Chapter 793: Diancang Expedition (4)

Now the remaining academic schedule was so little you could count it on your fingers, and Qing—who’d come back after screwing around the entire time—felt her feet go numb, to the point that she even cut out the after-work rest time and threw herself into after-class instruction.

Still, when she saw Jayeo settle into a corner of the after-class training ground and awkwardly swing a blade—shhk, shhk—Qing’s eyebrows drooped into a helpless 八 shape.

Her dad had gone far away and come back, and instead of playing with her, he was just working, so was this some kind of protest where she could be seen?

No—if it were a protest, it would’ve been better. Rather than protest, it was closer to begging. Not an intention to complain, but to draw attention—Jayeo, here.

If the tiny thing had complaints, she should’ve said so. But she still watched the room, still read faces.

Like she couldn’t even speak up because she was afraid Qing would say she was annoying, so she shrank up tight and tried to pull attention from the edge of Qing’s vision.

Still, if there was one lucky thing, it was this:

Even if Dad was absent-minded, there was only one. But moms were many.

“Hey, daughter. You’re tiny and you’re already swinging a sword—what is that for a girl? So savage. If you’re a girl, you should be elegant and beautiful. Feminine.”

“Yeah......”

“So throw hidden weapons in a feminine way.”

“...?”

Tang Nanna snapped her arms—shashhk—and on both fists, three pairs each, a sharp throwing knife lodged between each finger.

Six in total.

“Oh.”

When Jayeo clapped—clap clap—in admiration, Nanna’s nose tipped higher and higher.

Nanna’s surprisingly affectionate?

It was a villainess’s coercive attitude, and yet she handled the kid unexpectedly well—what is this, a sweet villainess?

Anyway... she’s kind of impressive?

At Qing’s look, Tang Nanna formed a wicked smile where Jayeo couldn’t see it.

Like the saying goes: to catch the horse, shoot the rider—no, rather, if you’re going to catch someone, you catch the expensive warhorse, because catching the general is useless—

Wasn’t it also true that if you wanted to catch a parent, you grabbed the child first?

It was a wickedly fake kindness, but either way, Jayeo’s eyes sparkled.

“Hey, Ice Chicken. Go stand over there. Training should be like the real thing—if you only hit a target that stands still, you won’t improve. Be my daughter’s target.”

“No.”

Seol Iri—because Nanna kept hanging around Jayeo—seemed to feel some kind of crisis. At night she even cut off her circulation practice and came out to be near Jayeo.

She was only “near,” though. Just hanging around.

Of course. Seol Iri didn’t have the ability to speak first in a friendly way, or communicate like that at all....

Anyway, thanks to that, Qing could finally focus on doing her instructor job with peace of mind.

And like that, time passed at the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy.

*****

Academic schedule: end!

It was the Exit Ceremony to commemorate it.

Among the Hall Cadets, some had already been first-rate even before entering, people who—by martial-world standards—were called experts, and even those from regional sects, “regional” or not, included people whose sects were treated as prestigious in their area.

But most of them had been wanderers—Hall Cadets with no public achievements to call “activity,” drifting from place to place.

So with faces brimming with emotion, they stood—

For them, this time truly amounted to accomplishing something meaningful in their lives.

With that moved expression, and yet with posture straight and proper, they waited for the Exit Ceremony—

“The Academy Master will deliver admonition.”

In an instant, gloom settled into the Hall Cadets’ faces.

A massive problem they’d forgotten until now—how could they have not thought of it?—and only now did they feel true fear.

“Four months ago, when I first saw my Hall Cadets, of course even then their gaze was shining with thirst for learning, but now that I look upon you, it is truly like meeting you anew—hard to believe you are the same Hall Cadets, for you have become such admirable men. Seeing such great men reminds me of when I first went out into the rivers and lakes and set my will upon the martial world. When I was here upon this earth, I finally went out into the rivers and lakes I had dreamed of, and in every inn I went, seeing the villains lying in wait, I drew my sword—thinking back, I was truly a green novice, fresh from first stepping into the martial world, yet I was truly proud. However, after only seventeen days—after only seventeen days—I met O Cheolgeom, then-famous demonic head, and was defeated, and at that time I wished to fold away my dream of chivalry and return to my hometown, and then I fell into drink, bought six jars of strong liquor, and said I would drown myself in the wine crock and die, but then I met Daoist Yuseong, and he said, ‘Person, are you eating well?’ and so I answered that I was eating well, for before an elder who worried for me I could not speak in tears, and after that I thought I should eat and...”

It was the tale of the green rookie who thought he was the best, losing to a demonic head, receiving mercy on top of it and owing a life-debt—

And later, finally breaking O Cheolgeom’s black iron sword, then showing mercy in return and repaying that life-debt.

