WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Asakusa
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◈ A Wandering Warrior's Survival Guide ◈
Chapter 27: Even If They Call Me Heretical (2)
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The Selection Test for the Vanguard Unit.
The name was grand, but in truth, it was a selection for those who would stand at the very front of the subjugation force, taking the Black Path rabble's poison and concealed weapons to wear them down.
Cheon Hwi knew that as well.
Head Escort Gwak's warning passed through his mind.
The rules were simple. Endure ten exchanges against a sword practitioner from a collateral branch of the Murong Clan standing in the center of the training ground, and pass.
As Cheon Hwi was called in, he focused on the screams coming from the training ground beyond the wall.
“Argh!”
Thud!
Another wanderer tumbled outside the training ground, spraying a little blood.
He had heard roughly two clashes of swords. The wanderer did not seem to have lasted even three exchanges.
When Cheon Hwi stepped inside, he saw Murong Jun, a young sword practitioner of the Murong Clan, holding a fist-and-palm salute.
“Next.”
Behind Murong Jun, under the shadow of the hall, members of the Guarding Martial Authority appeared to be present to observe the examination.
The young Murong Clan sword practitioner held a silver longsword.
Murong Jun's silver-white martial uniform was immaculate, and he held an ornate sword with engraved patterns. Though he had already faced more than ten opponents, not a trace of disruption showed in his breathing. Not a single drop of a wanderer's blood stained the uniform.
“My name is Murong Jun. Come forward.”
At Murong Jun's dry call, Cheon Hwi slowly walked out from where he had been waiting at one side of the training ground.
He heard the Murong Clan members watching nearby mutter among themselves.
“Since when did the subjugation force take in even inn swordsmen?”
“Shouldn't men like that be weeded out at the registration desk? Tsk.”
Murong Jun openly scoffed at Cheon Hwi's old iron sword.
Only one person had any expectations for Cheon Hwi.
Han So-gyeom, deputy leader of the Guarding Martial Authority's White Night Unit, who was observing the examination.
The rest of the Murong Clan members, as well as Murong Jun, who was overseeing the test, wore bored expressions.
After all, Cheon Hwi looked no better than an unremarkable third-rate wanderer.
The crude iron sword, whose chipped sections he had barely managed to have ground away at the smithy yesterday, had an equally unimpressive scabbard.
He had washed his clothes, but dried blood still clung to parts of them. The old garments did not even seem to fit him, as though he had taken them from someone else. He looked every inch a lowly wanderer who barely earned enough to eat each day with his sword. At least his bamboo hat looked usable.
Only the martial artists of the Guarding Martial Authority watched Cheon Hwi with a measure of tension.
“If you don't want to get hurt, you should just go home. Unfortunately, my sword has no eyes. You live hand to mouth, so you can't afford to get injured.”
“Of course swords don't have eyes. Are you an idiot?”
“Huh? Look at this brat. You've still got a tongue, I see. Fine. It'll be too late when you regret it.”
Murong Jun gave the warning as though doing Cheon Hwi a favor, then pointed with his chin toward the bloodstains scattered across the ground. The meaning was clear. Leave before you shed blood for nothing.
Cheon Hwi was not intimidated in the slightest.
Compared to Gwak Do-mun from the illusion, the young sword practitioner before him was not frightening. A dog with a leash around its neck could bark all it wanted, but it was still nothing to fear.
Yet Cheon Hwi could not feel even the usual killing intent from the swordsman in silver-white robes.
No, he had felt a little killing intent rise after Murong Jun's last remark, but that was all.
Cheon Hwi slowly drew the iron sword at his waist and took a ready stance without expression.
Shhhing.
The cold sound of steel split the air of the training ground.
The instant the gong announcing the start of the test rang, Murong Jun kicked off the ground.
Tap!
The first move of the Murong Clan's signature Murong Sword Art burst forth, containing the principles of the Linked Sword.
The silver sword trail drew four or five afterimages through the air, aiming for Cheon Hwi's shoulder and chest at once.
First exchange.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Cheon Hwi took half-steps back and barely deflected Murong Jun's sword qi with his old iron sword.
To an onlooker, Cheon Hwi was being pushed back one-sidedly. Yet his eyes did not waver. Inwardly, he was thoroughly breaking down Murong Jun's swordsmanship.
‘It is refined. There is no unnecessary strength in it. It is certainly on a different level from swords swung wildly on the streets.’
Cheon Hwi did not underestimate his opponent. Rather, he greedily absorbed the principles of that precise sword trail.
Take the initiative with one attack, then press forward continuously with another. It was good swordsmanship.
‘So this is a clan's martial art.’
