Book 15 Chapter 6

The Chapter of the Three Sages of Heavenly Martial Arts

- Journey

"It’s fine weather for a journey."

Looking up at the dazzlingly blue autumn sky, the old man smiled contentedly.

The weather was indeed beautiful.

"Father, aren't you taking your sword?"

It was a natural question, as the old man had never been seen without his sword.

To the middle-aged man's query, the old man, clad in a pure white crane-feather robe, replied with a gentle smile.

"Ho ho ho, I already have a sword in my heart. Why would I need to carry such a heavy and cumbersome thing? This is enough."

Saying this, the old man casually picked up 'it'.

"Grandfather! Th-that is…!"

The eyes of the middle-aged man and the young man beside him, who looked to be in his late twenties, widened in astonishment. They didn't ask, 'Grandfather, it hasn't even been fifty years since you passed a hundred, why are you already senile?' due to their deep reverence for the old man, which bordered on faith. Nevertheless, the young man couldn't help but consider it blasphemy. After all, what the old man had picked up was just a crudely cut tree branch.

The old man held the branch, examined it for a moment, and then nodded with a satisfied smile. It was just the right weight, length, and shape; there was nothing to criticize. Then, a thought occurred to him that something was missing.

"Hmm… it needs a name. From now on, let's call it 'Galaxy'."

It was a grand name, a name that the branch, which had only been fit for kindling, would never have had the chance to receive in its life, or rather, its 'branch-life.' It was an immense fortune. A mere branch, when could it ever receive such an outrageously grand name?

But that wasn't the important thing right now.

"B-but… Grandfather, that's not a sword."

The old man tilted his head and looked at his grandson, his face filled with the innocent curiosity of a child.

"What strange talk is this! Not a sword… then what is a sword?"

"Th-that is…"

When he tried to answer, he found himself speechless. This young man, who prided himself on his knowledge of swords, was shocked.

"Is it a sword just because it's made of iron?" the old man asked.

"No," the young man replied. Whether made of gold or silver, the performance might differ, but it was still a sword.

"Then is it a sword because it's three feet long and two inches wide?" the old man asked again. The young man shook his head.

"No. Whether it's three feet or four feet long, or one inch or three inches wide, none of that has anything to do with the definition of a sword."

Otherwise, the concepts of short sword, medium sword, and long sword wouldn't exist.

"Then it doesn't matter if the handle is made of leather, fish skin, metal, or wood, right?"

"Of course, Grandfather!"

The old man nodded with satisfaction and continued, "You said that just being a piece of metal made of iron, three feet long, one inch wide, with a fish-skin handle, doesn't make it a sword. You answered that neither the material nor the form are the most important elements that constitute a sword. Then, what truly can be called a sword? What would you call a sword then?"

The young man dared not answer.

"Please teach me."

The old man quietly nodded.

"While material and form are important components of an object, they are merely its surface, not its essence. If you cannot define an object by its material or form alone, don't you think we should focus more on its purpose and function?"

"Purpose and function, you say…"

"The definition of an object is a social agreement. And most of these definitions focus on the symbolism of its purpose and function. Then, what is the symbolism of a sword?"

The young man straightened his posture and quietly awaited the lesson. The old man continued, "A sword is an object for cutting and stabbing. While some use it as a tool with various magical meanings, for a warrior, a sword is, objectively speaking, for cutting and stabbing. It is a tool that can kill or subdue people. More precisely, anything that performs the function of cutting or stabbing is a sword. Cutting and stabbing is the duty of a sword, its very nature."

The young man listened with a reverent heart.

"Then, does it matter what its form or material is? Even if it looks like an ordinary tree branch to others, if I can cut and stab objects with this, isn't it already a magnificent sword? Like this."

The old man lightly swung the branch once. A stone lantern, exquisitely carved and ornate, about three *jang* away, was cleanly cut in half. The cut surface was so smooth it was chillingly like looking in a mirror.

"Gasp!"

The eyes of the young man and the middle-aged man widened. While the young man was astonished by the divine skill, the middle-aged man was aghast in a different sense. As the old man's son and the young man's father, he was so shocked that he was speechless, but no one noticed his distress.

