On the Island, We (2)
A welcome visitor arrived on the island.
Baekpyo, with his bronzed, muscular physique, a testament to his hard work, had come.
“My lord, it’s good to see you.”
“You’ve worked hard.”
I embraced him heartily, acknowledging his efforts.
“I’m glad the information I sent was useful.”
“It was incredibly helpful.”
Without the swift intelligence on Sochungdae, we might have faced disaster.
“I learned a lot while building the Black Panther Unit.”
It wasn’t just about martial arts. Until now, he had formed relationships within the framework of the Mengho Clan, part of the Martial Alliance.
But the Black Panther Unit was different. He personally selected and trained the members. There must have been many experiences along the way.
These experiences are what make a person stronger.
When I recently met the leader of the enemy forces, an old man, I sensed his strength wasn’t just in martial arts. It was the countless experiences that gave him that aura. Such a person’s blade is truly fearsome.
Hearing of Baekpyo’s arrival, Galsaryang entered the guest hall.
“How have you been?”
Galsaryang, who rarely smiled, beamed at seeing Baekpyo after a long time.
They were an unlikely pair, yet they got along well. Initially, I thought they bonded over being close aides to the Martial Alliance leader, but now I suspect they might just naturally get along.
“Thanks to you, I’ve been well.”
“You seem different somehow.”
“It’s probably the tan.”
He answered modestly, but it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed. Baekpyo’s skills had sharpened significantly.
If I were to teach him now, there wouldn’t be many in the martial world who could match him.
I asked, “And your subordinates?”
“They’re stationed around Wuhon, ready to move at any time.”
Just hearing that was reassuring. The Black Panther Unit had become an elite force, second to none.
“Their loyalty?”
“Steadfast, but it will take more time.”
It echoed the conversation I had with Galsaryang.
Trust takes time. Even an organization like the Black Panther Unit is built on human relationships. Over time, loyalty and internal cohesion will only strengthen.
“We’re still recruiting beyond the thirty-three we have now.”
Yangcheong, a former Mengho Clan member, was recruiting new members, while Myungdo was training them. Once back, Baekpyo would oversee their training.
“The Black Panther Unit will be needed soon.”
“Just give the order.”
I briefed Baekpyo on recent events and the forces behind them. He was shocked to hear about the resurrection of the Heavenly Demon.
I turned to Galsaryang.
“What should we do?”
“First, we need to find out who they plan to implant the Heavenly Demon into.”
“Do you have any guesses?”
Galsaryang answered calmly.
“Yes, I do. It’s… the Martial Alliance leader, Ma Cheolgun.”
“Ma Cheolgun?”
Baekpyo asked Galsaryang in disbelief.
“Yes. I believe they intend to place the Heavenly Demon’s soul into Ma Cheolgun.”
“It’s hard to believe.”
“I was skeptical at first too. But there are reasons to think so. I’ve always wondered why they put Mabonggi in the leader’s seat. If it was just to use him, there were dozens easier to manipulate.”
I nodded in agreement. The elders would line up for the position.
Galsaryang continued, looking at me.
“They killed Mabonggi deliberately.”
Cheonsosun killed him right where Galsaryang and I stood.
“It was a premeditated murder. I wondered why they made him leader only to kill him. But watching them elevate Ma Cheolgun as leader under the guise of avenging his father, I realized they needed Ma Cheolgun all along. The Martial Alliance leader, Ma Cheolgun.”
Baekpyo looked at me.
“Do you believe him?”
He was still skeptical, and I understood.
Implanting the Heavenly Demon into the Martial Alliance leader?
It was a shocking, unprecedented move.
“I do.”
My instincts agreed. While I couldn’t discern all their motives, I concurred with their intent to use Ma Cheolgun.
Baekpyo’s face hardened.
“They’re insane.”
“Yes, utterly mad.”
I added after Galsaryang.
“And dangerous. We must never let our guard down against them.”
Galsaryang and Baekpyo replied in unison.
“We understand.”
“Who are you?”
Ma Cheolgun was startled. A mysterious woman was applying makeup in front of his mirror when he entered his room.
“You have a knack for surprising people.”
“Isn’t it fun?”
The woman resumed her makeup.
Ma Cheolgun sat on the bed, feeling a surge of joy at seeing her. He almost blurted out, “Why did you take so long?”
Feigning indifference, he said, “The Martial Alliance leader’s quarters are quite lax. I should fire those Mengho Clan fools.”
“Don’t. No one can protect you anyway.”
Though spoken in jest, it was true. No one could stop her comings and goings, not even Ma Cheolgun himself.
“You look tired.”
Her reflection in the mirror showed concern. That single word of worry melted away his accumulated fatigue.
“You look tired too.”
