Chapter 16
At the center of the Baek Clan compound stood the clan’s martial training grounds. The three Baek siblings—Baek Heon-So, Baek Yeon-Yeon, and Yang-hwi—were drenched in sweat, fully immersed in their training.
“Ha! Ha!”
“Hiyap! Hiyap!”
Amid the sharp shouts of Baek Heon-So and Baek Yeon-Yeon, Yang-hwi moved with painstaking slowness, repeating the first to third stances of the The Three Heavens Sword Techniques.
Only after performing the sequence ten times did he relax his stance.
His training clothes were soaked through, but Yang-hwi wore a satisfied smile.
‘With this, I’ve completely mastered the Three Heavens Sword.’
To master a sword technique was not merely to understand its principles.
Every martial art, in the end, is an expression of the laws of heaven and earth through the body.
Without sufficient physical cultivation as its foundation, true mastery could never be attained.
‘I’ve built up a year’s worth of inner qi, and my body’s more than strong enough to wield the Three Heavens Sword flawlessly.’
It was the body of a youth—fresh and vigorous—and Yang-hwi knew the shortcut, having once reached far beyond this point.
In his previous life, it had taken him three full years to reach this level.
Now, just three months after entering the Baek Clan, he had achieved it in a fraction of the time.
“Huuuuu…”
As Yang-hwi exhaled a long breath, Baek Heon-So, who had stopped his own practice at some point to watch his brother’s demonstration, shouted in admiration.
“Hyung-nim! That was incredible! Watching you just now… it felt like watching Father! Wait, don’t tell me…”
Yang-hwi nodded calmly.
“Yes. I’ve mastered the Three Heavens Sword.”
“Wow!”
Baek Heon-So’s face lit up with genuine amazement. There was no trace of the jealousy he had once shown.
His young face was filled only with pure admiration and awe for his older brother.
Yang-hwi couldn’t help but smile softly.
“Let’s keep growing straight and strong, just like this, So-ya.”
He hadn’t expected his relationship with the boy to develop so smoothly.
‘Why couldn’t I do this in my past life?’
‘I suppose I was too young… too lacking.’
But now, and moving forward, things would be different.
With that thought, Yang-hwi spoke up.
“So. Yeon. I’m stepping out for a bit. Keep up your training while I’m gone.”
“Orabeoni, are you going out again?”
Baek Yeon-Yeon pouted. Her expression clearly said she wanted to go with him.
“I’ll bring back candied sweets and chicken skewers, alright? So work hard until I return, Yeon-ah.”
“…Okay.”
Though she still looked sulky, Yang-hwi hardened his heart. He couldn’t take her along.
After all, he was going to meet Yeo Un-jeok.
After changing into formal clothes, Yang-hwi headed straight for Han Seok-Eon, the general steward.
“Steward, I’ll be stepping out for a short while.”
In the past, going out had been difficult. But now, everyone in the household was used to Yang-hwi coming and going.
Han Seok-Eon nodded without hesitation.
“Of course, Young Master Hwi. By the way, when are you bringing us some good news?”
“Good news?”
“This, of course—this.”
The steward made a circle with his thumb and forefinger.
‘Ah. Money…’
Yang-hwi offered a sheepish smile.
“I’m working on it.”
“I’ll be counting on you, then. You and I are the only ones worrying about household finances these days.”
“Isn’t Father also working hard?”
“The Lord earns just as fast as he spends.”
That wasn’t exactly wrong. Baek Mu-ryang had a soft heart and was always giving handouts here and there—leaving just enough money to barely feed the household.
“Father’s just buying what money can’t usually buy. Besides, the main house won’t be dealing with poverty much longer. Anyway, I’ll be off!”
“Then bring back the God of Wealth himself!”
Leaving the Baek Clan behind, Yang-hwi made his way directly to the spot where he had arranged to meet Yeo Un-jeok.
As expected, Yeo Un-jeok was already there waiting.
“Young Master, you’ve come.”
“I hurried, but it looks like you still beat me here. Have you looked over the counter-techniques I gave you?”
Previously, Yang-hwi had handed Yeo Un-jeok a list of counters for the martial arts used by the Honggyo Sect and other underground factions in Akan-hyeon.
Yeo Un-jeok had asked to verify their effectiveness before trusting him completely.
