Chapter v19c24

## Night Raid

– The Decoy

Night, moon, stars, and prey.

These had become familiar to Gongson Jeol-Hwi.

What did it mean to become familiar with something?

He wondered if it meant ceasing to think about it. Abandoning contemplation and suspending judgment. Simply acting without considering the consequences or taking responsibility. Perhaps that was what familiarity was. Of course, there was a difference between mastering a skill and becoming familiar with it.

But familiarity brought a sense of ease to his busy body. His movements were fluid, no longer requiring conscious thought.

The first time was always the hardest. New experiences brought a mixture of anxiety and anticipation, a psychological pressure that weighed heavily on the mind. He had panicked, using five moves when one would have sufficed.

His eagerness to finish quickly had been his downfall. His impatience had dulled his senses, forcing him to repeat the same move five times against a weak opponent.

The second time was better. He was prepared, having experienced it once. He managed to control his panic, but he still used four moves.

The third time was even better. He knew what to expect, and he had a plan. He had learned from his mistakes, refining his technique.

He knew a flicker of hesitation would arise, a moment of doubt he would have to overcome. He wondered if he could skip those steps. He could visualize the entire process, having practiced it twice. His hand was steady now, free from mental tremors. But he still used three moves. He wasn’t there yet.

Now, on his fifth attempt, his mind was calm. There was no hesitation, no doubt. He was focused solely on his technique. How could he subdue his opponent in a single move? But he overthought it, using two moves. He realized that overthinking, even in a rational sense, could hinder his physical movements. He needed to clear his mind and focus.

‘This is the last night walk. I bid farewell to the cold night wind and the morning dew. And tonight, I will defeat him.’

The blade in his heart had been sharpened over the past five nights. Tonight wasn’t about sharpening the blade, but about testing its edge. It was a ritual to declare that his blade was sharp enough to cut down a peony!

The tangible evidence would boost his confidence, and his confidence would fuel his momentum. He looked at his prey, his heart pounding with anticipation.

“A plum blossom… Not a bad flower to practice on before I cut down a peony.”

The patrolman’s uniform bore the plum blossom emblem of the Hwasan Sect.

‘There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing…’

He was simply repeating his routine.

‘I am invincible!’

He approached the Hwasan disciple, his presence concealed, his golden armband gleaming in the moonlight. He was confident that his opponent wouldn’t detect him, his mind still intoxicated by his previous successes. He wouldn’t resort to a sneak attack, of course. But a little surprise wouldn’t hurt, would it? He was contemplating the most effective way to startle his opponent when the disciple turned around.

“Good evening!”

The man smiled, greeting him with his sword.

*Flash!*

A streak of moonlight, reflected off the blade, sliced through the darkness. But it wasn’t the flashy sword energy of the Hwasan Sect. It was a lightning-fast thrust.

“Gasp!”

Gongson Jeol-Hwi leaped back, barely dodging the deadly attack.

*Whoosh!*

The blade whizzed past his waist, missing him by a hair’s breadth. His training had saved him. But it hadn’t saved his clothes. His expensive silk robe was cleanly sliced in two. But his life was more valuable than his clothes.

“You’re not from the Hwasan Sect.”

He looked at the man who had just tailored his clothes. The man grinned.

“I apologize for the late introduction. I am Namgung-Sang of the Namgung Family.”

His smile was as bright as the moonlight.

“Nice to meet you, Young Master!”

* * *

## A Bolt from the Blue

– One Death, and…

“Oppa~ Gyeong-Yeong oppa~ Let’s go to the market!”

“No!”

The boy refused firmly. But his six-year-old sister wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Come on~ Let’s go~”

She pleaded. He shook his head again.

“Yeong-i oppa~ Let’s go~”

“No! It’s not safe to go out right now!”

Yoo Gyeong-Yeong was troubled, but he couldn’t give in. She shook her head, her cheeks puffed out like red apples.

