Episode 262: The Flying Wheel

Dang Mujin tirelessly went back and forth to the forge, crafting flying wheels of varying sizes and weights.

Even though making similar flying wheels didn’t shorten the work time, the blacksmiths found great amusement in watching Dang Mujin’s meticulous efforts.

Now, only one task remained for Dang Mujin: mastering the art of handling the flying wheel.

”…”

His three friends watched him in silence.

Focusing intently, Dang Mujin flicked his wrist, sending the flying wheel spinning through the air.

The wheel curved slightly in its trajectory, but as Dang Mujin’s inner energy guided its path, it began to change direction more sharply.

The wheel, having traveled far, returned to his hand like a bird coming home to roost.

Hong Geolgae, who had been observing, asked, “Are you just going to keep practicing throwing and catching it?”

“For now, yes. It’s like when you practice swordsmanship, repeating the same move thousands, even tens of thousands of times.”

“It looks pretty smooth already. How much more practice do you need?”

“Much more than with a sword.”

Learning martial arts involves more than just understanding with the mind; it’s about ingraining it into the body.

In a duel between two swordsmen, it’s a battle of habits. In the midst of clashing swords, there’s no time to consciously decide where to strike or how to parry.

That’s why martial artists rely on ingrained attacks and defenses.

When swords clash ten times, eight or nine of those are instinctive, and if there’s a significant skill gap, the outcome is often decided by then.

But if the two are evenly matched, victory is determined by judgment, not instinct.

They hide feints and traps within their habitual strikes to decide the winner.

Dang Mujin believed that handling the flying wheel should be as natural as wielding a sword.

Unlike a sword, the flying wheel isn’t always in hand. If he could handle it naturally without conscious effort, he could manage multiple wheels at once.

If he could throw and retrieve three or five powerful flying wheels simultaneously, he would have little to fear from any opponent.

Namgung Myung, watching Dang Mujin’s training, commented, “This practice looks dangerous. Don’t overdo it and lose a finger.”

His gaze fell on Dang Mujin’s hands, which were covered in cuts.

Training with the flying wheel was far riskier than sword practice. A slight misstep when catching a returning wheel could result in injuries, and the blade could even cut to the bone.

A small mistake could easily cost a finger, as Namgung Myung warned.

But Dang Mujin trained with the mindset that losing a finger or two was a risk worth taking.

If he hesitated to catch a returning wheel for fear of injury, the consequences could be dire.

A missed catch could send the wheel crashing into a vital area like the neck or chest.

Such was the peril of flying wheel training. It was dangerous enough that someone with lesser skills might not survive.

“It’s fine. I can’t stop now, not when I’ve just started.”

Dang Mujin endured the pain in his hands and the looming danger for two reasons.

First, he saw potential in the flying wheel. Second, he found the training itself enjoyable.

When he first learned the sword, he was deeply engrossed in the practice, but the flying wheel offered a thrill that swordsmanship couldn’t match.

People are naturally drawn to throwing and launching things.

That’s why they enjoy stone skipping and archery.

But the flying wheel was on another level. It sliced through the air more smoothly and flexibly than any arrow or stone, and it moved according to his will. How could that not be fun?

Namgung Myung stretched and asked, “When do you think you’ll be ready for a spar?”

“That might be difficult.”

The flying wheel training had a significant drawback: sparring was nearly impossible.

With swords, you could stop at the moment of victory, but not with flying wheels. A slight mistake by the defender could result in a fatal cut.

Though Dang Mujin wasn’t yet skilled enough to defeat his friends with the flying wheel, they were understandably cautious.

“Is it okay if I try throwing it?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

Namgung Myung took a small flying wheel, mimicking Dang Mujin’s throw.

The wheel sliced through the air impressively, but when it returned, it severed two wooden fingers from Namgung Myung’s prosthetic hand.

He seemed to have decided it was better to lose prosthetic fingers than real ones.

Namgung Myung sheepishly admitted, “It’s harder than it looks.”

While Hyun Gong and Hong Geolgae might have thought Namgung Myung lacked skill, Dang Mujin saw it differently.

Namgung Myung had trained diligently with his prosthetic, allowing him to control the returning wheel.

Namgung Myung made a wry face. “It’s not for me. I’m better suited to the sword.”

“Is that so?”

Dang Mujin retrieved the wheel from Namgung Myung’s prosthetic and offered it to Hong Geolgae.

“Want to give it a shot?”

“Can I throw it after a drink?”

“Stop joking around.”

Dang Mujin handed the wheel to Hyun Gong.

“How about you?”

Hyun Gong confidently took the wheel and mimicked Dang Mujin’s stance, throwing it.

The wheel flew far away and never returned.

As Dang Mujin crossed his arms, Hyun Gong sheepishly stood up.

“I’ll go find it.”

He disappeared over the wall, heading in the direction the wheel had vanished.

Just as his friends were intrigued by Dang Mujin’s flying wheel, so too were Sam Anbul and Blood Rain Guest Jang Il-nam.

This was a welcome development for Dang Mujin.