The man gave a heavy nod.
“These past few days, I picked fights here and there without drawing suspicion—and tested every one of them.”
Yang-hwi already knew the answer, but he asked anyway.
“And the results?”
“…All of them. Perfect counters.”
It was only natural—at least when it came to the martial arts of the Dark Factions in Akan-hyeon, Yang-hwi could say with confidence that he knew them better than the people who practiced them.
“Where in the world did you get those counter-techniques? It’s not just one—you knew the counters to every technique from multiple factions.”
He answered simply.
“I’ve watched the Dark Factions of Akan-hyeon fight while scraping by with the Beggar Sect over a hundred times.”
“…So you came up with those counters yourself. Impossible. You’ve only been learning martial arts for a few months, and you’re barely eight years old.”
It wasn’t wrong. At least, not from a logical standpoint.
But—
“Elder, how many true prodigies exist in the world—ones whose talent defies conventional understanding?”
“…Are you saying you’re one of those unmatched prodigies?”
Yang-hwi shot back with a bold, almost shameless smirk.
“Unless there’s a better explanation for the current situation, isn’t that the most logical conclusion?”
“……”
As he held his confident smile, Yang-hwi carefully watched how Yeo Un-jeok’s expression shifted.
To be fair, his argument had its flaws. There were limits to how convincingly one could build a story without revealing the truth of his regression.
But—
‘When persuading someone, logic isn’t the only thing that matters. Sometimes, the speaker matters more.’
If a common man and a legendary figure said the same thing, who would people believe?
Of course, the weight would fall on the latter.
That was why, for now, it was more effective to act like a genius—no, an otherworldly prodigy whose talents were beyond comprehension.
Fortunately, his recent actions—independent of the counter-techniques—were already well beyond what anyone would expect from an eight-year-old.
“…It’s arrogance, but… you’re right. There’s no other explanation. So, what do you plan to do next?”
‘Good, he bought it.’
Yang-hwi smiled faintly and answered.
“Elder. Let’s say there are two rival Dark Factions locked in a bitter feud. What do you think would happen if one side got its hands on the other’s counter-techniques?”
“They’d pounce immediately, tear them apart.”
“And if, at a critical moment, the other side also got their hands on a counter-technique?”
“…They’d go for each other’s throats. Judging by the number of counters you’ve prepared, you’re not thinking about just a two-way battle, are you? Three sides, maybe more.”
Yeo Un-jeok narrowed his eyes at Yang-hwi.
“A lot of people are going to die. Are you okay with that?”
Was he pressing him? Testing his resolve?
Yang-hwi didn’t hesitate for even a moment. He nodded.
“They’re dying because of their own greed. If they weren’t so greedy, the Dark Factions wouldn’t go to war in the first place.”
“…That’s not wrong. But you may regret this. Blood weighs equally on everyone—it becomes a burden you carry forever.”
Yang-hwi paused before replying.
“Did you know? In Akan-hyeon, it’s dangerous for children to even go outside on their own.”
He remembered when he had first tried to take his younger siblings on an outing. Han Seok-Eon had vehemently refused unless they had bodyguards.
That was the kind of place Akan-hyeon was. No one would blink an eye if children disappeared.
“When the upper waters are filthy, how can the lower waters run clean? There are far too many Dark Factions in Akan-hyeon. Even I, as a martial family scion, can barely get by. What about the common people?”
Yang-hwi hadn’t told anyone about his collaboration with Yeo Un-jeok.
But he was certain that even if his father—Baek Mu-ryang, the famed Sword of Justice—found out, he would only worry. He wouldn’t stop him.
Because what Yang-hwi was trying to do had never once strayed from the path of justice that Baek Mu-ryang had taught him.
Maybe that conviction showed on his face.
Yeo Un-jeok, who had been silent, finally spoke again.
“You’re… truly an enigma. Your martial skills, your cunning, your unshakable will—none of it suits your age.”
Yang-hwi simply grinned.
“Well, that’s why I call myself a once-in-a-generation genius. I’ll be counting on you, Elder.”
* * *
In the Saemi Hall of the Cheongsa Sect, Gyo Cheoljeong, its hall master, once again lay in bed clutching his aching leg, struggling to fall asleep.