The old man turned his gaze back to his grandson with loving eyes.

"What do you think? Even now, you still can't call this a sword?"

"No. As long as it is in Grandfather's hand, and you have named it a sword, it is already a magnificent divine sword."

The young man replied with a voice full of respect and admiration. As long as it was in the old man's hand, it didn't matter what it was – a worthless piece of paper, a worn-out rag, a blade of grass, or a reed – it was an incomparably sharp, excessively keen divine sword.

"Show your gratitude!"

The middle-aged man, having regained his composure, prompted the young man, who snapped back to attention and bowed deeply, performing the gesture of clasping hands.

"Thank you for your profound teaching, Grandfather!"

"That's enough. It's nothing special… You're too formal, it makes the recipient uncomfortable," the old man said, laughing and dismissing the excessive etiquette. The middle-aged man, who had been watching the affectionate scene between the grandfather and grandson, cautiously addressed the old man.

"Um… Father!"

The old man's gaze turned to his son.

"Yes? What is it?"

"I hesitated because I felt it was inappropriate to say this, but…"

The middle-aged man trailed off, as if finding it extremely difficult to broach the subject. It seemed he wanted to convey how much thought he had put into bringing this up. No one would refuse him at this point.

"What is it? What's so difficult about a conversation between father and son? Speak your mind!" the old man said with a gentle smile, unaware of any impending trouble.

"Then, if you permit me, I will speak frankly."

The old man nodded, saying, "Hmm, alright!" to the words that carried a sense of resolve.

"The sword energy you displayed a moment ago was, as always, unparalleled and magnificent. Your son is, as always, unable to do anything but admire your peerless realm."

The prelude was unusually long. At this point, even the kindest old man couldn't help but show a flicker of caution. An unidentifiable cough echoed.

Although he could have followed the example of the maiden Shim-mo, who threw herself into the Indangsu River for three hundred *seok* of rice to open her blind father's eyes, and shown filial piety by ceasing the mention of this matter and burying it, he did not. He had the grave responsibility of leading his family as the head of the household. Therefore, with a heavy heart and sorrow, he had to deliver the truth.

"However, up to this point, it's all very good… but Father, the stone lantern made of Yunnan marble, carved in the Tang Dynasty style, that you cut so cleanly…"

A look of shock flashed across the old man's face. He had indeed thought the cut surface was excessively smooth.

"Is it… expensive?" the old man asked with a dejected expression. The divine aura he had possessed while teaching his grandson moments ago had completely vanished.

The son, with the conviction that he must not hide the truth and the sense of mission that such a tragedy must never be repeated, nodded vigorously.

"Ex-tremely so!"

Perhaps intending to reawaken his sense of caution, or to increase his burden, he answered deliberately.

"Ahem… th-that… I'm sorry…" The old man coughed repeatedly. Even a master of his caliber could not remain composed when something weighed on his conscience.

"Please be more careful next time!"

The middle-aged man's attitude could be seen as fair and impartial, or, negatively, as cold-blooded and ruthless. Nevertheless, the old man dared not retort. It was the old man himself who had taught him not to be bound by blood or affiliation, but to handle all matters fairly and impartially. How could he, having taught his son to follow his beliefs, dare to suppress him using his status as a father? That was one of the acts he most despised, and it would also be a reversal of his own principles, making him too ashamed to even look up at the sky.

"W-well then, I'm off. I should go see some old friends. I can't keep them waiting after such a long time! Alright then!"

As if wanting to escape the uncomfortable situation as quickly as possible, the old man hastily excused himself.

"Farewell, Father."

"Farewell, Grandfather."

The farewells of his son and grandson followed from behind, but the old man merely waved his hand lightly without looking back.

"He seems happy."

The middle-aged man agreed with his son's observation and nodded.

"It's a reunion after so long! It's natural for him to be happy!"

"A meeting of three giants."

"Yes, if those three meet, they could overturn the martial arts world overnight."

"They could!"

When the young man nodded with a serious expression, the middle-aged man chuckled.

