At the Edge of Spring’s Arrival (1)

Gwangdu was training in the backyard.

He had almost perfectly mastered three of the seven techniques of "Seven Styles of the Southern Sea" that I had taught him.

From his movements, I could sense that he possessed talent. Perhaps not genius-level, but there was no doubt he was gifted.

Sometimes, I wondered if that talent had sought me out on its own—perhaps it was fate that my reincarnated eyes had noticed him.

Gwangdu was so immersed in his training that he didn't even notice me approaching.

Watching him drenched in sweat brought back memories of my own training days from long ago.

What had been the driving force behind my training back then?

Back then, I truly wanted to become strong. All I ever thought about was becoming the strongest man in the martial world.

Yes, what drove my growth the most... was desperation.

If mine was the desperation not to become just another mediocre martial artist, then what, I wondered, was Gwangdu's source of strength?

"You brat! Ten assassins could come and go, and you wouldn't even notice."

"Huh? When did you get here?"

"I came to check whether you were slacking off or not."

"Did you see me practicing?"

When I nodded, Gwangdu asked cautiously,

"How was it?"

The kid was improving by the day.

Not only was he quick-witted, but he also had an instinctive feel for martial arts techniques.

I smiled and said,

"Alright. I'll teach you the remaining four forms now."

"Ah!"

Joy spread across Gwangdu's face, unable to be hidden.

I taught him the remaining four forms. Just like with the first three, he picked up the movements precisely and accurately.

But did he even realize?

That no one else in the entire martial world could receive instruction of this level.

That only because I was his teacher, could he so easily learn something as high-level as the Southern Sea Style—a formidable martial arts technique.

"I've now passed down the complete Southern Sea Style to you."

"Thank you, young master."

"Even with the same martial technique, the outcome can vary greatly depending on who uses it.

In other words, the most important factor in martial arts is always the person. Do you understand?"

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And from now on, train with this blade."

"Gasp! Did you buy this… for me?"

"Yes. Throw away that one you bought before."

On the way back, I had stopped by the blacksmith and picked out the best-forged saber they had.

It wasn't an outrageously expensive weapon, but it was by no means cheap either.

"Young master!"

If I left him alone, he looked about ready to shed tears, so I quickly said,

"That's enough. Now draw the saber."

Gwangdu unsheathed the blade. His hands trembled.

"Maybe it's because you bought it for me, young master, but it feels completely different. Even if I were holding a treasured sword, I don't think it would feel this good."

"That's just because you've never held one before."

A treasured sword or a famed blade is something truly special. You can feel it the moment you hold one—completely different. The craftsmanship alone sets it apart. When you grip the handle, it fits perfectly in your palm. There's an indescribable solidity, a reassuring balance in the weight that grounds you. Just holding it fills you with the confidence that you could cut through anything.

That's what a true weapon—a legendary blade—is supposed to feel like.

Well, if everything goes well, Gwangdu will one day get the chance to wield a treasured saber of his own.

"For now, focus on the hand that holds the blade. From this moment on, that hand is more important than the chopsticks you eat with."

"Yes, sir!"

"Right now, the edge might feel intimidating. But you must become familiar with it. That blade will one day save your life—and possibly your friend's."

At the mention of saving someone, the trembling in Gwangdu's hands slowly subsided.

"Your goal is sword-body unity—to become one with the blade."

"What does it mean to become one with it?"

"Have you ever thought it was strange that your arms are attached to your body?"

"Of course not."

"Exactly. That's how it should feel. There should be no sense of separation when you hold the blade.

It must become an extension of your arm—your own flesh."

"Ah! I get what you mean now. Where do you even learn things like this? Are those words written in the secret manual of the Southern Sea Style?"

"They are."

That's what I told him—

But you little rascal, those are the words of the greatest martial artist in the world, passed down directly.

"I'm leaving. Keep training."

"Yes, sir!"

Just as I was turning away, I paused and asked,

"Have you ever hated someone before?"

Gwangdu stared at me quietly.

"You brat! Not me."

Only then did Gwangdu let out a small smile.

"Hmm… Yang Ki-gang. Yeah, I hated that guy."

"Right? That's what hating someone feels like, isn't it?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing."

"Did someone say they hated you, young master? Oh—maybe that's the wrong question. Everyone probably hates you anyway. So how much do they hate you? Enough to want you dead?"

As he spoke, Gwangdu instinctively darted away to a safe distance.

When I raised my fist, pretending I'd hit him, he burst into laughter.

If someone like Galsa-ryang or Baek Pyo had seen me acting like this, they would've been utterly horrified.

After all, I was someone who had been revered my entire life.

There were barely a handful of people who had ever spoken to me while meeting my eyes.

Everyone feared me.

I lived a life wrapped in deference—respect born from fear.

Was I happy living that way?

At one time, yes.

There was a time I believed that was what defined me—that such fear and reverence were proof of my worth. That they were the very source of my pride.

But looking back now, I realize that it was a way of life I never had to choose.

How much better would it have been… if I had lived more freely with them, like this?

But regret always comes too late.

As I walked on, I heard Gwangdu call out from a distance.

"Whoever it is… once they get to know you, young master, they'll end up liking you."

I won't repeat the same mistakes again.

***

Song Wookyung paid a visit to the Byeok Clan Sword Sect.

Byeok Dojun felt a tinge of unease at the unannounced visit from his old friend.

It wasn't like him to just show up out of nowhere.

"I just felt like seeing you," Song Wookyung said.

"You came at the right time. I was just thinking a drink sounded good. How about it?"

"Sounds perfect."

The two had known each other so long, they barely needed words to understand what the other was thinking.

Byeok Dojun was truly grateful to Song Wookyung. Even after the decline of his household, Wookyung had never once suggested breaking off the engagement—proof enough of his friend's loyalty.

