Vol 1 Chapter 4: Honamdan Part 3

Kang Oh caught the end of the whip aimed at him. It was a masterful weapon-snatching technique, as precise as a hawk seizing prey in midair.

“A master of a certain level can catch a whip like this. And then..”

Kang Oh gave the whip a sharp pull. Banwi, trying not to let go, lost his balance and was dragged toward him. He barely managed to stop himself before being completely pulled in, using footwork to hold his position. The tension in the line made the whip stretch taut, as if it might snap at any moment.

“That’s how you end up giving your opponent an opening.”

Kang Oh released the whip and gave a small gesture.

“Step back in.”

Banwi clenched his teeth. He had only dared to take up the unfamiliar whip because he trusted in Kang Oh’s guidance. Now that he’d been given the chance, he had to show everything he had and earn whatever advice he could in return.

With his worry that Kang Oh might be injured cast aside, Banwi’s attacks became far more forceful than before. The sound of the whip slicing through the air was sharp enough to feel like it could cut flesh. Woo furrowed his brow, not out of concern for Kang Oh, but because Banwi’s eagerness was clearly beginning to overflow.

“There’s one more drawback to the whip.”

Despite the flurry of strikes, Kang Oh calmly deflected each one as he spoke. The moment he shifted his footwork, his body moved with sharp agility. Banwi thought he was closing in from the right and moved to block, but Kang Oh had already slipped in from the left. When Banwi swung his whip to intercept, Kang Oh had veered back to the right, closing the distance once again.

“That’s right. The movements are too wide.”

Kang Oh’s worn wooden sword was pointed squarely at Banwi’s neck.

“When your opponent gets close, don’t panic. First, look carefully to see where their attack is aimed. Using footwork to retreat and create distance is also a valid response.”

Having been thoroughly defeated, Banwi coiled his whip and gave a respectful salute.

“Thank you for the lesson.”

After Banwi stepped back, Woo looked toward the center of the training yard, where Kang Oh now stood tall. He was no longer the boy Woo once had to protect, but a full-grown martial artist.

Bathed in sunlight, Kang Oh stood shining.

Though all three of his opponents had been technically inferior, even Kang Oh’s breathing had grown slightly heavier. A bead of sweat gathered on his forehead, which he wiped away casually with his sleeve, as if it were nothing at all.

“Il Woon. You’re up.”

The sudden command rang out loud and clear. Il Woon, who had been standing beside Woo, responded at once.

“Me, my lord?”

“It would be a shame to end it here. Come and spar with me.”

The fighting spirit on Kang Oh’s face hadn’t yet cooled. It burned like the flame of a forge tempering steel. Woo clenched his fists without realizing it.

He wanted to cross swords.

His mouth went dry. He no longer had the body to even carry his own weight properly, let alone call himself a martial artist. But he wanted to run over to Kang Oh and raise a blade against him. He wanted to feel steel meeting steel, to read every layer of his opponent’s strength through the clash of blades.

He wanted to anticipate the next move, to launch a technique sharp enough to narrow Kang Oh’s focus and make him pause in awe. He wanted to keep fighting until his breath was ragged and his internal strength completely drained.

Seeing Kang Oh as a martial artist stirred a competitive fire in Woo, something he thought had long since burned out. He clenched the hem of his robe, trying to hold back the yearning rising within him.

A heat burned from his throat down into his chest.

“Please go easy on me.”

Il Woon’s voice brought Woo back to his senses. He let out a bitter smile. In truth, Woo couldn’t even last a few exchanges with Kang Oh. If that wooden sword, filled with such fierce strength, so much as grazed him, he would cough up blood and be sent flying.

He had become someone who could no longer stand as a martial artist.

Woo looked down at his palms. He had no regrets about giving up his internal strength and healthy body to save Kang Oh.

But surviving like this…

That alone was hard to bear.

For two full years, he lay bedridden, sometimes consumed by thoughts of revenge, other times thinking of returning. When confined to a sickbed, there’s little to do but think.

What finally broke his resolve was the realization that his body would never again follow his will. It was difficult to accept, but once a heart is broken, it must learn the shape of surrender.

Il Woon soared onto the training yard, and Woo followed his trajectory with his eyes.

He knew he would never soar like that again. His gaze sank, dull and heavy, like a bird with broken wings.

Only Kang Oh noticed the expression of the shabby servant whom no one else paid any attention to.

That face…

He had merely been curious about what kind of expression Woo would wear after the string of martial matches. That was all. That was the only reason he’d looked at Woo as he called Il Woon over.

But the look in Woo’s eyes, fixed on Il Woon’s back, was nothing like what Kang Oh had anticipated. His eyes were so hollow, as if bearing a sorrow too heavy to endure.

He looked like a magnolia blossom. A sorrowful, delicate flower that bruises just from touching the ground.

“Lord?”

At Il Woon’s call from the training arena, Kang Oh adjusted his grip on the wooden sword.

“Let’s end this quickly.”

“As you wish.”

Il Woon answered as he took hold of his own wooden sword. Now that he finally had a worthy opponent in front of him, Kang Oh’s fighting spirit faded like an extinguished candle.

As Kang Oh’s gaze cooled, Ilun grew tense. Whenever he felt that icy stare on the back of his neck, he was reminded that Kang Oh was not someone he ever wanted to face as an enemy. He might have looked like a reasonable man on the surface, but to Il Woon, what lay beneath was something far closer to a war demon.

Some might have called him a battle god, but no god wore eyes as parched with thirst as his. He was a man who sought out battlefields where he could burn his soul, regardless of victory or defeat.

“I’ll strike first.”

Il Woon moistened his cracked lips and spoke. The moment he expanded his lightness technique and closed in on Kang Oh, his attack was blocked head-on. The force coming from Kang Oh’s sword left his wrist tingling. But Il Woon wasn’t the kind of weakling to be shaken by something like that. As if he had known the attack would be stopped, he kicked off the ground, turned midair, and came in with a sharp strike from a different angle.

It looked like a clean hit, but Kang Oh’s figure had already disappeared from that spot. Rather than wasting time scanning for him, Il Woon immediately lunged forward.

In the next instant, Kang Oh appeared behind him, lips curled in a grim smile.

“You’ve improved.”

“After getting hit three times, it was about time I learned something.”

It was a modest retort, but tinged with frustration. And for good reason, Kang Oh always called on Il Woon, no matter how thoroughly he’d already beaten down the Honamdan members. Ilun’s martial skill improved day by day, but his body paid the price for it.

“So, did you see this coming too?”

Kang Oh charged straight in. It was a direct attack, easy to read in terms of trajectory, but the force behind it was overwhelming. By the time Il Woon noticed, it was too late to dodge. He bit his lip and raised his guard. Kang Oh’s strike came crashing down with weight. Just as he’d once warned Jinseo, the Honamdan member who used speed-based swordplay, Kang Oh’s blade didn’t just steal his opponent’s timing. It carried real weight behind it.

Only after stepping back three paces was Il Woon able to deflect the blow. As Kang Oh withdrew his sword, Ilun thrust forward to exploit the opening. Then his eyes went wide.

Kang Oh, who had seemed to retreat by kicking off the ground, landed lightly on the tip of Il Woon’s blade. His movement was so light it felt unreal, like an immortal riding a cloud.

“This—!”

There was no trick more unfair than this. Despite Kang Oh’s tall and broad frame, the tip of Ilun’s sword didn’t waver at all. The level of finesse in his movement technique was enough to give one chills. But if that alone had been enough to overwhelm him, Il Woon would never have been chosen as leader of Honamdan.

He withdrew his sword and launched an attack at the spot where Kang Oh was about to land. Forced to veer off from his original landing point, Kang Oh’s movement wavered slightly. Il Woon seized the chance, determined to land a proper hit this time.

His blade followed Kang Oh all the way up to his chin. But Kang Oh leaned back to avoid it, then shifted his body to the side. With everything riding on that final strike, Il Woon’s back was left completely exposed, and Kang Oh’s sword was already pointed at the side of his neck.

Cold sweat rolled down Il Woon’s back in the face of the sudden reversal.

“I’ve lost.”

“Good. You did well launching an attack on the landing spot to throw me off, but you’ve got to fix that habit of ignoring all defense or follow-up just for the sake of a single opening.”

“Hard to break old habits.”

Il Woon let out a laugh. Kang Oh handed him the wooden sword, then stepped down from the training arena.

The place he headed to next was where Woo stood.

“Did it look boring to you?”

Woo gave a faint smile and answered.
“It was difficult to take in the full depth of your skill, Third Disciple, but… even so, I consider it a privilege to have watched.”

“I’ve heard flattery should be kept at a distance, but even so, that was pleasant to hear.”

Kang Oh smiled, his eyes narrowing slightly. Woo bowed his head instead of looking at that open, easy smile. He didn’t want to meet his gaze. Because seeing that face would make him recognize the feeling he’d tried to ignore.

Naturally, Kang Oh picked up on Woo’s shift in mood. Woo knew how to bow his head as if submitting out of instinct, but he was usually indifferent to what happened around him. He was easily shaken when it came to kindness directed at him, but little else left much of an impact.

The reason Kang Oh had brought Woo to Honamdan was to stir something within that shell of his. Even if he couldn’t break through it right away, he thought leaving Heedowon’s confined space to meet others and move around might still have some effect.

But he hadn’t expected Woo to look this down.

“Did someone bother you?”

Kang Oh asked in a cold voice. The members of Honamdan followed his orders without question and wouldn’t dare show disrespect to a guest he’d brought. Still, most of them were naturally rough around the edges, and many lacked basic consideration even if they meant no harm. If someone had said something cruel to Woo while he was focused on the match, then whoever it was needed to be found and punished.

“N-no, that’s not it.”
Woo shook his head and waved his hands.

“Your face says otherwise. You don’t need to cover for anyone.”

“I-it’s really nothing. The Honamdan leader was with me the entire time. I-it’s just that I went out for the first time in a while, and I’m feeling a bit tired. I didn’t mean to trouble you.”

Kang Oh narrowed his eyes at Woo. But Woo kept his head lowered, making it impossible to read his expression. Unless he forced his chin up, which he had no intention of doing…

Kang Oh let out a quiet sigh. He had no desire to suppress him.

“You’re lying.”

“…”

Woo couldn’t bring himself to deny it and remained silent.

“Well, since you clearly don’t want to talk about it, I won’t press further.”

Woo lifted his head. But he regretted it immediately. Kang Oh’s eyes were fixed on him with a sharp, penetrating gaze. His mouth went dry under that stare he couldn’t avoid.

“But if you ever feel like talking, you come to me first.”

Kang Oh held out his hand.

“Pinky.”

“…Huh?”

Woo stared at it like he didn’t know what to make of it.

“You have to promise.”

“….”

“What, have you never hooked pinkies before?”

A pinky, of all things. Why did things like this never change? This kind of ticklish gesture wasn’t his way. Cutting off a finger and swearing in blood was more familiar.

Because Woo’s promises had never held the same weight as other people’s.

As a child, he was the successor to the Lord of Baekragung. After his father passed and he inherited that position, he had even less freedom to make casual promises. A single word from him could move the greatest force in the righteous martial world. A careless decision made on impulse could ripple out and affect countless martial artists. Giving someone his word meant placing power in their hands. And since Baekragung held such overwhelming influence, there were just as many who envied it. Woo couldn’t afford to throw around promises. Every decision had to be made with caution, signed in writing, and carried out only under the presence of multiple witnesses.

And so, all Woo could do was stare blankly at Kang Oh’s outstretched pinky.

It was unfamiliar.

And at the same time, frightening.

“…I—I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

Woo finally answered after some hesitation.

This wasn’t the first promise he had made with Kang Oh. Back when the little black chick had trailed after him, peeping at his heels, he had said he would protect him for life. He had promised to give him a name.

And Woo knew better than anyone the result of that impulsive promise.

The broken present was proof of that.

“You’re cautious.”

Kang Oh didn’t criticize him. Even so, he didn’t pull his raised pinky away either.

“…?”

When Woo looked at him in quiet confusion, Kang Oh gave a small shrug.

“Wait a little. I’m thinking of a way to change your mind.”

“C-can you even do that?”

Woo muttered in disbelief. It was the most irreverent tone he had ever used toward Kang Oh.

“I’m curious about the shift in your mood, and I’d like to know the reason. But since you don’t seem willing to talk, I’ll have to find another way to persuade you.”

“A-and you’re just going to stay like that until then?”

Even though they were in the outskirts of Heukcheon, it was still a massive martial sect, and people passed by constantly. If someone happened to see the Third Disciple of Heukcheon standing there with his pinky outstretched, it would reach Jinrang’s ears in no time.

It wasn’t that he feared being punished by Jinrang. He simply didn’t want to make the man any more guarded. Jinrang had already spent a lifetime suffering because of Woo’s existence.

The idea of getting tangled up in rumors with Kang Oh on top of that was too much to bear.

Woo stamped his feet. The way Kang Oh stood there with his pinky stuck out should have looked ridiculous, but somehow, he still looked dignified.

Maybe it was the serious expression. Or maybe it was just that distinct aura of his. It was hard to say.

“F-fine.”

Woo mumbled without meeting his eyes.

“I-if I ever feel like talking, then… I’ll come to you first, Third Disciple.”

“And the pinky?”

“…”

He really wasn’t going to let this go. As always, Kang Oh had a way of breaking through Woo’s rules.

Reluctantly, Woo held out his pinky. It was awkward, but Kang Oh snatched it up like a hawk catching prey.

“Let’s call it a win for today.”

The way he said it made it sound like he was being generous. The moment the promise was made, Woo pulled his finger back and nodded, half in resignation. He just wanted to return to Heedowon.

I want to go back.

Woo froze at the thought that had crossed his mind.

Since when had Heedowon, Kang Oh’s residence, become the place he thought of as home?

Kang Oh, now visibly more at ease after securing Woo’s promise, walked ahead at a steady pace. With every step he took, Woo could see the principles he had clung to crumbling.

He had meant to keep his distance. He had meant not to live under the same roof. He had meant never to make a promise.

The wall he had spent ten years building was breaking down. And the desires he had sealed inside were starting to rise again. Things he thought he had let go of were beginning to stir with longing.

If he kept following behind, even more would break down.

He just had to let go…

Woo bit his lip. But Kang Oh’s hand around his was too firm to shake off.

Even knowing it was the weakest excuse, Woo still closed his eyes tightly and went along.

No wonder Jinrang’s wariness ran so deep. Being at Kang Oh’s side was dangerous.

Not for Woo, but for Kang Oh.