"You there. Have you ever married?"
"…I haven't married yet, but I do have a betrothed."
It was the tail end of the sparring match. Ever since Namgung Dowi had seen the slash and thrust I used to bring down the Blood Flame Fist Demon and Hwangbo Yeongcheon, his gaze had turned a little strange.
How should I put it. It was like he had spotted a lump of gold lying on the street.
"To be honest, I only have one child myself, that Jong brat. I was just asking, so don't mind it."
"…"
He said that, but Namgung Dowi wore a sour expression, like a man who had picked up a gold ingot from the ground only to find a name tag attached to it.
Namgung Dowi let out a long sigh before speaking.
"So? Did you manage to take anything away from it? At the very least, I hope it was worth as much as what you did for the Namgung Clan."
"Yes. It was more than enough."
I had seen the Sword King's sword. No, not just seen it—I had thrown every trick I had at it, trying to cut it down.
I had slammed every martial art and every mystery I possessed into that attempt, and in between, I had even received advice on how it might be better to swing the blade.
For someone like me, who had learned rootless martial arts patched together from here and there, this was the most precious time I could have asked for—setting aside the matter of strength.
No matter how diligently I had refined them, a person's time has its limits.
Counting the years up to my regression, I had not even swung a sword for half a century.
The Namgung Clan, by contrast, was a family that had devoted itself solely to the sword for several hundred years.
What I had considered my best efforts were, from Namgung Dowi's perspective, often just part of the trial-and-error process.
If Seomun Hwa-rin had taught me the overall way to fight, then I had learned from Namgung Dowi how to wield a sword.
That alone was enough to fill me with admiration, but the real treasure was, of course…
"Jewang Geomhyeong. Are you truly fine with showing me that?"
"A single sparring bout is hardly enough to steal an art this deep. What would be the problem?"
"But I feel I've at least learned the path leading toward it."
"Overflowing confidence has always been the privilege of the young. And you do possess the skill to back it up. …But do not be too greedy."
Namgung Dowi shook his head. Standing at the center of the training ground just as he had been when I first saw him, he began pointing at each of the sword marks carved into the ground, one by one.
"This is a fragment of the Taiji Wisdom Sword left behind by the Sect Leader of Wudang two hundred years ago. It has likely changed a great deal since then, but the essence of making the Flow your own would not have changed."
"This one is a realization my great-grandfather achieved in his later years. You could say the Jewang Geomhyeong was truly completed at this moment."
"I miss this one. I don't know exactly when, but it's a heavy sword left behind by a man said to be a close friend of my father's. See it? The inside is roughly torn away. When I was young, I tried to imitate it, putting force here and there, and only ended up breaking innocent swords."
Namgung Dowi continued his explanation, pointing at each trace carved into the ground one after another.
After losing himself in memories for a long while, Namgung Dowi pointed to a sword mark that was newly cut, with white stone dust still clinging to it.
"This is the sword you left behind. The Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art, was it? A sword bearing killing intent is always sharp, but it is just as dangerous. I don't know how you managed to control it, but now that I know it is possible, I suppose I have learned something from you as well."
"Ah."
Only then did I realize how this training ground, covered in sword marks, had come to be.
From long ago, the people of the Namgung Clan must have invited those with outstanding sword arts, unusual sword arts, or sword arts they had never seen before to this training ground, leaving behind the traces of their swords.
"Your sword is the type easily found among martial artists who trained without a proper master. You took the martial arts you experienced and learned as they came, then tore them apart and remade them to suit your own taste."
"That is correct."
For a martial artist without proper affiliation, two choices are given.
To join a good master and learn a proven martial art.
Or to melt together martial arts learned on the market street or in real combat, creating a patchwork martial art of one's own.
I suppose Gwiyeong Sin-tu and I are the latter case.
However, such martial arts ultimately lack a solid foundation, making it difficult to rise to great heights.
Gwiyeong Sin-tu was stuck at the wall of the Transcendent Peak, preparing for his own death.
And I, too, despite crossing the line between life and death three or four times a day through countless real battles in my previous life, had ultimately failed to break through that wall.
It wasn't merely brushing past death—it was only after actually dying once that I barely managed to grasp a thread of Intent.
What should be understood here is that both Gwiyeong Sin-tu and I were blessed with considerable talent.
But what if someone lacked such talent, or if a mediocre martial artist recklessly practiced a patchwork martial art they had cobbled together themselves?
Nine times out of ten, they would fail to even properly cross the wall of the Peak Realm.
…In that sense, the Jewang Geomhyeong that Namgung Dowi displayed shares a common thread with the Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art.
It was completed by gathering and collecting fragments of all kinds of sword arts that the Namgung Clan had personally experienced, and sometimes invited in, over the years.
The pressure exerted by the Jewang Geomhyeong. Its Aura was one thing, but that sense of helplessness, as if one couldn't move even a single finger, stemmed from this very origin.
Having embraced countless swords, it could surely counter countless paths of the sword.
The extreme of striking first. A pinnacle achieved solely through understanding of the sword.
The result of tempering outstanding Sword Talent over a long period of time—that is the Jewang Geomhyeong.
If the people of the Namgung Clan had lacked even a sliver of Sword Talent, if they had been a little less obsessed with the sword and a little more sane.
Then a martial art like this would never have come to be.
As I nodded inwardly, Namgung Dowi continued with a faint smile.
"By now, you're probably thinking that if you had hundreds of years of time and the effort to not waste it, your martial art would also become similar to Jewang Geomhyeong."
"Is that not so?"
"It is not."
Namgung Dowi shook his head in a firm tone. He gazed endlessly at the new sword mark I had left behind, then spoke.
