Chapter 33

What was the first thing I thought?

The feel of a sword in my hand.

A grip heavy and a little rough, and a weight nothing like a wooden practice blade.

And the faint breath of iron.

That was the impression before I truly swung a sword.

I closed my eyes as I was.

Beyond the darkened view, something peeked through.

A back—someone’s back.

Somewhat small and thin, obviously mine at a glance.

One.

“It feels big.”

A back that must have been narrow as a sparrow’s somehow looked broad. Was it because the presence moving my body was enormous?

One step, one cut toward Little Azure Sword.

I called up the air I’d felt then.

Squeeze.

I tightened on the hilt and stepped once.

I summoned only sensation.

How had my body been, then?

How much air had I drunk.

How much force had I fed into the motion to make it work.

And what had the energy moving inside done.

I remembered each piece and poured it into my body.

Ssshhh—

The blade moved. I felt the drag of air.

This time I set strength in my toes more than my waist. I minded the angle of my elbow.

“Lighter. And far deeper.”

I put strength into muscles I normally didn’t use.

Is this much fussy work really necessary for a single thrust? The doubt flickered, but didn’t stay.

“He did it like this.”

So I would do only that.

Thud—!

My sole stamped the ground.

“There is no part of the body you don’t use. There are only places you give less strength.”

I folded in what the old man had said as he watched me.

That figure from then, powering the whole body from the soles up.

Don’t ask why it has to be so.

“Just copy it.”

I remembered it and meant to embody it, so I enacted it the same.

Ssssshhhh—!!!

I didn’t look to see what the moving blade was like.

That was what the closed eyes were for.

So I wouldn’t doubt myself. So I wouldn’t carry even a grain of hesitation.

Zzzrk—!!!

A spark jumped in my dantian (inner energy center).

The Blue Moon Heart Art had begun to turn; fragile enough to snap this instant, yet even so it gave off light.

Where should the current of energy go?

I was calculating and copying every action, yet should I leave the energy itself as it was? There was no time to ponder. I’d already let go of it from my hand.

Whoom—!!

Energy left my hand and flowed through my body.

It flowed and flowed, coiled my hand, and what coiled finally linked to the sword.

A flash reached the tip.

What was this martial form’s name again?

I didn’t recall. I didn’t need to.

Energy sheathed the described motion.

Was it that you made a moon with the sword?

That alone was what I had to remember.

Shaaah—!!!

The blade split the air.

Fwoosh—!

The instant the motion ended, the energy in my body guttered and heat spread out.

“Hff... huff...”

I steadied my ragged breath and slowly opened my eyes.

As I lifted my lids, gazes poured from all sides, same as before.

If there was a difference—

“They look shocked, don’t they?”

There was astonishment steeped in their eyes.

So that’s how it is.

“Looks like I did pretty well.”

The imitation went better than I’d expected.

It was such a pain in the ass to use that I’d wondered if I could pull it off.

“Easier than I thought.”

Much easier than I’d expected.

[Hahahahahahahaha—!!!]

Damn it.

At the sudden burst of laughter, my brow creased.

The old man was looking at me and laughing rough.

“What’s with him?”

Why was that vile spirit throwing a fit again? I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to get tangled with him right now.

I turned my eyes to the Moonlit Sword.

The handsome middle-aged man was staring at me, eyes wide as saucers.

“I did my best, in my way. Were you satisfied?”

“......”

No answer came. Silence moved between us. After I waited a beat—

“Young Master Bang.”

The Moonlit Sword looked at me and asked,

“What is it you intend to do in this sect.”

“That doesn’t quite match what I asked, does it?”

I’d asked if he was satisfied, and he asked what I wanted to do. An incomprehensible question.

But—

“Well, since you asked, I’ll answer...”

Because it was the Moonlit Sword’s question, I smiled as brightly as I could and answered.

“First, I plan to become the Young Lord. My master told me to become Sect Master of the Blue Moon Sect.”

“......”

“I came here for that.”

At my answer, the air around us went cold.

Like deep winter.

****

After Bang Sungyeon left and the mood settled into a heavy stillness, a man looked to Cheon Seonghwa and spoke.

“He’s dangerous.”

At the words, Cheon Seonghwa glanced at the man.

There was a teacup on his desk, but the tea had long since gone cold.

He’d poured it and hadn’t touched a sip for a long time.

