As they made their way down the narrow mountain path, Seol-Hwi and Chung Heo did not speak to each other.

The silence between them was heavier than the cold winds that blew their way.

The cold merely froze their bodies, but the chill within their weary emotions weighed heavily on their hearts.

Step. Step!

Had so much time really passed?

Seol-Hwi and Chung Heo were making their way down the steep cliffs. The two Taoists beheld the vast lake that unfolded before them.

“Huh…”

An exclamation escaped their lips.

The Moon Castle Lake.

It was a mountain lake so meticulously arranged it seemed touched by human hands. The expansive water bordered by foothills on the left and right was a sight to behold.

Merely gazing at the natural landscape was enough to rejuvenate one’s spirit.

Snap

Once Seol-Hwi reached the level of the lake, he carefully set down his luggage, holding only his master, who was unable to walk.

“…”

His master was light.

He had always been that way since his youth. As Seol-Hwi grew, Chung Heo aged and became thinner.

There was a time when Chung Heo was known as the strongest man, but as the years passed, his muscles atrophied and he gained flab.

His master’s body had become as thin as a young boy’s. The lightness of his body was disheartening, so much so that it pained Seol-Hwi’s heart during their silent march.

Tuk

The master said nothing until Seol-Hwi gently placed him on the ground. As he looked at the man he had spent half his life with, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

Tuk. Tuk.

Seol-Hwi locked eyes with him for a moment before slowly walking toward the lake.

“…”

As Chung Heo watched, tears welled up in his eyes, and he was taken aback as the ripples grew larger in the lake.

What made his eyes widen in shock was Seol-Hwi’s gait.

He moved over the lake surface as though it were solid ground.

Tuk. Tuk. Tuk.

There was no sign of any special footwork.

Yet with each calm and steady step, the water splashed but his feet never sank in.

Free Crossing the Water…

Sometimes, folk tales speak of the strongest Taoist being able to walk on water. He had never imagined that Seol-Hwi, his disciple, would actually make it happen.

Shhh. Step.

But Seol-Hwi did not stop there; he showcased an even more impressive technique. After walking on the lake for some time, he found a nice spot and then stepped onto the air.

“Master. Shall I start?”

“…!”

Chung Heo held his breath at Seol-Hwi’s words from the water.

He understood that Seol-Hwi was about to display his skills, but on water?

Executing sword skills on water, where merely stepping required a significant amount of internal qi, was peculiar.

Techniques like Free Walking on Water were martial arts from the Qingcheng sect, known for consuming vast amounts of internal energy. And now he wanted to perform another technique?

“I-is that possible…?”

Even for a Supreme Warrior, this was something only a few could accomplish. Perhaps that was why Chung Heo felt such concern.

It was as if he had forgotten how strained their relationship had been until then. Because this challenge seemed so impossible.

“The disciple will speak to his master with the sword alone.”

“…Understood.”

Chung Heo put aside the worry in his heart, along with the anger.

Anger, hate, and sadness.

As a Taoist, his disciple must have something to explain. Therefore, he must observe and listen to everything the young man wished to convey now. As a Taoist, he believed it was the least he could do to show courtesy to a disciple of Qingcheng.

As soon as Seol-Hwi deflected the sword’s direction with his body, Chung Heo immediately recognized the technique.

Clear Wind Sword technique.

Like the cool, blue wind, it moved serenely, waiting for the enemy to strike.

Seol-Hwi’s initial sword training had been in this—the foundation of Qingcheng.

Shh. Wheik.

The strides receded, and the sword’s blade danced fluidly as the technique carried on, followed by three forms.

Flutter!

“…!”

He watched him wrap his left arm around the hem of his uniform and lifted it, his eyes widening in surprise.

This…

The original form of the technique—the one depicted on the old and broken scripture. Among them were the three forms that seemed so peculiar he questioned their necessity.

Yet his disciple’s execution of the technique unfolded before his eyes, unlike any he had seen before.

Shhh! Tang!

Beneath the lake, quiet but strong ripples emerged.

Rumble

Where the hem had been lifted, energy gathered, the gentle current on the lake’s surface proving its presence.

“Phew…”

Seol-Hwi exhaled deeply, secured the hem of his garment with his left hand, and thrust his sword alternately to the left and right.

Woong!

The air swirled, following Seol-Hwi’s movements, and from the sword’s tip erupted a fierce qi.

Chaak!

The water cleaved apart.

The lake’s surface split, remaining open for a few seconds, revealing its depths.

“Ah!”

Chung Heo could not help but exclaim aloud. The unique form of Qingcheng, the rugged uniform—it all seemed so natural as if the movements were intended for use as a weapon.

At the same time, it was shocking.

That… it held such meaning…?

Many processes have been involved in preserving ancient practices through countless years.

Even when one wished to honor their ancestors’ legacy, techniques that proved useless in combat were often discarded.

Seol-Hwi was a prime example of such pragmatism.

That was why, despite his reluctance, he acknowledged the decision to omit the third form from the technique.

Indeed, although he had his reservations, Chung Heo refrained from imposing his will.