The woman sighed lightly, her eyes downcast.
“I had a tough day.”
“What happened?”
She sighed again, her sad expression more captivating than a smile.
‘Damn!’
Even knowing it was a ploy, he couldn’t resist.
Before seeing her, he resolved to use her. But in her presence, his reason vanished, leaving only one thought.
‘I want her to be mine.’
Ma Cheolgun spoke, knowing he shouldn’t, unable to hide his desire.
“I missed you.”
Unlike him, she hid her desires well.
She smiled in the mirror.
“Me too.”
That afternoon, I stood facing Baekpyo.
We were in a small training ground attached to the manor. It was time to do what I’d postponed for him.
We were going to spar. To elevate him to the next level.
But it was also for me.
Facing Iseon, I had killed Kwonseon with my martial arts. Though I won as always, it felt different. Facing such masters had affected me.
I realized.
I was on the brink of reaching a great level. If lucky, sparring with Baekpyo might yield results for me too.
“Consider me a real enemy and give it your all.”
“Understood.”
At this moment, Baekpyo was likely worried about me. His martial arts had improved, and he feared truly trying might hurt me.
A few exchanges would show him his concern was unfounded.
Baekpyo’s swordsmanship was the Wind Sword Technique. Its swift, solid strikes were marked by the sound of a refreshing breeze.
I countered with my martial arts.
Swish!
His sword sliced through the air. The first move was to gauge my reaction.
But I didn’t hold back from the start.
I dodged his strike and landed a blow on his chest.
Thud!
Baekpyo staggered back, surprised. He was shocked at how easily I hit him and that he wasn’t injured despite the impact.
I chided him as he stood dazed.
“Focus and give it your all.”
“Yes.”
His eyes changed, and so did his movements. Faster and stronger.
But it didn’t matter what he thought or what techniques he used. I intended to draw him into a fight of my making.
Swish! Swish!
His sword aimed for my vital points. There was still hesitation in his strikes, fearing he might hurt me.
I punished that hesitation with a kick to his side.
Thud!
He collapsed with a groan. It felt like the end, but again, no bones were broken, and he wasn’t internally injured. Just bruised enough to ache for days.
Baekpyo’s face was full of astonishment. He knew it was harder to incapacitate without injury than to kill.
This realization led to the correct assessment: he couldn’t harm me even with all his might.
Baekpyo gritted his teeth.
Now, without hesitation, he launched his best attacks.
I focused too. His full-force attacks were formidable.
Fifty moves, seventy moves… Over a hundred moves later, we were like mortal enemies in a life-and-death duel. Just as I intended. I pushed him to give his all, or he’d be defeated.
The essence of the Wind and Grace Swordsmanship flowed forth in a continuous stream.
Baekpyo had already mastered this art to an exceptional degree.
Almost perfect.
I say “almost” because reaching mastery is not the end of the journey.
If the goal were simply for a mountain stream to reach the sea, then yes, it would be the end.
But if one intends to flow into the vast ocean beyond, the journey truly begins there. In fact, it might be more accurate to say it starts now.
“Huff, huff, huff.”
When the sparring session ended, only Baekpyo’s heavy breathing echoed in the air.
He had never fought with such intensity before. Not even in past battles against the dark sects had he fought so fiercely. This sparring felt more real than any real battle.
At this moment, he probably couldn’t even recall which techniques he used or how. It was time to let him reflect on the sparring session calmly.
I offered him no explanations. Teaching methods vary depending on the student, and for Baekpyo, it was “figure it out yourself.”
“Let’s do this again tonight.”
Later that night, we faced each other once more.
This time, not in the training grounds, but by a secluded lakeside.
“Now, use your full inner strength to attack.”
“Yes, understood.”
Had I said this during our first spar, he would have hesitated.
But after our earlier session, he had gauged my strength. He knew I was strong, but not to that extent.
Baekpyo’s sword emitted a fierce aura, and his sword energy surged forth.
For a martial artist, having the chance to unleash all their skills is a rare fortune.
Especially when sparring with a benevolent teacher, it could be called a stroke of destiny.
Baekpyo immersed himself in the fight, pouring all his powerful inner strength into his techniques.
“Pant, pant, pant.”
When the sparring ended, Baekpyo collapsed, utterly exhausted. He had expended every ounce of his strength, unable to even lift a finger.
Yet, he hadn’t so much as touched the hem of my garment. Instead, his body was covered in dark bruises.
“See you at the training grounds tomorrow morning.”
“Yes.”
He forced himself to stand and bowed.
“Thank you, Master.”
Just like the first spar, I offered him no words. He needed to find the answers himself. He was at that stage.
In a few days, I would elevate Baekpyo to the next level.
And hopefully, I would rise alongside him.