WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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Chapter 37: In April, All the Flowers of the World Have Faded (8)

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Yi Yubaek taught Yeon Sowol how to hold a sword.

"You are right-handed, so hold the sword in your right hand and form Sword Fingers with your left."

The hand shape formed by pressing the index and middle fingers of the empty left hand together and extending them straight, then curling the ring and little fingers inward and locking them beneath the thumb.

This was called Sword Fingers.

After hearing the explanation, Yeon Sowol thought,

‘What’s this? Is it just for show?’

He was shaping the hand that was not even holding the sword just to look cool.

But the more he considered it, the stranger that seemed.

Martial arts were a grave matter where every moment carried the risk of death. Would anyone really add flair just for appearances?

Yi Yubaek said,

"Your right hand holds the sword, while your left hand holds yourself. That is the meaning of forming Sword Fingers."

"Hold... myself?"

It sounded like something he understood and did not understand at the same time.

"I told you earlier. One part of your mind must always remain awake."

"Ah."

"That is what it means. Martial force is exercised by throwing your whole self into it, but even then, your other hand must hold on to you."

Yeon Sowol thought,

‘That makes sense!’

Then he thought again.

‘But isn’t it still kind of for show?’

Just because he made his left hand pointy did not mean it could literally hold his mind in place.

"Sword Fingers are a profound, highly advanced teaching passed down only through Daoist sword arts. That is why our Windflow School always trains Sword Fingers alongside the sword."

Contrary to Yeon Sowol's doubts, Yi Yubaek repeatedly emphasized the importance of Sword Fingers.

"Daoist practice values harmony. When there is movement, it considers stillness. When it wishes to push, it first pulls. It does not regard one thing as one thing. It combines two things that form a pair and considers them one."

He held his sword himself.

Forming Sword Fingers, he took a stance.

When the sword extended forward, the Sword Fingers pointed behind him. When the sword rose upward, the Sword Fingers pressed down toward the front.

The two movements did not move separately, but as though they had been one from the beginning.

"This is the meaning of Sword Fingers. Whenever you move your right hand to send out the sword, you must always leave a piece of your mind with the Sword Fingers of your left hand and keep it separate. The movement of the right hand and left hand combine into a single sword path. That is how you keep one part of your mind awake at all times."

"Ah...!"

"Do you understand?"

What Yeon Sowol thought of was how an upside-down cat landed on its feet.

For example, if a person were dropped from the sky while upside down like a cat, an untrained person would struggle to turn their body upright again.

If they tried to rotate while focusing only on their upper body, as they did on the ground, their lower body would rotate in the opposite direction.

Conservation of angular momentum.

⌜But a cat controls its movement under angular momentum by bending its spine and alternately tucking in and extending its front and rear legs, allowing it to land safely on the ground.⌟

This example, which scientists oddly adored, touched on the meaning of Sword Fingers that Yi Yubaek had described.

Just as a cat corrected its posture by moving its front and rear legs together, one wielded martial force by performing the movements of the sword and Sword Fingers together while keeping one's body and mind under control.

If throwing an upside-down cat was the practice of martial force,

then landing the upside-down cat safely was the practice of Sword Fingers.

To always perform these two things together...

‘That’s... incredibly kind, isn’t it?’

Yeon Sowol was surprised.

Until now, all he had done was repeat training where success made him stronger and failure killed him.

Yet Sword Fingers had a method built into the martial art itself to improve his chances of survival.

Sword Fingers greatly reduced the danger that could arise when one exercised martial force through a sword.

It was a sort of safety belt, allowing him to throw himself into exercising martial force without throwing all of himself away.

‘Who first came up with swordsmanship like this?’

There was such consideration in this barbaric Jianghu.

‘It was warm.’

Warm enough to bring tears to his eyes.

‘Is this why the Daoist tradition is considered orthodox?’

Daoist swordsmanship sacrificed some power in exchange for greater stability.

Yeon Sowol understood completely and said,

"Daoist swordsmanship must have a defensive side to it."

Yi Yubaek's eyes widened.

"How did you know that?"

"Because one protects oneself with Sword Fingers while throwing one's whole body into it, the power is bound to be weaker. So when facing other sword arts, there must be techniques for accepting a stronger momentum, whether by deceiving the opponent, redirecting their power, moving one step ahead of them, or using some other principle. I thought that could be called defensive."

Yeon Sowol was not done.

He fell into thought, then suddenly cried out.

"Windflow School swordsmanship must combine many such principles. It may redirect power like a willow, deceive like fluttering leaves, and move swiftly like the wind."

"I thought I had grown used to your extraordinary insight by now..."

Yi Yubaek burst out laughing.

"Still, I do not know how much use that remarkable insight of yours will prove in sword training."

He strolled to the center of the training ground and took his place.

"Come stand here."

‘It’s starting...!’

Yeon Sowol steadied his breathing and stood before Yi Yubaek.

"Hold the sword. As I just taught you."

Yeon Sowol carefully assumed his stance.

His right hand held a blunt practice sword.

His left formed Sword Fingers and held himself.

Feeling deeply the intentions of ancient masters who had paired the way of throwing oneself forward with the way of protecting oneself, he tightened his grip.