The reason countless warriors of previous times included such a meaningless movement was unknown. But Seol-Hwi realized its purpose and was demonstrating it now.

Splash

He adopted an extremely dangerous stance. His sleeves were pushed down and fluttered, exposing openings an opponent could exploit. But the openings were intentional.

Shhh! Piitt!

His counter was horrifying. It was literally both attack and defense. If an attack came through the exposed opening, it would be met with a flash of light, bringing a stab to the chest or throat.

Seol-Hwi… you…

Chung Heo’s heart swelled at the sight.

The martial arts his disciple was practicing were known as the ideal sword of Qingcheng. It was a technique created by understanding the core of Qingcheng’s martial arts.

Although he was angry because it had been lacking until now, the disciple who returned to demonstrate it was displaying amazing capabilities that compensated for his earlier deficiencies.

Swish!

Another attack showcased the wide range of the sword technique and movement.

Pat!

Many forms followed in succession.

Finally, when the sword was lowered, the surface of the lake, previously noisy with splashing waves, calmed down.

“Hehehe….”

While Chung Heo sighed, Seol-Hwi quietly observed the lake.

The Clear Wind is the flow of…

Was there some unconscious element at work here? After the sequence was complete, he noticed that the bluish wind did not flow. The airflow soon ceased and spread across the lake’s surface.

Pakaka

This is it.

At that moment, Seol-Hwi trembled as a ray of memory surged through his mind.

The Clear Wind technique his master had spoken of. If one practiced it with proper cultivation, the energy would not dissipate as it did just now, but would linger for a while.

During the demonstration the previous time, it had not lingered.

It was the moment when he realized why his master had been angry and why he had stormed out. The foundation of the teachings. The nagging sense of inadequacy. It was filled.

Master…

More than anyone else, his master seemed to feel what he felt. The usual cold expression had vanished, replaced by the warm gaze with which he used to regard him.

“Then let me show you what comes next.”

“…Next?”

As Seol-Hwi adjusted his stance, a strange look crossed his master’s eyes. Was this necessary? Now that he had confirmed the mindset of his disciple.

Chung Heo’s eyes turned red as he observed his pupil.

This guy, he…

He was trying to imitate Chung Heo himself.

He could not recall exactly when, but in the past, he had demonstrated a technique with pride. Seol-Hwi had been young at that time.

The current Seol-Hwi was attempting to mimic that very thing, which made his master take notice. And then there was the Clear Cloud Formation Sword.

A representative martial art of the Qingcheng sect was performed, embodying the purity and nobility of the sword from which it was created.

Woong…

The sword cried out. Its movement appeared halted, yet it was faster than anticipated.

Ripples formed and waves built upon waves, growing larger.

Swish!

The rippling current created a depression beneath Seol-Hwi, then it surged up and around him, time and again.

Kukukuku!

It was akin to the disturbance caused when a massive stone was dropped into a lake. In that moment, the best of Qingcheng’s martial arts was displayed.

Rumble. Rumble.

Water streamed upward in a great leap.

The sword’s path fell as if it had been pulled down from ten feet above the water.

“Huh…”

Elder Chung Heo reminisced about his youth.

He thought about the journey the Qingcheng Sect had undertaken to become a stronghold of formidable martial arts.

Long ago, Taoist Song Jong, Chung Heo’s master, had imparted a crucial insight.

Most of Qingcheng’s martial arts required an understanding of their form, and one needed to transcend that understanding to unleash their full strength.

The power derived from this was absolute.

All enlightenment involved the body’s own internal energy and, at the same time, varied for all.

That was why he shouted at Seol-Hwi: because he had stopped searching for means. The records of the ancestors stated that one should never stop searching for the truth and growth.

But Master Chung Heo also said it was impossible.

This differed from normal sects, which required just basic understanding and not a stepwise approach to enlightenment, starting from the bottom and working upwards.

To leap over three or four levels in one go required a broad understanding that could only be seen when one climbed to the top of the mountain.

It was for this reason that it had been difficult to find someone who could see past what Chung Heo and the Qingcheng Sect had seen.

Seok-Hwi… you finally achieved it.

It was not simply because of Seol-Hwi’s demonstration now. For him, a fresh wind that had never existed before was now circling around and through his body.

The pure and cool energy could not be compared to anything else. It was an energy that went beyond what he had hoped for, inspiring.

Nevertheless, the sword seems to have a thirst for power. What kind of life have you lived, child?

Chung Heo saw.

Even as the sword unfolded, there was this desire to rise above all. Usually, those who changed forms thought about practical targets and fighting enemies because one would do anything to defeat the enemy right in front of them.

But Seol-Hwi’s attempts continued to change in the direction that followed the sword, not the form.

This meant that the goal was to raise his level, not just to learn.

In the performance, Seol-Hwi’s emotions could be felt along with how he had grown.

Lastly, the desire to tackle anything that had not been done was emerging.

The people of Qingcheng spoke with their sword.

And deep in his heart, Chung Heo felt what Seol-Hwi’s feelings in his sword were.

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