Sincerity often does not get across.

Among the greatest realizations I gained upon reaching the Flowering Stage was that willpower… or rather, the human heart, is far deeper and more complex than one would think.

That’s why focusing it on a single point isn’t as easy as it sounds.

For the same reason, conveying one’s true feelings to another is also an extremely arduous task.

There are plenty of times even a person cannot fully understand their own heart, and yet they attempt to convey it through something as uncertain as words and actions.

That’s why sincerity often ends up being distorted. Not because of anyone’s fault, but simply because that’s how people are made.

“No, isn’t it just that you’re a little socially awkward, Cheon Hwi?”

“How lamentable. I can’t believe even you, Seol Lihyang, didn’t understand my sincerity.”

“Of course I know what you were trying to say. Being able to fight at full strength without any worries against someone at a higher level than yourself is a rare opportunity. You thought it was good and wanted to recommend it to others, right?”

“Mm. That’s right.”

“But normally, if someone who looks thirty years younger than you comes at you full-force and says something like ‘Try coming at me, rookie,’ people will think one of three things: they’re bragging about their level, they’re looking down on them, or they’ve got issues with their personality.”

…Well, there’s no argument against that.

When I first brought up the sparring, the Flowing Cloud Sword Immortal’s expression was pretty complicated.

Like he was contemplating whether to get angry or not.

As I recalled that moment, Tang Sowol, wearing a gentle smile, suddenly wedged herself between me and Seol Lihyang as we lay resting.

Not figuratively—she literally slipped between us, laying my head on one of her knees and Seol Lihyang’s on the other.

“Now, now. Isn’t it something we don’t need to worry about anymore? In the end, even the Sect Leader acknowledged that Brother Cheon’s words were meant in goodwill. And you two even sparred for several hours today.”

“That’s true.”

Ever since we sent a letter to Shaolin, I’ve been sparring with the Flowing Cloud Sword Immortal on occasion.

And just as I expected, while the overall martial strength of their members was somewhat lower, the martial arts of the Jeomchang Sect were exceptionally refined, on par with any major sect.

Their swordsmanship was focused solely on the principle of speed, and perhaps due to its origins in archery techniques, it was an extremely aggressive art, prioritizing offense over defense.

That’s why the sword, though single-minded, was honed to a razor’s edge and couldn’t be taken lightly.

Had we been at the same level, I wouldn’t have been able to dodge his thrusts in time.

His footwork was diverse, yet the Four-Direction Sword Art had only a single move—one thrust. That implies it wasn’t designed with the expectation that the opponent would dodge or block.

That thrust alone was overwhelming. To face the Four-Direction Sword Art properly, one would have to think not about blocking or evading, but about striking down the opponent before the sword is swung.

“In that respect, it resembles the martial arts of the Hwangbo Clan a little.”

Although I only stole glances, the Hwangbo Clan’s Taesan Crushing Fist quietly endures the enemy’s attack, then smashes through all obstacles with a single punch.

In contrast, the Four-Direction Sword Art weaves around to create an opening, then drives a thrust into that gap at the fastest possible speed.

They’re mostly opposites, but at the core—they share the same idea: to pierce the opponent with the best possible strike.

I know a few other techniques that work similarly, and like when I defeated the previous head of the Hwangbo Clan, I can mimic them to some extent.

They’re fairly powerful too.

But at the end of the day, it’s still just mimicry.

My martial arts are based on a principle: bring out the right technique at the right time.

Cut powerfully when needed, stab quickly when required, and deflect gently when appropriate.

It’s not easy, but thankfully I have some talent for it, and I’ve managed to get by until now.

Still, compared to those who focus solely on one path, I can feel the limitations.

Hwangbo Yeongcheon was obsessed with talents forcibly drawn out through Evil Methods and trickery, having abandoned the martial arts of his own clan, so he’s an exception.

The Flowing Cloud Sword Immortal I fought today, on the other hand, had built his current level through proper and consistent training.

The thrusts he unleashed—at least those—were naturally more refined and faster than mine.

To him, the Four-Direction Sword Art was a sword in which he had invested everything, simple yet refined, and sometimes the only weapon to challenge those stronger than himself.

And I need something like that too.

Not just a thrust—but a move that contains all of myself. A technique to reach someone overwhelmingly powerful—specifically, that monster known as the Heavenly Demon.

To put it simply—

“I need a secret technique.”

“Eh??”

Tang Sowol tilted her head. I snuggled into her lap, trying to find a more comfortable angle before continuing.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking I need a definite trump card—like Ten Thousand Blossoms in the Sky for hidden weapons, or Formless Extreme Poison for poison arts.”

“Hmm. A secret technique… It’s certainly something worth considering for someone like you, Brother Cheon.”

Like most Flowering Stage martial artists, those who ascend through a single martial art naturally acquire its secret techniques.

By now, Seo Mun-Hwarin—who should be keeping watch near Heo Soye in my place—would have mastered the Seomun Clan’s secret art through consistent training.

Though in her case, it might be a fist technique instead of a sword.

Anyway, at the end of advanced martial arts lies something worthy of being called a secret technique—but for someone like me, who has customized all sorts of fragmented arts, I have no choice but to create one myself.

