Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Where There Is Change, There Is That Which Does Not Change (Part 3)

"Enter True Martial Palace now."

The boy who spoke to Dam Ho appeared to be no more than twelve or thirteen years old. He was Won-yul, a Second Generation Disciple of the Mount Hua Sect.

Though Won-yul was only two or three years younger than Dam Ho, their rank was vastly different. Dam Ho was a First Generation Disciple; Won-yul was a Second Generation Disciple. To Dam Ho, he was a martial nephew. But in Won-yul's eyes as he regarded Dam Ho, a sullen light flickered.

Won-yul's lips twisted upward.

'A cripple like him is my Martial Uncle? I will never accept it.'

Dam Ho did not know it, but within the Mount Hua Sect, his nickname was the "Dog That Cannot Run"—a cruel pun on his crippled leg.

Many among the First Generation Disciples regarded Dam Ho as merely lucky to have risen to their rank by chance. The Second Generation Disciples, those closer to Dam Ho's own age, refused to acknowledge him as their Martial Uncle.

The Mount Hua Sect was a sect that pursued strength. It was especially renowned throughout the world for its swordsmanship. In such a sect, accepting Dam Ho—who could not properly execute even a single sword technique due to his natural impairment—was no easy thing.

Above all, Dam Ho had virtually no interaction with the other disciples. Normally, a First Generation Disciple would be expected to teach the Second Generation Disciples, but Dam Ho rarely showed his face. This aloofness bred misunderstanding among the younger disciples.

Many believed Dam Ho was receiving special treatment without earning it. They tolerated him as a superior only because of protocol—but they refused to call him Martial Uncle. This was the pride of Won-yul and the other Second Generation Disciples.

Dam Ho stared at Won-yul for a moment. Won-yul met his gaze without flinching, provocatively.

In that instant, Won-yul flinched.

Dam Ho's eyes were unusually deep and black—and within them, there was not a trace of emotion directed at Won-yul. Yet Won-yul felt an inexplicable chill run through him.

"What the—?"

As he tried to locate the source of that feeling—

"Let us go."

Dam Ho walked past him. The chill vanished as though it had never existed.

"Was it my imagination?"

Won-yul cocked his head.

In the meantime, Dam Ho had already walked some distance ahead. Won-yul, with no time to think further, hurried after him.

***

It had been nearly a month. Han So-yu had told him about the gathering at True Martial Palace almost a month ago. In the interim, Dam Ho had been so absorbed in the Heavy Heaven Heart Method and the Bamboo Leaf Technique that the matter had slipped entirely from his mind.

'Sage Hyeon-geom, then.'

He was curious about what kind of man he was, but on the other hand, he was reluctant to lose time that could have been spent polishing the Heavy Heaven Heart Method. Yet when a revered elder of the sect summons you, there was no refusing.

Dam Ho raised his head and looked around. The plum blossoms that had recently blanketed all of Mount Hua in white were no longer visible.

He missed the faint scent of plum blossoms, but he did not feel regret. He was merely sorry that so much time had passed so quickly.

Behind him, Won-yul's face wore a look of bewilderment. At first, the gap between them had been negligible, but as time wore on, the distance between Dam Ho and Won-yul grew steadily wider.

Dam Ho was clearly walking with a slight limp. Yet the gap between them continued to widen. No matter how fast Won-yul walked, the difference did not diminish in the slightest.

In the end, Won-yul was forced to use his lightness technique. Only then did he catch up to Dam Ho—but by then, Dam Ho had already nearly reached the main gate of True Martial Palace.

Dam Ho turned to Won-yul.

"Is it all right to go straight in from here?"

"Yes? That is… correct."

"Thank you for guiding me. I shall see you again."

Dam Ho stepped through the gates of True Martial Palace. Won-yul stared after his retreating figure and muttered:

"Has he learned some special lightness technique?"

It was possible, Won-yul thought. Though they dismissed Dam Ho as the Dog That Cannot Run, he was still a First Generation Disciple.

"To receive such benefits… so that is what being a First Generation Disciple means."

