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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
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The next day.
Seong-cheol, having slept soundly for the first time in a long while, prepared to leave the Dokgo estate, looking refreshed. Head of the family Dokgo Jang-un and his granddaughter Ye-ryeong saw him off.
“Safe travels.”
“Thank you for everything, Elder.”
After exchanging farewells, Seong-cheol tried to leave.
But his feet wouldn’t move.
The uncertainty and fear he had felt the previous night tightened around his chest again.
Even if I leave this place, what can I do? He thought. Without connections or skills, I’m just a penniless vagrant in this harsh martial world. I’ll surely end up dying here.
‘My beloved Eun-jeong… my daughter, Ye-seo…’ He thought of his precious family back home. To see them again, he had to return to his original world. And to do that, he had to survive, somehow.
-Turn.
With that thought, Seong-cheol turned back. Dokgo Jang-un, anticipating what he was about to say from the look on his face, clicked his tongue.
“I told you I wouldn’t take you as a disciple.”
“I know. I won’t ask for such an unreasonable favor again.”
-Thud!
Seong-cheol knelt down and bowed his head to Dokgo Jang-un.
“I don’t desire the great swordsmanship of your esteemed clan! I only ask for enough skill to survive out there, to protect myself! I’ll do anything in return! So please…!”
“What is the meaning of-”
“I have a place I must return to! But the path is long and dangerous! I need strength to make it back! So please, I beg you! Grant this insignificant man just one more act of kindness!”
-Thud!
Seong-cheol slammed his forehead against the ground. Seeing him discard all pride, a flicker of sympathy crossed Dokgo Jang-un’s face.
Dokgo Jang-un was a perceptive man. By listening to someone’s words and looking at their face, he could read their intentions to some extent.
Even so, he couldn’t possibly guess that Seong-cheol had come from another world entirely. But he could sense the sincerity in his plea.
The place Seong-cheol spoke of, the place he had to return to, was undoubtedly where his precious family awaited him.
“…Grandfather…”
Ye-ryeong, who had been standing beside him, gently took Dokgo Jang-un’s hand. Her expression clearly conveyed what she wanted to say. Dokgo Jang-un chuckled softly.
Family. That word always softened his heart.
Seong-cheol’s desperate longing for his family, and the expression on his only remaining family member, Ye-ryeong’s, face, finally broke Dokgo Jang-un’s firm resolve.
“…Raise your head.”
Despite Dokgo Jang-un’s words, Seong-cheol kept his head bowed. With a sigh, the old man spoke again.
“Raise your head. I’ll grant your request.”
Seong-cheol finally looked up, his eyes filled with uncontainable joy and relief.
Such honest eyes. With such honesty, he couldn’t possibly be hiding any ulterior motives. Dokgo Jang-un smiled faintly and said,
“I’ll allow you to stay here as a handyman for the time being. I’ll also teach you some basic martial arts and self-defense techniques while you’re here. However, I won’t teach you any swordsmanship.”
The Dokgo Clan’s swordsmanship belonged to the Dokgo Clan.
It was never to be taught to outsiders, and even if it were, Dokgo Jang-un knew from experience that it would be futile.
“Thank you, Elder! Thank you so much!”
Overjoyed, Seong-cheol continued bowing his head profusely while still prostrate. Dokgo Jang-un clicked his tongue.
“Such a grown man, bowing so easily… He is definitely not destined to become great, Ye-ryeong.”
“Yes, Grandfather?”
“Teach him the household chores. From now on, he’ll do all the heavy lifting. Now that we have a handyman, we need to make good use of him.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Dokgo Jang-un left, and Ye-ryeong approached Seong-cheol. Having overheard their conversation, Seong-cheol quickly stood up and bowed to Ye-ryeong.
“Give me any order, My Lady!”
Ye-ryeong, momentarily dumbfounded, chuckled.
“Please, just call me Ye-ryeong, as before. I’ll call you Mister Seong-cheol, too.”
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And so began Baek Seong-cheol’s life at the Dokgo estate.
His role was essentially that of a handyman, which meant taking over the household chores that Ye-ryeong had been mostly responsible for.
“First thing in the morning, you fetch water from the stream.”
Saying this, Ye-ryeong effortlessly lifted a water jar larger than herself and placed it on her head. Seong-cheol desperately wanted to help, but lacking the technique, he could only watch.
“After fetching the water, you prepare breakfast. We usually buy ingredients at the market for three or four days.”
Perhaps he could help with the cooking? He had often assisted his wife in the kitchen back in his world.
However, even that was impossible in the archaic kitchen, devoid of modern conveniences. Even starting a fire required a specific technique, and the cooking process, without modern seasonings or measuring tools, was completely different.
“After breakfast, you rest for a bit, and then we’ll tend to the field on the mountainside. Grandfather usually chops firewood during that time, but he said to have you try it today. Here.”
Ye-ryeong handed him an axe. Seong-cheol, having been useless all morning, was fired up with determination.
