The Owner Of The Thousand Gold Coins Is A Military Official - Chapter 66

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 66

 

Geomma’s disciple.

 

Even now, he couldn’t be certain.

 

It wasn’t simply because Geomma was a figure from the Demonic Sect.

 

Cheongun’s sword was different from others.

 

No, perhaps it wasn’t just ordinarily different, but could be considered wrong.

 

It was a sword that could make maximum use of the disadvantages of an uncomfortable body.

 

Just as some places have the scent of plum blossoms blooming in their swords, those unique qualities remain in the sword.

 

Then, what exactly remained in Cheongun’s sword?

 

Would it be something from Cheongeumjang, called golden itself, or would it be things from his previous life?

 

Both his previous life and this life.

 

They were all Cheongun’s things.

 

Things that seemed unable to coexist were coexisting.

 

That was precisely Cheongun’s sword.

 

Where something that seemed to have never experienced any worldly threat coexisted with the desperation where every moment was survival.

 

“What can I obtain?”

 

At those words, Geomma let out a light chuckle.

 

“Rather than saying ‘obtain,’ how about saying ‘learn’?”

 

“I have never served a master before.”

 

“Do as you wish. You may call me master, or call me something else entirely.”

 

Was it because he had lived long?

 

He seemed to have little interest in titles.

 

Cheongun had similar thoughts.

 

What matters is not what you call someone, but what you think of them.

 

“I have no intention of teaching you.”

 

“Then isn’t the concept of learning itself wrong?”

 

“That might be so. It’s just that you’ll be learning on your own.”

 

What was wrong, what needed to be changed and how.

 

And which path to take, among countless other things that needed to be taught, but Geomma found it all terribly bothersome.

 

As Cheongun had said about contemplation earlier, Geomma’s pleasure in his remaining years was simply stepping back from the mundane world and observing.

 

“What about me, Geomma?”

 

Cheonsosu asked with eyes full of interest.

 

If one could learn Geomma’s sword, people would line up to learn it even if the end meant destruction.

 

“I don’t wish to incur your mother’s wrath.”

 

“Shall I bring her here once?”

 

“Nonsense. Do you know what would happen if you did that?”

 

The relationship between the Demonic Sect and Binggung wasn’t bad, but the relationship between Geomma and Binggung wasn’t very good.

 

Fortunately, things were quite good with Cheonsosu’s master and mother.

 

“Must I continue coming here?”

 

At Cheongun’s question, Geomma let out a scoff as if absurd.

 

“Ha, how have I come to be in such a clinging position? Are you saying I should enter the sect directly?”

 

“If you could do so, wouldn’t that be better?”

 

It felt as if the person had wrapped shamelessness not just around his face but his entire body.

 

However, Geomma knew that the foundation of this wasn’t selfishness.

 

The child before him was one who prioritized efficiency above all else.

 

“Let’s see how the situation develops.”

 

“Understood.”

 

“However, I haven’t seen your sword yet.”

 

At Geomma’s words, Cheonsosu also showed eyes filled with anticipation.

 

She hadn’t properly seen Cheongun’s sword yet either.

 

“It’s nothing remarkable.”

 

“I’d like to make that judgment myself.”

 

Right.

 

Geomma’s sword would be one that existed nowhere else in the world.

 

Just being able to see it made showing Cheongun’s sword rather cheap in comparison.

 

Cheongun’s sword was created by gathering the essence of everything he had seen so far.

 

The two sword techniques Cheongun mainly used in his previous life.

 

The (Steel Control Sword Technique) and (Flow Breaking Sword Technique) didn’t seem quite suitable for the current situation.

 

What Geomma wanted to see was Cheongun’s will contained in the sword.

 

Not the completeness of the sword techniques.

 

The two techniques had been gradually modified by incorporating experiences from this life, boasting near-perfect completion in Cheongun’s view.

 

Well, that was just his thinking, and he expected their flaws would show someday.

 

Therefore, what Cheongun chose wasn’t these two sword techniques.

 

When his dantian was shattered.

 

When he lost even the power that had been his only hope in a life like hell.

 

Perhaps that desperation suited Cheongun best.

 

Simply unfolding a sword with just memories and emotions from that time doesn’t fully contain oneself.

 

Coincidentally, there was a sword technique he had created directly at that time.

 

It was an ordinary sword technique.

 

No, actually it wasn’t even an ordinary sword technique.

 

It was a sword swung in desperation.

 

Previously, he had possessed an exceptional mind and the talent to support it.

 

Just one thing.

 

Though the environment couldn’t support this, Cheongun thought of it as a trial.

 

The kind of trial where one could receive proper compensation once all trials were over.

 

And when he lost his life, Cheongun had thought this:

 

That he hadn’t finished all the trials, but had surrendered before them.

 

That he ultimately couldn’t overcome them and met his end.

 

But it seemed that wasn’t the case.

 

As compensation for the trials, he had received this different life anew.

 

Therefore, for Cheongun, his previous life could be expressed in a single word.

 

Trial.

 

Or pilgrimage.

 

‘ (Self-Forgetting Sword Technique).’

 

It was a sword that forgot oneself.

 

Different from selflessness.

 

Becoming selfless by being absorbed in something.

 

Achieving unity between self and object could be called a blessing.

 

It was a state every martial artist dreamed of at least once.

 

However, (self-forgetting) was different.

 

It wasn’t forgetting one’s current self, but gradually forgetting the self that had existed until now.

 

For Cheongun, it had been the only method at that time.

 

As Cheongun took his stance, a stillness settled as if even the flow of air had stopped.

 

“Ha.”

