Episode 259: The Return of the Sword

When a son returns home after wandering far and wide, a father’s words usually begin with a simple acknowledgment of the hardships endured.

But the conversation between Tang Jeseon and Tang Mujin was a bit different.

“Mujin.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I know you left for something important. But for now, it might be wise to be mindful of Seolyeong and Wana. Both of them are calm by nature, but if they were even slightly more temperamental, things could have gotten chaotic.”

“I understand.”

Tang Mujin never knew his mother. She passed away during childbirth, leaving him with no memories of her absence.

For Mujin, the lack of a mother was never something he felt keenly. Having never known her, it would have been strange to feel her absence.

But unlike Mujin, Tang Jeseon lived his life acutely aware of his wife’s absence.

His longing and regret for his wife naturally transformed into a deep affection for his two daughters-in-law.

‘Honestly, I did wander around too much.’

Anyone could see he was the very picture of an irresponsible head of the family. Tang Mujin reflected deeply on this.

After that, Tang Mujin stayed within the confines of the Tang family estate, keeping a low profile.

Of course, that didn’t mean he lazed around idly like a wastrel.

His time at the estate was not only for the family but also a period to prepare for the future.

‘A storm is coming soon.’

The Great War of Righteousness and Demonic Cults, or the War of Justice and Evil.

The exact timing was uncertain, but the occurrence of the event was inevitable.

Unlike other major sects, the Tang family could afford to step back without much consequence.

The real concern was his friends.

His three friends belonged to the Beggars’ Sect, the Namgung family, and the Wudang Sect. They wouldn’t be able to avoid the conflict.

‘It’s time for me to help them.’

Reflecting on past battles, Tang Mujin realized they were rarely for his friends’ sake.

It was always Mujin who needed help, and his friends never hesitated to stand by him.

But now, the time was approaching for Mujin to wield his sword for his friends.

Every morning, after completing his breathing exercises, Mujin would head to the backyard to train with other martial artists, honing his skills.

However, it wasn’t long before Mujin encountered a small problem.

‘Why is this happening all of a sudden?’

For the month since his return to the Tang estate, Mujin had been completely absorbed in his training.

Each morning, his swordplay was sharper than the day before, and every evening, he gained new insights. It was a situation that naturally fueled his passion for training.

But just over a month after his return, his progress came to a sudden halt, as if all his previous advancements had been a lie.

It felt like trying to move forward while tied to a massive tree with a thick rope.

Of course, it wasn’t that there was no progress at all. But his achievements had noticeably slowed to the point where even he couldn’t ignore it.

It wasn’t just his imagination. The results were evident in his recent sparring sessions.

His most frequent sparring partners were his three friends.

It was never easy to defeat Hyun Gong or Namgung Myung in a sword fight, so losing to them wasn’t surprising.

But recently, even facing Hong Geolgae had become a struggle. Although Mujin hadn’t used his poison techniques, neither had Hong Geolgae used his Eight Trigrams Palm.

‘Why am I suddenly stagnating?’

Mujin invested even more time in training, focusing on his breathing exercises and meditation.

Yet, he couldn’t break through this barrier.

Naturally, his enthusiasm for training waned, and the time he spent practicing began to dwindle.

After a few days, Hong Geolgae approached Mujin.

“Why have you stopped training lately?”

“Stopped? I’m still training every day.”

“You know what I mean. You’ve been slacking off.”

Mujin wanted to explain his situation but felt something blocking his throat.

His pride wouldn’t let him voice his weakness.

But with a deep sigh, Mujin set aside his pride.

There weren’t many people he could discuss such matters with. His master, Gwi, had long passed, leaving only Sam Anbul, Hyeol Ugaek, and his three friends as potential confidants.

If Hong Geolgae were in the same situation, Mujin would have listened to his concerns.

Not that he wouldn’t tease him a bit, of course.

When Mujin explained his predicament with a serious expression, Hong Geolgae responded.

“Hyun Gong or Namgung Myung might know better than I do. Hold on a moment.”

Before Mujin could nod, Hong Geolgae leapt up and quickly returned with Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong.

After Mujin recounted his situation again, Hyun Gong began to speak.

“A martial artist improves through training and real combat. That’s why those who focus on training regularly venture into the martial world to gain practical experience, and why those who survive the Great War achieve great accomplishments.”

“I know that.”

“But you’ve had more real combat experience than training. That’s why you made such rapid progress when you returned to the Tang estate. But now, as your training and combat experience balance out, your growth is slowing.”