‘An axe is also a bladed tool. If I swing it like a sword-’
Of course, it wouldn’t work. The center of gravity was completely different.
-Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
He swung the axe diligently, but by the time Ye-ryeong returned to check on him, he hadn’t managed to fell a single tree. Ye-ryeong, unable to watch any longer, took the axe from him and swung it.
-Crack!!
With a single swing, a large crack appeared in the tree trunk. A few more swings, and the thick trunk snapped, the tree crashing to the ground.
Seong-cheol stared at her in disbelief, asking how she had done that. Ye-ryeong, with a growing suspicion, asked him,
“Do you… not know how to use internal energy at all?”
“No.”
Seong-cheol’s immediate answer made Ye-ryeong even more puzzled.
Even street thugs and petty criminals learned basic martial arts and cultivated internal energy. And this man, who carried a sword (though it was just a wooden stick), didn’t know how to use internal energy at all?
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“He says he doesn’t, Grandfather.”
That afternoon, after stacking the firewood she had chopped by herself, Ye-ryeong and Seong-cheol went to see Dokgo Jang-un. He, too, wore a puzzled expression.
“…That’s impossible. He has that much Qi in his body, and yet he doesn’t know a single cultivation technique?”
“Huh? There’s something in my body?”
“…??”
After talking with him, they discovered that Seong-cheol already possessed a substantial amount of Qi within him. At least, that’s what Dokgo Jang-un sensed.
However, having come from the modern world, Seong-cheol had no knowledge of martial arts or Qi cultivation techniques. So how could he possess such a significant amount of internal energy?
After a long discussion, they concluded that Seong-cheol must have been born with a special constitution, a natural talent for accumulating Qi.
“If he already has that much power, all he needs to do is learn how to use it.”
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From the next day onwards, Seong-cheol learned the basics of Qi manipulation and cultivation from Dokgo Jang-un.
While strict about his family’s swordsmanship, Jang-un was surprisingly open about sharing his knowledge of internal energy cultivation. Having learned a proper cultivation method, Seong-cheol quickly grasped the principles of Qi and learned to control it.
It was the moment he had been longing for, the moment he finally awakened the power he needed to survive in this world.
A month passed. Seong-cheol made rapid progress. Not as a martial artist, of course, but as a handyman for the Dokgo estate.
While Jang-un had taught him some martial arts, it was limited to basic self-defense – a few hand-to-hand combat techniques and grappling moves. Having trained in kendo, Seong-cheol yearned to learn proper swordsmanship, but Jang-un was adamant in his refusal to teach him the secrets of the Dokgo Clan. He couldn’t be swayed.
However.
Jang-un had only forbidden him from teaching him swordsmanship. He hadn’t forbidden Seong-cheol from practicing on his own.
– Swish.
In the early hours of the morning, while everyone was asleep, Seong-cheol quietly got out of bed, grabbed his practice sword, and slipped out of the house. It had become a routine, a secret ritual he performed under the cover of darkness.
“Hooo…”
He took a deep breath, calming his mind and body, preparing himself for practice. He raised his practice sword, the familiar weight of the bamboo comforting in his hand. He began to swing, his movements slow and deliberate at first, then gradually increasing in speed and power.
-Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The forms he practiced weren’t the kendo techniques he had learned in his world. He knew, from experience, that they were useless here, ineffective against the martial artists of this dimension.
Instead, he imitated the swordsmanship he had witnessed Dokgo Jang-un practicing on the night he arrived.
-Whoosh!
The secret sword techniques of the Dokgo Clan, passed down through generations. It wasn’t something an outsider, a layman like Seong-cheol, could master simply by watching.
-Whoosh!
He didn’t even know the fundamentals of Jianghu swordsmanship, and the practice sword he wielded was a mere toy compared to a real sword, its weight and balance completely different.
-Whoosh!
Yet, somehow, his movements bore a striking resemblance to Dokgo Jang-un’s.
Seong-cheol wouldn’t acknowledge the similarity. He would dismiss it as a pale imitation, a clumsy attempt to replicate the master’s skill. But to anyone with a discerning eye, the resemblance was undeniable.
Compared to Jang-un’s mastery, his movements were unrefined, his balance unsteady, his technique lacking the honed precision of years of dedicated training.
But it was, without a doubt, the Dokgo Clan’s swordsmanship.
“Hooo…”
After practicing for over an hour, Seong-cheol took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. The eastern horizon was beginning to lighten, the first hint of dawn painting the sky with soft hues of pink and orange. He had to finish before Ye-ryeong or Jang-un woke up.
‘There’s no point in letting them see me playing around with a sword.’ He thought, a wry smile touching his lips. He didn’t want to disrespect them, to flaunt his unauthorized practice of their sacred techniques. He turned to leave, and then…
“Oh.”
He froze, his eyes widening in surprise. Ye-ryeong was sitting on the porch, watching him. She had been there the whole time, observing his secret practice. She smiled and waved, her expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
“How long have you been there?” He asked, his voice a mix of embarrassment and apprehension.
