WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle

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◈ Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman ◈

Chapter 4: Strange Man

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The narrow path down the mountain stretched endlessly through the darkness.

It was no well-worn mountain trail, but a narrow track that only beasts or herb gatherers might use from time to time.

At first, I relied on the light of the waxing moon, now grown round, as I walked. But as the forest grew denser, even that was blocked by the leaves, and the darkness deepened.

Only when it became difficult to make out the path did I slowly come to a stop.

Feeling about, I gathered tough grass and dry leaves. Beneath a large boulder, where I could shelter from the dew and wind, I spread them thickly to make a rough bed.

For a moment, I wondered whether it would have been better to spend the night in the hut and leave after daybreak. But I soon shook my head.

I did not want to remain in that blood-reeking yard for even one moment longer.

I could not bear spending the night alone with Hyeonam's corpse, nor breathing in that cramped space steeped in ten years of festering misery.

I crouched atop the pile of fallen leaves. I untied Hyeonam's sword from my waist and laid it across my knees, then quietly leaned back against the boulder.

Sleeping outdoors in the mountains was familiar to me. Whenever Hyeonam and I moved our shelter, we would spend days sleeping on the cold ground.

But Hyeonam had always been beside me then. Whether we slept outdoors or stayed in a hut.

This was the first night in ten years that I would sleep completely alone.

It was strange. I had spent most of those ten years trying to kill the elder. Every day, I had wanted to escape that hell.

Yet I had never expected the first night without that hateful elder to feel so awkward.

My chest felt far too hollow to enjoy my freedom. Cold wind kept slipping into the space where something huge had been forcibly torn away.

I closed my eyes.

In the quiet mountains, with only insects and wind passing by, sleep did not come easily.

I tried to picture Yeona's face. That small face from ten years ago, when she was around seven. If she was alive, she would be seventeen now.

How had she changed? Was she even alive?

I still could not clearly remember Mother's or Father's faces. They remained blurred, as if covered in mist. Yet in my fading memories, only Yeona's last image remained as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

A seven-year-old child clutching my clothes, holding back her tears. My little sister.

Clutching the cool sword on my knees, I held that small, hazy fragment of memory close and slowly collapsed into sleep.

* * *

I woke to the cry of an unfamiliar mountain bird.

The pale morning sun was rising between the leaves.

My clothes were damp from the cold dew that had seeped through the grass during the night. As I stood, I brushed dry leaf fragments from them.

I picked up my sword, strapped it back at my waist, and continued down the mountain.

As the sun rose, the forest grew brighter. Scenery hidden by yesterday's darkness became clearer with every step.

Autumn leaves were falling in earnest. Yellow and red leaves lay thick beneath my feet. Dry leaves crumbled with every step.

After I had descended for another two hours, I faintly heard the sound of trickling water.

It came from a place slightly off the path. I pushed through the fallen leaves and found a small stream. Clear water flowed down from higher in the mountains.

Autumn leaves that had fallen onto the water drifted slowly downstream.

This worked out well.

I untied my sword and placed it on a flat rock, then removed my clothes.

I dipped my hands into the water. Mountain water was icy cold.

I scooped up the clear water and splashed it over my face. The chill that seeped into my bones jolted my foggy mind awake.

I soaked my clothes in the stream and scrubbed them clean.

The dirt from last night's rough mountain trail, along with the dark blood that had splashed onto my collar when I cut through Hyeonam's flesh yesterday afternoon, turned into pale foam and floated downstream.

As I wrung out the water, I suddenly noticed the back of my hand.

A rough hand covered in thick calluses from gripping wooden swords and Real Swords like an animal for ten years.

Large and small scars tangled across the backs of my hands and forearms like a spiderweb. Every one had been cut or torn open by Hyeonam's lump of iron.

There would be no more new scars carved into this body.

It was such an obvious fact, yet it felt strangely unfamiliar and foreign.

I spread my bloodless clothes over a rock to dry. The moment I dipped my hands into the clear water again,

"Ahhh! Help! Somebody save me!"

A scream shook the morning mountain.

I quickly judged its direction. Across the stream and somewhat farther down. It sounded close.

I snatched up the sword from the rock and strapped it to my waist. Then I hurriedly put on my outer garment, still wet and not fully wrung out. Damp cold wrapped around my body.