Among those staying at the Tang family estate, the only two people he couldn’t harm with the flying wheel were Sam Anbul and Jang Il-nam.

This meant they could serve as sparring partners.

Sam Anbul removed his shirt, rotating his shoulders as he stood a short distance from Dang Mujin.

“Il-nam couldn’t stop praising that flying wheel of yours. Let’s see how powerful it really is.”

“Don’t underestimate it.”

Dang Mujin sprang into action, launching the flying wheel.

Sam Anbul immediately followed, swinging his massive fists.

Whoosh—

Despite their size, Sam Anbul’s fists moved with surprising speed and weight, brushing past Dang Mujin’s ear. The delayed gust of wind tousled his hair.

Though Sam Anbul wasn’t using his full strength, Dang Mujin felt a thrill of fear each time those enormous gray fists approached.

Desperately, Dang Mujin hurled the flying wheel while evading, and Sam Anbul either dodged or caught them. By the time Sam Anbul had caught his third wheel, Dang Mujin found himself cornered. The match was over.

Dang Mujin sighed in disappointment.

“Still a long way to go.”

But Sam Anbul’s assessment was different.

“No, if you become more adept with the flying wheel, I won’t be able to handle you so easily. Even knowing what the flying wheel was, this was the result.”

“Really?”

“I’m not joking. Dang Mujin, throw the wheel at me again.”

Sam Anbul turned his back, revealing his broad, muscular back.

Though it felt odd to attack someone from behind, Dang Mujin did as instructed, throwing the wheel at Sam Anbul’s back.

The wheel struck quickly, leaving only a small scratch before falling to the ground.

Sam Anbul touched his back, finding a faint trace of blood on his fingers.

“Though it didn’t carry much force, the wheel’s sharpness compensates for that. For most people, it would have pierced through to the heart. If you can handle more wheels, I might struggle against you.”

“How many wheels would it take to challenge you?”

“Hmm. If you can manage five wheels at once, even the most skilled masters couldn’t guarantee victory against you.”

“Five wheels…”

It was a distant goal, but having a concrete number was motivating.

Sam Anbul wasn’t finished.

“The flying wheel suits you perfectly, Dang Mujin. You mentioned learning your footwork at the Shaolin Temple?”

“If you’re referring to the Buddha’s Shadow Immortal Step, then yes.”

“Right. That footwork isn’t the fastest like Il-nam’s, but it has two key features.”

“What are they?”

“First, it allows for more varied movements than other footwork. Second, it minimizes upper body movement compared to others.”

While Dang Mujin knew about the varied movements, he realized for the first time that his upper body remained stable.

Upon reflection, it was clear that the advice was spot on. Unlike when he used the Jaunbo technique taught by the mysterious master, his vision barely shifted up or down when employing the Bulyeong Seonha technique.

“With minimal upper body movement, it will greatly aid in executing martial arts that require precise sensory skills, like the Biryun. It’s not just about matching the footwork. If you coat the Biryun with poison, it would be even more effective.”

Sam Anbul paused to think before speaking again.

“However, to wield the Biryun most powerfully, you’ll need to change your mindset.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“As with most hidden weapons, the Biryun is particularly suited for ambushes. It can be thrown from a distance and is incredibly stealthy. Unlike a dagger, it doesn’t make a sound cutting through the air. The most effective way to use the Biryun is to lie in wait at night and throw it secretly. Few would be able to counter it.”

Dang Mujin frowned. Wasn’t this akin to acting like an assassin from the dark guilds?

“I’m not fond of that approach.”

“But there will come a time when you’ll need to use it that way. You wouldn’t want to make Danselyeong and Mokwana widows in the coming chaos, would you?”

Dang Mujin didn’t respond, but he knew Sam Anbul was right. The upcoming conflicts wouldn’t end safely or peacefully.

Sam Anbul patted Dang Mujin on the shoulder and left. Surprisingly, Jang Il-nam didn’t follow Sam Anbul but stayed behind with Dang Mujin.

Jang Il-nam picked up the Biryun scattered around, mimicking Dang Mujin’s stance as he threw them. Though it looked like a child playing with a toy disc, the speed at which the Biryun flew was anything but child’s play. It seemed even faster than Dang Mujin’s throws.

Dang Mujin thought it excessive to challenge two people to a duel in succession, so he focused on his training without challenging Jang Il-nam.

‘Perhaps tomorrow or the day after, I’ll ask Master Jang for a duel.’

Both found themselves handling the Biryun, with the only difference being that Dang Mujin threw his far away, while Jang Il-nam aimed at a nearby wall.

As the sun began to set over the western ridge, Jang Il-nam spoke to Dang Mujin.

“Hey, young master Dang.”

Jang Il-nam gauged Dang Mujin’s reaction as he spoke. Dang Mujin’s age was at that awkward stage between being called a young master and a great master.

“Yes?”

“How about a duel?”

“Is that alright?”

“Of course. But let’s do it this way: you use a sword, and I’ll use the Biryun.”

