68 - Goodwill (3) - The Heaven-Slaying Sword

The day of the martial arts competition dawned. Mok Riwon prepared his sword and got ready to ascend to the martial arena. The reason he was the first to go was not without cause. “Thank you for indulging in my stubbornness.” It was because of his request the previous day to completely overturn the plans they had. The members smiled at his serious demeanor, recalling yesterday’s events. - I wish to have a duel with Geumgeom Daehyeop. I want to draw him onto the martial arena. I want to share the joy of exchanging swords with Daehyeop. Everyone present knew that whenever Mok Riwon, who always seemed like a child, spoke with a serious face, something mystical was bound to happen. “Do your best.” As Dang Hwa-Seo said this with a smile, Mok Riwon responded with a grin. “I will deliver results worthy of my stubbornness.” He ascended to the martial arena. * Kwon Pyo Wol watched Mok Riwon ascend to the martial arena with a troubled expression. The conversation from that night ran through his mind. -I heard about your Daehyeop. I didn't know there was an evaluation coming up. My apologies. -Ah, no. It's me who should apologize. It’s a letdown. -So, may I make another apologetic request? -…What would that be? -Please, come up to the martial arena. -Haha, I'm afraid that’s… -It's just a duel, isn’t it? In the dimly lit corridor where even the moonlight seemed to hesitate, Kwon Pyo Wol couldn't forget the smile Mok Riwon wore at that moment. -Holding a sword to establish a martial fellowship is an important task like no other, but still. To refrain from using the sword to wield for the martial fellowship because we need to save it sounds strange to me. Though it was childlike stubbornness, there was a peculiar charm to his words. Kwon Pyo Wol found himself unable to object right then. He just chewed over the words Mok Riwon had left him with as he departed. -I’m not forcing you. I understand where Daehyeop is coming from. I know there are things we must give up for the greater cause. So I just came to say. He remembered the playful smile Mok Riwon had tossed him. -When that happens, Geumgeom will have no choice but to come up and set an example, won't he? No choice but to. Kwon Pyo Wol’s fist clenched. Yet, a peculiar excitement began to simmer in his eyes, unknowingly drawing a smile across his lips. ‘No choice, you say.’ Having no choice but to ascend the arena and duel. While it sounded like a trivial wordplay, Kwon Pyo Wol couldn’t deny it. If such a thing were to happen, he might just cast aside all other thoughts and step onto the arena. Perhaps even enjoying the act of exchanging swords. Why such a newfound desire was stirring now, Kwon Pyo Wol thought, if there was a reason, it might just be the gaze of that man. ‘So clear.’ Mok Riwon’s gaze was crystal clear. It reminded one of an impeccably transparent lake. * Dong! Dong! The drums sounded. Simultaneously, the martial judge from Cheongryongda announced. [Both parties, to your positions!] Upon hearing this, Mok Riwon took his place in the center of the arena. The man ascending from the opposite side was a renowned swordsman from Baekgeomda. “It's an honor to exchange swords with Mugnyong, Wang Il.” As the swift swordsman Wang Il assumed a formal bow, Mok Riwon returned the gesture. “I hope for a good match.” Though he spoke these words, Mok Riwon’s mind was elsewhere. Geumgeom Kwon Pyo Wol. The realization hardened as he felt his gaze upon him. Mok Riwon knew he was being obstinate. But he decided not to care anymore. ‘This is the world of martial arts.’ In the world of martial artists, where strength alone proves righteousness in this ruthless world, what does it matter if it’s a tantrum of an immature child or an unrealistic romance? It was a matter to be proven. Mok Riwon no longer hesitated to prove himself with his sword. Swoosh. The sword was drawn. Only then did Wang Il’s posture catch Mok Riwon's eye. Holding the sword with both hands, readying an upward slash. This was a stance Mok Riwon recognized from his reading of sword techniques. ‘Yoknoejingeom (Jade Thunder Advancing Sword).’ A sword technique that uses the mystery of three lightning-fast slashes. As soon as Mok Riwon recognized it, he changed his stance to mirror Wang Il's. “…!” Wang Il’s eyes widened. What followed was a chuckle. ‘Yes, this is exactly the Mugnyong I’ve heard of.’ Wang Il tensed with anticipation. The nickname ‘Mugnyong’ had come from what he had done in the Yongbongjhui and his unpredictable sword strikes in the subsequent rounds. The incredible swordsmanship demonstrated by pushing through Namgung Jincheon. All of it was enough to make Wang Il realize that Mok Riwon was not joking around this time. Wang Il smiled widely. “You’re planning to draw the grandmaster out.” “I won’t deny it.” Mok Riwon smiled lightly. Wang Il felt a sense of pleasure. Of course, he was confident that Mok Riwon wouldn’t resort to trivial methods to draw out the grandmaster in this duel. ‘He must be aiming to show it to the grandmaster!’ That among his peers, there existed a gap that could only be bridged by the grandmaster himself. But Wang Il said, “It won’t be easy!” After all, even if one is to be discussed as the greatest talent of all time, he is still just an eighteen-year-old youth. An inexperienced youngster whose martial world experience ends with the Yongbong Branch Assembly. From Wang Il, sparks flew as he executed Leijeonggong (Thunder King Strike), the counterpart to Oknoejingeom (Jade Thunder Advancing Sword). He intended to show the young sapling a lesson. That the martial world is not a place where talent alone can ensure survival, and by focusing too far ahead, one can stumble over the nearest stone. [Begin!] Crack! Wang Il’s sword shot forward with a flash of lightning, targeting Mok Riwon’s waist. The cleanness of the sword strike was indescribable. Whether it was the tension or resolve, it was the cleanest stroke he had managed recently. ‘Got him…!’ Wang Il was certain of it. It was a fine strike, sufficient to awaken the junior. Clang-! …However, it was too slow to admonish Mok Riwon. Hubal seonji (Late Draw, First Strike). The art of making a sword drawn later arrive first was executed by Mok Riwon. Wang Il was forced to a stop by a sword that reached his throat at a speed beyond his perception. “A fine strike.” He chuckled in response. ‘Oh dear.’ The moment defeat was confirmed, Wang Il’s first thought was regret for saying, “It won’t be easy!” * The scene was ruthless in its one-sidedness. Mok Riwon, as if proving the difference in class, overwhelmingly suppressed the swordsmen of Baekgeomda. Now, the fifth warrior had taken the stage. None had withstood even a single move from Mok Riwon. It was a dire situation. Yet, as expected, the faces of the defeated warriors were blooming with smiles. “Wow, such an amazing display of skill! I didn’t even see Mugnyong’s sword being drawn!” “Of course, I will remember today and recall it whenever I’m feeling down! ‘It won’t be easy!’ Ah, quote of the year!” “What is up with this guy?” Wang Il, who was the first to be defeated, followed by Jang Sam, Cheon Gu Yong, and Ha Jin Mok, were all laughing. Why bother explaining? Despite their defeat, they all enjoyed the duel, the tension of the moment. Kwon Pyo Wol felt a tickling sensation in his heart. ‘…Me too.’ Suddenly struck with the thought, Kwon Pyo Wol smiled bitterly. On the martial arena, Do Pyeong, the fifth competitor, cried out “Oh dear!” as he fell. [Mugnyong! Victory!] “A fine strike.” “You flatter me! I’ve come to realize that Mugnyong’s reputation is well earned! I’ve learned something today!” A hearty smile spread across Do Pyeong’s face. “Grandmaster.” Suddenly, someone called out to him. It was Sa Kyung Woon, the vice-captain of Baekgeomda, and his longtime comrade. “Is it your turn now?” “What are you talking about? What more could I do but lose? As the vice-captain, I refuse to be humiliated by such a monster.” Sa Kyung Woon laughed heartily. Then, stopping his laughter, he looked earnestly at Kwon Pyo Wol and said, “Did you know? Mugnyong came to see me yesterday.” “Mugnyong, you say?” “He talked about an unavoidable situation.” Kwon Pyo Wol’s gaze shifted towards Mok Riwon. He was looking at him with an eagerness that resembled a boy. Kwon Pyo Wol felt a flutter in his chest. “Grandmaster, at this rate, we won’t be able to hold our heads up in the martial alliance. Shouldn’t you go and teach him a thing or two?” Upon hearing Sa Kyung Woon’s words, Kwon Pyo Wol bit his lip. “You know, don’t you?” It was an unreasonable duel. If he were to lose in this martial competition, it would bring more disgrace than if Baekgeomda were to lose entirely without the grandmaster participating. The disgrace of a friendly duel where the grandmaster did not participate might be far less significant. The reality’s barrier was for mere enjoyment… ‘…No.’ No, that wasn’t it. Kwon Pyo Wol looked down at the sword tied to his waist. The golden scabbard was a resolve to never forget the weight of the sword. It was this that was clouding his vision. ‘No. Perhaps…’ Kwon Pyo Wol entertained a sudden thought. Maybe he was the one who was scared. Enthralled by the brilliant radiance, he might have chased after a position instead of the martial path at some point. Kwon Pyo Wol’s brows furrowed. Turning back to the safe path in the presence of a junior like Mok Riwon was unbecoming of a martial artist. ‘I did not take up the sword for a position.’ It had always been one and the same. The dream that brought him here from being a mere instructor in a small village dojo, what he wanted to become wasn’t what he was now. ‘Sword Saint.’ A sincere martial artist who could imbue each sword stroke with principle. Not someone who was so weighed down by the sword’s weight that they were afraid to draw it. Kwon Pyo Wol finally laughed helplessly. It was a realization that came to him after being lost in thought. ‘What am I doing?’ Why does a warrior hesitate to draw his sword? Why does he fear appraisal more than the sword itself? Kwon Pyo Wol chided himself. And when he raised his head, he saw something. His members were there. Most of them could have held better positions elsewhere, but they were precious comrades who chose to follow him. They were simply those who admired the principles he upheld and followed him for it. Kwon Pyo Wol couldn’t help but laugh at the anticipation reflected in their eyes. “…Always managing to put me in all kinds of embarrassments.” As Vice-Captain Sa Kyung Woon stepped aside, the members made way. A path to the martial arena cleared before Kwon Pyo Wol. He looked at it. ‘The path I should have taken long ago….’ Kwon Pyo Wol's feet moved towards the martial stage. In his stride, his sword was drawn, and the golden scabbard was tossed aside. ‘…Bewitched by mere appearances, I’m only heading there now.’ Mok Riwon, standing on the martial stage, smiled brightly and said, “I kindly request a good duel.” Kwon Pyo Wol had to admit it. Stubborn, incredibly stubborn. Ultimately, it was his victory to have dragged him to this point. Yet still, it was pure and clear. An exemplary sight for a martial artist. Thus, Kwon Pyo Wol decided to forget. “Five of our members have been defeated by you.” The complicated performance evaluations, the dignity he must show as the grandmaster, and the vanity of being called Geumgeom, Forgetting it all to become Sword Master Kwon Pyo Wol, he said, “So, I’ll give you a five-move head start.” For the first time in a long time, he laughed like a child. “Let’s begin.”