I drew up the warmth in my dantian, drove it into the tips of my feet, and kicked violently off the ground.

My body shot forward like a flying tiger. In a single breath, I crossed three or four jang between the trees. The instant my toes touched the ground, I burst forth with energy again and leaped into the air.

It was the first time I had ever run at such beastlike speed.

But the cost was clear.

Every time I kicked off the ground, Inner Energy poured out in great chunks, as if a dam had burst.

But I had no time to hold back.

Three breaths. Four breaths.

The scream grew closer. Leaves breaking in a frenzy, the vicious breathing of an animal, and hoarse cries scraping along the ground.

On the fifth breath, my view finally opened up.

A small clearing where sunlight filtered through the leaves, making patchy patterns across the grass.

A young man lay in the middle. One hand tightly gripped a small herb basket, while the other clawed at the dirt as he desperately crawled backward.

Blood poured from his leg as though it had been torn by an animal's claws.

A huge shadow was bearing down on him.

It was a fierce tiger as large as a house, with a heavy body easily twice the size of a grown man.

There was no time to think. I kicked off the ground again.

In one breath, I leaped through the air and landed on the beast's massive back.

Another chunk of Inner Energy left my dantian, rushed through the veins in my arm, and surged into the sword's tip. A chilling weight settled over the smooth blade.

Sensing my presence, the tiger twisted sharply and swung a huge forepaw at me. Claws the size of a human head rushed toward my face in an instant.

Its reaction was faster than I had expected. I hurriedly swung my sword and cut off its forepaw. Without stopping, I moved up its thick leg as flexibly as a snake and drove the blade into the center of the beast's brow.

Thud.

With a chilling sound, the heavy beast crashed onto the dirt.

Dust rose all around. The tiger's huge body twitched once, as if in a convulsion, then went limp and stopped moving completely.

I pulled out my bloodied sword and slowly landed beside it.

"Fuu..."

I steadied my rough breathing and felt around inside my dantian.

The clear energy that had filled it solidly, about the size of a baby's fist, had visibly shrunk.

It had happened in an instant.

Five leaps along the mountain trail and a single sword strike to end the beast's life. Just that had made twenty percent of my Inner Energy vanish without a trace.

For ten years, I had only used my strength to trade moves with Hyeonam in that small yard during the day. This was the first time I had poured so much Inner Energy into leaping through mountain paths at full speed.

Even if my control was poor, I had not expected the consumption to be this severe.

Only now did I understand why Hyeonam had stressed precision so much. And why he had repeatedly told me to save it for one decisive moment.

If I used it carelessly, I would run dry in an instant. And if my opponent still had strength left then, all that awaited me would be a dog's death.

I suppressed the urge to immediately circulate my energy and regulate my breathing. Just as I slid the blade back into its sheath at my waist,

the man who had been lying there with his eyes tightly shut in terror slowly lifted his trembling eyelids.

He was a young man who looked as though he might have two or three small children at home. His face was dark from the sun, and the backs of his hands were rough.

His eyes moved around as he took in the situation, passed over the tiger's body, and finally came to me.

"Th-thank you..."

His expression brightened as he thanked me, but his words trailed off when his eyes fell on my bloody sword. I watched relief disappear from his face as fear returned.

Only then did I realize how I must look to him.

Long, unkempt hair and a scraggly beard. Clothes hanging off me, soaked through with water. And a strange man wandering through the mountains with a sword dripping blood.

I sighed inwardly.

I slowly walked over to the tiger's side and laid the blade against its thick back.

Swipe. Swipe.

The thick fur wiped the blood from the blade. After checking that it was clean, I slid it into the sheath.

Click.

The small sound of the sheath disturbed the silence in the clearing.

I walked back to the man. His shoulders flinched once.

Ignoring it, I stopped in front of him and held out my hand.

"...Are you all right?"

My voice sounded a little awkward. I had barely exchanged words with Hyeonam, and even our occasional conversations had come out as harsh as shouted curses.

I tried to speak as gently as I could.

The man stared at my hand for a while, then glanced at my face.

"Thank you..."

He reached out and took it. His hand was cold and trembling. I slowly helped him to his feet.

Once standing, he looked at the wound on his leg. It had been badly torn, but not deeply enough to expose bone.