Reverently, he locked his Sword Fingers into place, aimed his sword, and completed his stance.

Claaang!

The sword vanished.

"...?"

Yeon Sowol looked at his empty right hand.

Drip, drip.

Red blood fell from his burst palm.

‘I did not drop my sword even when I deflected Seo Muryang’s Finger Flicking Art...’

A cold chill ran through him belatedly.

Just how much sword force had Yi Yubaek put into that strike?

‘Wasn’t Daoist swordsmanship supposed to be a little weaker...?’

"Sowol."

"...Yes."

"Why did you not hold the sword?"

"..."

Unable to answer, Yeon Sowol stood there dazed as Yi Yubaek tilted his head.

"I told you to hold the sword."

"...Yes."

Yeon Sowol realized that his arm was trembling.

The martial force carried in Yi Yubaek's sword had only now begun to shake his bones and muscles.

"Hold the sword."

"Y-Yes."

Yeon Sowol even stirred his true qi as he barely managed to seize the sword rolling across the ground. Had his palm gone numb? He gripped the hilt with his bleeding hand, yet could not even properly feel the pain.

‘R-Right. At least... at least don’t let go of the sword.’

Gritting his teeth, Yeon Sowol formed Sword Fingers with his left hand again, extended the sword with his right, and took his stance...

Claaaaang!

"Urk!"

This time, his body spun and nearly folded in half.

Crack! Crack!

The sound of bones twisting rang loudly throughout his body.

"Cough! Cough!"

He had desperately refused to let go of the sword.

Since the sword did not fly away, the impact was delivered directly into his body.

‘Am I... alive?’

Yeon Sowol felt over his body.

Looking down at him, Yi Yubaek said,

"Why did you not hold yourself?"

Yeon Sowol’s eyes widened.

"I told you that Sword Fingers are for holding yourself. You must calculate whether you can receive this force and take only as much as you can bear. You did not hold yourself, so you went rolling about so miserably."

Yi Yubaek clicked his tongue.

"I told you to hold yourself."

"Um... did you suffer any internal injuries?"

"This much is nothing. You are a weak little thing, worrying over the oddest matters."

"..."

"Hold yourself."

"...Yes."

* * *

Martial force was the power of internal and external cultivation, painstakingly aligned according to one's intent.

Yi Yubaek had earlier warned him not to become intoxicated when exercising martial force, to always be able to read that power, and of many other precautions.

In truth, those were matters that came after one had first managed to exercise martial force.

Even if learning to control martial force took time, Yi Yubaek wanted Yeon Sowol to learn how to exercise it as quickly as possible.

He had his own method for that.

‘Martial force must be learned through martial force.’

Its weight.

Its overwhelming, ruinous pressure.

Only by feeling it with one's whole body could one truly understand.

Ah, so this is martial force.

Only after being crushed beneath it would the body and mind begin devising ways to resist that power. That was how a martial artist awakened martial force.

Yi Yubaek himself had learned this way from his master.

The important part of this training method was accurately regulating the sword force so that it would not harm the disciple's body.

If done poorly, the disciple could be seriously injured. It was not a training method just anyone could use.

But Yi Yubaek was confident.

‘I can match it perfectly.’

It was confidence with a foundation, hardened by countless years of swinging a sword.

His learning was not so shallow that a little internal injury would shake it.

In truth, his control over his sword force was flawless.

Each time, Yeon Sowol received a blow powerful enough to make him feel the threat of death, but he was not actually seriously injured.

His complexion only grew paler, and his eyes more unfocused.

Even so,

‘He holds the sword again.’

With a face that looked as if he had crossed his limit several times over, he stood and assumed his stance again.

He forced himself to kindle the inner fire and draw up true qi, preparing to receive Yi Yubaek's sword force.

He was not simply taking the stance without thought. Drawing on his previous failures, he continued to correct his posture and the alignment of his strength.

Only his outward complexion and eyes had gone slack. Yeon Sowol's mind had not loosened in the slightest.

His right hand held the sword.

His left hand held himself.

Claaaaang!

Screeech!

Yeon Sowol's feet carved furrows into the dirt as he slid backward nearly ten feet.

Drip, drip.

Red blood fell from his grip.

But he did not let go of the sword.

His posture did not collapse.

He stirred his true qi into its optimal state and received Yi Yubaek's strike.

"...You produced something close to martial force."

In a single day.

Yi Yubaek swallowed the rest of his words.

‘He has awakened martial force itself at an absurd speed.’

The most talented martial artist Yi Yubaek had seen until now had taken about a week to reach this point.

"Sowol."

"Yes."

With a half-vacant expression, Yeon Sowol looked up at Yi Yubaek.

The sight made Yi Yubaek feel even more bewildered.

How had he managed to hold on to his mind and raise his sword until the end, even in that condition?

"It must have been difficult. What kept you going?"

"...I was used to it."

"Used to it?"

What Yeon Sowol meant was that he was used to studying.

Whenever he was at his most exhausted, when he could not force even one more letter into his head, he had a habit of enduring a little longer and studying until the end.

Afterward, he would rest deeply, and the next day everything would suddenly make sense and be easy to memorize.

‘That hardest moment is when I get ten times the experience points...!’

This time was no different.

At the moment when all strength had left his body and nothing but pain remained, Yeon Sowol regarded it as a moment of growth.

That was why he had struggled to hold the sword and stand again.

He had suffered all this time, so if he collapsed now, he would miss out on the blessing of growth itself.

But Yi Yubaek understood those words differently. His expression hardened as he nodded.

"I see... There must have been a story behind it. A story painful enough that you could call even that degree of pain familiar. You, too, have lived a difficult life."

‘Huh?’

Yeon Sowol realized that the misunderstanding had deepened.

‘Why?’

Yi Yubaek looked at him gravely.

"Sowol. The training I originally planned for today ended here. I intended to stop around now and rest. But let me ask you this. Do you want to train a little more?"

As he spoke, Yi Yubaek hardened his resolve.

‘If he says he wants more training, I will scold him until he cries. He needs to rest when it is time to rest. He must never be driven by impatience, unless he wants to die.’

Even if Yeon Sowol's martial force had only been rudimentary, he had exercised it once. From this point on, he needed to train in controlling it.

Greed and impatience were poison and blades in that training.

To control martial force, one always needed to keep one part of the mind awake and hold oneself back.

But what happened if he pushed past his limits and trained recklessly?

Yi Yubaek had seen many people die that way.

That was why martial force training became a wall.

Unlike other forms of training, it could not be overcome by throwing one's whole heart into it and charging ahead blindly.

One had to keep one's own mind in check, and devote long, steady hours of pure effort.

Yi Yubaek had deliberately set a trap to teach him that.

‘I must break him once. The more burdens he carries, the deeper his story, the more likely he is to neglect his own body and push himself too far.’

The moment Yeon Sowol took the bait, Yi Yubaek would give him a lesson he would never forget.

‘Just say a single word.’

Outwardly, Yi Yubaek smiled kindly. Inwardly, his heart was sharp with frost.

He recalled the lion's-roar scolding he had received from his master long ago.

At last, Yeon Sowol answered.

"No. I will rest for today."

"Gah!"

"..."

"..."

After a moment of silence, Yeon Sowol finally asked,

"...Pardon?"

"...Hm?"

"Pardon?"

"Hm?"

"...Um. Am I not allowed to rest?"

"...No. No, that is not it. Rest. You should rest."

Yi Yubaek hurriedly clasped his hands behind his back and looked away.

He cleared his throat.

‘What was that?’

Yeon Sowol tilted his head.

His face burning, Yi Yubaek hastily changed the subject.

"Ahem! In any case, good. You have entered the path of martial force faster than I expected... If you continue like this, you will be able to cut off Seo Muryang's head yourself."

"What?!"

The topic-changing effect was remarkable!

"Kill Seo Muryang... But earlier..."

Had Yi Yubaek not spoken negatively about it before their training?

"When did I say I would not kill him? Killing him is settled. I only said we must think carefully about how to kill him."

"Uh. Uh. Then Uncle Hang Inwoo..."

"It will be fine. Seo Muryang may be friends with Inwoo, but I am closer to Inwoo. He may sulk a little, but this time, it cannot be helped."

Yeon Sowol stared blankly at Yi Yubaek.

The corners of his mouth rose without his realizing it.

‘Why am I so happy about this?’

Was deciding to kill someone really something to be happy about?

He felt strange about himself, but it could not be helped. It felt as though a tightly clogged knot inside him had finally opened.

"Anyway, I am making a plan. If possible, it may be best for you to deal with Seo Muryang yourself. I will need to help you somewhat, of course."

Yi Yubaek clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the sky.

"Once that bastard is dead, we will not need to worry about Inwoo anymore either."

"...Thank you, Father."

"Why are you thanking me?"

"Still, thank you."

Yeon Sowol smiled.

Even the scraped, throbbing hand somehow felt pleasantly hot.

"You brat."

Smiling, Yi Yubaek took out a water flask.

"Give me your hand."

He poured water over Yeon Sowol's red hand and washed it once, then took out Golden Wound Medicine from his robes, applied it, and wrapped the hand in bandages.

Yeon Sowol left his hand quietly in his adoptive father's care and breathed easily.

"Father, I was thinking yesterday."

"About what?"

"You said that drawing one's sword for what one believes is right is different."

"I did."

"But are there not times when it is unclear what is right and what is wrong? Something like the Heat Cauldron Sect is obvious, but as one lives in the Jianghu, I think there will be times when both stepping forward and not stepping forward feel wrong."

"That is right. Sometimes you regret it for a long time. I should have stepped in then. I should not have stepped in then."

"...Is there a way to judge it well?"

"There is. It is not always exactly right, but when you truly do not know."

Yi Yubaek tied the bandage knot and released the hand he had been holding.

"Repay kindness. Repay grudges too. Then, at least, you will not be terribly wrong."

"Kindness... Grudges..."

Yeon Sowol looked down at his hand.

The bandages made it stiff, but also reassuring.

It was April, when delicate, brilliant petals fell one by one, and the trees began to grow thick and silent.

Footnotes:

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