What is it that makes a martial artist a martial artist?
Is anyone who practices martial arts a martial artist? Someone who artificially accumulates internal energy? Or must one surpass the limits of humanity, even slightly, to materialize qi into form to be called a martial artist?
The standards for this are vague, and each person's answer will differ.
It's not a question with a correct answer to begin with, so it's also difficult to say who is right and who is wrong.
However, there is definitely an answer that most martial artists can agree on. For example…
One who holds confidence in their own martial level is called a martial artist.
If it were stated like this, everyone would nod their heads in agreement.
That's only natural, since it's what one feels most keenly before and after learning martial arts.
It's not for nothing that the prestigious Orthodox Sects tell their rising talents to stay humble.
In fact, there's more than one brat who gets into trouble because their confidence swells to the heavens.
"In that sense, this isn't my fault—perhaps the monks simply broke themselves. There are times when one must learn how to bend."
"…So you're saying it's not the fault of the young hero Cheon, who unleashed a terrifying killing intent and crushed them without giving them a single chance to properly execute a Technique, but rather the monks whose hearts broke over something this trivial?"
"Exactly! They asked me to go all out, so I gave it my all. Look anywhere in the world, and you won't find a master as generous as me, freely sharing with rising talents I've only just met."
"Hmm. You do remember that I told you to take it easy at first, don't you? So are you saying that the Shaolin monks you met today for the first time matter more than me, your Betrothed?"
"Wh-what…"
Tang So-wol knew all too well how to paralyze me without Acupoint Sealing, both before my regression and now.
I flinched for a moment, caught between doing this and that, and Tang So-wol gave a slightly softened smile at my reaction.
"I was only joking, so please don't look so troubled. But won't you be a bit more honest with me?"
"They're all far more skilled than their realms suggest, so I got a little carried away."
"And?"
"…Now that word has spread about me defeating the Blood Flame Fist Demon, people look at me with respect, and I wanted to show them something."
That was true.
Quite some time had passed since I defeated the Blood Flame Fist Demon, and far from hiding the fact, I had reported it to the Murim Alliance to raise awareness of the Demonic Cult's threat.
It would hardly be strange if rumors about me had already spread all the way to Henan.
The rising talents of Shaolin… no, most of the rising talents of the prestigious Orthodox Sects cannot venture out into the martial world until their age and skill have matured.
This is to prevent them from sullying their sect's name with clumsy martial arts, and to prevent disciples who are not yet strong enough to protect themselves from dying meaningless deaths.
For that reason, most of the monks gathered here have never even set foot outside Mount Song.
Yet here, the subject of an absurd rumor had suddenly appeared right before their eyes.
If I were in their shoes, I would have been jumping with curiosity too—wondering whether the rumors were true, and if so, just what level of martial skill the man possessed.
Perhaps because they were from the Shaolin Temple, they spoke politely, saying things like, "I know there is a difference in our martial levels, but I wish to properly witness the Sword Master's blade."
I can guarantee that if these had been Unorthodox Sects, they would have started a quarrel with words like, "So you're the one who's supposed to be such a great fighter?"
"Well, well. I never expected this level of shock, to be honest."
"Since none of it was ever directed at me, I can't say for certain… but hasn't the young hero Cheon's killing intent grown thicker these days?"
"That's not it."
The moment I defeated the Lord of the Black Heaven Sword Gate, the long-held mourning within me came to an end.
The festering wound that had been rotting for so long, transforming into a Killing Heart, had also come to a stop.
The Simma within me… the killing intent was the same as ever. Neither growing nor diminishing.
Even so, I could guess why Tang So-wol felt that way, and why others sensed something off.
"It's simply that I've learned to wield it better."
"Excuse me?"
"There are things that become clearer when you step back and look at them from a distance."
"???"
Tang So-wol tilted her head, as if she couldn't understand what he meant.
Clutching something desperately is all well and good, but sometimes you have to let go to see the whole picture.
It wouldn't be difficult to tell her this… but I'm wary of my enlightenment influencing Tang So-wol.
That's because, despite knowing each other's martial arts well, we pursue completely different paths.
Moreover, Tang So-wol is someone who holds the potential to reach the Harmony Realm on her own. I still haven't grasped anything about the Harmony Realm myself, so I worry that I might be overstepping my bounds with needless meddling.
Perhaps Tang So-wol hasn't realized it herself, but she's already standing at the very edge of the Peak Realm.
It wasn't intentional, but hasn't she been swept up in all sorts of affairs alongside me all this time?
It might not be enough to lead to enlightenment, but the experiences she's accumulated step by step must have become nourishment for her.
So, I decided to just shrug my shoulders and play it off lightly.
"There are things that people who haven't yet reached the Transcendent Peak simply don't know."
"Are you trying to throw me into the Simma next, after the Shaolin rising talent?!"
Tang So-wol smiled with a mix of disbelief and defiance, patting my shoulder vigorously—but only for a moment.
The training ground, which had been in an uproar from the shock of my sparring bout with her, suddenly fell silent.
Then, from a short distance away, came the sound of three sets of footsteps.
I couldn't place two of them at all, but the third was a presence far too familiar to me.
A light step. A bustling movement, as if slightly excited. And in the midst of it, a rhythm that would occasionally falter with a start, as if stealing glances this way.
It was Seomun Hwa-rin, who had been spying on me and Seol Ri-hyang last night, arriving at the training ground. Beside her were hulking monks with their heads shaved clean.
"Ahem, ahem. So you arrived at the training ground first. Hyang-i had some business to attend to, so she will come a little later."
"Business, you say?"
