Chapter 74
Chapter 74: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
The moment the Gyojin Gang’s ties to the Black Wolf Escort Service surfaced, and Yanghwi successfully traced the chain of connections directly to Hwan Yeja Baek Cheol, a deliberate scheme took shape in his mind.
A Ten-Year Grand Plan had been forged alongside the Tang Clan, yet the disparity in raw might between the two factions remained vast.
While the Sichuan Tang Clan did not formally belong to the Five Great Houses Under Heaven, the martial world deemed them the foremost force directly beneath that echelon. When measuring purely the foundation and influence of their houses, the gulf between them spanned dozens of times over.
Brother Tang certainly harbored genuine goodwill toward their household, but the elders directing the family affairs were bound to weigh matters with far colder scrutiny.
Clan elders inevitably prioritized the absolute gain of their own bloodline above all else. Even if they gave their blessing to the overarching design of the Ten-Year Grand Plan, negotiations over partitioning the ultimate rewards would prove an entirely separate struggle.
Looking toward the road ahead, Yanghwi needed the Tang Clan to recognize the peerless brilliance and limitless horizon of their house—even if asserting that standing required unbridled bravado.
Baek Cheol was precisely the pawn he selected to project that image. The second he secured the man’s allegiance as a retainer, an interrogation commenced without delay.
“Brother Baek. What tasks were assigned to you while serving the Black Wolf Escort Service?”
“Ah, Eldest Young Lord. There is no need for such polite speech with me…”
“Tsk. Such trivial formalities are irrelevant right now.”
Observing how visibly ill at ease the man remained, Yanghwi casually lowered his tone to a familiar cadence.
“Brother Baek, tell me plainly. Did the Black Wolf Escort Service truly squander you on forging simple agricultural tools?”
“T-That is… yes. They claimed I showed the greatest aptitude for such implements…”
They merely left him to grind away at whatever task lay readiest at hand.
Fools. Such blind eyes to genuine craftsmanship. Any lineage aspiring to rank among noble houses maintained its own private smithy. Naturally, the grounds of the Baek Estate still held a long-abandoned outbuilding that once served that very function. To gauge his true measure, Yanghwi set Baek Cheol to forge a lone blade.
His execution was unpolished, yet the underlying brilliance was unmistakable.
The rumors surrounding Baek Cheol proved accurate. His command over raw iron was nothing short of miraculous. This was no craft honed through decades of tireless trial and error, but rather an innate gift bestowed by the heavens. Starting that very afternoon, Yanghwi commenced imparting internal arts into the craftsman’s mind.
“Eldest Young Lord, why must a humble smith like myself study the martial path…?”
“Because you will be shaping divine weapons for me, Brother Baek.”
“D-Divine weapons? Me? What conceivable link is there between martial skills and a blacksmith’s hammer?”
“Brother Baek, within the vast expanse of the martial arts, internal techniques offer boundless applications far beyond mere bloodshed.”
Throughout history, every relic revered across the realm as a divine weapon possessed an unmistakable hallmark: the ability to harbor living qi within its core. Thus, forging a true masterwork demanded either materials of extraordinary rarity or the hand of an artisan capable of suffusing the metal with spiritual essence during its birth.
“Simply walk the path I lay before you. Obey my directions, and fortune will seek you out while you sleep.”
Catching sight of Steward Han strolling past their courtyard, Yanghwi called out toward him.
“Would you not agree, Steward?”
“Gwahaha! The words of Young Master Hwi never miss the mark!”
Hovering out of Baek Cheol’s line of sight, Steward Han brought his thumb and forefinger together, forming the circular shape of a gold coin with an eager grin. The steward clearly believed Yanghwi was orchestrating another wildly lucrative venture. Indeed, once Baek Cheol’s craftsmanship reached full bloom, accumulating mountains of wealth would become effortless, making it an extraordinarily sound endeavor.
“Very well. The mnemonic verses are committed to memory, yes? From this day forth, you must guide your inner breath through its cycles without fail. After ten days have passed and your foundations settle, I shall grant you an elixir.”
“Hrk, an elixir?!”
