he mountain wind drifted quietly across the training grounds of Jongnam, brushing against rows of young disciples standing with wooden swords in hand.
At the front stood Yun Cheon-wu.
The Wind King.
One of the Ten Kings of the Martial World.
And the man acknowledged as the strongest sword of Jongnam.
His presence alone pressed upon the field like an unseen weight. Most of the children felt it but could not understand it, their grips tightening, their breaths growing shallow. To them, he was simply another elder.
To the elders seated beside him—
He was the standard.
To his right sat Yun Mu-ryeong of the Inner Hall, the Black Dragon King, his expression cold and unreadable. His gaze drifted lazily across the disciples, as if none of them truly deserved his attention.
Nearby, Yun Seol-jin of the Sword Pavilion leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp as they traced every motion. Yun Do-kyun of the Discipline Hall, remained upright and rigid, his presence alone forcing discipline into the air.
The faint scent of herbs lingered around Yun Chun-soo of the Medicine Hall, while Yun Hae-jin of the Finance Hall, had stilled his fingers, watching with quiet calculation. At the far end sat Yun Hwarin, who oversaw the sect's internal affairs, her gaze distant but quietly observant.
"Begin."
The command fell simply.
The first child stepped forward.
Then the next.
And the next.
One by one, they performed the Seven Forms of the Clear Blade, circulating their qi through Gentle River Circulation. The forms were basic, meant to reveal rather than conceal.
And they did.
Too stiff.
Too eager.
Too aware.
Children trying to impress.
Not swordsmen.
Yun Cheon-wu watched without interest.
Then—
"Jin So-yeong."
His gaze shifted.
She stepped forward without hesitation, her posture already aligned, her breathing steady before she even moved.
Then she did.
The first form cut cleanly through the air. The second followed without pause. By the third, her breathing had synchronized fully, qi flowing without obstruction.
There was no waste in her sword.
No struggle.
It did not look like she controlled the blade.
It looked like she understood it.
By the seventh form, she stopped naturally.
A brief silence followed.
"I'll take her."
The voice came calmly.
Yun Hwarin.
For the first time, her attention had sharpened fully, her gaze fixed on the girl.
So-yeong bowed. "Yes, Elder."
Yun Cheon-wu said nothing.
But inwardly—
She chose well.
"Jin Daegyeong."
The boy stepped forward with barely contained excitement, his movements fast and forceful.
Too forceful.
His breathing uneven. His transitions rough.
But there was no hesitation.
No fear.
Only forward momentum.
"I'll take him."
Yun Mu-ryeong spoke without looking.
Daegyeong froze.
"…Father?" ,Jin Jae-kyung was surprised of the decision
A faint ripple of amusement passed through the elders.
For a brief moment, Yun Mu-ryeong's gaze shifted—not to Daegyeong, but further down the line.
Toward another boy.
Then—
"Jin Jae-kyung."
Yun Cheon-wu's attention sharpened.
Jae-kyung stepped forward lazily, scratching his cheek as if mildly inconvenienced.
Outwardly careless.
Internally—
His eyes flickered briefly toward the front.
The Wind King.
…So this is where it begins.
His grip on the wooden sword tightened slightly.
If I'm going to walk this path again…
A slow breath left him.
Then I'll start properly.
He raised the sword.
And moved.
The first form—
Clean.
Controlled.
Not too perfect.
The second flowed naturally, with a slight imperfection introduced deliberately.
Just enough.
The third aligned with his breathing.
Gentle River Circulation.
Slow.
Restrictive.
Still… it works.
The fourth—
He nearly refined it too much.
He pulled it back.
Too much and it becomes obvious.
The fifth slowed.
Grounded.
Measured.
The sixth—
His instincts surged.
Faster.
Sharper.
Cleaner.
The way he used to move—
He suppressed it.
Forced it down.
Not yet.
The seventh—
He ended it simply.
No flourish.
No excess.
Just enough.
Silence fell.
He lowered his sword slowly.
That should be enough.
From the side, So-yeong frowned. "You're acting strange today."
"…Dust got in my eye," he replied.
"Both eyes?" Daegyeong muttered.
"…You want to test that?"
A faint chuckle passed through the elders.
Yun Cheon-wu did not laugh.
But his gaze lingered.
That was not the sword of a child.
There had been control.
Restraint.
Deliberate imperfection.
Not talent.
Experience.
For the first time—
Yun Mu-ryeong looked directly at his son.
Not as an elder.
As a father.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then returned to stillness.
The remaining selections passed.
But the air had already changed.
Then—
"I'll take him."
Silence.
Yun Seol-jin turned. "You?"
Even Yun Hae-jin frowned. "You've never taken a disciple."
"I know."
Yun Cheon-wu did not look at them.
"That child does not move like one."
No one argued.
Jae-kyung paused slightly.
…Got it.
No surprise.
Only confirmation.
Daegyeong grabbed him. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
Jae-kyung shrugged.
"…I showed a little."
"…That was a little?!"
"…Enough."
From behind, Jin Woon clicked his tongue. "You're hiding something."
Jae-kyung glanced at him.
A faint smirk appeared.
"…Obviously."
Soon, the chosen disciples stood before their masters.
Yun Do-kyun's voice rang out across the grounds.
"From this moment onward, you are no longer Jin-generation disciples. Having been taken under Yun-generation masters, you will be recognized as Ling-generation disciples of Jongnam."
Shock rippled through the crowd.
Daegyeong blinked. "…We skipped a generation?"
"…Looks like it," Jae-kyung said.
"That's not a good thing," So-yeong muttered.
"More work," he replied.
Daegyeong groaned. "This is definitely more work…"
Woon scoffed. "Pathetic."
"Say that again."
"Pathetic."
"…Fight me later."
For the first time—
Yun Cheon-wu smiled.
Faint.
Barely visible.
But real.
The wind passed once more across the training grounds.
Quiet.
Steady.
Unchanging.
Jae-kyung's gaze lifted slightly.
Toward the man at the front.
The Wind King.
The strongest sword of Jongnam.
This time…
His grip tightened just a little.
I won't fall behind.