“So, you’re heading to Shaolin?”

“Yes.”

“Those damned monks won’t be easy to deal with. Tch, you need to build up more strength before that!”

Seop Mugwang chewed on a blade of grass as he waved his hand.

Ever since Seop Mugwang had returned to the main Namgoong estate, Seolhwa had resumed martial training under his guidance.

Except for the periods when he had secluded himself in Cheonodong to treat his body, he had been overseeing Seolhwa’s martial arts consistently.

Even though he couldn’t demonstrate techniques himself due to his unrecovered internal energy, his eyes remained sharp and precise.

As Namgoong Mucheon had said, it was Seop Mugwang who had passed down martial arts to Seolhwa—his advice was invaluable.

Save for those few times he made her do incomprehensible forms.

“Lower your arms and stretch your legs properly. Isn’t the position different from the one you showed earlier? The positioning, I mean.”

Seolhwa followed his instruction, lowering her arms and stretching her legs straight.

With her weight naturally leaning to one side, it was difficult to maintain her balance.

“Ah! Don’t bend your legs!”

Barely managing to hold the position, Seolhwa frowned and turned toward him.

“Is this kind of training really helpful?”

“Are you questioning your master, who’s like the heavens to you?”

“...No.”

But still, telling her to perform sword forms slowly?

That made shifting her center of gravity even harder, and her posture kept falling apart.

After all, these were movements originally designed for rapid transitions—it was only natural that maintaining balance would be difficult.

Seeing the sullen expression on her face, Seop Mugwang let out a chuckle.

He knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Disciple.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do you know what your biggest flaw is?”

“My footwork?”

Seop Mugwang shook his head.

“There’s a more fundamental problem.”

He raised his hand sharply and sliced it through the air.

“Speed alone doesn’t make martial arts effective. Sure, you can trick your opponent’s eyes with illusions or shifting blades, but...”

Pak!

His hand slashed through the air as if cutting something.

“If you can’t cut down your opponent, it’s all meaningless.”

“Is my sword too weak?”

“It’s not weak. Who would call the sword of a Peak Realm expert weak?”

“Then what is it?”

“Well, to someone stronger than you, your sword isn’t particularly threatening.”

Ah.

Seolhwa sighed quietly.

Even when I sparred with Grandfather, I gave it everything I had... but he remained relaxed the entire time.

Even if it had been a spar for the sake of reviewing her skills, Seolhwa had faced him at the very pinnacle of Peak Realm.

At the very least, she should’ve been able to startle him once or twice, to push him into a corner.

And wasn’t she the only one who attacked the whole time?

Now imagine if Grandfather had attacked her in return.

I wouldn’t have lasted three moves.

Suddenly, the fight with the assassin in Heunghyeon flashed through her mind.

Among the assassins sent to take Choryeon from the kill barracks, one had reached Peak Realm.

Back then, she had used the power of the Cult Leader—meaning she’d been using the strength of a Fire Mirror—and yet that assassin had still lasted three moves against her.

There’s a world of difference between withstanding three strikes and failing to.

Even though both were duels between a Fire Mirror and a Peak Realm expert, the difference in level had been stark.

We’re on different planes.

Namgoong Mucheon had reached that level by steadily building internal strength and mastering martial arts, while she had borrowed the Imugi’s power to leap to Fire Mirror.

Just like in her past life, the disparity in foundation had created a difference in class.

Right now, my cultivation might be at Peak Realm, but I might actually be weaker than that assassin.

“What exactly is the problem?”

Seolhwa asked with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

Seop Mugwang spat out the chewed grass and answered.

“Impatience.”

“Impatience?”

“Yeah. Your first strike is good, but overall you lack strength. It’s the assassin’s habits ingrained in your body.”

And now that she heard it, she realized it was true.

Having so much experience as an assassin, Seolhwa had learned to move silently and strike fast, but she struggled in prolonged battles.

Because she was used to ending fights with a single blow, her first strike was sharp—but each individual sword strike lacked enough weight.

When facing someone stronger than her, that weakness became all the more apparent.

Seop Mugwang tapped his chest with two fingers.

“Martial arts are learned with the body, but they come from the heart. What you're thinking, what kind of mindset you bring into battle—all of that matters. That’s why breathing deeply through mental techniques and cultivating your mind are just as important.”

“My mindset...”

“When you’re impatient, you miss the small details. Your field of vision narrows, your judgment gets cloudy. For instance...”

Seop Mugwang stood up.

He took the same difficult posture Seolhwa had been struggling with earlier.

Even without using internal energy, he held it with perfect stability.

It made Seolhwa’s difficulty feel almost embarrassing.