The promise was fulfilled without hesitation. Yanghwi offered Baek Cheol one of their precious elixirs, personally steering the wild medicinal currents through the man’s meridians to seat a full decade’s worth of internal energy within him instantly. Had they spent years patiently cultivating the medicine, a total of twenty years’ potency could have been unearthed; yet with time pressing so urgently, settling for this rapid harvest was an unavoidable compromise.
“For the next two weeks, we transform the floor of this smithy into a dense forest of steel! Begin!”
Among the Eight Great Hells of Buddhist lore, was there not a tormenting domain bristling with jagged blades known as the Hell of Sword Trees? Pushed forward by Yanghwi’s relentless supervision, merciless standards, and sheer, burning zeal, Baek Cheol was driven to hammer out dozens of blades without pause. Forging a single masterwork typically demanded years of methodical pounding, which rendered this relentless pace sheer madness.
Lacking Brother Baek’s extraordinary natural gifts, keeping up with such an impossible rhythm would have been utterly unthinkable.
Yet Baek Cheol achieved the impossible. Emerging from an ocean of trial blades, he brought forth an exceptional piece that even Baek Muryang, a warrior standing at the apex realm, praised as a genuine masterwork. Just like unworked stone, a man’s true brilliance emerged only when subjected to rigorous grinding and relentless polishing.
“Master Craftsman Baek, for how many seasons have you worked the forge?”
“Observing the sheen along this edge, your quenching and folding seem deceptively straightforward, yet the sharpness bites with terrifying ferocity. Have you devised an esoteric smelting art wholly your own, Craftsman Baek?”
Artisans and warriors from the Tang Clan crowded forward, persistently vying for a chance to clasp Baek Cheol’s hand. The banquet meant to honor and welcome the esteemed guests of the Tang Clan had unexpectedly devolved into an earnest symposium on metallurgy.
“Come now, honored guests. Standing idle in the courtyard does not suit us; shall we move indoors to continue our discussion?”
“I share the Clan Head’s sentiment. Let us take our seats inside first.”
Under the gentle urging of Tang Gun and Baek Muryang, the gathered throng began to shift their steps. Baek Cheol found himself entirely swept along by the flock of inquisitive smiths, his face frozen in stunned bewilderment.
Brother Baek. Absorb every scrap of knowledge they possess.
While Baek Cheol held transcendent raw talent, his practical familiarity with intricate metallurgical secrets still lacked refinement. The veteran artisans of the Tang Clan would serve as the ideal mentors to fill those gaps.
Securing martial prestige while elevating their artisan’s craft—a truly flawless stroke that claimed two prizes at once.
Several days later, once the members of the Tang Clan shook off the lingering exhaustion of their long trek, a joint council was convened to map out the future operations of the newly founded branch.
“Our Tang Clan branch intends to establish both a medical hall and an expansive smithy within Ak’an County, using them as twin pillars to extend our footprint.”
“The Baek family will lend its full, proactive cooperation to that endeavor.”
Perhaps owing to the dazzling impression created by thrusting Baek Cheol into the spotlight, the negotiations concluded with astonishing harmony, completely defying earlier anxieties over bitter territorial squabbles. Both parties readily yielded ground to foster mutual goodwill, effortlessly finding shared harmony. Through this concord, the doors of the Tang Clan branch swung open to the world.
This foundation should suffice to anchor the Tang Clan branch securely to our soil.
“Now, the hour has arrived for our own Baek family to take its next grand stride.”
The lands currently bowing to the authority of the Baek Estate encompassed Ak’an County, alongside neighboring Gyeun County where the fallen Black Wolf Escort Service once held sway. From a destitute clan scraping by on a measly handful of silver coins each month, they had risen to become lords over two entire administrative seats. Even so, that territory accounted for barely a seventh of Muju, an area that in itself comprised merely a tenth of the grand expanse of Jiangxi Province.
“I, as Clan Head, proclaim our vow here and now. Three years. Within three fleeting years, I shall extend the dominion of our banner over the whole of Muju!”
Having crossed the threshold into the apex realm, Baek Muryang’s demeanor had undergone a profound transformation. More precisely, he had allowed far loftier aspirations to ignite within his breast. In their former lives, Baek Muryang had once pulled Yanghwi aside to whisper, in solemn confidence, his quiet dream of seeing the Baek lineage elevated among the noble houses. Witnessing his father declare that very vow openly before every assembled retainer caused a surge of deep emotion to swell within Yanghwi’s chest.