The story that earned him the epithet “Short-Blade Sword.”

The problem was that there wasn’t a single person here who didn’t know it—because it was the honored martial elder’s story, and also the Academy Master’s epithet.

“...Ahem. And so, as you stand on the brink of your true departure into the rivers and lakes, I wish to ask you three things—only three things. First...”

The Hall Cadets’ faces went pale.

Then what in the world had everything he said so far been, if he was only now bringing out the three things?!

“First, distinguish courage from reckless bravado... no matter what, you must live... if you endure... second, what is important is an unbroken heart...”

Qing felt a bit relieved.

Good thing she’d shoved the congratulatory address onto Chunbong—after that endlessly long speech, to add a congratulatory address on top of it?

Just thinking about it was horrifying.

After a long, long time—

After the Hall Cadets’ chests, once swollen with pride, slowly grew tired and shrank down, until finally they all looked hollow, dark, like people who hadn’t slept—

Only then could the Exit Ceremony resume.

And then the final part: the congratulatory address.

“Do you remember when you first entered? You were nothing more than common men of the martial world—if you stated your names, the only modifier attached to you was your hometown, and there was no need even to state your level of attainment, for you were merely commoners among commoners.”

But now—what are you?

Sima Chunbong smiled beautifully.

“Of course, you are still commoners. But the world belongs to common men, and geniuses merely guide from on high, so you have no need to dare compare yourselves to them—what a happy thing this is. You can look at the star-lit vault of heaven, and it shines from your seats upon the road you can go, and must go—how beautiful that is. So this Sima will become your North Star, silently lighting the place you must go and leading you—”

“Who the hell told that guy to give the congratulatory address?!”

“Drag him out! He’s humiliating the strategists!”

“Everyone! What is a genius! That is—mmph, mmph!”

In the middle of the congratulatory address, Martial Alliance strategists stormed in and hauled the speaker away, causing a small commotion.

After that, the celebratory banquet continued.

*****

“I thought you would give the congratulatory address, Instructor.”

“Yeah. I was gone so long. After that, it’s a little embarrassing to stand up front and talk.”

At that, Yangchil—someone from Jogyeong, the applicant Qing had first faced in the entrance exam, and the Hall Cadet who’d stepped into first-rate right there—smiled softly.

“I learned the sword for about three years at the Gohyeon Sword School in Jogyeong, but I only received teaching from the grand master—Hero Kang Yu, the West Great Sword—two times. In truth, most sword schools are like that.”

Even if you entered a training sect to learn from a famous master, you rarely saw that master at all, and it was the master’s disciples who taught you.

It was even common for disciples’ disciples to be the ones teaching.

“Compared to that, it is no different from you having taught us directly. And also—haven’t we gained the right to go around saying we learned from the Heavenly Flower Sword? Sword arts we learned from the Heavenly Flower Sword. Sword arts the Heavenly Flower Sword personally created.”

“Then I just ended up selling you my name.”

“But aren’t you a martial artist counted among the next candidates for Number One Under Heaven? If you spread your fame, we benefit as well—so for us, even bowing deeply to you would not be enough. Is that not so?!”

“That’s right!” “Indeed!”

“So, we offer our thanks.”

Yangchil raised a formal clasped-fist salute.

It was a moment where the banquet spread across the Sword Hall courtyard—so noisy until then—suddenly sank into silence, as every Hall Cadet joined their hands out toward Qing and bowed at the waist.

Qing’s mouth opened. Then opened again.

Mm. This is... embarrassing.

I was gone for so long.

“Wait. Hall Cadet Mandarlo. Get down. You are not standing on a chair. Instructor Oh Gwan-do, you are not doing that.”

Qing stopped Dog-Bone, who was quietly about to stand on a table.

I’m not some dead poet. Why is this—was that kind of sentiment more common than I thought? What is this?

The departure was tomorrow morning anyway.

Since even descending the mountain took a full half-day, the ceremony was today, but departure was tomorrow.

Meaning today was a day you could drink until you passed out with no consequences, and as if to vent the resentment built up from the academy’s stiff, bland diet, wine jars were piled like a mountain in one corner.

“I’ll offer you a cup, Instructor.”

“What is all this.”

The Sword Hall Hall Cadets took turns filling her cup one by one—if it weren’t Qing, you might have thought they’d conspired to murder the instructor.

But Qing didn’t get drunk anyway.

“Instructor. Please take care of us from here on out.”

“Ah, Miss Sword. Instructor work is over now. Just call me comfortably. Are you sure you don’t have to return to the Sword Pavilion? I heard you’re taking command of a unit.”

“I have already received teaching, so you are my Instructor. It was a short time, but I awakened to much. And since the disciples of the Sword Pavilion train the same sword arts, they know each other too well, so training effectiveness cannot help but drop. To encounter many swords of a wider world... it seems I cannot return yet.”

