Cutting the Heavens (1)
Early morning.
Someone was already running around the training grounds.
The steady rhythm of footsteps and measured breathing echoed repeatedly.
"Hoo…."
How long had he been running?
Beads of sweat formed across his body.
Only when his breathing climbed up to his throat did he finally stop.
Cheon Muyang stood there, looking as though he had shed at least a bit of his once-bloated flesh.
"Two sijin!"(Two hours!)
"Really? That's a little longer than yesterday."
"Yes!"
After hearing how long he had run from Wolyeong, Cheon Muyang sat cross-legged in a corner of the training grounds.
He turned his awareness inward.
With only a fifth-level Cheon Yang Divine Art, this seems to be the limit.
The Cheon Yang Divine Art was a Yang-aligned cultivation method.
Because of that, it was reasonably effective at melting the Yin energy inside his body—but far less effective at dealing with the Yang energy of similar nature.
I can't let the balance collapse. Even if it's slow, this is the only way.
Refining the elixir energy inside his body had to be done while maintaining a proper Yin–Yang balance.
Cheon Muyang clicked his tongue in mild regret.
"If only I could enter the Cheon Dragon Archive and learn a higher-grade mental art… Tsk."
But what could he do?
This was the karma Cheon Muyang himself had accumulated.
I'll have to be satisfied with this much.
Flash!
Cheon Muyang opened his eyes.
Though it was only a meager amount, accumulating internal energy left his muscles feeling loosened whenever he finished circulating his breath.
"Shall we start again?"
Rising to his feet, Cheon Muyang grasped Cheon Gwang with solemn focus.
The sword's blade rose straight toward the heavens.
It was so well-maintained that sunlight reflected clearly off its surface.
Whooong!
A sharp sword hum rang out.
The wound he'd received when clashing blades with Nyeong Ryeo-un had already begun to harden into calluses; there was no longer any pain.
Is it tomorrow already?
The wager with Cheon Seonhak.
It was a bet that required him to defeat the head disciple Cheon Seonhak put forward.
For the past month, he had thrown himself obsessively into training.
Did I really do my best?
He had practically lived in the training grounds.
Each day, he increased the intensity of his training, vomiting more times than he could count along the way.
Even so, Cheon Muyang felt lacking.
I meant to take things steadily… maybe I grew impatient.
Fifteen years later, the Cheon Clan would be destroyed in vain by the schemes of the Demonic Cult.
Knowing that future, Cheon Muyang had unknowingly grown anxious.
"Excess is as bad as deficiency." A gentleman's revenge is never too late—even after ten years.
He steadied himself with that thought.
There was nothing to gain from rushing.
Focus only on what I can handle right now.
First came the wager with Cheon Seonhak.
"Ah, whoever gets chosen is really lucky. They get a legal chance to punish the eldest young master, right?"
It seemed the rumor had already spread throughout the Cheon Clan.
This, too, was likely intentional on Cheon Seonhak's part.
If he was afraid, he should quit early—that was the message.
Looks like he really has nothing better to do. He should spend that time practicing his sword instead. Tsk.
For those holed up in the Cheon Clan with nothing but training, this little commotion was prime entertainment.
As a result, speculation about the duel was already rampant.
Of course, most of it is about how pathetically I'll lose.
Though rare—
There were a few voices claiming the eldest young master seemed different.
Very few, but they existed.
That alone was significant progress.
Whoever comes out…
It didn't matter.
Winning or losing held no real meaning.
All he wanted from this wager was a sliver of acknowledgment from Cheon Seonhak.
"Heh heh! Still the same as ever. Haven't you learned any sword techniques? All you do is slash over and over."
A mocking voice rang out.
Wolyeong flared up, but Cheon Muyang stopped her with a look.
Still, Eldest Young Master—at least you have one person cheering for you, don't you?
Cheon Muyang suddenly laughed along with them.
Then he strode straight toward the trainee mocking him.
"Are you the head disciple, by any chance?"
Cheon Seonhak had been clear.
Fight the head disciple.
"Ah, yes, Eldest Young Master. I am the head disciple."
"I see."
"Don't worry, Young Master. I'll end it gently."
The way he grinned slyly rubbed Cheon Muyang the wrong way.
Suddenly, a face surfaced in his memory—similar, yet subtly different.
Now that I think about it…
So he asked,
"Then, Head Disciple. What is your name?"
"My name is Lee Seokgi."
"Ah!"
Lee Seokgi.
He remembered.
He hadn't recognized him at first because his face had changed—but how could he ever forget that name?
You traitorous bastard.
In the past, Lee Seokgi had been one of Cheon Muyang's close aides.
After entering the Cheon Dragon Sword Corps, he climbed into Cheon Muyang's inner circle through politics rather than swordsmanship.
Back then, Cheon Muyang had favored Lee Seokgi—who flattered him—over nameless men who spoke uncomfortable truths.
He had a fairly sharp-looking face back then.
The reason Cheon Muyang hadn't recognized him was simple.
By that point, Lee Seokgi's face had grown swollen with greed, turning him into a bloated pig not unlike Cheon Muyang himself had once been.
Eventually, Lee Seokgi fell to the Demonic Cult's temptations and began leaking information.
By the time I noticed, it was already too late.
It truly had been too late.
Crunch.
Cheon Muyang clenched his teeth.
Anger surged.
I thought it didn't matter anymore… but I've changed my mind.
Whoever the head disciple was—
Cheon Muyang had originally only intended to show his sword to Cheon Seonhak.
But now, it was different.
A perfect chance to end that traitor early.
Looking at Lee Seokgi's sly smile, Cheon Muyang smiled back.
"I see. Lee Seokgi… I'll be sure to remember that name."
"Then I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes. Let's have a fair and honorable match."
"Yes, Young Master."
Leaving behind a faint sneer, Lee Seokgi walked away.
It was the kind of sly smile the former Cheon Muyang would never have noticed.
"Tsk. Looks like I've found another reason to swing my sword with my life on the line."
A judgment he hadn't been able to deliver in his previous life.
Lee Seokgi hadn't yet committed his crimes—but Cheon Muyang felt it was only right to make him repay what he would.
And so, Cheon Muyang swung his sword once more.
Whooong!
Still, it was nothing but repeated slashes.
How long did he swing?
Suddenly, Cheon Seonhak's teachings from the past surfaced in his mind.
"What is it that you wish to cut?"
"Pardon?"
"Just as I thought. Simply swinging a sword is not enough."
"Please instruct me."
"There is little to instruct. The essence of swordsmanship lies in cutting. What you choose to cut determines the value of the sword."
"What I choose to cut…?"
"Yes. Look at the sky. What you must cut down is not some petty scarecrow."
Hwoooong!
Cheon Seonhak's sword moved.
The blade shot skyward like a dragon ascending to the heavens, and the enraged dragon split the sky itself.
It was the sword of Heaven-Severing.
"…!"
"It is the sky. Cut the sky."
From that day on,
Cheon Seonhak's sword became both the goal Cheon Muryang had to reach someday and the signpost that showed him the path he must walk.
What I must cut… is the sky.
Cheon Muryang closed his eyes.
The key lay in mental imagery.
Fortunately, Cheon Muryang still remembered Cheon Seonhak's sword—the sword that had once cleaved the heavens.
He entered a state of complete selflessness, advancing endlessly.
Wuuuuung!
A fragment of that sword faintly overlapped with Cheon Muryang's own.
He could no longer feel the sword.
When its weight vanished entirely—
Cheon-gwang became a part of Cheon Muryang himself.
A portion of the mental image that had once cut the sky fused with Cheon-gwang.
Paaaat!
From Cheon Muryang's tightly closed eyes, blinding rays of light scattered in all directions.
