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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Chaos
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“I… apologize.”
An awkward silence followed the abrupt end of the spar.
The camaraderie forged through the exchange of martial arts, the satisfaction and exhilaration of pushing one’s limits, all evaporated.
They both acknowledged the importance of a proper ending.
“It seems the lightning Qi I left in you reacted to my True Qi. I should have warned you…”
“No, no, it’s not your fault… It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have tried to force it.”
Peng Ha-ryeong refused to shift the blame.
Even if she’d been caught in a compromising position, it was her own doing, not his.
“I should be thanking you. You’ve helped me yet again.”
“It’s nothing. There’s no need for talk of favors between sparring partners.”
“Heh, you truly are a remarkable person. Most people would be eager to claim credit. Oh, I keep forgetting.”
“Forgetting what?”
“This. The way you speak to me.”
Namgung-Woo narrowed his eyes in confusion.
She giggled at his expression.
“You’ve shown me such kindness, yet you speak so formally. Please, speak casually.”
“How old are you… Miss Peng?”
He used the honorific “Miss” out of habit, though it felt a bit awkward in this context.
“I’m twenty-four. Just a year older than you.”
She tried to give him a mature, older-sisterly smile, and he felt a pang of guilt.
He’d shaved a couple of years off his age, claiming to be twenty-four when he was actually twenty-six.
He’d done it to avoid suspicion, but now he regretted it.
Being treated like a younger brother by someone two years younger was a blow to his male pride.
“I’m actually twenty-six.”
“Hmm?”
“Really.”
She gave him a skeptical look, and he met her gaze unflinchingly.
“Everyone has their secrets. This is better, actually. We can speak more comfortably now.”
“Then let’s both drop the formalities…”
“No.”
She cut him off, her voice firm.
“You are my benefactor. I can’t speak informally to you.”
She wouldn’t budge.
Her resolve was as strong as it had been during their spar, perhaps even stronger.
“…Fine.”
He relented, and she beamed with satisfaction, nodding approvingly.
“Much better.”
Yes, truly much better.
It wasn’t just that he was speaking casually; it was the conversation itself.
She no longer felt intimidated by him. It felt like talking to family. [T/N: let her cook..]
The awkwardness, the awareness of their age difference, the weight of the favor he’d done her…all the invisible barriers she’d erected had crumbled during their spar.
Or perhaps it was the embarrassing incident at the end.
Whatever the reason, she no longer needed to summon her courage to speak to him. The conversation flowed naturally, like a gentle stream.
They found themselves sitting on a large tree stump at the edge of the courtyard.
It was too large to remove, so it had been repurposed as a resting spot.
It was a convenient place to talk, away from the bustle of the inn and the Peng Family annex.
“I should have used more feints. I haven’t mastered the control of my newly opened meridians.”
As expected, martial arts was the easiest topic.
They analyzed their spar, discussing both techniques and flaws.
While he lacked practical experience, his knowledge from Chu-rok Murim and his Ever-Clear Vision more than compensated.
The conversation lulled once they had finished analyzing the spar.
He was trying to decide what to talk about next when she asked, “Why did you form a mercenary group?”
“Why?”
“You must have a reason. A martial artist of your caliber would be welcomed anywhere. It’s unusual for you to choose the life of a wanderer.”
Her question brought back memories of the night he’d spent talking with the Yang brothers.
He’d initially planned to travel alone.
This world was temporary…just a place to wait until he found a way back home.
While he’d accepted his situation and found joy in martial arts after his fight with Hwang Mu-tak, that didn’t change his fundamental view.
There was a difference between accepting this world as a temporary residence and embracing it as his own.
He’d regained some balance in his disrupted essence, energy, and spirit by distancing himself.
Had he pushed people away because he knew he’d eventually leave?
Partly, yes, but there was another reason.
The Namgung Family’s legacy, as described by Song Chae-ji, wasn’t his burden to bear.
But as long as he kept his name and his martial arts, it would follow him.
He’d wanted to avoid forming attachments, to spare himself the pain of inevitable goodbyes and hardships.
That’s why he’d refused Song Chae-ji’s offer to stay at the Song Family and sought out the Yo-Pyeong Escort Agency instead.
But he’d changed his mind.
The Yang brothers had shown him their sincerity, their willingness to follow him.
He couldn’t just push them away.
He’d accepted this world, and he’d accepted the people in it. Now he needed a place to belong.
The Namgung Family was gone, and neither he nor the Yang brothers had a sect. There was only one option.
He would create his own place.
“I wanted to create a place for myself, I suppose.”
“A place?”
She blinked, surprised by his answer.
She’d expected something more noble, more grand.
Like sealing Ghost Gates and protecting the innocent.
“Yes. And I need something.”
“I see. Please, tell me what you need. If it’s within our power, my uncle and I will help you.”
She sounded confident, but then her voice trailed off, as if realizing the limitations of her and her uncle’s authority.
“I haven’t… spoken to my father yet. But I’m sure he’ll be happy to help. He’ll treat you as a benefactor of our family!”
“You waited in Beijing without contacting your family?”
“I did send a message, but Father is away on a trip. My older brother is acting as head of the family.”
She thought of her father, far from Hebei.
The head of a prestigious family rarely traveled.
But when they did, it was a grand affair, with a large entourage and meticulous preparations.
But the Peng Family was different.
They traveled light, like a small detachment on a mission. It wasn’t out of practicality but desperation.
Even she, a direct descendant, traveled with minimal escort.
“Benefactor, would you… listen to my story?”
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Namgung-Woo listened patiently as Peng Ha-ryeong recounted the Peng Family’s hidden tragedy.
It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something they talked about openly.
Peng Ye-ryeong, the family head’s youngest daughter and Ha-ryeong’s sister, had been born frail.
A premature baby, born in the seventh month.
If it had been a simple case of prematurity, they would have showered her with the best care, the finest medicines, and she would have recovered.
She might not have become a powerful martial artist, but she wouldn’t have been fighting for her life.
But Ye-ryeong’s case was different.
“Ye-ryeong was born with an open upper dantian.”
“Aren’t all babies born that way?”
An open upper dantian.
For martial artists, that meant opening the Conception and Governing Vessels, allowing True Qi to flow to the Third Eye acupoint and connect with the universe through the Crown acupoint.
But for newborns, it was different.
Newborns literally had an opening in their skulls – the anterior and posterior fontanelles.
Their skulls weren’t fully fused, leaving soft spots.
But these soft spots usually closed within eighteen months.
And since babies’ bodies and minds weren’t fully developed, even if they absorbed Qi through their open upper dantian, they couldn’t retain it.
He didn’t know the specifics, but he knew about the open upper dantian in newborns.
It was part of the martial arts knowledge imprinted in his mind.
“Yes, but Ye-ryeong’s upper dantian didn’t close.”
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