“But… But… We haven’t been out since that day!”

It was true.

“I’m sorry, but no!”

“Why? Uncle said…”

“Stop!”

He snapped, the word “uncle” triggering a painful memory. It was a topic he didn’t want to think about, let alone discuss. He was practically a prisoner in the Middle Heaven Merchant Guild because of that incident. He hadn’t been able to leave since he encountered Yoon Yi-Jeong at the market. And on the day he encountered Yoon Yi-Jeong for the second time, he had become the head of his family’s business. He was terrified. The fear he had felt when his trust, his only remaining support, had crumbled was indescribable. But his little sister, oblivious to his turmoil, kept asking to go out. But he didn’t want to leave the safety of their room, knowing they were being watched.

‘Who can I talk to?’

Who could he trust? And what was the point of discussing something with someone you didn’t trust? If you weren’t willing to listen to their advice, it was just a waste of time. So…

“Waaaaah!”

His sister burst into tears. She must have been startled by his outburst.

He panicked. He had to calm her down. He apologized.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please stop crying. It’s my fault. Just be patient. I’ll take you to the market in a few days. I’ll buy you anything you want.”

He lied to appease her.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He promised.

“Promise!”

She held out her pinky finger. He hesitated, then sighed and linked his pinky with hers. She giggled and swung their hands.

“So we have a contract now?”

She asked, her eyes sparkling.

“A contract? Where did you learn that word?”

He asked, surprised.

“Daddy!”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, Daddy said a contract is based on trust. He said merchants without trust go bankrupt. What’s trust, Oppa?”

His heart sank. What was he doing? He had just made a promise he couldn’t keep, a false contract, to his sister, his most important customer. He was a disgrace as a merchant. He couldn’t face his father. He resolved to take her to the market.

As if to bless his newfound resolve, a thunderous boom echoed through the air.

*Bang!*

He jumped, almost falling backwards. The door had slammed open so violently that it sounded like an attack. It was a miracle it hadn’t shattered.

“Miss Jin! Miss Jin!”

Yoo Eun-Seong, the First Sword of Jeomchang, burst into the room, his face frantic. Fortunately, the door, though kicked open with considerable force, had survived. It must have been made of sturdy material.

“Hmm?”

He finally noticed the two children, their eyes wide with surprise.

“Ah, Gyeong-Yeong. Have you seen Miss Jin?”

“She’s teaching Ryu-Ran at the training grounds.”

“Thank you.”

He rushed out, his footsteps almost breaking the sound barrier. Yoo Gyeong-Yeong watched him go, his face filled with curiosity.

“What’s going on? Why is he in such a hurry? Is the academy on fire?”

* * *

As Yoo Gyeong-Yeong had said, Jin So-Ryeong was at the training grounds. Yoo Eun-Seong, about to call out to her, stopped in his tracks. She was currently instructing her disciple, Ryu-Ran. He hesitated to interrupt. It was a sacred moment for both the teacher and the student. It was a moment of enlightenment, a moment that could change a life. It would be presumptuous and disrespectful of him to interfere. He decided to observe.

“Do you know why you lost?”

Jin So-Ryeong asked. She was talking about her defeat at the hands of Namgung-Sang.

“Because I’m weak.”

“Wrong.”

“Huh? Wrong?”

What other reason could there be? Did defeat require another explanation? She sensed her disciple’s confusion.

“Defeat is just a result. And weakness isn’t the root cause. It’s just a process, a step between cause and effect. Just because something precedes a result doesn’t mean it’s the cause.”

She continued,

“It’s not bad to fail. It’s bad to learn nothing from failure. Everyone fails. It’s just a matter of degree. There’s no such thing as a life without failure. The worst thing is not failure itself, but the inability to overcome it. And those who fail to overcome failure usually refuse to learn from it. Only those who learn from their mistakes can overcome them. Remember, despair is like giving up on your future.”

Despair was forbidden in life.