"I know how you came to that conclusion. I understand it as well. Isn't it because your reasoning is built on the idea that if you refine infinitely many swords over infinite time, they would eventually become similar?"
"…That is correct."
"Sword fanatics like us spend all day pondering how to wield the blade better, and since we actually improve, even if slowly, it's not strange that you think that way. …However, there is one thing you must not forget."
"What is it?"
"The one who wields the sword is always a person. No matter how much you deny it, every sword you swing carries a piece of you."
Having said that, Namgung Dowi drew his sword and took a stance. It was the thrust I had shown him last time, the Hwangbo Clan's technique reinterpreted in his own way. The posture of the Mount Tai Sword.
His arm, bent back to its limit, moved slowly toward the front.
It was a sword shown to me, with only the speed slowed down.
…But something was different.
The Mount Tai Sword was a simple full-power thrust, hardly worthy of being called a technique. Unless I became more familiar with Intent someday, at least for now, that was what it was.
It was hard to infuse it with Intent, but the path of the sword itself was something anyone could follow, so it wasn't surprising…
How could it be different?
It was clearly a thrust that extended straight forward, and all I could feel within it was the will to press ahead.
Only after staring at the thrust, which had been driven about halfway, for a long while was I able to discern the difference.
"It's not a point."
"You saw well."
The thrust I always imagined was a sword strike that concentrated on a single point. But the thrust Namgung Dowi had just unleashed was a sword that sought to dominate a plane.
If the Mount Tai Sword I had displayed pierced through obstacles, then the thrust Namgung Dowi had just unleashed would probably shatter obstacles into pieces.
The sword that continued to advance no matter what stood in its way was the same. The posture and trajectory were also the same.
But this difference arose from the difference in how one ordinarily conceived of the thrust.
"Even if you and I possessed exactly the same knowledge of martial arts, if the experiences we've fought through differ, the results are bound to differ as well. Have you ever sought to become an emperor?"
"…I understand. In the process of weaving my martial arts into one and refining them, my path and the Sword King's path diverge."
"A path is literally a path, so it's only natural that forks exist."
My martial arts and the Namgung Clan's martial arts may share the same principles, even if the years stacked upon them differ.
But what we ultimately pursue cannot be the same.
I have never been born into abundance, never received the affection and respect of all, never attained enlightenment without a threat to my life, never harbored the desire to be the best at everything, and never possessed a temperament that craves attention and recognition.
Therefore, I cannot wield the Namgung Clan's martial arts, and the people of the Namgung Clan cannot wield mine.
This has nothing to do with the level of one's martial arts—it is simply the way things are.
Since others have grown up differently, it is only natural that the swords they wield would differ as well.
"What did the Seomun Clan Head teach you?"
"He told me not to be hasty, not to compromise, and to think fiercely."
"All sound advice. Then let me add a few words to that."
Namgung Dowi sheathed his sword and, after a moment of thought, continued.
"A sword is already swung before it is drawn."
"Pardon?"
"Since you have reached Sword-Mind Unity, you should soon understand what I mean."
"???"
I tilted my head at the Zen-like riddle, but only for a moment. I didn't fully understand it, but surely someone of the Sword King's caliber wouldn't speak nonsense, so I filed it away for now.
"Shall we stop here? The sun is rising, so you should get yourself sorted as well."
"Ah, it's already this late."
I looked up and saw that the crimson glow of the lanterns was already being swallowed by the crimson of dawn.
I tightened the scabbard holding my sword, straightened my clothes, and offered a respectful fist-and-palm salute.
"Thank you for your teachings."
"Think nothing of it. Rather, I should thank you for the help you've given me. …Ah, before you go, would you mind if I asked one thing?"
"Please, speak."
"If you ever reach a higher realm someday, would you be willing to spar with Jong again?"
"Why not have the Sword King himself do it?"
"As I said before, in the end, people differ, so their swords are bound to differ as well. Jong and I may share close blood from the same clan, but we can never be the exact same person. There is a limit to what I can teach him."
"…I think I understand what you mean."
Namgung Dowi felt like a man born for the Jewang Geomhyeong.
If the tower the Namgung Clan had built with their swords touched the heavens, Namgung Dowi was the one standing atop it, looking down.
But Namgung Jong was a little different. He wanted to become the best like the rest of the Namgung Clan, and he was obsessed with the sword… but he was not the kind to rule over others.
If I had to put it in words, he was the kind of person who embraced everyone but always had to be at the forefront himself.
At least, that was what I had gathered from crossing swords with him so far.
Before the regression, Namgung Dowi had earned the alias Sword King with the Jewang Geomhyeong, while Namgung Jong had mastered the Changgung Muae Sword Art and was called the Azure Heaven Sword Lord — that difference was precisely why.
"I also enjoyed the sparring bout with Brother Namgung, so this is actually what I wanted."
"…Thank you."
With those words, we left the training ground.
Unlike the training ground, which was covered in sword marks, the outside was pristine — and the moment I saw it, a thought struck me.
The sword marks I left behind would someday become part of the Namgung Clan's swords.
But even so, my sword would carry the lessons Namgung Dowi had passed on to me.
They say that because we are different people, we have no choice but to walk different paths… but a road is not made of forks alone.
There must also be crossroads.
Perhaps today was the day our paths crossed.
***
Following the schedule, we passed through Henan and headed toward Sichuan Province.
"Young one, your head is full of demonic delusions!"
"…"
I tried to help an old monk who was being attacked by Green Forest bandits, but they mistook me for one of their own.
So I ended up taking them down together.
Well, that's how it turned out.