"Well, you know. That place they call the latrine here."
"Ah."
So that business really was business.
I nodded and looked at the two hulking monks standing beside Seomun Hwa-rin, faint smiles on their faces.
"Could the two of you be…"
"A pleasure to meet you. Are you the young hero known as the Blood Flower Sword Demon, whose fame has been spreading lately?"
"I believe the abbot has told you of us, but we are unworthily called the Vajra Guardians. I am Geum-myeong, and this is my senior brother, Gak-myeong."
The two pressed their palms together as they spoke. I hadn't expected two Vajra Guardians to show up.
"You're the ones who were to spar with senior Seomun Hwa-rin… but did both of you come?"
At my question, the Vajra Guardian—whose tone was far gentler than his bulk suggested—shook his head.
"It is not so. I alone am to receive instruction from the Seomun Clan Head—the senior Gak-myeong here simply followed along."
"Since up to three observers were permitted, I took the liberty of tagging along."
The burly monk called Gak-myeong spoke with a hint of embarrassment.
Despite his muscular build and fierce countenance, his expression and eyes radiated simple honesty.
"Why would it be a problem? We agreed on three without any special conditions… and besides, I am one of the observers myself."
The agreement between Seomun Hwa-rin and the abbot, Jeonghyeon, was simple.
Since she could not step forward herself, she would instead provide one of the Vajra Guardians as a sparring opponent.
It would be a private bout, with neither the results nor the proceedings disclosed to others, and each side would send three observers.
That was all.
Even I, a Transcendent Peak martial artist who had seen quite a bit, was sitting in as an observer, so there was no reason Gak-myeong, a Transcendent Peak of equal maturity, couldn't do the same.
In that vein, Gak-myeong nodded, studying me with a curious look.
"I'm grateful you see it that way. If you'll permit me, I'll go fetch the other two. Would you wait a moment?"
"That works out well—we need to wait for one of our own anyway."
With that, Geum-myeong and Gak-myeong began to round up the rising talents who were still caught up in the aftermath of the sparring bout.
For those caught in a light Simma, they shouted with a full weight of Buddhist internal energy; for the children earnestly pondering their futures, they offered gentle words of comfort and advice.
After calming them one by one, they sent everyone out, leaving behind the one who had taken second place at the Dragon Phoenix Gathering and a monk who looked a bit older than the typical rising talent.
Around that same time, Seol Ri-hyang arrived, looking more tired than usual today.
Her eyes had a strange, hollow look to them, so I carefully opened my mouth.
"Is something troubling you these days?"
"Why the sudden question?"
"No need to be embarrassed. And no need to worry either. Say what you will, a Pure Yin Constitution is a constitution that disrupts the harmony of yin and yang. Even if you can manage it with martial arts, it's hard to block even the minor problems."
"Uh, well. I appreciate the concern, but I'm not really sure what you're talking about."
"I'm saying it because you seem to have come too late, claiming you had to use the latrine."
"…Hey!"
Seol Ri-hyang's face suddenly flushed bright red as she channeled her internal energy, her hand radiating white cold as she swung it wildly toward my back.
If I took a hit like that, even I—whose External Arts had been improving noticeably lately—would find it hard to laugh off. A bit of internal injury and frostbitten skin would just be the bonus.
Well. That was all assuming I actually got hit.
I dodged Seol Ri-hyang's swinging hand, speaking in a calm voice.
"Calm down. There's a solution to everything, isn't there?"
"Just let me hit you a few times, Cheon Hwi?! Stop dodging and come here?!"
"Lower the internal energy wrapped around your hand first, then talk."
The redder Seol Ri-hyang's face grew, the sharper the cold emanating from her hand became.
"If imbalance is ultimately the problem, then isn't the solution simply to correct it? The fastest method would be to supplement the lacking yang energy, but… that's only a temporary fix at best. Once you raise your realm, most of these problems will resolve themselves somehow."
"I'm telling you, that's not what happened!"
"Come to think of it, I've sparred with Tang So-wol and senior Seomun Hwa-rin quite often, but I've barely had a proper sparring bout with you, Seol Ri-hyang. If you'd be willing to make time for it starting today…"
"It's all because of you, Cheon Hwi! Why do you keep spouting nonsense like that?!"
"Hm?"
"Ah, it's because I couldn't sleep after what you did yesterday, so I woke up late, alright?! I was washing my face and tidying my hair along the way, so I was late—it's not the reason you're thinking of, Cheon Hwi!"
Seol Ri-hyang huffed, her voice thick with indignation. In that instant, the gazes of Seomun Hwa-rin and Geum-myeong, who had been preparing for the sparring bout, as well as the others who had come to watch, all turned toward her, and silence fell.
Then, people began clearing their throats in voices that anyone could see were unnaturally forced.
"Ahem. Well, now that everyone who should be here has arrived, and those who should leave have all gone, shall we begin the sparring bout?"
"Cough, cough. That sounds good. This bout is meant to test each other's martial arts, so I will not use my aura."
"Namu Amita Buddha. I look forward to learning a move or two from the head of the Seomun Clan."
Geum-myeong pressed his palms together in thanks and settled into his stance. Likewise, Seomun Hwa-rin raised her fist.
Everyone acted as if nothing had happened, focusing on the sparring.
Only Seol Ri-hyang gritted her teeth and whispered into my ear.
"Someday… someday I'll pay you back in kind, so you just wait!"
"Hmm."
That's too much.
I had nothing but goodwill from start to finish.
Just as I let out a light sigh, Geum-myeong, enveloped in a golden aura, thrust his fist forward.
It was the start of the sparring bout.