“Learn from your failures! But don’t repeat them just to learn. And remember this. It’s better to learn from other people’s failures than your own. It’s not that difficult.”

She wasn’t done yet.

“You said you lost because you’re weak. Then what do you need to do to become strong? Is it enough to just become strong? That’s a simple answer. But it doesn’t answer the question of how to become strong. What do you need to train? Do you have an answer? Can you become truly strong just by wanting to be strong? You need to identify your weaknesses and fix them. That’s what you need to find within yourself. The thing that can change you the fastest, the thing you can change yourself.”

“I’m too stupid to understand your profound words. Please enlighten me.”

Ryu-Ran asked for guidance. She instinctively knew her master had identified her weakness.

“It’s because your insight is lacking.”

“Insight?”

“Yes. Your inability to assess your opponent is the reason you lost.”

She replied firmly.

“Then what is insight?”

Ryu-Ran asked.

“Just like everyone thinks differently, everyone has different skills. There’s nothing we can do about the difference in skill. Everyone can’t have the same skills. They can only achieve similar results. That’s reality. A world where everyone is the same is just a fantasy. And it shouldn’t be that way. Water flows, wind blows, and stars rotate because of differences in height. Without differences, there’s no change. And without change, there’s no progress. And it would be a boring world. And like stagnant water, it would eventually rot. Insight allows you to recognize those differences.”

“…”

“You don’t have to be a chef to judge taste. And you don’t have to be a master to judge a master’s skills. But a master’s assessment is different from a novice’s assessment. Different analyses lead to different results.”

Ryu-Ran listened intently.

“Masters have access to information that only masters can understand. Things they’ve learned through enlightenment. It’s not knowledge, but wisdom. Because it’s living knowledge, something you can only gain through experience. Do you understand?”

She asked, noticing her disciple’s troubled expression.

“I’m sorry, Master!”

“Don’t apologize. It’s better to show you than to tell you. Bring me the two apples on that tray.”

There was a tray of fruits on the table, a courtesy from the Middle Heaven Merchant Guild. She had left it untouched, but the apples Ryu-Ran brought were from that tray.

“Watch carefully!”

She tossed an apple into the air. A flash of light, and the apple was impaled on her sword tip. Ryu-Ran hadn’t even seen her draw her sword.

“What happened to this apple?”

“It’s… split into four pieces.”

“So I swung my sword twice?”

“Y-yes, Master.”

“Are you sure? Would a master answer the same way?”

“Well…”

Ryu-Ran wasn’t sure. She hadn’t even seen how the sword was swung.

“Your lack of confidence shows your lack of insight. You need to develop the ability to see through the fog and grasp the true form. Then you’ll be certain. Look.”

She flicked her sword, and the apple on her sword tip split into eight pieces. And the peel had been spiraled off, as if it had been peeled with a knife. She had peeled the apple before slicing it. But how?

“T-this is impossible…”

Ryu-Ran was speechless.

“Was it too fast? Then let’s try it differently. Put the other apple on your palm and stand there.”

Ryu-Ran did as she was told. Jin So-Ryeong slowly extended her sword, her movements as slow as a snail. Ryu-Ran, standing less than two feet away, wondered when the sword would reach her. And then the sword tip gently touched the apple. It was a feather-light touch, barely noticeable. Jin So-Ryeong slowly retracted her sword.

“Well? What do you see? I did it slowly this time. Did you see anything?”

“The… apple is fine.”

“Fine?”

She asked, as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Yes… It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

She asked again, her voice firm.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Ryu-Ran replied confidently.

“You’re wrong again.”

Jin So-Ryeong flicked her finger, sending a burst of finger wind towards the apple. Ryu-Ran’s eyes widened. Not because of the finger wind, but because a yellow liquid was oozing out of the tiny hole in the apple. It was apple juice.

“Well? Can you still say nothing happened?”

“…”

Ryu-Ran was speechless. The finely ground apple juice continued to flow for a while before stopping. But the apple’s shape remained intact.

