Ever since returning from the Choi Family Manor, I immersed myself in training day and night. I had already informed the Underworld Information Clan that I would not be taking on any requests for the time being. I had escorted Ye Hyang for two days and received a precious spiritual herb.
It was clear that he had noticed I was practicing inner cultivation, but Geuk-hwan asked nothing. The reason he paid me with a spiritual herb instead of silver taels was obvious. It meant that if I maintained a good relationship with the Underworld Information Clan, I could continue to obtain spiritual herbs.
This would make it difficult to refuse requests from the Underworld Information Clan in the future. Now that I had set foot on the path of inner energy, I suppose it was unavoidable. Having another way to acquire spiritual herbs besides the black market was not a bad thing at all.
But that was not the problem right now. I didn't know when Do Gwang-il would return. To learn the latter eighteen forms of the Heavenly Steel Saber Technique, I had to train diligently and achieve some progress.
I would wake up at dawn before the sun rose and spend about an hour circulating my energy, retracing the paths of circulation for my inner cultivation method. I would then go out to the yard, take up my long blade, and slowly perform the first eighteen forms of the Heavenly Steel Saber Technique, imbuing them with inner energy.
Like drawing silk thread from a cocoon, I drew out the inner energy from my energy core as thinly as possible. He had said that this way, even if my qi and blood got tangled, the damage to my meridians would be lessened.
Do Gwang-il had warned me several times, so even when circulating my energy, I focused on drawing out the inner energy thinly. Rushing things was a shortcut to qi deviation.
Since it was an inner cultivation method optimized for the Heavenly Steel Saber Technique, my inner energy naturally flowed into the forms as long as I faithfully followed the path of circulation. The forms imbued with inner energy were a little sharper, a little faster, and a little stronger.
So far, there was no greater power beyond that, but in a real battle where life and death are decided by an inch, this was enough to be used as a hidden trump card. The problem was that inner energy was consumed even in this process of imbuing the forms.
Every time I checked my energy core after immersing myself in training for an hour or two, I was dumbfounded. I hadn't fought a fierce battle, just practiced, but a small amount of my inner energy had vanished. They say that as the density of inner energy increases, so does its efficiency.
As expected, the only way was through endless training. When the sun reached its zenith, the sunlight became piercingly fierce. I would go into the back mountain and draw my long blade again in a small, deserted clearing in the forest.
Around the time the sun slanted towards the western mountains, I finished my training and came down. As soon as I returned home, I took out the wooden box hidden in the closet. It contained a lot of pills made by Physician Sang by processing the Great Sun Forgetting Ginseng.
It was said to be inferior to the Heavenly Mountain Snow Ginseng, but it was still enough to replenish my lost inner energy. Once I finished all of this, where would I have to find more spiritual herbs? Should I search the nearby mountains?
I was finally beginning to understand why all the great orthodox sects were tucked away deep in famous mountains. I cut one pill into five pieces, put one piece in my mouth, and re-wrapped the rest in oil paper. As I waited in a cross-legged position, a refreshing energy spread like mist from within my stomach.
I roused my inner energy and gathered the natural energy of the spiritual herb around my energy core. This time, too, the natural energy did not enter the energy core easily. Just as dense moisture gathers into dewdrops and falls, it slowly seeped into my energy core, little by little.
Fortunately, just one-fifth of a pill was more than enough to replenish the inner energy I had used up training for seven days. Next time, I would have to replenish my inner energy after ten days. I stood up after finishing my energy circulation.
My body felt light. My inner energy was also fully restored. Instead, a wave of hunger washed over me from my stomach.
I washed myself with water from the well and left the house. In the late afternoon, the Wind River Inn had quite a few customers scattered about. Among them, the only ones who even exchanged greetings with me were Gu-sam, the cook, and the innkeeper.
Then, recently, one more person was added to that list. Pung-chil, one of the two farmers who stopped by the inn almost every afternoon to eat the cheapest noodles, raised his hand when he saw me.
"Hey, you're here?"
"Are you having dinner?"
“Dinner should be at home. I had a late lunch here earlier, worked a bit, and just stopped by again. I have something to talk to you about.”
"To me?"
Pung-chil was a middle-aged farmer, tanned dark and smelling of sweat. At first, he couldn't even meet my eyes and would just eat his noodles with his companion before leaving. It was natural for him to avoid me, since martial artists were the type to draw their blades just for making eye contact.