“Unit Commander. What is it that’s dangerous?”

“That boy named Bang Sungyeon is far too dangerous to appear now.”

“Why?”

At Cheon Seonghwa’s question the Unit Commander’s brow knit for a moment. It wasn’t that the Sect Master didn’t know; that was why.

“The competition for the Young Lord’s seat has already begun...”

By his count alone, four. That was the number of candidates who had stepped into the fight for the Blue Moon Sect’s Young Lord.

“In that situation, he’s a storm that appeared far too late.”

“True.”

Cheon Seonghwa agreed.

A late storm. The words fit exactly.

“And such a one has spoken of the Young Lord’s seat, which surely means...”

“And why is that a problem?”

“...Sect Master?”

At the Sect Master’s words, the Unit Commander showed a look of discomfiture.

“A qualified man has shown his intent. How is that a problem?”

The conditions to ascend as the Blue Moon Sect’s Young Lord:

One must be a bearer of the Moon Eyes, and be able to embody the Blue Moon Sword Dance.

Bang Sungyeon fit those terms.

“You saw it yourself. That single cut—did it not please your eye?”

“......”

At the Moonlit Sword’s words, the Unit Commander couldn’t say anything.

He couldn’t, because—

“To my eye, that sword—though a hint of instability remained—was admirable enough to draw praise.”

Not to acknowledge it would be dishonest.

Anyone who had learned the Blue Moon Sword Dance—no, any swordsman—could not deny it.

Indeed—

“In that youth, I saw the former Sect Master.”

“...Such a thing...!”

“Can you say it isn’t so? ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ I cannot.”

“......”

“The face of that youth asking me, why is learning from a secret text impossible? The way he looked at me then, and even the faint sense that came off him—it was unmistakably like the elder.”

“...Sect Master, are you saying Young Master Bang is certainly the Sword Saint’s successor?”

“No.”

Cheon Seonghwa’s answer was firm.

“There are still too many oddities to be sure. But neither can I say he is not.”

It was an application of energy and swordplay that only the Sword Saint had ever managed within the Blue Moon Sect.

If the one who embodied it perfectly were not the Sword Saint’s successor, what else could you call him?

It wasn’t certainty that was lacking; it was only that while the case was more than sufficient—overflowing, even—he lacked conviction.

Because it wasn’t conviction, there was less he could do.

“In that case, do you intend perhaps to lend power to Bang Sungyeon—to Young Master Bang?”

“Hah.”

At the Unit Commander’s words, Cheon Seonghwa burst into a laugh.

“As if.”

His tone said it was absurd.

“As I’ve said before, I have no intention of lending power to anyone.”

“Then, how will you...”

“Only—because I don’t understand.”

Cheon Seonghwa stroked the teacup before him and added,

“Young Master Bang has ample qualification. Whether he arrived late or crashed in suddenly—that isn’t important. The seat hasn’t been decided anyway.”

“However...”

“Unit Commander. I know how much you expect of my daughter.”

“...!”

At that, the Unit Commander closed his mouth.

“And for that reason I’m letting your words pass this time.”

Creeeeeak.

Rattle, rattle.

The tea in the cup shivered, and the window frame trembled.

“I won’t allow you to cross the line further.”

“......”

At the chilling warning, the Unit Commander dropped to one knee at once.

“...Forgive me. I overstepped.”

Watching him bow his head, Cheon Seonghwa turned his gaze aside.

With that, the pressure vanished as if cut away.

“There won’t be a second time.”

“...I’ll keep it in mind.”

“And if you’re worried for that child, all the more reason to keep Young Master Bang at her side.”

“...What do you mean...?”

“Put similar beings together and the fire will catch more, don’t you think?”

“...!”

At the words, the Unit Commander swallowed his voice.

It was because the gaze with which Cheon Seonghwa spoke was so very cold.

Right after he said it, for some reason, Cheon Seonghwa’s eyes turned pensive.

What was he thinking? The Unit Commander couldn’t bring himself to ask.

A little time passed.

“Yes. That will do.”

All at once, as if something had come to him, Cheon Seonghwa nodded.

“Unit Commander.”

“...Yes, Sect Master.”

“Send a letter to the Tang Clan.”

“The Tang Clan, sir?”

“Yes.”

The Tang Clan, suddenly? He was about to ask what that meant—

“...Surely not...?”