“Do you want to see the inside?”

She flicked her finger again, and the apple split in two, as if it had been sliced with a knife.

‘Finger Wind Sword…’

It was an advanced technique, a step above the basic finger wind, which could only pierce. It could slice through objects by rotating the finger wind like a whirlwind. It was a difficult technique to master, and even among experts, not many had learned it.

“T-this is impossible…”

Ryu-Ran’s eyes widened again. The apple was hollow. Only the paper-thin peel remained.

“You assumed it was weak because it was slow. Was I wrong?”

“…No, Master.”

Ryu-Ran replied dejectedly.

“Of course, speed is power. Fast things are strong. That’s common sense. But slow things aren’t necessarily weak. Masters can make fast things faster and slow things stronger. Masters defy common sense. So it’s only natural that a master’s eye is different from an ordinary person’s eye. Masters see beyond the surface. That’s the difference between a master’s insight and an ordinary person’s insight. That’s why they’re not afraid to be different. Even if they’re in the minority, they can be confident in their decisions because they have that kind of insight.”

Ryu-Ran was silent.

“Developing insight is like developing wisdom. A master can pass on that wisdom to their disciple. Masters hope that their disciples will reach a higher level of insight through this transmission. Masters instinctively know that the most important thing they can teach their disciples isn’t just techniques, but insight. So I’m also responsible for your defeat. It’s my fault that your insight is still lacking.”

*Thud!*

Ryu-Ran dropped to her knees, unable to meet her master’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, Master! Because of your unworthy disciple… Because of you…”

She bit her lip, fighting back tears. She didn’t want to make a scene. She didn’t want to escape through tears. She didn’t want pity. She needed resolve, not sympathy.

“Get up.”

She didn’t move. Her knees were frozen, weighed down by guilt.

“It’s not your fault alone. I know I’m responsible. And I won’t shirk my responsibility.”

“Master…”

“Of course, it’s impossible to completely transmit wisdom through words alone. A lot of information is lost in the process. But even that incomplete wisdom can be incredibly valuable. That’s why not all disciples of great masters become great themselves. And insight is subjective, so it’s easily swayed by public opinion. It’s not easy to resist the tide and see the world with your own eyes. Seeing clearly is difficult.”

“…”

“So develop your insight. If you don’t want to be a loser in life, you need to be able to see yourself as you are. And the most important thing is to see yourself. When you can see yourself clearly, you’ll be able to see beyond yourself.”

“I’ll engrave your words in my heart, Master.”

Ryu-Ran replied, bowing deeply. Her voice was trembling, but she didn’t cry.

“I apologize for the wait, Master Yoo.”

“No, I enjoyed your lesson.”

“I’m embarrassed to hear that. But what brings you here? You seem to be in a hurry.”

Yoo Eun-Seong finally remembered his purpose. He had been distracted by Jin So-Ryeong.

“Ah! I almost forgot, Miss Jin! I must have lost my mind. Miss Jin, aren’t you supposed to duel Namgung-Sang from the Namgung Family in a few days?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m fighting that kid.”

The reason was simple. To test his qualifications to marry Jin-Ryeong. Yoo Eun-Seong knew that. He hesitated to tell her, but it was something she would find out eventually.

“Please… don’t be surprised…”

He didn’t understand why he was being so dramatic.

“I’m curious why you’re being so hesitant, Master Yoo. Just tell me. I won’t be surprised.”

Emboldened by her words, he cautiously delivered the news. And despite his warning, she was shocked.

“What? What did you say…?”

It was her disciple, Ryu-Ran, who spoke up, her voice filled with disbelief. She had a personal grudge against Namgung-Sang. He was the reason her master had been humiliated.

“What did you say, Master Yoo?”

Jin So-Ryeong asked, her voice trembling, as she struggled to regain her composure. He repeated himself.

“N-Namgung-Sang… has been murdered!”