<Aftermath - Conflict (1)>
Jang Il-nam had been wrestling with his thoughts for what felt like an eternity. It wasn’t until the end of winter that he finally admitted a crucial truth to himself: he couldn’t bring himself to kill Eom So-eul.
It was true that he despised Eom So-eul enough to want him dead. But whenever he tried to muster the rage to act on it, his gaze would inevitably drift to Eom So-eul’s maimed hand.
Every time Jang Il-nam saw that hand, a memory would surface. The day the cult leader first achieved the Sword Qi Mastery, approaching him with a blade wrapped in a deadly aura. The sensation of death closing in.
It was Eom So-eul who had stopped the cult leader that day. He had grabbed the leader’s sleeve, pleading for Jang Il-nam’s life. And on Eom So-eul’s hand, there were only three fingers left.
To Jang Il-nam, Eom So-eul was both a mortal enemy and a savior. If it were just about revenge, he might have found a way. But when they met again, Eom So-eul was carrying a child. As time passed, his belly grew larger.
Killing Eom So-eul would mean killing the child too, and Jang Il-nam couldn’t do that. Waiting until the child was born would only leave the child orphaned. These thoughts plagued him, making it impossible to draw his sword against Eom So-eul.
“Damn it.”
The last chance to kill Eom So-eul was the day he left for the front lines with his three children. Jang Il-nam glared at him with a gaze full of unresolved tension, his mind screaming that he had to settle this. But in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
When Eom So-eul left, a crushing sense of self-loathing enveloped Jang Il-nam. He shut himself away, refusing food and company. Even when Tang I-ryeong and Tang Hae-won came to his door, he couldn’t bring himself to open it.
One day, as he languished in his room, Jang Il-nam dreamed of Wi Ji-nan-hyang.
In the dream, he explained everything to her. But Wi Ji-nan-hyang only said one thing to him.
“You’ve been through a lot.”
It wasn’t said in anger or sarcasm.
When he awoke, Jang Il-nam sat in a daze, lost in thought. He realized that even if their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have demanded revenge from Wi Ji-nan-hyang. He would have just wanted her to live well.
He knew it was just a dream, that it wasn’t really Wi Ji-nan-hyang speaking to him. Yet, strangely, he felt at peace.
“In the end, it’s all about how you choose to see things.”
As winter passed and spring approached, Jang Il-nam set out once more for the south. His destination was Hainan Island, the hometown of Nam-yong.
Jang Il-nam had a promise to keep. Long ago, he had told Nam-yong, who was struggling on an uphill path, that he would teach him the Left-Handed Sword Technique.
Jang Il-nam wasn’t one to make promises lightly. So he taught Nam-yong with all his heart. Yet, Nam-yong’s skill with the left-handed sword was still far from satisfactory.
“Master, I don’t think my clumsy left-handed swordsmanship is entirely my fault.” ”…I agree, Nam-yong.”
For someone who had only ever used their right hand, wielding a sword with the left was no easy feat. But the bigger issue was that Nam-yong wasn’t utilizing his own potential.
Jang Il-nam had learned martial arts through innate talent rather than systematic teaching. Naturally, his teaching relied on vague intuition as well.
To make matters worse, Jang Il-nam wasn’t good with words, and the left-handed sword technique he was teaching wasn’t a well-established form. It was something he had improvised out of necessity.
Trying to explain an improvised technique with poor communication skills was a challenge. Nam-yong struggled to learn, often feeling a strange sense of inadequacy when he saw Jang Il-nam demonstrate the nearly perfect technique.
In the end, Jang Il-nam made a decisive choice. He would accompany Nam-yong back to his hometown and teach him more of the left-handed sword technique. That was the main reason for their journey to Hainan Island.
But it wasn’t the only reason.
Whenever Nam-yong talked about his hometown and life as a fisherman, his eyes would light up. Memories tend to become idealized over time, and Nam-yong was no exception.
Having been away for decades, Nam-yong’s memories of Hainan Island and his life as a fisherman had become almost mythical, akin to tales of a utopian paradise.
These stories intrigued Jang Il-nam. A life of leisurely fishing, free from worries. Casting nets to catch bountiful fish, reeling in fish as big as one’s arm. And no need to wield a sword against others. It was a life that stirred something in Jang Il-nam.
However, there were those who vehemently opposed Jang Il-nam’s decision to leave for Hainan Island. Namely, the three daughters of the Tang family: Tang Yeong, Tang I-ryeong, and Tang Hae-won. Especially Tang Yeong, who seemed heartbroken at the thought. Watching her, Jang Il-nam’s heart felt like it was being torn apart.
Seeing Jang Il-nam’s somber expression, Nam-yong asked, ”…Are you thinking about Yeong?” “Yes.” “You promised to return to the Tang family once a year. That should be enough, right?”