 

A sigh escaped from Geomma.

 

He had merely taken a stance.

 

“This is…”

 

Cheonsosu too, though not as much as Geomma, was feeling that something had distinctly changed.

 

She was seeing with her own two eyes.

 

Cheongun, and what Cheongun had been doing.

 

But why does the person before his eyes feel like someone different from the one he’s been watching?

 

“Mang-a (Forgetting the Self).”

 

There are no particular sword techniques to speak of.

 

Swordsmanship was originally born to protect oneself or eliminate threats.

 

However, in the sword that Cheongun is now beginning to display, such intent is completely absent.

 

Yes.

 

If one were to give an example, it would be similar to a sword dance.

 

Only the resulting outcome is vastly different.

 

“Mang-a (Forgetting the Self)…”

 

Geomma’s gaze toward Cheongun sharpened.

 

The reason was simple.

 

Watching that sword made him feel as if he was slowly losing himself.

 

He had to distinguish precisely.

 

Not forgetting, but the feeling of losing.

 

Cheongun’s sword, where subtle unpleasantness and precision coexisted, finally came to an end.

 

It was neither flashy, nor sharp, nor heavy.

 

Rather than cutting, swinging, and thrusting the sword, it seemed to merely stir without purpose.

 

Forgetting the essence of the sword, called the King of All Weapons.

 

It was the worst kind of swordsmanship.

 

If someone else had displayed the same sword technique, he might have beheaded them on the spot, unable to shake off this unpleasantness.

 

But because it was Cheongun who showed it, he was puzzled.

 

Though he didn’t know who he was, he clearly had the bearing of someone raised preciously.

 

How could such desperation emanate from the sword of such a person?

 

Still, it was unacceptable.

 

Wasn’t it like saying that his own sword had forgotten the essence of swordsmanship?

 

So he was simultaneously displeased.

 

The attitude shown to him seemed to go beyond arrogance to near contempt.

 

“It’s finished.”

 

“Did you… succeed in mang-a?”

 

It was a meaningless question.

 

Yet he deliberately voiced it because this question could gain meaning depending on how the other person answered.

 

What should he answer?

 

Had he succeeded in mang-a?

 

If one experienced death, would that be experiencing mang-a or mu-a?

 

It was his first time pondering this.

 

What Cheongun had brought from the past was merely knowledge from that time.

 

Knowledge based on experience.

 

Knowledge based on hearsay.

 

Was death mang-a or mu-a?

 

That contemplation, regrettably, did not yield an immediate answer.

 

Forgetting, losing.

 

Or discarding.

 

Though the results were the same, Cheongun endlessly pondered those different processes.

 

“Geomma-nim, this is…”

 

“How absurd.”

 

So absurd was it that Geomma unconsciously let out a hollow laugh.

 

Right before his eyes, hadn’t the boy suddenly fallen into an unconscious state?

 

At first, he wondered what was happening.

 

But looking at Cheongun’s eyes, he could tell the situation was far from normal.

 

Those eyes.

 

They were dead eyes.

 

It wasn’t a matter of forgetting or discarding, but eyes that had completely lost their vitality.

 

‘It’s like… looking at a jiangshi.’

 

How could one have such eyes?

 

Such eyes were the kind that couldn’t be shown without experiencing it firsthand.

 

“…Soso.”

 

“Yes, Geomma-nim.”

 

“It seems you should return first.”

 

“What? By myself?”

 

“Yes. Right now this child is…”

 

What should he say?

 

Yes, there was one perfectly suitable phrase.

 

“He seems to have fallen into simma.”

 

“Si, simma…!”

 

Wasn’t this the word everyone feared most?

 

Beyond being a martial artist, something everyone feared.

 

“Oh ho… this is my first time seeing it directly.”

 

There wasn’t much worry felt in Cheongsoso’s voice.

 

Extreme interest.

 

Only this could be felt.

 

At times like this, it seemed her mother’s blood ran much thicker than the Sect Leader’s.

 

“Can’t we watch a bit longer?”

 

“Do as you wish. As long as nothing happens to you.”

 

“Yes, I’ll do that.”

 

It was different from when Geomma gained enlightenment.

 

No one could help.

 

Nor should they.

 

Quite a lot had happened in just one day.

 

Geomma had gained enlightenment and acquired a disciple, while Cheongun had gained a master and also acquired simma.

 

“By any chance, have you also experienced simma, Geomma-nim?”

 

At Cheongsoso’s question, Geomma slowly nodded.

 

“Yes. I never mentioned it. Once was because of your mother.”

 

“Re, really…?”

 

“Well, thanks to that I was also able to gain enlightenment.”

 

Simma and enlightenment.

 

Though they seem very different, they are not.

 

Enlightenment could be said to come suddenly at the end of inquiry, while simma could be seen as the process of advancing to conduct that inquiry itself.

 

Many have experienced simma, but not many have overcome it.

 

Even those called peerless masters often disappeared into the back alleys of history, unable to overcome a single simma.

 

“I didn’t take long, but I don’t know how long this child will take.”

 

“Hmm… if it takes too long, it’s worthless.”

 

“Hehe. He can hear everything despite how he looks, so watch your words.”

 

“Oh my, really? But it’s the truth.”

 

Yes, this is the kind of child she is.

 

“If he overcomes simma and gains enlightenment… I wonder what kind of child he’ll become.”

 

“Are you looking forward to it?”

 

“Looking forward? Looking forward…”

 

If he said no, it would be a lie.

 

Wasn’t this the child who would inherit his legacy, no one else?

 

Whatever happens.

 

It must be won.

 

It must.

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