When the Byeok Clan Sword Sect had been going through difficult times, Wookyung had tried several times to offer him money, carefully watching for a chance. But out of respect for his friend's pride, he never spoke the words aloud. And for that, too, Byeok Dojun was deeply thankful.

The two men shared several rounds of drinks, back and forth.

"Ever since the Lord of the Martial Alliance passed, the entire murim has been restless," Song Wookyung said.

Byeok Dojun nodded at the remark.

"That's only natural. The murim was ruled by a single man for a long time."

Having opened with talk of the late alliance leader, Song Wookyung finally got to the point.

"A few days ago, Go Soonkyung came to see me."

"Go Soonkyung?"

Go Soonkyung was the leader of the Shandong Merchant Association. Among the many merchant guilds in Shandong, it was the largest—effectively the face of Shandong's commerce.

"What did he say?"

"He offered their support. He suggested that we rally the various clans of Shandong and form a united alliance—the Shandong Union."

"The Shandong Union?"

The unexpected proposal left Byeok Dojun stunned.

"Didn't the former Lord of the Martial Alliance strictly prohibit the formation of sect alliances?"

It had been an ironclad decree from Chun Hajin, the previous alliance leader—meant to prevent the rise of factions and inevitable conflicts.

"Well, that former alliance lord is no longer around."

The words carried weight.

"I've heard that alliances are already forming in other regions. They're moving before a new alliance leader is chosen. And even if one is selected, their influence across the Central Plains will be weak during the early stages of their tenure."

It was something Byeok Dojun had never even considered. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel just how politically slow and unaware he'd been.

"He's not asking to move immediately," Wookyung said.

"For now, he's proposing that our sect and the Shandong Merchant Association form a strategic alliance. Then, one by one, we'd bring other sects into the fold. I wasn't sure what to make of it, so I came to you."

It was clear that Song Wookyung had already leaned somewhat toward the idea. If he had intended to reject it outright, he wouldn't have come this far to discuss it.

And Byeok Dojun understood. If their roles were reversed, even he would've found the offer tempting.

There are many things that matter in the world of martial sects, but when it comes to expanding power, the most important resource… is money. If the Song Clan's capital were combined with the influence of the Shandong Merchant Association, they could rise to become the strongest sect in Shandong overnight.

"To be honest," Wookyung added, "Yangsobang is a big reason as well. As you know, their sect leader died, and the vice leader, Jeong Yeo, has taken over. She's too focused on stabilizing things internally to keep an eye on the outside. This is the perfect time for our sect to rise to the top of Shandong.

Of course, I'll need your help."

It was a humble way to put it.

The Song Clan already held the second most powerful position in Shandong, just below Yangsobang.

Even without the help of the Byeok Clan Sword Sect, they could likely take the top spot on their own.

"Honestly… I couldn't bring myself to refuse him on the spot."

"I understand."

From the standpoint of someone leading a martial sect, wanting to become the dominant force in a region was only natural.

Byeok Dojun himself had already once stood at the top.

"As for me, I'll respect your decision and give you my full support. But there's one thing you need to keep in mind—The moment you take their hand, you'll start facing things you've never had to deal with before."

"I'm prepared for that."

"When do you need to give them an answer?"

"I told them I'd think it over for a few days."

As Song Wookyung emptied his cup, he added,

"The murim is changing rapidly, day by day."

Before leaving, Song Wookyung came to see me.

"Have you been well?"

"Yes. And have you been at peace, sir?"

It was still a bit awkward between us. We weren't officially broken off yet, so he was still my father's friend—and my prospective father-in-law.

"I know you went through a rough patch for a while."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. If youthful confusion passes like a brief fever, then I see it as a good thing. It'll help you overcome the greater storms yet to come."

I was truly grateful for the way he saw things so generously.

Of course, it likely stemmed from his friendship with my father—but even so, I was thankful.

And I couldn't help but envy the bond they shared. In my previous life, I had never known friendship like that.

"Have you seen Hwarin?"

"Yes, just once. By chance."

"By chance? Is that how one behaves when they're engaged?"

"I apologize."

"Are you still hung up on what she said that day? About breaking off the engagement? Don't take it to heart—it was just a girl's whim, nothing more."

"You know very well it wasn't just that, don't you?"

"You—!"

"I think Hwarin was right. At the very least, marriage is something that should be decided by the person involved."

Song Wookyung fixed me with a hard, scowling stare.

But I met his gaze calmly. I had no intention of marrying her, so giving anyone false hope would only be cruel.

"No matter what you say, I won't give up on you," Song Wookyung said before walking away.

Once he was gone, Gwangdu, who had been waiting outside, stepped in.

"You could've just said, 'I'll do better going forward.' Why'd you have to be so stiff and serious?"

"You really want me to end up with Lady Song that badly?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? I've told you more than once already—because she's beautiful! But let's be honest, is that all she's got going for her? She's beautiful, comes from a good family, she's smart, and her father—the man who'd be your father-in-law—has a great personality. What more could you possibly want? If you ask me, young master, you must've saved the martial world in your previous life or something."

Huh?

Now that he mentioned it… didn't I actually save the martial world in my past life?

Even if that were true—

"But you're forgetting the most important thing."

"What? Her temper? Come on, with everything else she's got going for her, who cares if she's got a bit of a temper? Someone that perfect without a little fire in her? That'd be the real red flag. Just live with it!"

"There's no love."

At my words, Gwangdu flinched.

"There's no love between us."

He stared at me silently.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"…No."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's just… you suddenly sound so grown-up. Just now… you really did sound like an adult."

I let out a small chuckle.

"So, why'd you come here anyway?"

Only then did Gwangdu remember the message he'd forgotten.

"Ah, right—Master is calling for you."