Won-yul bit his lip.

Inside True Martial Palace, over fifty First Generation Disciples of the Mount Hua Sect had gathered. For a sect as large as the Mount Hua, it was nearly impossible for so many First Generation Disciples to assemble in one place.

First Generation Disciples were the mainstay force that guided the sect. They were assigned to various halls and palaces, teaching disciples and carrying out official duties. This was the first time so many had been gathered in one place—at least to Dam Ho's knowledge.

Though the First Generation Disciples filled the hall, not one of them spoke. The atmosphere was so solemn that it dominated the space.

When Dam Ho entered, the chief disciple Mu-gyeong offered a slight nod of acknowledgment. Given the gravity of the mood, Dam Ho silently bowed his head in greeting.

Some nodded back; others regarded him with sympathy; still others looked displeased.

But Han So-yu was different. She offered a gentle smile and looked at him. Dam Ho bowed his head to her in return.

Creeeak!

Then, with a screech of rusted hinges, the doors of True Martial Palace swung open. A middle-aged Taoist strode out.

Though he appeared ordinary at first glance, the Taoist radiated a sharp, keen aura—like a masterfully forged blade.

The Taoist's gaze swept across the assembled First Generation Disciples. The instant their eyes met his, they felt as though they were standing naked in the middle of a frozen wasteland.

Dam Ho was no exception.

Chills ran up his spine and along his arms. His lips trembled involuntarily.

The middle-aged Taoist said nothing, but Dam Ho knew at once that this was Sage Hyeon-geom—the Palace Master of True Martial Palace and the greatest martial artist of the Mount Hua Sect. No one else could project such an aura.

The middle-aged Taoist finally spoke.

"It is good to see you. I am Hyeon-geom."

"We greet Martial Uncle Hyeon-geom!"

The voices of the First Generation Disciples thundered through True Martial Palace. Within their voices was reverence for Sage Hyeon-geom.

After the storm of their greeting subsided, Sage Hyeon-geom continued.

"I have gathered you here today at the Grandmaster's command. The Grandmaster wishes for me to share as much of my insight with you as possible."

The First Generation Disciples stirred.

Many believed that even a fraction of Sage Hyeon-geom's insights would propel them to extraordinary heights. But the voice that followed was enough to chill their fervor to the bone.

"But I do not need many who are slightly better than the rest. I need only one who is exceptional."

Sage Hyeon-geom's eyes gleamed with a razor edge.

He had entered the Mount Hua Sect at the age when he could barely walk and had walked the path of the sword for over fifty years. While his fellow disciples of the same generation had become distracted by worldly affairs or neglected their martial cultivation, he had walked the sword's path with unwavering dedication.

A swordsman who lived by the sword and died by the sword.

For Sage Hyeon-geom, whose ultimate goal was to ascend to the realm of immortality through the sword, mediocrity held no value.

What he desired was a genius of extraordinary talent who could inherit his insights.

"There will be a trial. The single disciple who passes will become my direct student. First Generation Disciple or Second Generation Disciple—it does not matter. Even an outer disciple, if they demonstrate exceptional talent, will become my disciple and inherit everything."

Mmmmm!

Sage Hyeon-geom's declaration was nothing short of a thunderbolt.

It meant the destruction of the hierarchy and rank that every sect held sacred.

If an outer disciple were to become Sage Hyeon-geom's student, they would become a First Generation Disciple overnight. It was an unprecedented upheaval.

The faces of those who had been smiling with composure moments ago turned to stone. Among them were Mu-gyeong and Un-gyeong, who could be considered the leaders of the First Generation Disciples.

They too had not anticipated that Sage Hyeon-geom would impose such radical conditions.

Mu-gyeong, speaking on behalf of the First Generation Disciples, asked:

"How do you intend to select your disciple, Martial Uncle?"

"What, do you have designs on the position as well, Mu-gyeong? You have already entered the Self-Nature Heart Method—surely you have no need for my insights."

Mu-gyeong was the disciple of Sage Hyeon-cheon, the Grandmaster of the Mount Hua Sect. As the certain successor to the next Grandmaster, he would have already entered the Self-Nature Heart Method, the supreme art of the Mount Hua Sect.

