67 - Goodwill (2) - The Heaven-Slaying Sword

"Greetings to the Golden Sword Grandmaster!" Mok Riwon greeted with a bright smile and a fist-and-palm salute, thrilled to meet one of the people he had been most eager to converse with since arriving at the Martial Alliance. His gaze quickly drifted to Kwon Pyo Wol's waist, where the gold-plated scabbard hung, stirring Mok Riwon's sense of romance. "I have heard much about the admirable deeds of the Golden Sword Grandmaster since joining the Alliance! It is such an honor to meet you in person! If you have the time, perhaps we could have a brief conversation…" "Ah, my apologies. I'm rather busy with other matters right now." "Ah." Only then did Mok Riwon realize his faux pas, his face adopting an embarrassed expression. "...Of course. It is working hours, after all. My apologies. I got carried away in my excitement and overstepped." "No offense taken. It's rather flattering to hear that you hold me in such high regard." Kwon Pyo Wol's demurral made Mok Riwon's eyes light up, convinced as he was of Kwon Pyo Wol's reputation as a true gentleman—courteous, serious, and always mindful not to offend anyone. "Ah! But there will be a martial contest in a few days! I am greatly looking forward to crossing swords with the Golden Sword Grandmaster then!" "Hm? The martial contest, you say. I'm afraid I must disappoint you." Mok Riwon and Dang Hwa-Seo paused in unison. Kwon Pyo Wol continued with an awkward smile, "I shall not be participating. I wish to give the others a chance." Dang Hwa-Seo questioned this decision, "But isn't it customary for the leader and faction heads to partake in the friendly matches?" "That's just tradition. It isn't mandatory." A profound look of disappointment crossed Mok Riwon's face. "Is that so? That's unfortunate." "I do, however, have high hopes. My constituents are no less skilled than yours. It should make for an excellent contest." With that, Kwon Pyo Wol offered another salute. "Then, if you'll excuse me." He showed no signs of lingering regret as he departed. * As the sun began to set, Mok Riwon had sought out Yeom So So to enjoy a leisurely tea and conversation. "The Golden Sword, you say?" Yeom So So prompted, and Mok Riwon nodded in affirmation. "He says he won't participate in the contest to give others a chance. I find it very disappointing…" Mok Riwon's demeanor had dampened significantly from the morning. After pondering for a moment, Yeom So So suddenly exclaimed, "Ah, right, Kwon Pyo Wol. He was the Golden Sword. I had forgotten." "Hm? Do you know him?" "Not personally, just something I've heard." Mok Riwon's curiosity was piqued as Yeom So So chuckled and continued, "It's probably a lie. The bit about stepping back to give others a chance." "What do you mean?!" Mok Riwon jumped up, startled, prompting Yeom So So to elaborate, "About the gold paint on his scabbard. Do you understand its meaning?" "To bear the weight of wielding a sword! That's what it signifies, as far as I'm aware!" "That's exactly the problem." Mok Riwon tilted his head, bewildered. To him, the notion seemed romantically noble, a fitting resolve for a swordsman, yet Yeom So So seemed to find fault with it. "Isn't it admirable? It seems to embody the spirit of a swordsman!" "In principle, yes. Indeed, it's a teaching everyone in the martial world should follow." Yeom So So sipped her tea, then spoke in a gentler tone, "Young man." "Yes!" "Do you know what a martial artist must be most wary of?" Yeom So So seemed to be reminiscing about the distant past. "Becoming consumed by the martial world. Letting the ideals in one's heart be tainted by the harsh reality." "I don't quite follow." "Imagine this. You said you wanted to become a swordsman, right?" "Yes…" "Ask yourself. Does the swordsman and martial world you've encountered match what you envisioned?" Mok Riwon couldn't help but pause, struck by the truth in the question. The martial world depicted in 'Tales of Martial Heroes' was always filled with romance, dreams, and ideals, resounding deeply within a man's heart. However, reality was different. The martial world proved more ruthless than Mok Riwon had anticipated. Dang Hwa-Seo was a victim, yet forced to flee. The zombies of Zanblood Gorge couldn't find rest for lack of strength. And what about the widow he met in Anhui, and the author Kwak Chil Pyo? "...It seems they don't entirely match." A bitter smile played on Mok Riwon's lips as Yeom So So nodded, "Yes, that's the reality of the martial world. Screaming for righteousness with a sword, only to eventually return to the principle of survival of the fittest. That's why one can easily become lost in it." "You mean…" "I believe the Golden Sword has become too mired in the ways of the world." It was not mere speculation. Yeom So So, having lived through many years as a martial artist, had seen countless individuals like Kwon Pyo Wol. "Even the most steadfast will confront reality at some point. And they begin to conform, one by one. Eventually, even the ideals they held dear are forced to fit within the mould of reality." "To understand the weight of the sword. Kwon Pyo Wol still adheres to this teaching. However, Yeom So So was certain that it didn’t embody the true essence of a swordsman’s spirit. “He’s the type to assign value to his sword, not in terms of honor but in terms of wealth.” “Wealth…” “It’s about setting a price on oneself, as the leader of the Martial Alliance, as a swordmaster.” Mok Riwon did not take kindly to these words. Yeom So So could see it too; Mok Riwon's expression had turned notably sullen. Thus, she elaborated further. “As the leader of the Martial Alliance, one is essentially in a middle management position within the organization. Therefore, those leaders aim for higher positions from which they can truly spread their influence. To climb to these higher positions, one