And within his imagination—
The sky split apart.
Ah…
At that moment, the state of selflessness shattered.
Feeling his entire body lose strength, Cheon Muryang collapsed where he stood.
"Huff… huff…!"
He gasped for breath.
When he opened his eyes, he realized the surroundings had grown dark.
"Ah…"
It was deep into the night.
A night when no one should have been there.
Yet Wolyeong remained.
She was, after all, the shadow of the moon.
"Y-Young Master?"
Wolyeong had always supported him, but today was different.
"W-What… was that just now?"
Her eyes were wide with shock—a look Cheon Muryang had never seen before.
Smiling faintly, he asked,
"Why? How was it?"
"N-No, it's just… I don't really know much about swords, but…"
"Just tell me what you felt."
"For a moment, it felt as if the sky itself had been split apart."
At those words—
Cheon Muryang was the one who was startled.
The sky he had cut existed only within his imagination.
She saw it?
How could she have seen it?
Cheon Muryang smiled.
How did no one ever recognize such talent? Not even me?
Wolyeong was an unexpected gem.
Far too valuable to remain merely a maid.
"Wolyeong. About the duel tomorrow."
"Yes?"
"Don't look away, no matter what. Watch it closely. And afterward, tell me what you thought."
It was a strange request.
They had been talking about sword impressions, and now he was bringing up tomorrow's duel.
"Yes. I will."
"As expected… a lamp dark beneath its base."
"Y-Young Master?"
Though exhaustion was etched all over his face, Cheon Muryang laughed loudly.
A lamp's base is darkest.
The trainees' training grounds.
A large crowd gathered there early in the morning.
Yet everyone merely lingered around the edges.
No one stepped onto the platform.
"He's coming!"
Someone approached from afar.
Cheon Muryang had been at the training grounds until dawn, but Wolyeong's nagging—telling him to at least change into clean clothes—had sent him away briefly.
All eyes focused on him.
"He looks… thinner?"
"Seems like it?"
He had visibly lost weight.
How many years had it been since his jawline looked that sharp?
Those seeing Cheon Muryang after a long time were quietly astonished.
"So what? It's not like his nature changed."
"Right. Losing weight doesn't erase being a scoundrel. And it doesn't undo his past mistakes either."
The sentiment was still negative.
Cheon Muryang knew this well.
He simply endured the gazes in silence.
"You've come."
Cheon Seonhak stepped onto the training platform as well.
"Yes, Uncle."
"That's enough. You're prepared, I assume."
"Anytime."
"Good. Step up, Top Trainee."
"Yes, Grand Commander!"
Lee Seokgi stepped forward as though he had been waiting.
His face brimmed with absolute confidence, as if defeat were impossible.
Right. He's probably still deciding how to 'cook' me even now.
This was a stage of opportunity.
Cheon Seonhak was present.
Which meant the captains of the Cheonryong Sword Corps and Cheonbong Sword Corps were here as well.
A perfect chance to catch their eyes—of course Lee Seokgi would be calculating.
But what can I do? I don't even have the slightest intention of letting him.
Cheon Muryang intended to shatter this stage of opportunity entirely.
"This continues until I say stop. Understood?"
Nod.
Both men nodded.
"Take wooden swords."
"..."
Cheon Muryang and Lee Seokgi accepted the wooden blades.
A real-blade duel was not permitted.
No matter what, the title of Eldest Young Master meant the next clan head.
He could not be injured.
Cheon Seonhak stepped down from the platform.
Then, as if declaring it to all present, he shouted,
"Begin!"
The duel commenced.
Lee Seokgi was completely off guard.
Even now, he was likely pondering how to defeat the Eldest Young Master in the most impressive fashion.
"Idiot."
"Huh?"
And so, Lee Seokgi failed to react in time.
Cheon Muryang's sword, raised high toward the heavens, struck down like a bolt of lightning.