After seeing Gu-sam and me joke around casually, we had at some point become acquaintances who exchanged greetings. I didn't want to speak informally to a farmer of my father's age, so I spoke respectfully. If it were a martial artist, it would be a different story.
These beings called martial artists would see you as an easy target if you were deferential and would endlessly look down on you. Even if it meant being called a rude fellow, I would have maintained my pride with a stiff, semi-formal tone. Although he spoke casually, Pung-chil always treated me with caution.
Whether I spoke respectfully or not, the fact that I was wearing a blade did not change. Pung-chil was a simple man who had lived his whole life diligently, without ever getting another's blood on his hands. When I talked with him, I felt as if I had truly returned to my hometown and met an old neighbor.
For some reason, I felt glad and at ease. I could almost touch something like a fleeting hope. The thought that even though I was an irredeemable murderer, perhaps it wasn't too late.
That if I just put down my blade, I might be able to live a normal life again. That I could work hard, sweating all day, and end the day sharing a drink with harmless neighbors like Pung-chil in an inn like this. Pung-chil spoke with a candid expression.
"My youngest learned some fist and foot techniques from Young Hero Gu here…"
"Young Hero Gu?"
Who could he be talking about? I followed Pung-chil's gaze and saw Gu-sam, wiping a table with a somehow proud look on his face.
"... Is that you? What have you been up to these days?"
Gu-sam puffed out his chest triumphantly.
"You know that saying, right? A tree wishes to be still, but the wind will not let it be."
"As I was hanging out with the neighborhood kids, I naturally gained followers who call me Young Hero Gu."
"What can I say? My fists are quite something. I've never seen a brat who didn't cry after being hit by my combo of No Credit and Face Paralysis Technique."
"Tsk, tsk, your head is really full of hot air."
Pung-chil smiled gently and explained the situation.
"A relative who lives out of town stopped by for a visit and saw that, and then he said it right away. The martial academy in his town is recruiting young disciples. So, that's why… could you take a look at him? I'm not asking you to teach him martial arts. Just see if he has any potential."
I thought for a moment, then shook my head.
"You should reconsider. Being a martial artist... is no life for a human."
"Farming is no life for a human either. Phew."
Pung-chil let out a sigh that seemed to sink the ground. It was steeped in the weariness and fatigue of a destitute life that allowed for nothing more than survival.
"I've been playing with dirt since before I could walk, and even now, on the verge of turning fifty, I'm still living covered in dirt. No matter how much I farm, after paying the tenant fees and taxes, and paying back what I borrowed during the lean years, I'm always left with empty hands…"
Pung-chil said that he had been pushed out of his old hometown after losing his land and had drifted all the way to this Western Village. He had managed to settle down, but the soil was poor, so the yield was not good.
He was so worried he couldn't sleep at night, thinking that if they continued to just scrape by on this land, a single bad harvest could lead to a string of funerals. While the whole family struggled to make ends meet, his youngest son kept ditching his work and running away.
No matter how much he was disciplined, he wouldn't listen, saying he was sick and tired of farming. He was a boy who lived as if he were forced to, with a sullen face and no motivation for anything, but he changed completely after meeting Gu-sam's group.
"He started practicing martial arts every day without rest. It was the first time I'd ever seen him work so hard at anything. I thought he was just a lazy kid, but I guess I was wrong… A few days ago, he confidently declared his ambition to enter a martial academy, succeed for all to see, and provide a comfortable life for his family. It's really something…"
A gratified smile spread across Pung-chil's face, as if he was proud of his son.
"I wonder if it's right to stop a son who's trying to do something. It doesn't seem like stopping him would work anyway, and forcing him to stay would offer no solution and only earn me his resentment for the rest of his life. Still, if he enters a martial academy, won't he be able to make a decent living?"
Hearing his story, it wasn't an unreasonable request. It was also a bit hard to refuse when he was pleading so earnestly.
"When is the entrance exam?"
"In ten days. It's called the Blue Cloud Martial Academy, and it seems to be quite well-known in that area. Have you heard of it?"
"No. I don't know if it will be helpful, but it's not difficult for me to take a look."
"You will? Thank you."
Pung-chil's deeply tanned face brightened. * Pung-chil had two sons and one daughter. He originally had seven children, but some died of illness, some of starvation, one drowned, and one was taken by a wolf, leaving only three.
The one who set his mind on entering the Blue Cloud Martial Academy and walking the path of a martial artist was his youngest son. His name was Pung Oh-bok. He was only twelve years old.