needs achievements and anonymity. That’s why he will avoid you.” “Me?” “Winning against you in a match would mean nothing to him, and losing would only bring dishonor upon himself from his juniors.” “…” “He’s calculated it,” she continued. “The value of competing against you, concluding that not participating in the match would be more beneficial for his performance review." Mok Riwon clenched his fists, understanding her words but not accepting them. The concept of practical value was not new to him, as Mok Seon-O and Ma Il-Seok had already introduced him to it. - Someday, you’ll be at a crossroads. - A crossroads? - Whether to remain a naïve romantic or to build a reputation for a pragmatic path of honor. - What’s the difference? - Following romance allows you to save the person in front of you. Following pragmatism lets you realize greater ideals. - …I don’t understand what is the right path of honor. - Neither is wrong. They’re just different. Just different. Mok Riwon understood. Kwon Pyo Wol aspired to climb to a higher position to demonstrate his version of honor to the world, judging a duel with him as a loss in that process. “…But still,” Understanding, yet not convinced. His mind accepted it, but not his heart. Mok Riwon still felt a deep sense of frustration. “Such honor differs too much from what I know. Ignoring challenges and pursuing outcomes and benefits doesn’t look like honor to me. Am I being too narrow-minded?” Yeom So So examined Mok Riwon’s expression. The firm lips, the narrowed eyes, and amidst all that, those eyes that remained clear. This was the face of a stubborn man. Someone uncompromising and foolish in their beliefs. And Yeom So So knew such a fool. “There’s no such thing as narrow-minded honor. There are only swords.” A deep smile crossed Yeom So So's face as she recited the single rule that governed this martial world. "Young man, only the victor has the right to declare what honor is in this martial world. So, there’s only one path for you, isn’t there?” Yeom So So’s hand pointed towards Mok Riwon’s waist, where an old iron sword was sheathed. “If his ideals and calculations displease you, let your sword speak. Prove your honor is the true one.” The Survival of the Strongest. No matter how eloquently it’s dressed up, this unchangeable truth of the martial world made Mok Riwon’s grip tighten. “…I,” Mok Riwon looked down at his sword. Unlike Kwon Pyo Wol’s, it was an old sword, aged with time. “I... don’t know complex and difficult calculations. I can’t hold them in my heart. What I’ve known since the day I first learned to wield a sword from my master has been singular.” “What is it?” “That a swordsman is someone who follows romance.” Mok Riwon placed his hand on his sword sheath, reflecting on a conversation from the past. - What did you choose, Master? Between romance and reality. - You’re asking the obvious. - Hmm? - I am someone who can’t live without romance. Therefore, I chose to be a fool who can’t see beyond his nose. Remembering what his master gifted him, Mok Riwon raised his head, his voice gaining strength. “I’d rather be a fool. And I’ll be greedy. I don’t want to ignore what’s right in front of me in the name of a greater cause.” “Can you really do that? The Golden Sword is a leader of the Martial Alliance, meaning he’s a supreme expert. Even if you manage to bring him to the contest stage, are you confident you can win against him?” “I haven’t thought about it. I will simply wield my sword.” “Hmm?” “My master told me,” Only then did a smile grace Mok Riwon’s lips, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders after making a decision. “A swordsman always walks the hardest path.” Yeom So So’s eyes widened slightly. For a moment, Mok Riwon’s handsome face overlaid with another, far less handsome face. - It’s okay if it’s difficult. Honor naturally shines on those who rise above adversity. Yeom So So let out a chuckle. “…You’re so much alike.” She couldn’t help but think again. Mok Seon-O really did create someone just like himself. * It was late evening. Kwon Pyo Wol was on his way to his quarters after finishing the day’s work, already planning tomorrow’s tasks in his mind. Soon, the quarter’s end and the performance reviews were approaching. While he had sufficiently met his goals for the quarter, he didn’t expect the other leaders to have fallen short. Thus, more achievements were needed and more impeccable management was required. ‘Is the contest tomorrow?’ The moment he thought of it, a face emerged in Kwon Pyo Wol's mind. A handsome man spilling with a sincere expression of deep regret. It was Mok Riwon. Kwon Pyo Wol felt uncomfortable as he recalled that face. He didn't know why. Or perhaps, he didn't want to know why. Kwon Pyo Wol smirked. ‘…Those were the days.’ How merciless time is. There was a time when he, too, harbored only excitement for duels with strong opponents, dreaming of the future ahead, but those times will never return, a notion he found regrettable. He hasn't lost his honor. The passion burning in his heart was just as it had been, and the ideals he aspired to achieve hadn’t left him. However, now, calculations had to be made. Knowing there exists a reality that passion alone can't resolve. He wanted to speak of the weight of wielding a sword. He wanted to tell the world what a more just sword is. To do so, anonymity is needed. There are passions one must set aside for anonymity. A duel with Mok Riwon would undoubtedly be a good experience, but it didn't coincide with reason. Kwon Pyo Wol soothed himself with these thoughts as he walked. "Golden Sword Grandmaster." Someone appeared, blocking Kwon Pyo Wol's path. It was a familiar face. Of course, it was the very man he had been thinking of just moments ago. "...Mok Riwon?" "May we have a moment to talk?" Mok Riwon greeted him with a fist-and-palm salute, smiling gently.