“Ah. Training.”

Geom Ok-gun’s eyes flashed.

“So, about that— I heard that you are leading, as a training retreat, a social gathering of the new stars who will lead the next martial world. The Half-Sword Twin-Blade Society. Though my body is lacking, may I also join?”

“No. Who told you that?”

“Ah—was it a secret?”

Qing was dumbfounded.

A social gathering of the new stars who will lead the next martial world?

What is it, a secret meeting for stonemasons or something?

Still, whether Qing intended it or not, public perception was like that—so honestly, the membership roster had better just be... members.

Either way, Geom Ok-gun—having achieved her goal—beamed.

Thanks to that, Qing’s eyes got a feast.

They said beauty was a simple mouth, but Miss Sword really did have perfect teeth....

So Eumjo from Eomchang and Jang Bihoo also raised cups to Qing.

So Eumjo, who’d claimed a family vendetta and tried to poison her with a散功 poison and kill her, and Jang Bihoo, who’d insisted he’d been wronged—somehow they now showed up side by side like best friends.

Really, even before Qing went to the imperial palace, So Eumjo was already just grumbling “vendetta” in words, and Jang Bihoo was already indulging it, wasn’t he?

And two and a half months was more than enough time to become close friends.

Qing sipped the endlessly refilled alcohol and slowly swept her gaze around the noisy hall.

In truth, it wasn’t really “the end.”

Most of these people would be formed into a Martial Alliance combat unit as-is.

And then next year, they’d do the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy again—this time sweating alongside the next class of juniors.

“No, you bastard—who asked you to help?!”

“Whoa, it’s on fire!” “Miss Chang is burning again!”

FWOOSH—on one side, flames surged up high.

In front of it stood Chae Seong-ha, the Azure Dragon dancer, flailing—two women with axe-eyed stares bracketing him left and right—

Then Chang Yohong glanced around, and with that savage momentum it looked like she was searching for a club to beat someone with—until her eyes locked on Qing’s.

Qing tilted her head.

It looked like she’d been trying to find me.

Then Chang Yohong—despite a face that matched her rough, booming mouth—bowed her head deep with an oddly shy expression.

Somehow, the flames were dying down.

“Hoo. Let’s just swap, okay? If you don’t want to, then don’t.”

“Miss— but the sect rules—”

“Hey. Take this and get lost. Are you just going to watch this? This is her making a move, right?”

At that, the two women at Chae Seong-ha’s sides looked at each other, and as if they’d reached some agreement, they linked arms like constables pursuing a criminal and dragged him away, disappearing into the distance.

“Um, Instructor? You should take a drink, right?”

“Ah, I’ll drink it—no, I’ll drink. Mm. But what’s going on?”

“Ah, that?”

Chang Yohong brought up sect business.

A mysterious martial art passed down by single-disciple transmission: the Four-Directions Dance.

It came down through four martial lineages—Vermilion Bird Dance, Azure Dragon Dance, Black Tortoise Dance, White Tiger Dance—and later, through a duel, the winner had to receive the martial art.

So if you {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} collected all four?

An ultimate divine art called the Yellow Dragon Dance was born, apparently.

But the winner didn’t just “receive” the martial art.

They received the person, too—meaning there was a rule that you had to serve them as the sect master of the Four-Directions Sect, now unified again.

“But I’m done. It’s a piece-of-shit martial art where you can’t do anything because it feels like everything will catch fire, but I can’t just give it away for free, right? I barely got it after tending an old man.”

Chang Yohong grinned.

“So forget the rules. I’m saying we should trade and learn from each other. I guess they didn’t like that.”

“Mm.”

“And— you know, Instructor. I can’t control the fire, and I keep getting beaten every time, so whenever I see you, I feel calm? When I look at you, even if the fire surges up, it just... drops.”

“I see.”

Qing nodded.

Turning “can’t control your anger” into “controls anger well”—the might of Master’s heat-core education.

Master... I miss you....

“So, like—until I can control it, I wanted something, you know, something that would make me think of you. Because apparently I have to serve as a Martial Alliance warrior for three years, and if I burn, it’s a problem.”

“Ah. If that’s the reason, then yeah. Can’t be helped.”

Qing took out a combat hairpin and offered it.

So the memory of getting heat-cored would last a long, long time.

“What is this—why is it so heavy? This is like some kind of awl—khm. Um. Then I’ll see you later.”

Chang Yohong scratched the back of her head awkwardly, but for some reason she looked cheerful as she walked off, humming.

Qing tilted her head, just for a moment.

“Instructor, I’ll offer you a cup.”

“Ah. Love it.”

The endlessly refilled cup was still ongoing.

And as the night deepened like that—

The Righteous-Proper Martial Academy’s academic schedule: complete.