Nam-yong often spoke of the leisurely life of a fisherman, but there was one aspect he couldn’t romanticize: the harsh winter sea. Enduring the biting cold on a small boat was an experience that couldn’t be idealized.
Yet, Jang Il-nam didn’t mind. Living as a fisherman from spring to fall, then returning to the Tang family for a few months during winter seemed like a good plan. The distance was a bit daunting, but the thought of visiting the children made it worthwhile.
As they walked, Nam-yong suddenly stopped. Jang Il-nam halted as well, feeling the crisp sea breeze carry the scent of the ocean.
Nam-yong pointed to the sparkling blue coastline. “We can catch a boat from there.”
A childlike excitement filled Jang Il-nam’s heart.
“A fisherman’s life, huh.”
With a contented smile, Jang Il-nam took a deep breath of the sea air.
Jang Il-nam’s grand plan to become a fisherman was thoroughly crushed before they even reached Hainan Island. The reason was simple: his severe seasickness.
By the time they arrived, Jang Il-nam was nearly half-dead, his face pale as he staggered off the boat.
“I never got seasick on the river…” “The river’s just gentle ripples. It’s nothing compared to the ocean waves. But Master, if you’re already this bad, it’s going to be a problem.” ”…Why?” “Because bigger boats cause less seasickness. If you’re this sick on a large boat, how will you manage on a small one?”
No further explanation was needed. Jang Il-nam realized he wasn’t cut out to be a fisherman.
Having come all the way to Hainan Island only to find he couldn’t handle the sea, he would have to rethink his life plans.
Jang Il-nam trudged along, feeling defeated. Life seemed daunting.
But Nam-yong was more nervous than anything. It had been so long since he’d been home, and he couldn’t help but worry.
What if everyone he knew was gone? What if no one recognized him? What if pirates had harmed the villagers?
But Nam-yong’s worries were unfounded. As they reached the village of Yeogwi, a man recognized him with a start.
“Hey, is that you, Nam-yong?” ”…Seom-i? It’s been a while.” “Wow, how many years has it been? We all thought you were dead!”
Nam-yong’s friend, Im Seop, rushed over, grabbing Nam-yong’s arms in excitement. Then he noticed the awkward angle of Nam-yong’s arm.
”…You don’t look well. But considering you survived being captured by pirates, it’s a miracle. How have you been?”
Nam-yong almost told the truth but decided against it. He didn’t want to share the story of his captivity and servitude.
“Well… a lot has happened. I’ve been in Sichuan for the past few years.”
Im Seop looked skeptical.
”…Sichuan?”
For the people of Hainan, the world wasn’t vast. To them, Hainan Island was nearly everything, and even those who ventured out only went as far as the southern coast. To Im Seop, who had lived his whole life on Hainan Island, Sichuan seemed like a distant, almost mythical place.
“Sichuan, huh. That’s impressive. My friend has made it big. Oh, and who’s this with you?”
Jang Im-nam, who had been sitting as still as a sack of barley, finally managed an awkward smile. He was too shy to speak up right away.
Nam-ung introduced him instead.
“This is my master.” “Master? What kind of master?” “He’s from the martial world. Not just any martial artist, but an extraordinary one.”
Im-seong subtly sized up Jang Im-nam.
His face suggested he might be someone important, but there was a peculiar simplicity in his expression. He lacked the imposing and authoritative aura typical of someone of high status.
’…Is he really from the martial world?’
Im-seong cautiously probed Nam-ung.
“So, does that mean you’re a martial artist too, Nam-ung?” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” “Do you have any fellow disciples?” “No, I’m the only one. I’m the sole disciple of my master, one of the three greatest martial artists in the world.”
Nam-ung spoke with pride. Being the only disciple of such a renowned master was no small achievement.
However, Im-seong interpreted Nam-ung’s story a bit differently.
He remembered a childhood friend who had been captured by pirates and returned to their hometown with a crippled arm. How could someone like that become a disciple of a martial artist, let alone one of such legendary skill? It seemed impossible. Why would a master of such renown come to a remote island like Haenamdo, surrounded by nothing but the sea?
The most suspicious part was Jang Im-nam’s complexion. Anyone could see he had suffered from severe seasickness.
The gap between Im-seong’s image of a martial arts master and someone who gets seasick was vast. Martial artists were supposed to be extraordinary individuals, and seasickness was something that afflicted only those unaccustomed to the sea, like children.
It was a bit of a stretch, but Im-seong concluded that a true martial artist wouldn’t suffer from seasickness.
’…It’s all just hot air.’
Still, Im-seong kept his thoughts to himself. After all, it had been decades since his friend had returned to their hometown, and he could afford to indulge a little exaggeration.