"Well, it's probably just a reunion of old classmates. They're probably too lazy to conquer the martial arts world."

"Indeed!"

Knowing his father's words to be true, the son immediately conceded.

The face of Sayongno Chishihan, reading the report, was deeply furrowed. The contents were enough to displease him.

"Is this true?"

Of course, it was true. He had never had subordinates foolish enough to lie in such a critical report. Nevertheless, he asked again because the matter was significant enough to warrant double-checking.

"Yes, General! It seems we've been discovered."

Samahoon, the bearer of the 'Special Grade' top-secret report, spoke with difficulty.

"The evidence was incinerated along with the Peace Treaty! There shouldn't have been any traces left that could lead them to discover its existence and trace it back!"

He had previously received a report confirming that it had been reduced to ashes down to its foundation.

"Could it be that the 'accident' back then reached their ears?"

Given that soldiers from surrounding garrisons were mobilized for suppression, it was a loud affair, so the possibility was high.

'I told them to be so careful when transporting it! Fools!'

In the worst-case scenario, he might have to sever the connection. But now was not the time to be cursing them.

"Where is it?" Chishihan asked again.

"It seems to be the Martial Arts Alliance."

"Tch, the dogs of the orthodox sects… These guys are quite good sniffers! How far have they sniffed?"

"It doesn't seem like they've uncovered our existence yet. But that might just be a matter of time."

Chishihan lowered his head slightly and began to ponder. Samahoon waited for a moment before speaking again.

"What shall we do?"

"How many are there?" He was asking about the number of individuals.

"There are eighteen in total."

"Who is the leader?"

"It's Gu-cheok Cheolshim-an (Nine-Foot Iron-Minded Eye)."

"That grave robber… Was that fellow really that competent?" 'Grave robber' was a derogatory term frequently used by those who harbored ill feelings towards him. Although he knew of his existence through intelligence, his reputation stemmed more from his unique abilities than his professional competence.

"Even a cow stumbling backward can catch a mouse."

Coincidence is also a form of ability.

"If he had just stayed in the grave robbing business, he would still be alive!" Chishihan said through gritted teeth. The conclusion was already set.

"There is only one choice. Exterminate them all. I authorize the use of the 'Destroyer Squad.' Give them two battalions!"

At the mention of the 'Destroyer Squad,' the man who had maintained his composure, Samahoon, was startled and looked up.

"The Destroyer Squad? And two battalions at that!"

It was no wonder the man was surprised. It was like using a cleaver to kill a chicken. The difference in their caliber was too vast. The Destroyer Squad, as their name suggested, was not originally trained to deal with such petty individuals. Half a battalion would have been sufficient for an incident of this magnitude. However, Chishihan seemed to have no intention of retracting his decision.

"Yes! Send those killing machines. We can also check how well they've been trained this time."

"But… using them without his permission…" That was what made Samahoon uneasy. In fact, Chishihan felt the same. This matter could very well constitute exceeding his authority and acting unilaterally. However, he was in a hurry.

"There isn't enough time to get his approval. It takes at least five times the force to completely annihilate a group, not just to win. Use overwhelming force to settle it in one go! If this operation succeeds perfectly, there won't be a need to deploy them again. Pour all your strength into achieving perfection."

The operation was that important.

"Understood!" Samahoon replied in a firm voice.

"Handle it discreetly. If this mistake ever reaches the Young Master's ears…" The mere thought sent a chill down his spine. Perhaps out of fear, Chishihan's body trembled. Shaking off his anxiety, he finished his unspoken words in a low, suggestive voice. "Not only I, but you probably wouldn't be spared either."

"I will keep it in mind!" Samahoon declared with a powerful gaze, staring intently at him.

"The existence of 'Yongyeon (Dragon's Incandescence)' must not be known to anyone yet. Annihilate all beings who try to learn about it. That is your role, your mission. Go! Samahoon, the Sword of Thousand Calamities, the Demonic Sword of Thousand Slashes!"

"I receive your command!" Simultaneously, his presence vanished from the room like an illusion.

