I Shouldn't Have Joined the Martial Arts Alliance - Chapter 93

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Entering the Murim Alliance for no good reason — Episode 93
“Then listen well and remember.”
The Head of the Jang Family, who had been watching, spoke to his sons.
“You must listen to every word your aunt says without missing a single thing.”
An opportunity like this did not come often, after all.
Jang Ryeo, the witch, was the greatest master in the history of the Jang Family swordplay — the one who had risen to the highest seat of Sa Pa itself.
And so every word that fell from Jang Ryeo’s lips would surely be bone and sinew, substance and meaning.
The swordplay that the Head of the Jang Family taught his sons and the swordplay that Jang Ryeo dispensed as instruction would certainly be different.
That was so.
The forms and formulae of the sword technique belonged to the Jang Family swordplay, so there would be no difference in those — but depending on the mind a person carried, and how they interpreted the formulae, the process and result could differ as heaven and earth.
Thus one could become a master through the Samjae Sword Technique alone.
Though very, very few did.
In any case, it was certain that martial arts differed depending on who learned them, with what heart, and in what manner.
That was why the Head of the Jang Family demanded his sons’ full concentration.
“We understand.”
Jang Ryeo began to instruct her son Sa U-rin in the swordplay of the Jang Family.
“The name of the martial art you are to learn is the Wind-Cloud Sword. The Jang Family sword is wind and cloud. My wind is freedom that bows to nothing, and my cloud is the wrath of heaven and earth turned upon all things that would obstruct that freedom. Now, watch. First is Saekpung.”
Jang Ryeo drew the Saekpung of the Wind-Cloud Sword with her blade, and continued speaking.
“Saekpung is the foundational technique of the Jang Family. A cold and biting wind cuts through the flesh, scrapes away the bone, and soon strips away even the heart.”
As she spoke, Jang Ryeo’s Saekpung remained perfectly steady.
“Wow!”
“Hah!”
“Exquisite!”
The masters of the Jang Family watching could not help but cry out in admiration. Though it was called Saekpung, the form she traced was the very beauty of a flower blooming on a warm spring day.
Yet hidden within it lay a cold and biting murderous intent.
Jang Ryeo’s movements continued, and she spoke again.
“Next is Hunpung. As with all things in the world, the strong break. The wind is no exception. One must bring change through softness and warmth. And Hunpung must be like the calm before a storm — it must be sharpness disguised by gentleness, coldness bitter as ice masked by warmth.”
“Wow!”
“Ah!”
Admiration filled the training ground once more.
Her movements seemed like a beautiful butterfly alighting with soft wingbeats upon a blooming flower.
It was a Hunpung that no one else could hope to imitate.
Jang Ryeo’s demonstration did not cease.
“Next is Taepung. One must strike with full force at once — with the sharpness kept hidden, with the coldness suppressed, with the resolve to sweep away all in a single moment.”
Now not a soul in the training ground dared even to breathe audibly.
All sense, all heart, all body seemed stolen away by the dance-like demonstration of Jang Ryeo’s art.
It was not yet over.
“And finally, Mupung. There is wind, yet there must not be wind. But neither must it be absent. It exists and yet must not exist; it seems not to be, yet must be. It is cold and yet warm; it is warm, yet ice itself. It must bloom as a flower, yet have no roots; the cloud exists, but the sky does not. Emptiness and existence coexist, yet emptiness and existence must not become one.”
Thus Jang Ryeo’s dance-like sword demonstration ended. Though no Naegong was imbued within it, the illusion was perfect enough that one felt Naegong present nonetheless.
Every stance, every form carried within it the breath of the soul.
“Did you see well, my son?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good, I will show you two more times, so carve it firmly into your mind. Do you understand?”
“That won’t be necessary. I have already carved it into my mind.”
“……Truly?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Then the training ground erupted in chaos.
“Did you hear? He carved it all into his head from just one viewing.”
“It’s astounding.”
“It’s beyond belief.”
“Our young master is remarkable indeed.”
“Just remarkable?”
“That’s insanity. Complete insanity.”
“What could be in his head for such a thing to be possible?”
“Exactly. What must be in his head for it to be possible — something we don’t have, with our brains as empty as wagons.”
“Ah.”
“Our heads are truly empty.”
“They are.”
And the Head of the Jang Family’s mouth did not remain still either.
“……My daughter.”
“Why?”
“Won’t you show us once more?”
“Why?”
“Your nephews seem to want it, and everyone gathered here seems to be hoping for it.”
Jang Ryeo swept her gaze across the assembly.
“Very well. I’ll indulge them. You too, Sa U-rin—watch carefully. Each time you see it, you’ll understand something new.”
“Yes, Mother.”
The witch Jang Ryeo began her exquisite dance again. This time she performed in complete silence, her full concentration devoted to the demonstration itself.
Though she drew upon no Naegong, the training ground filled with the Saekpung of deep winter, the Hunpung of warm spring days, the merciless Taepung of midsummer, and the invisible Mupung that seemed to sweep away everything—all present, all tangible despite being unseen.
Everyone watched in wonder beyond mere admiration.
It struck home anew.
That the same technique, learned and mastered by different hands, could yield results as different as heaven and earth.
And so the witch Jang Ryeo’s demonstration came to an end.
“Did you see well?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Then, can you show me what you’ve learned?”
Before all these people.
“Of course.”
“Then, begin.”
All eyes turned once more toward the center of the training ground.
“I’m curious to see.”
“Will he manage it?”
“He’s only seen it twice.”
“There’s a world of difference between memorizing something and executing it on the spot.”
True enough.
How many things in this world can a person truly perform simply because they understand them, simply because they know them?
Hardly any—you could count them on your fingers.