“They say secret techniques take shape according to one’s heartscape and willpower.”

“I’ve heard something similar from my father. The one who invented Formless Extreme Poison apparently lived their whole life harboring poison in their heart after enduring many tragedies.”

“Though I can’t fully understand, I imagine the realization might’ve been something like—poison that eats away at one’s own heart is deadly to others too, and because it has no form, no scent, no tangible existence, it’s all the more terrifying.”

“So reaching the Flowering Stage really does change something, huh? Sometimes, you really do seem impressive, Brother Cheon.”

“Sometimes? I’d appreciate it if you admired me more often.”

I shrugged and joked… though truthfully, I had heard something similar from the pre-reversion Tang Sowol.

She was also someone whose poison mastery wouldn’t lose out anywhere.

I brought up the topic hoping it might help her someday…

But it seemed Tang Sowol was focusing on something entirely different.

“Heung. Did you know, Brother Cheon?”

“That came out of nowhere. But I’ll bite—what is it?”

“Since the engagement ceremony, I’ve been receiving lessons for becoming a bride.”

Of course I didn’t know. You never told me. But now I do.

“Originally, I was supposed to learn from my mother, but as you know, she passed away early.”

“Right.”

“So I’ve been referencing old family texts and receiving lessons from the married women among our retainers. And they all seem to say one thing in common.”

Tang Sowol’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Men love being recognized and praised. They adore being told how amazing they are.”

“Well…”

I can’t deny that. The desire for honor may vary from person to person, but recognition from those close—especially a wife or lover—is something all men treasure.

Even if they know it’s said with ulterior motives.

“You really are amazing, Brother Cheon. Have I ever told you how often I’m thankful for and in awe of you?”

“Kuh!”

Tang Sowol’s voice tickled my ears. With each movement of her lips, her breath brushed against my skin, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

“You’ve always been there when I needed you. Yes. Over the past few years, that hasn’t changed, so I can’t help but feel reassured whenever you’re around.”

Her hand slowly slid toward my upper body. Perhaps because of the thick winter martial clothes, she added slight pressure to ensure I could feel it even through the fabric, gently caressing here and there.

“When we first met, you were smaller and just cute… Who would’ve thought you’d grow up to be so gallant.”

“Isn’t your word choice a bit off?”

“It’s all thanks to your diligent training, Brother Cheon.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.”

“Especially after your transformation, you’ve become exactly my type…”

“W-wait. Is this still praise? It’s starting to sound weird.”

“Fufu, I’ll leave it to your interpretation, Brother Cheon.”

Tang Sowol raised her head slowly.

At the same time, Seol Lihyang, who had been frozen and barely breathing until now, suddenly trembled beside us.

Returning to her usual demeanor, Tang Sowol gently helped me up and spoke again.

“It’s time to switch shifts with Sister Hwarin, isn’t it?”

“Already?”

Seo Mun-Hwarin and I had taken turns keeping watch over Heo Soye, in case her Heaven-Slaughter Star flared out of control.

It had already been half a day—my turn was coming up.

Feeling vaguely unsettled, I stood up and straightened my slightly disheveled clothes.

As I confirmed the sword at my waist, Tang Sowol waved from behind, holding a bright-red Seol Lihyang tightly in her arms.

“Then off you go. Hyang and I will be waiting.”

“I’m not sure why you’d wait in my room while I’m not there… but I’ll be back.”

Waving back lightly, I stepped outside.

If the morning had been spent helping Seol Lihyang with her martial arts and sparring with the Flowing Cloud Sword Immortal—

Now was the time to teach Heo Soye a few tricks I’d learned through practicing the Raging Wave Death-Stealing Art to suppress her murderous intent.

As I walked toward the training hall, looking up at a sky more violet-black than red as the sun began to set…

A Jeomchang Sect disciple, one whose face I had seen before but name I didn’t know, came running up to me, panting.

He was of lower rank, typically doing errands… had something happened?

I paused to wait. As he reached me, catching his breath, he spoke.

“Blood Flame Sword Demon! He’s here!”

“Who is?”

“The ones from Shaolin you mentioned before!”

“I see.”

Considering the time it takes for a letter to be exchanged, they arrived earlier than expected.

“Well done. I was just on my way to Lady Heo anyway. I’ll guide them. The Sect Leader is at the training hall, yes?”

“Yes!”

The young Jeomchang disciple answered energetically. I patted his shoulder lightly and turned my steps toward the gate.

Not long after, I reached the entrance to Jeomchang Sect—and there stood a familiar elderly man.

Not just one, but two.

“Namu Amitabha. It’s been a while, Benefactor.”

“It has… But is it alright for you to leave your post so easily?”

Abbot Jeong Hyeon of Shaolin, who had been carrying Monk Gak-jeong, responded with hands in prayer.

“If it’s truly the Heaven-Slaughter Star, then it’s all the more reason the Abbot of Shaolin cannot remain absent.”

That’s true. The existence of the Heaven-Slaughter Star wasn’t a matter for one sect, but for the entire martial world.

“And if Master passes out again after encountering the Green Forest Bandits, we’d be in trouble.”

“Mm.”

That was… a joke, right?

Not a funny one, considering how many times I had knocked out Monk Gak-jeong.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep