Jingak.

Simply put, it refers to stomping the ground—the act of striking with one’s foot.

“All sword techniques are accompanied by footwork, and just as crucial as the footwork itself is the Jingak,” Namgoong Mucheon said as he stomped the ground—thud!

“The manner in which one steps determines the force behind identical footwork.”

The moment his words ended, the entire training ground rumbled—ku-ku-koong.

Because the training ground was built underground, the echo felt as though the ceiling itself might collapse.

“When used correctly, you can destabilize your opponent’s balance, or, conversely, fortify yourself to withstand any strike. That is the essence of Jingak.”

Namgoong Mucheon drew Cheonmyeong, the Heavenly Blade, with a soft metallic hum.

Slowly, he began to move his sword.

Seolhwa’s gaze faltered for a moment.

What Namgoong Mucheon was demonstrating was none other than Seolhwa’s own exclusive martial art—the Heaven-Thunder Sword Art.

“Your sword is both swift and heavy. Its ability to unleash explosive force within an instant is particularly impressive.”

Sword trajectory, footwork, breathing.

He was perfectly replicating the sword art that Seolhwa had demonstrated earlier.

The execution may have reached only about three-tenths of its true completion, yet to reproduce a technique after a single observation was nothing short of extraordinary.

“However, the explosive force that should erupt at the sword’s tip is lacking. That—”

Thud!

As the sound echoed, a ripple of energy burst outward from beneath Namgoong Mucheon’s foot.

The force was similar to what he had displayed earlier, but this time, the ground did not shake. Instead—

Pang—!

The moment he thrust his sword forward, a sharp, popping sound rang out, as if the very air had burst apart.

Seolhwa’s hair, though she stood at some distance, fluttered slightly in the breeze.

“Do you understand the difference?”

Namgoong Mucheon’s gaze turned to her.

Seolhwa’s eyes shone with clarity, brighter than ever.

Seeing her give a small, silent nod, Namgoong Mucheon smiled faintly.

“Yet, to # Nоvеlight # grasp this for yourself will demand much time and effort.”

“I will not let your teaching be wasted, Grandfather. I will give it my utmost.”

“Good. I have faith you will succeed.”

No, considering it was Seolhwa, it was inevitable that she would succeed—the real question was how long it would take for her to master the technique completely.

She had been a child who, when taught one thing, understood a hundred.

‘Perhaps... seven days?’

Namgoong Mucheon studied Seolhwa intently.

With this child, perhaps not even seven days—perhaps only three... 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

“Grandfather?”

“...Dangerous.”

“Pardon?”

Namgoong Mucheon chuckled softly, reaching out to pat Seolhwa’s head as she tilted her head in confusion.

‘I nearly became greedy...’

A child who absorbed everything and made it her own at such a pace—such a child was dangerous.

The faster she learned, the more rapidly she grew; the more he wished to teach her, to guide her.

Even though the child had said she wished to walk her own path, his desire to raise her into someone even greater only grew stronger.

But excessive desire always led to ruin.

Suppressing such thoughts, Namgoong Mucheon spoke.

“The wisest course is to return to the foundation of your martial arts.”

“The foundation?”

“Every martial art has its origin. Whether derived from the movements of beasts or modeled after the heavens, there is always a fundamental technique. For your sword, that would be the Namgoong Clan’s martial arts—and Mugwang’s exclusive techniques.”

When uncertain of the path forward, return to the beginning.

It was an instruction to revisit the most fundamental elements of her martial arts.

“You possess unmatched knowledge of the Clan’s techniques. Thus, what you lack must be Mugwang’s martial arts.”

Seolhwa nodded softly.

Jingak, and deficient basics.

Indeed, even when she reflected on it herself, those words aligned perfectly with her current state.

‘Even now, I could never perfectly replicate Master’s footwork...’

The distinct characteristic of Seop Mugwang’s Thunder and Lightning Martial Arts lay most prominently in his footwork.

That was why, when he had taught Seolhwa martial arts, he had begun with the footwork.

And yet, Seolhwa had never fully grasped his footwork.

This was precisely why Heaven-Thunder Step — the footwork derived from his teachings—remained incomplete.

‘I must meet with Master.’

She had to receive instruction again.

Resolving herself, Seolhwa turned to Namgoong Mucheon and asked,

“When will Commander of Bipung Division return?”

“He will not.”

“...What?”

He would not return?

“Mugwang has left the Clan.”

Seolhwa’s body froze in place.

Left the Clan?

Seop Mugwang? Why?

‘Four years ago... I saved his life...’

Unlike her previous life, he had returned safely.

So why had he left the Clan now?