Dang Mujin guessed Jang Il-nam’s intention.

‘He wants me to experience the power of the Biryun from the perspective of an opponent.’

Grateful for the consideration, Dang Mujin expressed his thanks with a respectful gesture.

“Understood.”

Dang Mujin picked up his sword and faced Jang Il-nam, who held two Biryun.

‘Can he already throw two Biryun at once?’

That was a level Dang Mujin hadn’t reached yet. But Jang Il-nam was a prodigy, having broken through to the pinnacle of martial arts mostly through self-study after learning from a second-rate master.

Dang Mujin readied himself, keeping his sword slightly raised and his wrist relaxed, watching Jang Il-nam’s fingertips.

Jang Il-nam flicked his hand, sending a Biryun flying. It curved towards Dang Mujin, aiming between his waist and chest.

Dang Mujin swiftly swung his sword, striking the top of the Biryun.

Tick—

The Biryun fell to the ground with a small sound, stopping in its tracks. The anticlimactic result compared to his tension made Dang Mujin immediately look at Jang Il-nam, expecting a second throw.

But Jang Il-nam still held the second Biryun.

“Catch this one too.”

Jang Il-nam threw the second Biryun, this time at a much lower trajectory.

‘Knees? No, is it aiming for the ankles?’

The Biryun flew at calf height towards Dang Mujin.

The trajectory was unusually low, making it difficult to counter.

Martial artists rarely aimed for the ankles or knees, so most defensive techniques were weak in lower defenses.

‘Is this what he wanted to teach me?’

But it wasn’t impossible to block.

As Dang Mujin prepared to strike down the second Biryun, he witnessed something strange.

The Biryun wobbled slightly, then suddenly shot upwards.

It passed by Dang Mujin’s cheek, leaving a faint trace of blood and a cold sweat on his back.

‘How did he do that?’

Jang Il-nam approached, seemingly surprised.

“Oh no! I didn’t expect it to fly so close.”

The incident revealed that the bizarre trajectory was intentional on Jang Il-nam’s part.

Dang Mujin pressed his cheek to stop the bleeding and spoke.

“It’s fine. It just grazed me.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Really, it’s fine. But how did you do that just now?”

He wondered if Jang Il-nam had used some technique to alter the Biryun’s path, but it didn’t seem possible. Even if Jang Il-nam’s skill was more precise and powerful, it couldn’t make the Biryun leap vertically like that.

“Hold on a moment.”

Jang Il-nam ran over the wall, retrieved the second Biryun, and handed it to Dang Mujin. One side of the Biryun was slightly dented.

“It’s dented. Must’ve happened when it hit the ground.”

Jang Il-nam shook his head at Dang Mujin’s comment.

“No, I dented it.”

“What?”

Jang Il-nam held the Biryun between his fingers, aligning the dents with his grip.

“During your duel with Sam Anbul, one of the Biryun you threw hit the wall and got a bit dented.”

“Oh… yes.”

Of the five Biryun thrown at Sam Anbul, three were caught, and two hit the wall. Dang Mujin had planned to straighten the dented Biryun for reuse.

Jang Il-nam continued his explanation.

“Throwing a dented Biryun, I noticed its trajectory differed from a perfect one. So I experimented with different dents to see how the path changed.”

Jang Il-nam threw the Biryun again. It skimmed the ground before suddenly leaping up.

He retrieved it once more, adjusted the dents, and threw it again.

“This time, it’ll move the opposite way.”

The Biryun flew high, as if aiming for a passing bird, before suddenly diving down. Had someone been below, it might have struck their head.

“But if you bend it like this, it curves upward with its spin. Then, using a technique to pull it, you get this result.”

The third Biryun flew horizontally before abruptly veering left and up.

Dang Mujin imagined trying to block such a Biryun.

If it flew like that, he might have tried to protect his waist and ended up with his neck cut.

His expression turned to one of shock.

It was a sight beyond amazement, almost surreal.

Even with the explanation, he couldn’t fully grasp it.

“How did you do it?”

Jang Il-nam raised his hands, trying to explain with gestures but struggled to articulate it.

“Well… I just figured it out while doing it. Don’t worry. Soon, you’ll handle the Biryun far better than I can. I’m just a dabbler who stumbled upon a trick.”

Jang Il-nam handed the Biryun back to Dang Mujin with a sheepish smile and left.

Dang Mujin stood there for a while, lost in thought, before snapping back to reality. He began bending and denting the Biryun, throwing them to see the results.

The Biryun flew erratically, hitting the wall, getting dented and damaged repeatedly.

As the Biryun bent and twisted, the healing wounds on Dang Mujin’s hands continued to bleed.

Yet, he was consumed by a strange fervor. The clue Jang Il-nam had shown him sparked a strong inspiration in his mind.

Even as the morning sun rose the next day, Dang Mujin couldn’t replicate Jang Il-nam’s clean throws.

However, Tang Mujin felt an overwhelming sense of exhilaration.

He was certain now that the path before him stretched far into the distance, reaching places he had yet to imagine.