Cheon Hwi felt that he understood.
Unlike the swordsmanship of the Black Path fighters Cheon Hwi had fought and the wanderers he had seen so far, it was clearly well structured.
Yet that structure also seemed to have gaps. Much had been lost through generations of inheritance, leaving flaws in the transmission.
As though the light test of the previous three moves had ended, Murong Jun immediately infused the sword with inner qi and brought out the Murong Flash-Breaking Sword.
It was not ordinary Murong Sword Art, but one of its advanced arts.
A swift sword art that departed from the principle of linked attacks.
When the advanced martial art Murong Jun had never used in any of the earlier test sparring matches burst forth, the Murong Clan martial artists shifted in their seats.
‘For him to use that...’
‘Someone's going to get killed.’
As the swift sword art broke free of the earlier linked-sword principle, the previous three exchanges acted like feints, stealing Cheon Hwi's sense of rhythm.
However.
A linked sword could not surpass Gwak Do-mun.
And the swift sword art before him, no more than a fragment of the Murong Flash-Breaking Sword, could not compare to Cheon Hwi's Three Powers Swift Sword Forms.
Cheon Hwi instantly sensed that his opponent's swordsmanship had changed.
At the same time, he knew Murong Jun was not yet at the level to use an advanced martial art.
Murong Jun raised the sword high above his head, loading his weight into it for a decisive strike.
Swoosh.
Murong Jun must have thought Cheon Hwi would retreat.
Instead, Cheon Hwi's foot kicked off the ground and drove inward.
The first form of the Three Powers Swift Sword Forms, which he had devised the night before.
Earth Severance.
At a point exactly half a chon before the toe Murong Jun was about to plant, Cheon Hwi's foot came down first like a wedge.
“What?!”
Murong Jun's toe hesitated in midair.
The rhythm of Murong Jun's carefully measured swift sword form slipped by half a beat, and the sword trail wavered. A swift sword needed to draw the elasticity of the lower body into the upper body as it advanced. It felt as though the ground required to perform the Flash-Breaking Sword form had suddenly vanished.
‘Not like this...!’
Without missing that tiny fracture, Cheon Hwi's blade, aided by the Serpent-Shadow Step, slipped in like a snake.
Clang!
Cheon Hwi's sword struck back, forcing Murong Jun into defense.
Attack and defense had reversed.
It was an ironic turn. Cheon Hwi had merely used one move while on the defensive, yet the initiative of the fight had returned to him.
Flustered, Murong Jun hurriedly pulled back the sword and took a defensive posture.
But Cheon Hwi did not retreat. Instead, he pressed even closer into his opponent's reach.
Second form, Person Binding.
The back of Cheon Hwi's old iron sword pressed firmly against the side of Murong Jun's ornate longsword.
With Cheon Hwi driving forward, and with the principle of a staff bending to strike an enemy behind it, Murong Jun had few defensive options left.
“Wh-What is this?!”
The martial artists around the training ground began to stir at once.
The country bumpkin they had expected to lose his head in three exchanges, let alone endure ten, was instead blocking Murong Jun's sword trail.
And so, on the ninth exchange.
With the ground and opponent bound, Murong Jun's chest inevitably opened up.
The inner qi boiling from Cheon Hwi's dantian compressed at the tip of his iron sword in an instant and shot forward.
Third form.
Heavenly Needle.
Cheon Hwi had trained tirelessly to change the cheon in his name from thousand to sky.
One opportunity, ten regrets, a hundred frustrations, a thousand deaths, ten thousand drops of blood, and a hundred thousand drops of sweat. He wished for all of it to add one stroke to his name, so that he might reach up and touch the sky.
Cheon Hwi's blade rushed toward that single opening.
It was a bold swift sword form, half a beat faster than the one Murong Jun had displayed.
Slaaash!
With the blade's air-rending whistle, every movement on the training ground stopped as though time itself had frozen.
“...”
Murong Jun stood rigid, his eyes wide, unable even to breathe.
The tip of Cheon Hwi's crude, chipped iron sword trembled slightly before Murong Jun's Adam's apple.
With only a little more force, Murong Jun's throat would have been pierced through.
It had taken only nine exchanges.
Rather than merely enduring ten exchanges, Cheon Hwi had defeated a sword practitioner from a prestigious clan in only nine.
At a display none of the dozens of martial artists before him had shown, the Murong Clan members sprang to their feet.
The Guarding Martial Authority's martial artists were no different.
They had thought he was nothing special. Perhaps there was a reason the deputy leader had told them to pay attention to him.
“...!”
‘He overwhelmed a Murong Clan sword practitioner in only nine exchanges?!’
