Chapter 59
Because he’d carried Yeoil a few times before, Namgung Heemyung lifted her without a single wobble.
The air had turned crisp, and the sound of birds and rustling grass filled the silence — they must have reached somewhere along the mountain ridge.
Heemyung tore up some weeds and made a makeshift cushion, then carefully set Yeoil down on it. Afterward, he placed a small, hard stone in her hand.
“I’ll be about ten sheets’ distance away. If you need anything, knock that against the ground.”
Yeoil nodded.
He laid down a sheet of paper and a brush beside her, then walked a little distance away. Taking a deep breath, Namgung Heemyung finally unsheathed his sword.
Yeoil opened all her senses and focused on his swordsmanship.
So absorbed was Heemyung in his movements that he didn’t realize Yeoil’s eyes were fully open, watching him closely.
“Given everything he’s gone through lately, and with his first duel coming up today, I expected his blade to waver with turmoil…”
“…but hasn’t he grown astonishingly?”
There are those who grow stronger as they cross hardships — most martial artists were like that.
Weapons are not things one can wield with a clear mind. Only those mad enough keep holding onto them. Anyone truly sane would never even look at such instruments of death.
Humans fear the sight of blood. To harm another is, in essence, to kill a piece of oneself — a horrifying form of self-destruction. When one kills, the body and mind instinctively want to run.
So, the claim that one draws a sword “to protect” is nothing more than hypocrisy — self-deception, at best.
The only ones who continue to swing their swords after seeing blood are the madmen who’ve cast aside even that hypocrisy — beasts who’ve lost their reason in a chaotic world, becoming serial killers sharpened by their own suffering.
In that sense…
Namgung Heemyung was born to be a great warrior.
“So, Soyo — how does my sword sound to you now? Does it feel different from before?”
Heemyung approached, catching his breath, and asked lightly.
Yeoil recalled the crisp, clean sound of the cutting wind and nodded.
<Yes, very much so.>
Heemyung smiled in satisfaction.
“I thought so… But when you say it’s different, how exactly do you mean?”
<It feels composed. Like you’re not chasing a path someone else has already walked, but calmly creating one with each step — walking it with quiet confidence.>
“Hmm… I think I get it, and yet, not quite.”
From Yeoil’s perspective, what was surprising wasn’t just his progress — but that he had achieved it without even fully understanding what he’d done.
So this is what it feels like to witness a genius evolve right before your eyes.
She felt a bit sorry toward Seol-yeong, but — she’d never once felt this kind of astonishment watching her.
Instead of resuming practice, Namgung Heemyung stretched out beside Yeoil and lay down, looking utterly at ease.
<Aren’t you nervous? It’s your first duel today.>
“What’s there to be nervous about? No matter how good my opponent is, he won’t be worse than the Blood-Sucking Sword Demon.”
The words might have sounded arrogant to others, but to Yeoil’s ears, they were tinged more with self-mockery. After all, she knew exactly how Heemyung had thrown himself before that man.
He’d barely escaped death then — and since that day, he must’ve replayed that battle countless times in his mind.
Imagining not the moment he fell to the demon’s blade, but the moment he parried it smoothly, like flowing water. Over and over again.
“…What’s this, Namgung Soyo? No nagging today? I half-expected you to scold me for being complacent.”
<Would you like me to?>
Heemyung groaned in mock protest, then, with a calmer tone, murmured —
“When I was young… I idolized swordsmen. I used to wonder — how much resolve does it take to wield a blade that strong? What does it take to become a true martial master?”
Yeoil said nothing.
“But I learned later — the swordsmanship my father and elder brother achieved was built on regret… and on tears.”
There was a faint bitterness in his voice.
“Once I understood that, I realized something else. Holding onto the sword means I’m waiting for more regret to come. A strong will always affects those around you, for better or worse.”
Was he worrying that his own path might drag Yeoil into danger again?
That’s a very human thought, she mused. A little fatalistic, perhaps — but human.
For someone as gifted as Namgung Heemyung, even such anguish would only become nourishment for growth. And somehow, that made her feel sorry for Seol-yeong.
<Sorry to say, but that’s a bit self-indulgent.>
She almost added, “You’re not that strong yet, genius,” but held it in.
“…Wow. You sure know how to kill a mood.”
Yet despite his words, his tone sounded oddly refreshed. Stretching his arms with a big yawn, Heemyung gently helped Yeoil to her feet.
“Alright, shall we head back?”
Yeoil nodded.
“Oh, and one more thing — don’t tell my brother what I said today. He’ll say it’s all nonsense brought on by too much rest and work me half to death again.”
I’ll definitely tell him, she thought.
Namgung Heemyung, having dug his own grave, escorted Yeoil back to her room and added —
“You just stay here and rest. There’ll be people crawling all over the place, and the match will be over in a few exchanges anyway. Watching it — or listening — would be a waste of your time. Hey, you arrogant servant! Help Master Jin keep an eye on Soyo, got it?”
Yeoil agreed without argument this time.
The early stages of the martial tournament were filled with countless second-rate participants — not exactly her idea of entertainment.
The only matches she was slightly interested in, like Bangwoo’s and Namgung Jeokmyeong’s, wouldn’t happen for a few more days.
Maybe I’ll just bother Jin Cheongak while I meditate.
By the time half a day had passed, Yeoil opened her eyes to find Jin Cheongak dozing off.
Standing in his place by the window, keeping silent watch over the street outside, was Seol-yeong.
Yeoil wiped away her sweat with a cloth Jin had prepared and asked casually —
“You’re waiting for Seol Seorin, aren’t you?”
Startled, Seol-yeong almost turned around — only to remember she wasn’t fully dressed and quickly whipped her head back toward the window.
“Don’t you think something’s strange?”
Her voice carried faint unease. Yeoil tilted her head, thinking, then nodded.
“It’s true she’s a bit late. Maybe she had something else to do.”
“Even if she did, she would’ve come to see the Young Lady first. She wouldn’t waste time like this.”
That was also true, when you thought about it.
“Maybe she found a lover in the meantime?” Yeoil suggested lightly.
Seol-yeong snorted so hard it could’ve scared a boar off the mountain.
“Ha! Impossible. With her standards as high as the heavens, what man could possibly catch her eye? No chance. Absolutely none. She must have come straight here, I’m sure of it.”
“Absolutely? You’re that certain?”
“Of course.”
“Then, I’ll step out for a bit.”