“About an hour.” She replied, her voice light and teasing. “You were so focused, you didn’t even notice me.”
“…” He blushed, feeling like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“You were imitating Grandfather’s swordsmanship, weren’t you? When did you see him practice?” She asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“The night I arrived…” He confessed, assuming she was about to scold him for trying to steal their family secrets.
But Ye-ryeong’s eyes widened slightly at his answer, a flicker of surprise crossing her features.
‘He can imitate a sword technique he saw only once, over a month ago, without any formal training…?’ She thought, her mind struggling to comprehend the implications.
Ye-ryeong didn’t consider herself a martial artist. She had no aspirations of becoming one.
However, she had learned the basics from her grandfather, enough to easily defeat the self-proclaimed martial artists and street thugs in the marketplace.
Jang-un had told her she lacked talent, but objectively, she possessed a natural aptitude for martial arts. If she had dedicated herself to training at a proper sect, she would have been considered a prodigy.
And the glimpse of talent she had just witnessed from Seong-cheol was something she couldn’t comprehend.
“Mister Seong-cheol, are you absolutely sure you’ve never trained in martial arts before?”
“Absolutely. Why would I lie to you?”
“….”
Those caught in the dimensional rifts were often granted exceptional talents suited for survival in their new worlds.
In Seong-cheol’s case, it was an innate talent for martial arts. That was why he possessed a significant amount of internal energy despite not knowing any cultivation techniques, and why he could imitate the Dokgo Clan’s secret swordsmanship, even if clumsily.
But at this point, even Seong-cheol was unaware of his own talent. Ye-ryeong, in essence, was the first person to witness its raw, untamed potential.
“Mister Seong-cheol, would you mind swinging your sword one more time?”
“Hmm? Uh… how… how should I swing it?”
“Just as you did before.” She replied, her voice calm and encouraging.
At her request, Seong-cheol swung the practice sword, his movements hesitant and self-conscious.
-Whoosh! The sound was weak and lifeless, a pale imitation of Dokgo Jang-un’s powerful strikes. His stance was awkward, his movements lacking the sharpness and precision of a true swordsman. If Jang-un, with his immense pride in his family’s sword techniques, had seen this display, he would have been furious, accusing Seong-cheol of defiling their sacred art.
But Ye-ryeong was different. She didn’t possess her grandfather’s rigid adherence to tradition and unwavering pride in their family’s legacy. She hadn’t been raised as a warrior, bound by the strictures of the Dokgo Clan. She saw something different in Seong-cheol’s clumsy attempts, something beyond the awkward movements and unrefined technique. She saw the spark of raw, untamed talent, waiting to be nurtured and unleashed.
“Mister Seong-cheol,” she said, her voice gentle and encouraging, “shift your weight forward a little when you swing. Yes, like that. Bend your left knee a bit more. And focus on using your core strength.”
From her perspective, she was simply offering a few helpful pointers, correcting what she perceived as flaws in his form. She wasn’t thinking about the implications of sharing her family’s secrets with an outsider. She wasn’t thinking about betraying her grandfather’s trust. She was simply reacting to the raw potential she saw in Seong-cheol, the untamed talent that called out to her, begging to be nurtured and unleashed.
And that was a natural reaction. Seong-cheol had only seen Jang-un’s swordsmanship once, a fleeting glimpse in the moonlight. A few simple corrections couldn’t possibly allow him to master the intricate techniques of the Dokgo Clan… could they?
-Shing!!
“…Huh?”
There’s no way that could happen.
Ye-ryeong’s complacent thought was, quite literally, shattered to pieces by Seong-cheol’s sword strike.
“….”
Seong-cheol, equally surprised by the sudden shift in his own abilities, looked down at his hand, his fingers still gripping the hilt of the practice sword. He felt a strange energy coursing through his veins, a power he had never experienced before. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, a rapid, rhythmic beat that echoed the newfound strength surging through him.
-Thump. Thump. Thump.
He looked at Ye-ryeong, her surprised expression mirroring his own.
“Is there… anything else I should change?” He asked, his voice hesitant, unsure. He was completely focused on the sword, on the exhilarating feeling of power and precision he had just experienced. He wasn’t thinking about the implications of what he was doing, about the fact that he was essentially stealing the Dokgo Clan’s swordsmanship.
“Well…” Ye-ryeong hesitated. She had seen it, the brief flash of brilliance, the moment when Seong-cheol had touched upon the essence of her family’s swordsmanship. She knew she shouldn’t continue, that teaching him any further would be a direct violation of her grandfather’s wishes. But…
“Would you mind swinging it again?”
Ye-ryeong wasn’t a martial artist, not in the traditional sense. But blood ran thicker than water, and she, too, possessed the inherent talent of a warrior, the instinctive understanding of combat that flowed through her veins.
“Alright.”
-Shing!
And in that moment, Ye-ryeong couldn’t resist the temptation. She had to see what would happen, had to nurture this seed of talent and watch it bloom.
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