"Can you walk?"

He put weight on his leg. He wavered for a moment, then quickly regained his balance.

"...Yes. I think I can walk."

That was a relief. I needed a guide. In the worst case, I had planned to carry him down the mountain, but I wanted to travel light if possible.

"I got lost while coming down the mountain."

I cleared my throat.

"Would you guide me to the village below?"

"Ah..."

The man's expression hardened slightly.

Kindness and fear briefly crossed his face. His relief at seeing me put away my sword faltered again at the thought of having to guide me all the way to the village.

He would be bringing an unidentified swordsman into the village.

His hesitation did not last long. He glanced once more at the sword at my waist, and something like resignation briefly appeared in his eyes.

"...I will guide you."

It was easy to tell that his answer did not come from kindness.

A corner of my heart suddenly felt lonely. I should have grown up, followed Father out to sea, and become someone else. Instead, I had grown into this.

"Thank you."

The man bent down to pick up his herb basket. Then he paused.

His eyes drifted toward the dead tiger.

"Um, perhaps..."

He hesitated as he chose his words.

"...Aren't you going to take its hide?"

I looked at the animal's body.

After living in the mountains for so long, my sense of money had become dull.

A distant scene surfaced in my mind.

One winter, villagers crowded into the village chief's yard. Mother stood there holding my hand. The chief was proudly holding something in both hands.

I thought it had been a thick animal-hide coat. Soft-looking fur with a gray tint.

How had he said his married daughter had sent it to him again? I remembered the villagers touching it and marveling at it.

A tiger pelt was probably worth far more than that.

I glanced at the man. His eyes were fixed on the hide, and he was smacking his lips.

I made my decision quickly.

"I don't need it. You may take it if you want."

The man's eyes widened. He swallowed hard before speaking.

"R-really? Is it truly all right for me to take it?"

I nodded once.

After hesitating, the man hurried over to the corpse.

He took a small knife from his waist and carefully began skinning the tiger with practiced hands.

A little over half an hour passed.

The man had completely removed the tiger's hide. The thick pelt hung over his shoulder. The beast that had sounded like thunder now lay bare on the dirt.

The man looked at the severed forepaw and smacked his lips regretfully. Still, he could not hide his satisfaction.

He folded the hide twice and slung it over his shoulder. His injured leg shook once beneath the weight, but he did not seem to care.

We began walking down the mountain again.

* * *

On the way down, the man's wariness had eased considerably. He answered every question in detail, and eagerly told me things I had not even asked.

His name was Jang Sam. He had three young children. His eldest son was five, the second was three, and the youngest had only recently begun walking.

Then he spent a long while boasting that his wife was quicker with her hands and smarter than he was.

He said the largest nearby city was Geonnyeong. It would take two days to reach it on foot from the village.

He said a person could see people they would never meet in their entire life, and things they would never see in their entire life, all in one place.

Geonnyeong.

It was a name I had never heard before. When I was young, my village and the nearby port city of Yeongpa had been my whole world.

I carefully asked whether he had ever heard of Yeongpa. Jang Sam thought for a long time before finally shaking his head.

But he added that if it was by the sea, it must be very far away. The people in his village had never seen the sea even once in their lives.

That damned elder. We'd come a long way.

When I said I came from a fishing village, Jang Sam was shocked.

He had many questions about the sea. He gave voice to his childlike curiosity. Was it truly impossible to see the end of it? Did it really smell salty?

For the first time in a long while, I spoke about my hometown.

What the fish market looked like. What color the sea was at dawn. How fishermen cast their nets.

How Mother prepared fish.

I searched through my faint memories.

We walked for another two hours.

Before long, the mountain path gradually became gentler. The trees grew sparser with every step, and the road became clearer.

Rice paddies and fields stretched out in the distance.

At their edge stood a small village. Smoke rose from one or two chimneys, perhaps from people cooking rice.

As I looked at that sight, a corner of my chest ached. It had been ten years since I had seen a place where people lived.

We hurried forward and approached the village entrance.

Then I noticed something strange there.

First, there was an earthen wall surrounding the village. I had never seen such a wall in my hometown.

And at what appeared to be the entrance stood two young men. Each held something in their hands. As we drew closer, I saw that they were carrying a club and a hoe.

Why were men like that standing at the village entrance?

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