And yet this is Mugong we’re discussing.
It is a discipline that demands training upon training, mastery upon mastery, until the body itself learns the form.
And now the son of the witch Jang Ryeo meant to execute it simply because he had watched?
“Is it possible?”
“We’ll see.”
“We’ll have to make allowances.”
“Probably not.”
That was the consensus.
Expectations were not high. They would offer applause if he merely imitated it without grave error.
That alone would be talent worthy of praise.
As all eyes were fixed upon the training ground, Sa U-rin began to move. His sword began to move.
The sword inherited from his father.
His mother’s swordsmanship through his father’s blade.
Sa Cheol-gang and Jang Ryeo were thus reconnected—through Sa U-rin, born of their love.
“Saekpung.”
Saekpung.
Hunpung.
Taepung.
Mupung.
These are natural phenomena born of nature itself. And from Sa U-rin’s perspective, the wind too is part of Honwon.
For Honwon is the source of all things in existence.
“To me, Saekpung is not the bitter wind of deep winter. It is the cold clarity filled with the power to freeze all things, to freeze the world itself into submission.”
Then Sa U-rin moved into the next form.
“Hunpung. To me, Hunpung is not the gentle breeze of a warm spring day. Unyielding in my resolve, I will break through to the end. I will not bend, will not break, will not yield. Thus I melt the frozen world with torrents of molten lava, burning away all things—down to the roots of the grass itself. Nothing remains. What stands alone on this earth is my two feet, my will, and my unshakable spirit.”
As if Sa U-rin himself were the center of Gangho, all eyes converged upon the middle of the training ground.
That the Wind-Cloud Sword of the Jang Family could transform in such a manner shocked everyone beyond amazement—their faces paled with awe.
It created the illusion that everything save Sa U-rin had frozen in place.
It was the moment the Wind-Cloud Sword of the Jang Family merged with Honwon.
Yet it was not over.
“Taepung. It sweeps away all things. Everything that exists in Gangho. The scattered remnants, even the drifting dust. Then comes Mupung. Gangho is made clean. Not even dust remains. We return to the beginning. To a world where nothing ever existed.”
It was touching him.
The extinction technique of Honwon Mugong.
Sa U-rin’s heart.
becoming one.
Sa U-rin.
Honwon Technique.
One and yet, each exists.
The reason for such existence converges into one.
Endless oneness.
“Haah.”
Once everything had ended, Sa U-rin exhaled deeply.
All those who had been watching could finally breathe again.
“…Did you see it?”
“…I saw it, but…”
“…I honestly have no idea what I saw…”
The warriors of the Jang Family could not possibly comprehend what Sa U-rin had manifested with the Wind-Cloud Sword.
What he desired. What he sought.
Head of the Jang Family was little better off.
“Hm. How could he…”
Such ability at such a young age…
And it frightened him.
What vision of Gangho did this nephew harbor?
Every martial artist who set foot in Gangho nurtured their own vision of it, their own dream.
The Head of the Jang Family was no exception. His two sons likely dreamed no differently. So naturally, Sa U-rin too must be cultivating his own vision of Gangho.
But…
It terrified him.
To cleanse Gangho entirely…
To leave not a single root…
Was he nurturing a dream to trample everything in Gangho beneath his feet?
It couldn’t be. It mustn’t be.
Of course, merely dreaming such a dream did not make it possible. Indeed, it bordered on the impossible.
Yet the very fact that he harbored such a dream—wasn’t that danger enough?
It was then that Jang Yu-jin, the junior patriarch of the Jang Family, spoke to his father.
“Father. That sword—is it truly the Wind-Cloud Sword of our Jang Family?”
“…Yes.”
Jang Yu-seok, the younger brother of Jang Yu-jin, added his voice as well.
“I find it hard to believe that is the Wind-Cloud Sword deployed after seeing it only twice.”
In other words, he was suggesting that Sa U-rin must have already known it beforehand.
“Blame your own limitations, not his ability. Do not speak such foolishness.”
“…I apologize.”
In truth, the Head of the Jang Family had harbored doubts himself. Yet—had he not witnessed it?
Had Sa U-rin already mastered the Wind-Cloud Sword beforehand, such a display would have been impossible.
No—he had unfolded it spontaneously in that very moment, with his heart, his spirit, his mind.
And Jang Ryeo, who stood before Sa U-rin, was equally astonished.
“…My son.”
“How is it?”
How could it be anything but magnificent?
Pride swelled in her breast as a mother of such a remarkable son—pride that reached toward heaven itself.
And yet…
“That is precisely your problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did I not tell you? You lack fear. Too much so. And you are too clean. That is why you wish to make everything clean. But listen—the world, Gangho, cannot be navigated alone. It is difficult enough simply to survive by yourself. You have too little affection, son.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“Do you know, or do you not know, that fish cannot live in water that is too pure?”
“…I know.”
“You will not live in Gangho alone, will you?”
“…That is so.”
“Good. At least you understand that much. Still—you must change. What choice do we have? Since we are on the subject, let us begin now.”
“…How so?”
“That too will be corrected once you die.”
“…Once I die?”
“Yes. If not today, then until it works. You understand?”
“…Yes.”
I know it well enough.
“Then let’s die.”
……
In that instant, Sa U-rin understood.
All the more so, given that he was cultivating the Honwon Technique.
He felt it in his skin, in the marrow of his bones.
In this very moment, he was dying.
And then it happened.
Boom!
A tremendous force crashed down upon Sa U-rin. It was instant—pure flash of light. He had no time even to brace himself.
It came the moment he sensed it.
And so Sa U-rin was buried into the earth.
Without even the thought crossing his mind that his mother had been the supreme master of the Sa Pa.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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