Namgoong Mucheon, watching Seolhwa’s confusion, explained the reason for Seop Mugwang’s departure.

“Four years ago, during the battle in Yunnan, he was afflicted by poison that disrupts internal energy. Though he returned to the Clan and received treatment, he never recovered. I asked him to remain within the Clan, but he insisted on leaving.”

“Why... why did no one tell me?”

“Mugwang requested it. He did not wish to be a burden to you.”

Seolhwa’s lips parted slightly.

A burden? Ridiculous. How could his situation possibly be a burden to her?

He—Seop Mugwang—

‘He is... my Master.’

The first person she acknowledged, the one who taught her after her return to life—her true Master.

The one who, across both lifetimes, gave her proper guidance for the first time.

How could he ever be a burden?

“I... I never knew. Not at all.”

“It is not your fault. The blame lies with us for withholding it.”

“But...”

Even if he had asked them to keep it secret—had she shown even the slightest concern, had she looked into it, she would have noticed at once.

The timing of Seop Mugwang’s survival in this life had lulled her into a false sense of security, thinking all problems were resolved.

Survival was certainly important.

But for a martial artist, losing their martial prowess—could that truly be called survival?

“...!”

Suddenly, Seolhwa’s eyes widened.

“What about Choryeon? Is the Head of Medical Hall still within the Clan?”

Namgoong Mucheon shook his head.

“She left with Mugwang.”

“...!”

Choryeon left the Clan as well?

Seolhwa’s expression darkened.

‘Choryeon is no longer here...’

In her previous life, she was known as the Poison Moon.

Though this time, instead of joining the Blood Demon Cult, she had followed Seop Mugwang—but leaving her beyond sight was dangerous nonetheless.

There remained the possibility the Cult would recognize her abilities and attempt to recruit her again.

Or perhaps they would target Seop Mugwang once more.

If that happened...

‘All my efforts to change the events of four years ago would be for nothing.’

She had to bring them both back to the Clan.

By any means necessary.

“Grandfather... do you know where Commander of Bipung Division is?”

“Will you go to him?”

“Yes.”

“He would not want that. He left specifically to conceal his whereabouts.”

“But you know, do you not?”

Her grandfather would never leave them unprotected, even if they departed the Clan.

Without question, he would have assigned escorts to ensure their safety.

“I wish to see Commander of Bipung Division. I will return before the Clan Gathering.”

“Hmm...”

“Yes?”

Namgoong Mucheon’s expression turned conflicted.

“Please, Grandfather.”

After a brief moment of contemplation, Namgoong Mucheon clicked his tongue softly and nodded.

Partly, he held hope that Seolhwa could sway Mugwang’s resolve.

But more importantly, it was for Seolhwa’s martial arts.

“Come with me.”

****

Whiiiiii—

Climbing the mountain, Seolhwa gazed out across the vast plain before her.

The place the two had settled was located in the western region of Shanxi Province, in Xingxian County.

Shanxi Province was composed of steep mountain ranges to the east and west, with valleys carved by the Fenhe River running through its center.

Atop the towering mountains stretched wide fields, where communities of people farmed and lived together.

Arriving at the location Namgoong Mucheon had described, Seolhwa quietly surveyed the surroundings.

Children ran about, people with water jars bustled by, and adults in dirt-stained clothing moved busily.

A peaceful village, by all appearances.

From her robe, Seolhwa retrieved an item.

Rustle—

It was the village map drawn by Namgoong Mucheon himself.

Studying the map, Seolhwa made her way toward the marked house.

Perhaps unfamiliar with outsiders, the children paused and openly stared at Seolhwa. The adults, too, glanced at her curiously.

[A troublesome village.]

—Stay hidden. You will frighten the children.

[You think I want to be manhandled by brats? I am absolutely not coming out. Even if you tell me to, I will not. Manage on your own.]

The Imoogi still sulked over being forbidden sweets recently.

She had warned him that if he transformed, he would become excessively large and fat—he claimed instead that he would become excessively large and adorable.

Yeoyul’s constant coddling of his “cuteness” had apparently filled him with misguided confidence—a serious problem.

“There.”

Seolhwa stopped before a modest cottage.

It had a yard, but was far from spacious.

‘Grandfather must have provided for them when they left the Clan.’

And yet, they lived humbly—so like the two of them.

As she entertained such thoughts—

Creak.

From within the cottage, a woman stepped out.

It was Choryeon.

She naturally glanced toward Seolhwa standing at the front.

For a moment, Choryeon’s eyes studied her, as though not recognizing her after four years of growth—then, they widened in shock.

“...Oh my...”

The basket in Choryeon’s hands slipped—thud.

It was filled to the brim with dried mountain herbs.