"Hah, hah, hah!" A parched throat, lungs that felt like they would burst, legs that felt like they would tear apart… He wanted to collapse on the spot. But he couldn't stop.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo!" It was a miracle he hadn't collapsed yet. Nevertheless, An Myunghu pushed his internal energy to its limits and kept running.

"Tch, to be discovered! Hah, hah!" He regretted it immensely but couldn't stop.

"… A mistake unlike myself!" But the ship had already sailed. Regret could wait until he survived.

"Captain, what about this menial task? Hek, hek!" Gaekko, running close beside him, asked, gasping for breath. Gaekko was also on the verge of collapse. The problem was his exceptionally keen sense of smell. He had tried to track them as discreetly as possible… but the target's senses were far more acute than he had imagined.

"Damn it, I haven't even figured out the full details yet!" He would have felt less wronged if he had understood the whole story.

"Captain, huff, huff! What do we do, huff, huff? They're still following us, huff, huff!" Gaekko exclaimed urgently. His breathing seemed to be right at his throat, and he looked extremely strained. It had been three days already. The pursuit had continued for three nights and three days. They were relentlessly pursuing them, indifferent to the cycles of the sun and moon. Even a hunting dog wouldn't be as persistent.

"If I get back (if I can get back, that is), I should write a report on the limits of a cornered human's stamina." He had enough data from three days and nights of direct human experimentation. Yes, if only he could get back…

"Damn it, don't those guys ever sleep?" Before they could even reach the source of the conspiracy, they encountered an obstacle. Black-clad masked figures suddenly appeared from the darkness and began to attack them… Those were truly devilishly fearsome individuals. Out of twenty subordinates, only seven remained. Now, they were scattered in all directions, and their fate was unknown.

"Can't we just give up now! I can't run anymore!" An Myunghu gritted his teeth and shouted. Even as he said it, his legs didn't stop moving. He knew that stopping here meant death. A net of killing intent was tightening around his entire body from all directions. He wondered if this was how a deer felt, being herded by hunters.

His breath was at his throat. His body was drenched in sweat, pouring like rain.

"Hek, hek! Oh, Captain! I really can't run anymore, heek, heek!" Gaekko cried, panting. His breaths seemed to be about to give out. His complexion was as pale as a corpse, and it wouldn't be strange if he died right then. His eyes were becoming unfocused. His speed in *gyeonggong* had noticeably slowed, and he looked like he would be overtaken even by a slug.

"You idiot! If you stop now, you die! Run until you can't breathe, until your heart bursts! If you die running or stop, you die anyway, so just run a little further!" An Myunghu shouted with a voice filled with desperation.

"Heeck, heeck, you! You're making me breathless by yelling, you punk!" An Myunghu grumbled. His breathing was also visibly deteriorating. His own body was at its limit.

'Is there no other way…' Although he knew it was dangerous, and he knew the side effects would be severe, it was still better than collapsing, foaming at the mouth, and being caught by pursuers for a meaningless death. Finally making a decision, An Myunghu shouted to Gaekko and the two subordinates running behind him.

"There's no other way. Everyone, take the 'Gi-pok-hwan (Qi-explosion Pills)'!"

"G-Gi-pok-hwan?"

"Yes! The body is at its limit. We have no more strength to run! Our stamina and inner energy are all depleted, there's no other way!" He understood why they couldn't help but show a reluctant expression, even though it was a means of regaining life.

'It's understandable! I myself feel so uneasy about it…' Gi-pok-hwan is literally a pill that ignites the latent potential left in a body with depleted inner energy. Even when the wellspring of qi in the *dantian* is empty, taking it allows for superhuman strength for a short period. However, it is a powerful elixir that burns life force to forcibly exert momentary power, and it has severe side effects after use, and in the worst-case scenario, it can lead to becoming a cripple. Therefore, this double-edged sword was a last resort, not to be used carelessly unless in the final moments.

"My mom warned me not to eat unhealthy snacks…" Gaekko grumbled as he took out the 'Gi-pok-hwan' from a sealed wooden box. It was waterproofed, so it wouldn't be affected by rain or water. An Myunghu and the other two, without stopping their *gyeonggong*, took it out and carefully removed the seals. The single pill was blood-red, as if warning of its danger. 'A disagreeable thing,' Gaekko grumbled inwardly.

