“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

I was momentarily speechless.

Maybe it was because winter was approaching, but the morning air felt unusually brisk today.

Still, people tend to grow stronger when cornered. The lingering drowsiness in my body vanished instantly, and the level of focus I mustered rivaled that of a life-or-death duel as I quickly sought a suitable response.

“As expected of Shaolin. Though Master Gakjeong can no longer use internal energy, his insight into martial arts remains unmatched—”

“Oh no, I was referring to what you did with Hyang last night.”

I was cut down.

If this had been a real duel, it would have been the equivalent of a fatal strike to the chest.

A critical blow—no way to survive.

In that case, all I could do was acknowledge my death with dignity.

“…Listen for a moment. I think there’s a misunderstanding here. What you’re worried about didn’t happen. I did administer Chugung-Gwahyeol on her feet, but that’s all. We returned to our separate rooms immediately aft—?”

“Heehee!”

Far from calmly accepting my fate, I flailed pitifully to explain, which only made Tang Sowol giggle.

She poked at my cheek with a mischievous grin and spoke playfully.

“Brother Cheon. Brother Cheon.”

“What?”

“Did you know? There are only two times when the normally cold and distant Brother Cheon makes exceptions.”

“I’m not that cold and distant.”

“You totally are. If left alone, you just quietly swing your sword, and when someone talks to you, you either give a flat reply or sneer. Isn’t that right?”

“That makes me sound like some antisocial weirdo.”

It’s not coldness, just decorum. And I don’t sneer—sometimes one corner of my mouth just twitches. And only at enemies!

Though I felt unjustly accused, I held back a sigh. If she was changing the subject, I wasn’t going to stop her.

Then Tang Sowol reached out with one hand and lightly touched both corners of my mouth with her index fingers.

I flinched slightly at the soft sensation on the edge of my lips, but she just kept smiling brightly and continued.

“See? Both corners of your mouth moved this time. Sure, they turned down instead of up… but still, it proves this is one of those exceptional moments.”

“Exceptional, how?”

“Well, either when you’re teasing us or when you’re being teased by us. Those are the two times, aren’t they?”

Having said that, she lifted the corners of my mouth into a forced smile.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet? That whole thing just now was a joke to tease you, Brother Cheon.”

“Huh?”

“Hyang may have tried to keep quiet, but it wasn’t that late—and there’s no way anyone wouldn’t notice such a fuss.”

“Then… the clatter I heard wasn’t the wind but you?”

“Oh, no. I just listened. I didn’t peek. That would’ve been kind of creepy and shady, don’t you think?”

“…?”

We both tilted our heads and slowly turned to look at the still-closed door of Seo Mun-Hwarin’s room.

Maybe… the things Seol Lihyang had said about her weren’t slander after all.

A stream of past memories—including those from before my regression—flashed through my mind, but I forced them away and spoke.

“Let’s pretend we didn’t hear that just now.”

“Yes, and let’s pretend I didn’t say what I said either, Brother Cheon.”

Thus, Seo Mun-Hwarin’s reputation was—probably—preserved.

“Ahem. Technically speaking, even if it was just pressure-point massage, such close contact—especially playing around with someone’s foot so passionately—isn’t exactly appropriate. But since I gave permission, I don’t plan to make a fuss. Rest easy.”

“Thanks. That’s a relief.”

I let out a long breath of relief, feeling the weight on my chest lift.

I mean, it’s not like Chugung-Gwahyeol is something new. I got her permission years ago, and she said anything’s fine as long as we follow the proper order.

Given how she sometimes grabs my arm or pokes at my back or cheek for no reason, I suppose foot massage falls within the allowable range.

“But still… must you emphasize the foot so much? It’s not exactly a special body part.”

“Maybe not now. But did you know that in the past, feet were considered a rather intimate area?”

“They were?”

“Yes. Everyone wears shoes when going out, right? And inside, we wear socks or inner cloth. So typically, you’d never show your bare feet—unless to your spouse.”

“Ah.”

Feet themselves may not be inherently special, but since they’re rarely exposed, they came to hold special meaning.

As I nodded in understanding, Tang Sowol lightly brushed my instep with her toes and continued.

“So, in the past, people avoided showing their feet. And because small feet were considered beautiful, there was a custom called foot binding to make them tiny from a young age…”

“And?”

“It fell out of fashion in less than fifty years. Small feet make it hard to move, and if you can’t move, you can’t learn martial arts.”

“Right. Makes sense.”

Footwork is the foundation of any martial art. Even noble families train abit for health and self-defense.