Mujin glanced around. Fortunately, Dan Seolyeong and Mok Wana were nowhere in sight.

“So, to achieve more, I have to leave the estate again and wander around? I just got back.”

Hyun Gong looked a bit sheepish.

“That might be the case, but from what you’ve said, it might not be.”

“Then what is it?”

Hyun Gong hesitated, as if reluctant to speak, not because he didn’t know, but because it was a difficult topic.

Namgung Myung, who had been listening quietly, interjected.

“Want me to tell you?”

While Hyun Gong hesitated, Namgung Myung was not one to hold back.

If something needed to be said, he would say it without worrying about others’ reactions.

Of course, this often led to trouble, and he had lost his left arm as a result.

But that straightforwardness was reassuring.

If anyone would tell it like it is, it would be Namgung Myung.

“What is it?”

When Mujin asked, Namgung Myung gave an unexpected answer.

“Simply put, it means your sword talent is nearing its limit.”

”…What?”

“Why are you surprised? Everyone has different innate talents. Your skills have reached the edge of your natural ability.”

His tone was serious, but it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. Mujin looked at Namgung Myung with a puzzled expression.

Namgung Myung, without a hint of a smile, spoke earnestly.

He wore the face of a true martial artist, not a thief sneaking over walls or a loafer wasting time at the estate.

“Tang Mujin. In the Namgung family, boys start wielding wooden swords at the age of seven. Do you know how many have surpassed the pinnacle among the Namgung martial artists?”

”…I don’t know.”

“Including my father and me, eleven. It’s not an exaggeration to say it’s the most, except for the Shaolin Temple. The youngest to surpass the pinnacle was my father, and then me. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

The shocking revelation left Mujin’s mind in a daze.

He stammered out a response.

“What am I supposed to realize?”

“Your progress has been unusually fast. I took fifteen years to surpass the pinnacle. Hyun Gong took over ten years. But do you know how long it took you?”

Mujin thought back.

He had only started learning the sword after meeting Gwi, and it took him less than three years to surpass the pinnacle. An unusually short time by any measure.

Namgung Myung continued.

“Of course, your situation is different. You mastered medicine before martial arts, understanding the body’s meridians and pathways. Gwi was the best possible teacher for you, and he focused solely on you without taking other students.”

Mujin nodded, and Namgung Myung went on.

“Plus, you consumed rare elixirs like the Black Peony and the Great Elixir. You didn’t have to slowly build your internal energy like others. You also gained extensive real combat experience early on. It wasn’t just luck. Your innate martial talent was exceptional, allowing you to achieve what you did.”

Looking back, it was indeed a stroke of luck. Opportunities and fortunes that most would never have.

“I know my progress was fast.”

“Yes. You ran faster than anyone. But the fastest runner isn’t always the one who can run the farthest or the longest.”

Mujin realized anew that Namgung Myung was a true heir of the Namgung family.

Namgung Myung’s tone was coldly rational, much like Namgung Jinchun’s demeanor.

It wasn’t a pleasant conversation, and Mujin found himself frowning.

“So, what, are you saying my talent has reached its limit and further sword training is pointless?”

“No. That’s not it. It just means you’re now experiencing what ordinary people feel.”

“Explain further.”

“Training isn’t about strolling down a pleasant path with a gentle breeze. You start off lightly, but eventually, you come face to face with a massive mountain of rock. That’s when you pick up a pickaxe and start chipping away at the solid rock, carving out a path. You’ve just reached that mountain now.”

Namgoong Myung paused for a moment before continuing.

“Out of ten or twenty people who dedicate their lives to the sword, maybe one will surpass the ultimate barrier before they die. Many hit their limits long before you have. You’ve run faster than anyone, and you’ve encountered your limits much later than most.”

Dang Moo-jin’s expression remained unchanged.

“So, are you telling me to give up and be grateful for what I’ve achieved so far?”

“Not at all. What I’m saying is that others have felt what you’re feeling now, much earlier, and yet they continue to train. Because even if it’s just a little, they can still make progress by chipping away at the rock.”

The martial prowess of the Namgoong family is renowned, even among the best in the world. Yet, how many of their warriors have failed to achieve their desired success, hitting the same wall?

Namgoong Myung must have grown up witnessing such struggles, and his words were undoubtedly true. But Dang Moo-jin was reluctant to accept that truth so easily.

“But you and Hyun-gong are still progressing quickly, aren’t you?”

Namgoong Myung chuckled softly.

“I’m a genius. Hyun-gong is somewhat of a genius too.”

“And Hong Geol-gae?”

“He’s someone who can run longer and farther, even if he’s a bit slower than others. Though, is it really fair to call him slow when he surpassed the ultimate barrier at twenty-five? His talent is remarkable too.”

Dang Moo-jin felt a sense of deprivation he couldn’t quite articulate. Should he be content with achievements greater than most ordinary people?

He couldn’t. What mattered to Dang Moo-jin wasn’t the accomplishments of countless unknown warriors. His benchmark was his three closest friends.

He didn’t want to stand still, chipping away at the rough rock alone, while watching his friends move forward. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before, and it was unpleasant.

Hyun-gong added his thoughts.

“It’s not an unusual obstacle. In fact, it’s more accurate to say things have become normal. The essence of training is to achieve success after struggling through hardships, isn’t it?”

As he listened, a figure came to Dang Moo-jin’s mind: Jin Song, the head instructor of the Cheongseong Sect. When he first encountered the strange phenomenon, he thought he’d be satisfied if he could achieve as much as Jin Song, a first-rate martial artist.

But now, even after surpassing the ultimate barrier, he wasn’t satisfied. Naturally, he envisioned a day when he and his friends would surpass the supreme barrier together. Meanwhile, Jin Song, who had trained much longer than Dang Moo-jin, still hadn’t crossed that ultimate barrier.

It was only because he had achieved success as easily as he trained that he realized it late.

Namgoong Myung spoke again.

“I’m not telling you to quit. The limit you’re feeling now isn’t with your martial skills, but with your swordsmanship.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

When Dang Moo-jin asked, Namgoong Myung replied as if he’d heard something strange.

“Do you think the sword is all there is to martial arts? Even if everyone else in the world thinks so, you shouldn’t.”

Having said all he could, Namgoong Myung stood up and left to continue his own training. Hyun-gong and Hong Geol-gae lingered a bit longer before departing as well.

Dang Moo-jin was left alone, deep in thought.

‘A sword, and martial arts beyond the sword.’

Faced with this sudden choice, Dang Moo-jin couldn’t make a decision easily.

So he stayed in the backyard, swinging his sword.

He ate minimally, and either didn’t sleep or dozed off for just an hour or two each day.

Dan Seol-young and Mok Wan-ah sat a little distance away, watching him.

Two weeks passed like that.

It wasn’t a long time, but it was a period devoted entirely to the sword, leaving no room for regret.

Dang Moo-jin reflected on the achievements of the past fortnight.

And he had to admit, Namgoong Myung was right.

Without a special breakthrough, he couldn’t achieve the rapid and certain progress he had before.

Dang Moo-jin looked eastward. The dawn was breaking faintly.

Though he hadn’t rested or slept properly for two weeks, he felt a renewed vigor coursing through his once-weary body.

Before the sun fully rose, Dang Moo-jin closed his eyes.

The image of a middle-aged man with graying hair was still vivid in his mind. The indifferent man looked at Dang Moo-jin.

In the darkness, the enigmatic figure drew his sword.

He assumed the preparatory stance for the Heart-Piercing Sword.

It was a stance too casual and light to be preparing for a duel.

The figure slowly demonstrated the Heart-Piercing Sword’s techniques, finally showcasing its three most crucial moves.

Sparrow’s Sting: A feint that lures the opponent in, targeting their throat.

Ivy’s Climb: A flexible strike that rides up the opponent’s sword like ivy, aiming for their vital points.

Point: A thrust that targets the opponent’s heart with the shortest distance.

The figure sat cross-legged in the darkness, watching Dang Moo-jin.

Now, it was Dang Moo-jin’s turn to rise, steady himself, and perform the Heart-Piercing Sword in the air.

His sword followed the sequence of techniques shown by the enigmatic figure.

With a final, simple thrust, Dang Moo-jin’s sword came to a stop.

And he looked at the figure.

The figure didn’t praise him.

Instead, he smiled silently, with that ever-so-slightly disdainful expression.

But in the figure’s eyes, Dang Moo-jin saw a faint glimmer of surprise and pride.

The look of a master gazing at a disciple who had unknowingly surpassed him.

So Dang Moo-jin smiled back at the figure.

‘So, I’ve come this far already.’

Dang Moo-jin opened his eyes and stretched with a sense of relief. There were no regrets now.

If this was all his master had shown him, then it was the disciple’s role to forge the path beyond.

Dang Moo-jin sheathed his sword.

Though his swordsmanship hadn’t reached the heavens, his martial skills had yet to show their limits, and his steps felt lighter than ever.