"Alright then!" The four pairs of eyes met simultaneously. As if by agreement, they nodded and took the pill. The taste was extremely bitter, and the smell was potent. 'Grrr, they say good medicine tastes bitter, but does bad medicine have to be this bitter!' someone grumbled. An Myunghu decided that if he ever returned (which was a big 'if'), he would submit a petition to the superiors requesting improvements to the taste of Gi-pok-hwan. It seemed to lack consideration for the field operatives.

"The people who made this probably have no idea what it tastes like. That's why these desk-bound fellows are so useless." He found fault with trivial things and grumbled. But he wasn't doing it out of enjoyment. It wasn't because his palate was particularly refined. He grumbled about these useless things to endure the despair he was feeling. Everyone was fighting for their lives.

The effect was immediate. It wouldn't make sense for an emergency pill to have a slow effect like a tonic. The pill decomposed instantly upon ingestion and was absorbed into the body. The next moment, immense power exploded from the *dantian*.

"Hoo!" An Myunghu gasped at the wave of power that surged like a tide. His empty *dantian* was swirling as if a flood had occurred. It was a vortex of qi.

"It sure works well!" His breathing immediately stabilized, and the sweat stopped. The accumulated fatigue vanished in an instant, and his limbs, which had felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, were filled with vitality, making his body feel as light as a feather. Although it was a poison-like medicine, it was a more welcome presence to them than any renowned elixir. Therefore, they decided to graciously forget about its terrible taste.

"From now on, we scatter. Do not forget our mission. Our mission is not to defeat the enemy, but to deliver information. At least one of us must survive and deliver this information to the Royal Court. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Captain!" There were many complaint forms to fill out. Most would likely be rejected and end up in the trash, but that didn't matter. It was important to savor everyday life by writing down complaints that would undoubtedly be rejected and ignored while sitting at a desk. 'Damn it! I'll make sure to pile up a mountain of reports that will make the palace maids' eyes widen!' Even if the maids came to hate him because of it, he would smile with joy.

"Survive by any means necessary! Let's meet at Mount Hua alive! No matter what form, what shape, or how shamefully you appear, just survive." Grim determination appeared on everyone's faces. But that grimness soon vanished, replaced by laughter. The overflowing vitality had given them a moment of respite.

"Hey, Gaekko! Let's meet alive! I have to get paid back alive!" Gaekko laughed at the sudden demand for debt repayment.

"Of course. Captain, you survive too. I need someone to scam. But are you still asking for debt repayment at a time like this? Do you really have to get it?"

"Of course. If you die leaving debt unpaid in this world, you'll be uneasy in the afterlife!" An Myunghu said without hesitation.

"So be prepared! I'll make sure to collect it all, with interest, when you survive!"

"That's harsh! I guess I have to survive just to repay the Captain's debt!" Gaekko said, shaking his head wryly. An Myunghu nodded vigorously, his sweat-soaked head.

"Naturally! You're destined to die after repaying my debt! Don't just die without my permission!"

"Oh, that's unfair! You owe me too, Captain!" Subordinate Lee Myung, running behind them, chimed in.

"Me, me too! I owe you two taels of silver! I lent it to you for sure three months ago!" Deputy Captain Oh Jung also joined in. An Myunghu's eyes grew hazy as he looked at Gaekko.

"Just how many people do you owe money to, and how much?"

"Hehe!" Gaekko, whose speed had increased more than threefold, scratched the back of his head and laughed foolishly. It was a sign that he couldn't count properly. An Myunghu let out a soft chuckle at the sight. Perhaps it was because they were standing on the brink of life and death. Even these trivial matters felt precious. However, they couldn't afford to indulge in such sentimental feelings any longer.

"Then we'll split up here! Everyone knows the rendezvous point, right?" The three nodded simultaneously.

"Then, good luck!" The four comrades looked at each other and grinned. They all knew that the day when the four of them would be standing here, facing each other and smiling, would never come again! Still, they smiled. That was the courtesy owed to comrades heading toward death.