Murong Jun moved only his eyes as he looked down at the old sword tip aimed at his Adam's apple. The edge was so sharp that if he swallowed, it seemed as though his thin skin would split and hot blood would pour out.
Someone watching stood up in disbelief.
Murong Jun protested as well.
Murong Jun could not accept such an absurd defeat.
“You bastard!”
“...?”
“How dare you unleash such a vicious killing strike under the pretense of a sparring match to select a vanguard for the subjugation force! And that muddy, bizarre energy rising from your dantian... You must be a lackey of those who have learned Black Path martial arts!”
Murong Jun might have been a rising talent from a collateral branch of the Murong Clan, but Murong Jun was still a martial artist who had learned the clan's sword.
Murong Jun had trained in martial arts from the moment he learned to walk.
That meant a roadside wanderer could not casually challenge Murong Jun.
At least, that was what Murong Jun had always believed.
That was why Murong Jun could not accept such a humiliating defeat.
The iron sword was still stopped before Murong Jun's throat, but Murong Jun's face had turned bright red.
Murong Jun knocked aside the sword touching his throat and forced himself one step forward.
“It isn't over yet!”
Murong Jun raised the sword again.
At that moment, a heavy voice pierced through from one side of the training ground.
“Enough.”
It was Han So-gyeom.
At that one word, Murong Jun's body stiffened.
Han So-gyeom slowly walked into the center of the training ground. No one had noticed his approach, and he had moved swiftly.
The hem of his black martial uniform stirred in the wind.
His gaze was fixed not on Murong Jun, but on Cheon Hwi.
“It was the ninth exchange.”
“...”
“You did not endure ten exchanges. You took your opponent's throat on the ninth. The test is over.”
Murong Jun clenched his teeth.
“Deputy Leader, I still...”
“If this were a real battle, you would already be dead. Show the proper courtesy of a Murong Clan martial artist.”
Only then did Murong Jun swallow his groan, sheath his sword, and bow with a fist-and-palm salute.
“I-I lost.”
“I have learned much.”
Cheon Hwi also sheathed his sword and returned the salute.
“...”
Quiet murmurs spread among the Murong Clan martial artists.
“Did you see that?”
“That was the sword of a roadside wanderer?”
“He was fast.”
Their gazes settled on Cheon Hwi.
Cheon Hwi's sword was not upright like the sword of the orthodox sects.
But neither was it merely rough like the sword of Black Path rabble.
The Guarding Martial Authority recognized the value of Cheon Hwi's swordsmanship.
‘He binds the feet, then binds the sword and the person, then drives a deadly swift sword into the opening he creates.’
What was a swift sword usually like?
It fought with speed, building shallow wounds on its enemy and slowly shifting the balance of battle.
But the swift swordsmanship Cheon Hwi displayed could almost be said to contain the principles of a single strike, certain death.
“The place you will enter is not the ordinary Vanguard Unit.”
Cheon Hwi's eyebrow moved slightly.
“Then where is it?”
Han So-gyeom slowly sheathed his sword.
Click.
As the sword locked into its scabbard, he spoke calmly.
“Before the vanguard advances, we will dispatch Guarding Martial Authority martial artists and a scouting team ahead. I intend to place you there. Will you still do it? Only if you survive and return from that place will you be allowed to participate in the subjugation force.”
At those words, the Murong Clan martial artists also fell silent.
Cheon Hwi understood from that reaction alone.
“You will be the first to enter the Black Path alliance's headquarters and the last to leave. You will open the path, step on the traps, and take the poison and concealed weapons first.”
Gwak Myeong-ho's words passed through Cheon Hwi's mind.
“Do you think a subjugation force is made up only of chivalrous heroes?”
“The Murong Clan moves for its family's honor and regional dominance. The Guarding Martial Authority moves because those above order it to.”
“The other martial artists will move for money.”
“Among them, only you move for revenge. That is why you are in the greatest danger.”
Someone objected.
“Deputy Leader Han, isn't this too much? You intend to put a youngster who has only just passed into a place like that?”
Han So-gyeom did not even glance in that direction.
He simply looked into Cheon Hwi's eyes.
“If you do not want it, you may refuse. Then, like the other martial artists, you can take a place in the subjugation force...”
“I'll do it.”
Every gaze turned toward Cheon Hwi again.
His answer came at once.
“...!”
Han So-gyeom's eyes narrowed.
They narrowed as though he were frowning to hide a smile.
Standing close by, Cheon Hwi could tell.
Footnotes:
Cheon Hwi's name uses cheon, meaning “thousand.” Here, he wishes to replace it with the homophonous cheon meaning “sky” or “heaven,” which has one additional brushstroke.
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