"I will do things a little differently from Instructor Cho."
At Cheon U-ha's question, Seol An-geum spoke as if he had been waiting for the chance.
"For the span of one il-gak (about fifteen minutes), try to land an attack on me. But I won't count it if it only brushes my sleeve or grazes me—you'll need to land a strike that delivers a real impact. How about it?"
Seol An-geum didn't believe for a moment that Cho Mu-do had been bested in skill by a child who had never even properly held a sword.
Of course, compared to himself Cho Mu-do was still a lesser martial artist, but the man was a rising expert who had begun to make a name for himself among the local vagabonds.
If such a man had been struck by a boy, then surely it was nothing more than a careless mistake born of letting his guard down, thinking the child knew nothing of martial arts.
But in the end, he's just a child.
Even if he had secretly learned a little martial arts, he was still only about ten years old.
Perhaps a sleeve might be grazed while trying not to hurt him, but delivering an actual strike with impact? That should be impossible.
As Seol An-geum asked with a glint of meaning in his eyes, Cheon U-ha's lips twitched.
"Only strikes that deliver impact will be counted, huh…?"
His lips clamped shut as if to suppress laughter, then parted, and an irrepressible smile spread across his face.
"Well… that does sound fun."
…What?
A sudden sense of unease prickled at Seol An-geum, but he dismissed it.
After all, common sense dictated there was no way he—already brushing against the wall of first-rate mastery—could lose to a child.
"Straightforward! Good, let us begin."
Ssshhk—
He moved to the center of the training ground, widening the distance between himself and Cheon U-ha.
Unlike Cho Mu-do, his stance was light yet stable, his wooden sword held at the body's center, ready to respond to any shift.
It was a posture that left no room for luck or surprises.
But to Cheon U-ha's eyes, it was riddled with openings.
"…Then."
Ssshhk—
With a short signal, Cheon U-ha closed the distance toward Seol An-geum.
Not with any refined footwork—just a single direct stride forward.
In that instant, he was within Seol An-geum's reach, swinging his wooden sword at the man's lower section.
Tak!
The downward strike was blocked cleanly by Seol An-geum's wooden sword.
Though he had defended stably, he nevertheless stepped back, securing distance.
Every movement was focused solely on defense, as if determined not to repeat Cho Mu-do's mistake.
At that moment—
Srrk—
Cheon U-ha twisted his wooden sword, opening a gap, then boldly stepped in and thrust straight toward Seol An-geum's abdomen.
Spaat!
"Hm…!"
Though unexpected, Seol An-geum hastily twisted his body, slipping past the thrust's trajectory.
As the blade brushed his clothes by a hair's breadth, a chill raced down his spine.
Tak—
"Ah?"
Distracted, Seol An-geum failed to notice Cheon U-ha's heel striking the back of his knee.
In that split second, his legs gave out, balance collapsing—
—and into his sight came Cheon U-ha's wooden sword, raised high overhead.
"Ah…!"
Swaeeak!
Desperate, Seol An-geum raised his weapon to guard his face, even as his stance crumbled.
That alone proved he had indeed reached the ranks of a master.
But—
Thwack!
"Guhhhk…!"
Thud!
From that broken posture, he couldn't withstand Cheon U-ha's descending strike.
His own weapon slammed back into his face, and blood streamed from his nose.
"Khh… this is impossible…"
The pain left him dizzy, yet his mind reeled more from disbelief.
How could a boy barely ten unleash such fluid, sharp consecutive attacks?
As he lifted his head, caught between denial and awe—
"Wow, you actually blocked that?"
"…What?"
Into his vision came Cheon U-ha's face, smiling with that same unsettling confidence.
And then—
"Wa—wait…!"
Swaeeaak!
Thunk!
This time, it wasn't his own weapon rebounding—Cheon U-ha's wooden sword came down perfectly vertical, striking his head square.
Even as consciousness fled at terrifying speed, Seol An-geum couldn't help but wonder:
Was that really blocking…?
…Was it?
With that final thought, he felt his body collapse onto the cold ground, and darkness claimed him.
"Er… so then…"
Cheon Myeong-hak glanced at the swollen, bruised face of Seol An-geum seated before him, then quickly turned his eyes back to the table.
"You mean to say, Senior Seol also admits he cannot teach our U-ha…?"
"That's right!"
Before Cheon Myeong-hak had even finished, Seol An-geum nodded without a shred of hesitation.
"I cannot dare to teach that boy! He is a genius!"
"..."
"You must find a true master! A great master, Guildmaster!"
"That's right! Guildmaster!"
Cho Mu-do, too, nodded fervently beside him, eyes shining.
Watching the unfamiliar eagerness on their faces, a faint smile tugged at Cheon Myeong-hak's lips.
Was that man always like this?
Before Seol An-geum arrived, Cho Mu-do had seemed to have at least some dignity…
Unaware of his thoughts, Seol An-geum pressed on, eyes burning.
"The young master is a genius, Guildmaster! The future of both the boy and the guild depends on what kind of teacher he meets. If possible, you must bring in even a master of the Nine Great Sects!"
"Or at least, let him enter as an outer disciple of one of their sects. Even if he learns only their foundational martial arts, he would not lose to any true disciple."
"Ha ha…"
As their passionate persuasion went on, Cheon Myeong-hak gave a wry laugh.