He was slightly smaller in height and build than Gu-sam, who was the same age, but his body, trained by plowing fields and moving stones, was quite sturdy. When I sparred with him, I found that, as befitting a farmer's son, he was naturally strong.
The force behind his punches and kicks was as heavy as that of a grown man. Of course, martial arts are not just about strength. You also need courage and skill.
The most important thing is vision. Only by seeing the whole picture and discerning the opponent's intentions can you lead a fight to victory. Pung Oh-bok's vision was narrow.
He didn't properly check his blind spots and reacted only to what was in front of him, rushing in desperately. Thus, he was easily tricked by simple feints and would become flustered by trivial techniques, his hands and feet getting tangled. It's the same not just in fighting, but in life as well.
If you can't see the bigger picture and just get swept up by the situation at hand, you'll be carried away aimlessly, regardless of your own will. You'll be constantly cornered and swayed by others' intentions until you face a self that can no longer be changed, and in the end, you'll be finished.
It wasn't that Pung Oh-bok had no martial talent. To be brutally honest, he was not as good as Gu-sam but a little better than Bang Hojin, the eldest son of the cloth shop owner.
I was about to end it there with a few words of encouragement, but I couldn't. Whatever that kid Gu-sam had told him, the awe and respect burning in Pung Oh-bok's eyes as he looked up at me were embarrassingly intense. I just couldn't leave.
I taught him a few simple grappling techniques for grabbing an opponent's hands and feet to trip them. Pung Oh-bok fell down spectacularly, but he immediately jumped back up and got into his stance again. Even as sweat poured down and his whole body became covered in dust, he challenged me again and again with sparkling eyes.
"Aigoo, our Oh-bok has really met his match today."
"How come he can't hold on at all and just keeps falling over?"
"You try it, oppa. See how long you last."
"If he had been that diligent with farming, he would've become a rich man long ago."
"What were you and I doing? If diligence alone made you a successful farmer, there would be no poor people in the world."
Pung Oh-bok's family, who had gathered on the wooden porch at some point, watched the sparring and chatted merrily. For the first time in a long while, smiles bloomed on the faces of those who had lived their entire lives looking at the ground, generation after generation, without ever finding hope. Everyone was strangely excited.
As if they had been promised a bountiful harvest. Depression and despair are easily contagious to those around. So is hope.
Twelve-year-old Pung Oh-bok, who had run away to the mountains and rivers because he hated the stifling farm work. The youngest child, who had never seemed to mature no matter how much his bottom was spanked, causing his parents endless grief, had now become the Pung family's only hope. Was I also infected by that hope?
He's probably like this because he's still young. Once he enters the martial academy, trains, and gains experience, his vision will broaden. Unconsciously, I corrected my thoughts.
* Under the blazing midsummer sun, everything was ripening daily toward autumn. Grain in the paddies and fields, and all sorts of fruits on the tree branches. I, too, was becoming more and more accustomed to imbuing my forms with inner energy.
So far, there were no problems even though I practiced my saber technique for four hours a day. My qi and blood were calm, and when I observed the inside of my body through energy circulation, my meridians and the path of my inner energy were also stable.
Feeling confident, I slightly increased the amount of inner energy I imbued, from the thickness of a single silk thread to three. A little more inner energy was consumed, but there was no significant change in the power of the forms. In the meantime, Pung Oh-bok passed the exam and became a disciple of a rural martial academy.
Pung-chil was so happy that for the first time, he ordered liquor instead of noodles at the inn. I bought the side dishes to celebrate.
'Young Hero Gu' also had a drink with us.
There was good news for me as well. As usual, I was washing up after training when I felt a presence approaching from outside the wall. I strapped on my long blade and went to the main gate to find a servant employed by Geuk-hwan.
"The master is looking for you."
"What is it? I had decided not to take any requests for the time being."
"He told me to convey that the results of the matter you requested before have come out."
My mind snapped to attention. There was only one thing I had requested of the Underworld Information Clan. I knew this day would come eventually.
The day I would finally hear the answer… I wanted to run there immediately and see the results of the Underworld Information Clan's investigation. But I couldn't take a single step.
The anxiety that I had locked away tightly in an unseen corner of my heart slowly began to coil around my ankles, tightening its grip on my breath. What if Sister Soso, uncle, and aunt were no longer of this world… My stomach churned with fear, and a chill ran down one side of my chest.
"Will you come tomorrow?"
"…Let's go."
I barely managed to pull myself together and followed the servant toward the Deep Fragrance Pavilion. Geuk-hwan was waiting for me in one of the other detached houses. He was not alone.