Perhaps he’d realized something; the Unit Commander went still. Watching him, Cheon Seonghwa spoke.

“Since he showed us something good, as he said he would—we should give a gift in return.”

In the dim, Cheon Seonghwa’s blue eyes curved like a half-moon.

It was a shape distinctly, vividly eerie.

****

“Ah, hell, that’s cold.”

At the chill that struck me, I rubbed my forearms.

“...Feels like something shitty’s about to happen somewhere again, doesn’t it?”

A sense nothing short of ominous. The crap feeling made me shiver.

“Please, let nothing happen.”

I prayed, hard and harder again.

It had always been that way: my bad hunches usually hit. Damn it.

“Damn.”

While I was barely smoothing my mood and still rubbing my arms—

[...What are you doing.]

Yoo Cheongil looked at me with a strange expression.

“It’s just a little cold.”

[It isn’t the season to be cold.]

“Sometimes when I get a crap feeling, I get cold.”

[Huh. Did a god descend on you or something.]

“Well, you know...”

I hadn’t seen a god, but if one wanted to come down, wouldn’t it have descended? Maybe that’s why I’ve been knocked around to death in my past life and this one.

Utterly, infuriatingly unfair. I was about to say so, then clicked my tongue, hard.

“This has nothing to do with you, old man.”

[Heh heh heh...]

At my tone, Yoo Cheongil let out a hollow laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.”

[Are you still sulking?]

“Who’s sulking? I’m not.”

[Not, when your face looks like a rotten cucumber.]

“That example is disgusting.”

A rotten cucumber? What kind of dogshit—

As I clicked my tongue in irritation, Yoo Cheongil scratched his cheek and spoke.

[I told you there was a reason. Don’t be so small, you’re a man.]

“What?”

Small? Small-minded? The words hit dead-on and drew a frown.

“If you had a reason, you could’ve said so beforehand. You shoved me off a cliff and call that something to say?”

[How was I supposed to know you’d suddenly decide to show it off? Try using that thing called thinking.]

“Where was I supposed to find time to think in that situation! We were already late even if we started at once!”

When I’d had to prove myself to the Moonlit Sword—that was when Yoo Cheongil said he wouldn’t help me.

Because of that, I was still pissed at that vile spirit.

“Who do you think put me through this, and you screw me there?”

[It all went well, didn’t it? I believed in you from the start.]

“Yeah, sure you did.”

[...Your face really is a mess. How can you crumple it that grotesquely.]

“I’m not doing this.”

[Sorry.]

Maybe even he felt he’d gone too far this time; the old man apologized fast.

Naturally, that wasn’t enough to settle it.

I was still grinding my teeth when—

[But, boy.]

“What.”

The old man put a question to me.

[Can I ask you one thing.]

“Do you think you can?”

[When you unfolded Moon Wave earlier, why did you leave the energy alone.]

“So you were never planning to ask permission in the first place?”

That was what my “can you ask” meant.

Ridiculous. I thought about ignoring him completely, but the question snagged.

“...What do you mean?”

[You copied it fine from start to finish, so why didn’t you touch the energy.]

“...Ah.”

I understood.

When I’d performed the sword dance earlier, I’d imitated the movements while I’d left the energy simply to flow.

Yoo Cheongil was pointing that out.

“Was that wrong? It seemed to come off well.”

[As I said, it’s pure curiosity. Given your perverse temperament, I figured you had a reason.]

“...”

The word “perverse” stuck in my ear, but I let it pass.

Why did I do it that way? Honestly, nothing grand.

“You said it yourself.”

[What did I say.]

“That the moon isn’t kindled—it rises on its own.”

[...]

“So I just left it. Let it flow by itself. It felt right. Wasn’t it?”

“The moon simply rises.”

Those were the words the old man had said as he’d shown the form. I’d remembered them and deliberately let go.

[Heh...]

The old man looked at me, at a loss for words.

Was it the wrong choice? A hint of nerves crept in—

[Remarkable.]

He gave me a flat, simple praise.

“...Mm...”

At that, I scratched the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t much, but I felt myself getting pleased.

“Yeah, I hit it pretty well.”

Even to me, it wasn’t bad.

Just about that much.

That’s what I thought then.

Later, I heard there were at most two beings in Yoo Cheongil’s life who ever made him say “remarkable.”

One was me.

And the last one—

The Heavenly Demon.

That was the value of the praise he’d given.