What in heaven's name is happening?
At first, when he had brought in Seol An-geum, he thought perhaps Cho Mu-do had been exaggerating.
But what now?
The higher-ranked master he had worked so hard to bring in was speaking even more fervently than Cho Mu-do.
To think he has not only scholarly talent, but martial talent as well…
Whether a scholar or a warrior, producing one outstanding figure in the family was a blessing.
But to show brilliance in both—how could a father choose which path to foster?
Still…
"I understand both of your words well. But…"
He looked back and forth at the two men, a bitter smile on his face.
"To be frank, it is not easy for me to invite someone of even higher caliber than Senior Seol. As you know, such people cannot be moved by money alone."
"Mm…"
"That is true, but still…"
"And as for sending him to be an outer disciple of the Nine Sects—that too is unrealistic. You know full well our Yongmyeong Guild is under the protection of Jongui Gate, which itself is an outer sect of Zhongnan Sect."
At that, both men fell silent, their expressions darkening.
The Nine Sects—together with the Beggar's Union, known as the Nine Sects and One Gang—were the pillars of righteous Wulin.
Outwardly, they upheld justice and righteousness against the demonic path.
But in truth, none were more entangled in interests and profits.
For the sake of prosperity, they maintained outer sects that pursued worldly gain.
That was natural enough, yet the problem was this: the Yongmyeong Guild had signed a protection contract with Jongui Gate, one such outer sect of Zhongnan Sect.
For them, dependents paying tribute to Zhongnan Sect, to then seek ties with another sect to raise their own strength?
That would be nothing less than declaring hostility against Jongui Gate—and by extension, Zhongnan Sect itself.
Especially here in Xi'an, practically Zhongnan's own backyard.
"As a father, I regret that I cannot open a better path for U-ha. But as things stand, all I can do is rely on the two of you…"
"There is a way."
Cutting in suddenly, Seol An-geum fixed him with a far more serious gaze than before.
"Guildmaster, have you ever heard the epithet Chaotic Ghost Sword (亂鬼劍)?"
"Chaotic Ghost Sword…? Do you mean that master who was active around Tongchuan?"
"That's right. So you've heard of him."
Relief softened Seol An-geum's expression.
"About ten years ago, he was a first-rate master, quite renowned among the vagabonds. His temper is eccentric, but he has never strayed from the righteous path."
"You mean… you want to invite this man here?"
Cheon Myeong-hak blinked in surprise.
Even if his fame had faded in the past decade, one who had reached such heights would not be swayed by money alone.
Sensing his concern, Seol An-geum continued in a gentler tone.
"In truth, I once crossed paths with him early in my roaming days. He is headstrong, but values loyalty. If you permit it, I can try persuading him on your behalf."
"You mean… you could actually bring him to the Yongmyeong Guild?"
"Not as a retainer of the guild—that may be too much. But if it's simply asking him to take a look at a boy of rare talent, he may grant some of his time. If you prepare fine wine and some gold as a gift, I will go and ask him directly."
"Ohh, you truly would?"
Cheon Myeong-hak's eyes lit up at the unexpected proposal.
Whatever the reason, it mattered not.
Even if Chaotic Ghost Sword had only come to the guild for a brief look, if treated as an honored guest, he might decide to stay.
And if so, the guild could rely less entirely on Jongui Gate.
Was that not the same reason he had invited Cho Mu-do in the first place?
"Very well. Then I leave it to you, Senior Seol. And if this comes to fruition, I promise you will not be left unrewarded."
"Thank you. But know this—I do it not for reward, but because it would be a crime to waste the young master's talent."
"Of course."
They clasped hands, both smiling.
That very evening, Seol An-geum left the guild, carrying both travel funds and a bundle containing fine Geumjon wine.
And he did not return until the second day after, when the number of tallies carved on Cheon Myeong-hak's office desk had grown from one to four.
"My name is Jang Ui-bo."
"I am Cheon Myeong-hak, master of the Yongmyeong Guild. To meet the famed Chaotic Ghost Sword is a great honor indeed."
In the office, Cheon Myeong-hak greeted Jang Ui-bo, the man known as Chaotic Ghost Sword, who had come with Seol An-geum.
Despite the prepared banquet and warm welcome, Jang Ui-bo only gave a stiff nod, remaining standing.
"Guildmaster, it seems you have prepared a table of wine. Brother Jang, perhaps we should sit for a while—"
"No. I may love wine, but that is not the reason I came here."
Brushing aside Seol An-geum's attempt to lighten the mood, Jang Ui-bo turned to Cheon Myeong-hak.
"Forgive me, but I wish to see the young master first. Can you arrange for me to meet him now?"
"Ha ha, why such haste? I'll have the boy prepared—please sit a moment."
"I came at this man's urging, but I must first confirm whether I've wasted my trip."
Glancing briefly at Seol An-geum, Jang Ui-bo continued:
"A mere ten-year-old, with skill enough to belittle martial men? That, I cannot believe."
"What? Belittle martial men? You mean our U-ha?"
"Brother Jang, that was a poor choice of words—"
"Enough."
Cutting him off, Jang Ui-bo faced Cheon Myeong-hak once more.
"Put away the wine for now. If, after seeing the boy, I think this was a wasted journey, I'll turn around and leave at once."
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