It may have been trendy for a while, but since it hindered martial arts, it disappeared quickly.

“That custom’s gone now, of course, but… in old families, there’s still a lingering sense that feet are somewhat special.”

“People’s beliefs don’t change quickly.”

“Exactly. It’s not like feet are forbidden to be seen or anything, but they’re something to be hidden when possible. Kind of like… your upper body, Brother Cheon.”

“My upper body? What about it?”

“Well, not now with the cool weather, but during the summer, didn’t you often train shirtless in front of us?”

“I only did that because I was sweating.”

“I still wore all my layers and trained, even in the heat.”

“You and I are built differently.”

“And yet, even you, Brother Cheon, only strip like that in front of us—when you’re outside, you’re always fully dressed, aren’t you?”

She tugged slightly at her sleeve as she said that.

That gesture… for some reason, it made me imagine her one day standing before me like that, and my face suddenly flushed.

I looked away, and only then did she nod in satisfaction.

“In any case, the point is: in old, noble families, feet are still considered a slightly sensitive area. So, Brother Cheon, you’ll have to do something even greater for me next time.”

“How does that follow?”

“Hm… oh! How about this? I’ll lay my head on your leg, and you can comb my hair. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

“…Are you even listening to me?”

“But you’ll end up doing it anyway, won’t you?”

As shameless as her words were, she wasn’t wrong.

If she came at me with a brush and her head on my thigh, I’d probably just sigh and go along with it.

“Hehe, you understand now, don’t you? Don’t resist unnecessarily—just accept that I’m adorable.”

“You mean my fiancée who’s five years older than me?”

“Then I’ll consider it adorable when you awkwardly brush my hair with those clumsy hands of yours.”

“…Either way, the result is the same.”

I shook my head and continued.

“Well, let’s leave it at that and head over to the sparring grounds.”

“Is that a promise? If you forget, I’ll start mixing ginkgo fruit scent into your herbal supplements.”

“You can do that?”

“Ginkgo has a mild toxin, but surely you’ve tasted it at least once. So, are you heading to the sparring grounds already this morning?”

She casually dropped a very real threat about adding autumn stench to everything I ingest.

Unlike Seo Mun-Hwarin, who might already be secretly watching, Seol Lihyang was probably still half-asleep.

Heading to the sparring ground this early was a bit much, but—

“I didn’t get to spar yesterday because of Master Gakjeong calling me. I thought I’d exchange a few light moves with any monks who were already up.”

“And afterward?”

“I’ll spar with those who wake at the usual hour.”

“And after that?”

“I suppose I’ll spar with the slightly lazy monks.”

A brief silence followed. Then Tang Sowol cautiously asked,

“Brother Cheon… you do know this isn’t a challenge to break the sect’s reputation board or something, right?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on them.”

Even if Shaolin is mighty, there likely aren’t any post-peak masters there who can match me.

If I want a proper spar, I’d need someone of higher rank, but if they lose to a post-peak martial artist, it’s a humiliation—and if they win, it’s nothing special.

That’s why even Seo Mun-Hwarin is sparring with one of the Diamond Warriors rather than the Abbot—despite being in the Flowering Stage.

Shaolin doesn’t obsess over face like some families, but still, rumors of their elite being beaten by a young outsider wouldn’t be great.

I get it. Shaolin’s mere presence is enough to keep many unorthodox sects from even approaching Henan. Maintaining that aura of calm is important.

But Tang Sowol clearly didn’t trust me.

“You must go easy, alright? Promise me.”

“I told you, don’t worry.”

I shrugged and headed to the sparring ground with her.

***

To summarize: Tang Sowol was right.

“Guh…! I knew I had a long way to go, but not this far…”

One monk walked away in defeat, hands clasped in frustrated respect.

“Unbelievable! So martial arts really are meant only for killing… they cannot embody the Buddha’s compassion!”

Another monk, apparently suffering minor inner-demon symptoms from the Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art’s sheer killing aura and the overwhelming skill gap.

“I think I’m just not suited for martial arts. Shaolin is famous for its martial prowess, but wouldn’t studying scriptures and guiding others toward liberation be a better fit for me?”

A third monk said, sounding calm—but his voice wavered with held-back tears.

And finally…

“Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu…”

The top-level post-peak monk of Shaolin—the one who placed second at the Dragon and Phoenix Meeting—was mumbling chants with a deeply conflicted expression.

As I scratched my head awkwardly, Tang Sowol crossed her arms and glared at me.

“Brother Cheon??”

“I tried.”

They were the ones who asked me to go all-out. What was I supposed to do?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep