating.
Wolyeong continued.
"And even when people mocked or ridiculed him, he ignored them. If it had been the old young master, he would've gotten angry or run aw— I mean, left the training grounds. I'm sorry."
Cheon Muryang simply shrugged once to show it was fine.
Flinch!
Naturally, Cheon Seonhak's pressure intensified around him as a warning against recklessness.
"But the young master never once lost his temper… or r-ran away. Instead, he drew his sword for the first time—for me."
Cheon Seonhak's pressure remained.
Yet somehow, Wolyeong felt it had softened.
"I believe in the young master."
"To believe…."
There was not a trace of falsehood in her words.
Knowing this, Cheon Seonhak remained silent.
After a brief pause, he suddenly spoke to Cheon Muryang.
"I heard you attempted to enter the Cheonryong Library."
"Yes. Though I lacked the qualifications and was denied entry."
"What martial arts do you know?"
"Only the Cheonyang Divine Art."
Knowing the Cheonyang Divine Art meant he had learned only its foundational techniques.
In other words, he was on the same footing as ordinary trainees seeking to become full members of the Cheon Clan.
"Two months."
"…?"
"I will give you two months."
Two months.
Cheon Muryang vaguely understood Cheon Seonhak's intent.
"Defeat the top trainee within that time."
A grin spread across his face.
Cheon Seonhak had always tested Mu-myeong this way.
And each time, Mu-myeong had made those tests even harder.
"No."
"...."
"One month will be enough."
"One month, you say?"
"Yes."
Cheon Seonhak nodded.
"Very well. So be it."
With those words, the pressure surrounding them dissipated.
"I will look forward to it."
Cheon Seonhak turned and left.
Shaaah—!
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 the estate."
"Please do your best. I'll prepare warm water."
"Alright. Thanks."
Wolyeong left first.
Then, to cool his overheated body, Cheon Muryang ran freely through the downpour.