Mu-gyeong smiled.

"Frankly, Martial Uncle, it would be strange if I did not. You are the greatest swordsman of Mount Hua. But as you say, I have already entered the Self-Nature Heart Method. My path will inevitably differ from yours."

"You understand well."

"The one who inherits Martial Uncle's insights will become the sword that represents Mount Hua. How could I not pay attention?"

Sage Hyeon-geom smiled. Mu-gyeong's words were reasonable.

"All those gathered here will engage in sparring matches."

"The final victor of the sparring will inherit Martial Uncle's insights?"

"Think what you will."

At Sage Hyeon-geom's ambiguous reply, Mu-gyeong's brow twitched. But he quickly smiled.

"I have no confidence in defeating my fellow disciples in front of everyone, so I will withdraw."

"As you wish."

Sage Hyeon-geom nodded.

He did not want Mu-gyeong. The chief disciple of the Mount Hua Sect had already received much. He walked a different path, one that was advancing toward its own completion. Taking him as a disciple would bring nothing but headaches.

The other disciples exchanged glances but did not retreat. Though they each already had their own masters, inheriting Sage Hyeon-geom's insights was an extraordinary honor.

Broadly speaking, they were all fellow disciples, so their existing masters would not object to them receiving Sage Hyeon-geom's teachings.

"There is no time. We shall begin the sparring now."

Sage Hyeon-geom, as though he had prepared in advance, pointed out the combatants.

"First, Seo-myeong and Un-gyeong. Prepare yourselves."

"Yes? Yes!"

Seo-myeong and Un-gyeong, selected to fight first, stepped forward with startled expressions. They had not expected to be called upon so soon.

Tension was plain on their faces.

Seo-myeong belonged to Golden Heaven Palace; Un-gyeong belonged to Peace Palace. They had trained together in their youth, but as they grew older and were assigned to different palaces, opportunities to spar had become rare.

What they knew of each other was information more than a decade old. They would have to clash directly to gauge each other's true level.

'I will win this.'

'Sage Hyeon-geom's insights will be mine.'

Both burned with fighting spirit. Their determination was felt by the other First Generation Disciples as well.

On the training ground before True Martial Palace, the two faced each other. The other First Generation Disciples formed a circle around them, watching.

"Begin."

At Sage Hyeon-geom's command, Seo-myeong and Un-gyeong began to circle each other with predatory gazes.

Both inherited the martial arts of the Mount Hua Sect. Though they did not know each other's exact level, they knew which techniques each excelled at.

"Ha!"

Un-gyeong moved first. He unleashed the Seven Star Sword Technique. In the blink of an eye, his wooden sword shot toward Seo-myeong's chest.

Seo-myeong used the Nine Palace Step to evade Un-gyeong's attack. When the wooden sword passed harmlessly by, he countered with Plum Blossom Fist.

Shhhk-shhhk-shhhk!

The training ground was instantly filled with their shadows.

Both fighters utilized the full expanse of the open ground, each trying to overpower the other. They unleashed the supreme arts of the Mount Hua Sect in rapid succession, and their movements—bordering on artistry—drew gasps from the watching disciples.

Dam Ho stood among the other First Generation Disciples, watching their match. His eyes gleamed with a cold, focused light.

'This is an opportunity.'

There was a vast difference between training alone and sparring with an opponent. They had been forced to reveal their true, hidden abilities.

Seo-myeong, using Plum Blossom Fist, sought to close the distance, while Un-gyeong, wielding the Seven Star Sword Technique, fought to maintain it.

Watching the battle between a fist user and a sword user, Dam Ho was learning how to respond to each.

For Dam Ho, who trained alone, this was an invaluable opportunity. He focused every fiber of his being on the match, determined not to miss a single exchange.

The thought of inheriting Sage Hyeon-geom's insights did not enter his mind. Dam Ho was consumed by the battle unfolding before his eyes.

Each time their techniques collided, his shoulders twitched involuntarily.