‘Damn it. Shit. Those goddamn bastard thieves… If I ever catch them, I’ll tear them limb from limb.’
Grinding his teeth, Gyo Cheoljeong thought of the thief who had looted the secret vault he had been personally responsible for guarding.
Some filthy little street rat had been used as bait while the real thief wiped the place clean.
Because of that bastard, Gyo Cheoljeong had been beaten within an inch of his life by the sect master—and even now, months later, the injury still throbbed.
‘Shit… damn it. I’ve got to catch that thief. And soon.’
After half-beating him to death, the Cheongsa Sect Leader had given Gyo Cheoljeong a deadline: catch the thief within three months.
If he failed, his life was forfeit.
The problem? He had no leads.
‘I have to catch him. If not… then I need to at least pull off a major achievement to cover this up.’
But how?
He had nothing. And with each passing day, it felt like a noose tightening around his neck.
Just then—
Thud.
Something hit the door with a soft clack. Startled, Gyo Cheoljeong jumped up and rushed outside, where he found a small stone wrapped with a few pieces of paper.
“What the…?”
He unfolded the paper—and froze in shock.
[I present to you the counter-techniques for the first three stances of the Rock-Cleaving Axe Art, a martial art of the Honggyo Sect.]
As someone who had clashed with the Honggyo Clan nearly every other day, Gyo Cheoljeong recognized it instantly.
This was the real deal: a genuine counter-technique for the Honggyo Clan’s main martial art, Rock-Cleaving Axe Art.
“Who… no—wait! If I have this…!”
Why had the Cheongsa Sect stockpiled weapons and gold in the secret vault to begin with?
To prepare for the day they could strike down the Honggyo Sect.
‘If I offer this counter-technique to the Sect Leader, it’ll more than make up for my failure!’
The moment that thought crystallized in his mind, the identity or intentions of the person who delivered the paper became irrelevant.
All that mattered to Gyo Cheoljeong was staying alive—and now he had a way out of the fire.
‘I have to go see the Sect Leader right now!’
Even though it was the middle of the night, Gyo Cheoljeong rushed out toward the Cheongsa Sect’s main hall.
“Someone get the Sect Leader! Hall Master of Saemi has something urgent to report!”
He relayed the message to the guards and waited. Soon, a middle-aged man appeared, looking thoroughly displeased.
His cold, bluish complexion and sinister eyes gave him the appearance of a venomous snake.
This was the Cheongsa Sect Leader.
“You filthy rat bastard. Didn’t I tell you not to show your face until you’d caught the thieves who looted the vault?”
Despite the scathing curse, Gyo Cheoljeong bowed low, groveling.
“Master, I beg your pardon. But I had no choice but to disturb you. Please—look at this.”
The Sect Leader snatched the papers from his hands.
“You’d better not be wasting my time with trash again, or I’ll—hmm? This is…?”
Still bent over, Gyo Cheoljeong lifted his head slightly and smiled wide.
“Yes, Master. It’s the counter to the Honggyo Clan’s Rock-Cleaving Axe Art.”
“Where did you get this?”
“I was searching desperately for the thief when I saved an injured elder who was on the brink of death. Turns out, he was a martial arts master. As thanks, he gave me this and disappeared.”
It was a flimsy lie full of holes—but stories like that weren’t unheard of in the martial world.
The world of Jianghu was vast, and eccentric encounters were surprisingly common.
“If you’re lying, I’ll personally cut your head off.”
“You saw it yourself, Master. There’s not a single false move in that counter-technique!”
He wasn’t wrong. Even the Sect Leader—whose skill surpassed Gyo Cheoljeong’s and who was deeply familiar with Honggyo’s techniques—could tell the counter was genuine.
“Hmm…”
The Sect Leader’s mind raced.
‘It’s only a counter for the first three stances… but most of their fighters only know those first three. If that’s the case…’
If they distributed this counter-technique to all their fighters and went to war with the Honggyo Sect?
Victory would be guaranteed.
“Someone! Send word to the Sa-du Hall Master, Sa-ah Hall Master, and Sa-an Hall Master! Tell them to report to me immediately!”
And so, a new storm began to stir in the underworld of Akan-hyeon’s martial world.
All from the hands of a boy no older than eight.
---The End Of The Chapter---
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