“Even the briefest motion becomes manageable if you devote focus and intention to it. The reason you're struggling with this movement is because you didn’t put your heart into it.”

Had she ever truly paid attention to this one brief motion in the thousands of sword forms she’d repeated?

Never.

She’d always focused on stabbing, slashing, and channeling power into the sword.

She had never once trained with focus on this simple motion of turning the body.

“Think of flowing water. Do you ever see it break its flow?”

Seolhwa shook her head.

“Then do you ever see it flowing carelessly?”

She shook her head again.

All the while, Seop Mugwang remained perfectly balanced in the skewed posture.

“Water simply flows. From start to finish, it moves with a consistent current. And in doing so, that flowing water becomes a stream, then a river, and finally the vast sea.”

He straightened his stance.

Though he lacked internal energy, there was an unshakable dignity about him.

“Do you understand now?”

Seolhwa nodded.

The realization hit so deep that she stood frozen for a moment in thought. Seop Mugwang approached her.

Thwack—!

“Ow.”

He smacked her on the forehead.

“I told you not to train any movement half-heartedly. Only when your balance is set can you apply force exactly when you intend to.”

Once the small motions were anchored, the bigger, more powerful forms she’d emphasized would naturally become sturdier too.

That was the true meaning of Seop Mugwang’s words.

“Let go of your impatience and train your sword forms slowly, step by step. Footwork mastery comes after that.”

“Yes.”

Now understanding why Seop Mugwang had told her to slow down her sword practice, Seolhwa nodded without resistance.

Seop Mugwang, satisfied to see her face finally free of complaints, let out a quiet laugh.

“Well then, train hard. This master is off.”

He waved his hand as he walked away.

From behind, she heard him grumbling, “Damn brat’s always wandering off when there’s work to be done...”

“Should I bring back some tanghulu for you?”

“You think I’m a kid? Eat it yourself!”

Watching his back as he left the training yard, Seolhwa promised herself she would absolutely bring him a gift when she returned.

No matter what.

****

On the road to Mount Hua.

As planned, Seolhwa’s group headed toward the Zhuge Clan.

Since they had to pass through Hubei anyway to get to Shaanxi where Mount Hua was located, they decided to spend the night there.

“The Zhuge Clan, huh? I’m already nervous. It’s my first time leaving Anhui since becoming a Namgoong martial artist.”

The man {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} riding beside Seolhwa, eyes sparkling with anticipation, was Namgoong Jipyeong.

Four years ago, he’d been a squad leader of the Red Dragon 14th Unit.

Behind him rode Namgoong Gimu, Namgoong Hwang, Namgoong Seorin, and Namgoong Baekwi.

All had once been members of the same 14th Unit—personally trained by Seolhwa herself.

“I never imagined I’d be escorting you like this, Young Miss.”

Jipyeong chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

“You really never know how life’ll turn out.”

“But you didn’t waste those four years, did you? Chief of the Red Dragon Unit.”

Namgoong Jipyeong now held the official position of Red Dragon Unit Chief.

The others were all part of Red Dragon Unit 1, each recognized as elite inner court warriors.

“How could I waste it? This was an opportunity you gave us, Young Miss. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s right! We worked so hard just to show you when you came back!”

“We still do dawn training, Young Miss!”

Only their ranks had changed.

The five of them were just as vigorous and optimistic as the last time she saw them.

“Well done. You’ve all become much stronger than before.”

All five had reached Peak Realm.

Especially Namgoong Jipyeong—he’d lacked external strength four years ago, but now his frame was bulky, and his muscles were well-honed.

Has he grown the most out of all of them?

At this rate, he could probably aim for the transcendent level in just a few years.

“But, Young Miss... is the real reason you’re going to the Zhuge Clan... really because of Young Lord Zhuge?”

“Yes.”

The five martial artists exchanged startled glances.

Namgoong Seorin urged her horse forward a bit to get closer and whispered with curiosity.

“Are you... really interested in Young Lord Zhuge?”

“Yes. I guess you could say that.”

Their jaws collectively dropped.

So the rumors inside the clan were true.

Our Young Miss... is actually interested in someone!

— See! I told you! She’s at that age where she’d start being curious about those things!

Namgoong Baekwi’s throat bobbed wildly.

He hurriedly sent a sound transmission to the others. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

— As agreed, cough up your bets. Three pun each.

The others were still too stunned to respond.

With his mouth hanging open wider than anyone else’s, the one most struck by the revelation was the Red Dragon Chief, Namgoong Jipyeong.

— Chief, you remember your stake was ten pun, right? Hmm?