Father. That dream will become reality without fail.
Yet to bear such towering ambition, the foundation required steadfast depth. For an ancient tree to touch the clouds, its roots had to plunge deep into the earth and anchor across wide plains; only then could it support the immense weight of broad, flourishing branches. In that light…
“Younger siblings, step forward and fall in.”
Baek Heonso, Baek Yeonyeon, and Chudal immediately formed a neat line before Yanghwi. Having spent the recent weeks occupied with estate affairs, he had somewhat neglected the oversight of his kin. To the eyes of outside retainers, he appeared as an elder brother overflowing with protective devotion, yet in Yanghwi’s own estimation, such affection remained pitifully inadequate.
“Heed my words. From this moment onward, under my direct command, all of you shall enter an indefinite period of grueling martial refinement.”
“Boss! I already have a master to teach me—gah!”
A sudden blow cracked against the crown of his skull, sending Chudal tumbling to the dirt while clutching his head in agony.
“Weakness thrives on excuses. Every petty complaint shall be answered with the disciplinary rod.”
“Brother, will you bring down the rod on Yeon-i too?”
“Naturally! Though my precious Yeon-i never commits a fault worthy of punishment, which presents a dilemma all its own.”
“Hehehe.”
While Baek Heonso and Chudal nursed an acute sense of grievance in their hearts…
“Enough idle chatter. We begin.”
When peeling back the myriad facets of martial study, the vessel itself commanded priority: the body (é«”).
Mastery over the vessel rested upon two distinct pillars: the unyielding durability of the physical form, and the art of employing that tempered vessel with flawless precision.
Commence with the body (體), and weave it seamlessly into technique (技).
The Baek family now possessed the exact martial bridges required to complete that transition. Through the Pear Blossom Six Harmonies Art, they forged an unshakeable bodily foundation; through the Six Harmonies Body Refinement Art, they mastered the optimal command of every tendon and bone. As both arts inherently contained the core tenets of dynamic footwork, nurturing their inner qi in tandem served as an invaluable bonus.
So, Yeon, and that insolent scamp Chudal. In this lifetime, I will ensure that the world hails all three of you as towering dragons and soaring phoenixes.
Naturally, carving out that destiny meant the immediate days ahead would prove thoroughly… excruciatingly agonizing.
“B-Brother… my limbs are going numb.”
“Waaaagh! The master’s regimen already strips the skin from my bones, so why must you pile torment upon torment, Boss?!”
“Brother… might we rest our feet for just a brief breath?”
Complaints? They were swept aside like dust. He methodically dismantled his siblings’ physical vessels, reconstructing them from the marrow outward. Martial aptitude was fundamentally governed by two gifts: physical constitution and inner comprehension. His singular design was to reshape their vessels until their flesh matched the caliber of heaven-gifted martial talent.
“You speak of exhaustion? Then perhaps you would prefer matching my personal training regimen?”
“……”
“……”
“……”
As if bound by a silent pact, all three instantly clamped their mouths shut. No alternative existed. While enduring the identical exercises across the identical duration, Yanghwi subjected his own flesh to a regime of terrifying savagery.
“Draw the breath inward… release it outward…”
Rivers of perspiration cascaded down his skin. Every time he shifted his form according to the profound rhythms of the Pear Blossom Six Harmonies Art and the Six Harmonies Body Refinement Art, the solid iron spheres strapped across his frame ground against one another with piercing metallic clangs. Yanghwi’s physical frame weighed roughly seventy geun, and the iron spheres strapped tight to his limbs and torso matched that exact burden: another seventy geun of dead weight.
“Brother, isn’t this courting destruction?”
“Boss, you look as though you’re about to cough up your own lifeblood.”
Hardening the shell and senseless self-mutilation were two vastly divergent concepts. Why was a threshold defined as a limit? Because the instant one forced themselves beyond its border, vigor withered into virulent poison. And yet…
Such extreme strain would shatter the foundation of any normal man, but my core harbors immortal qi.
The mystical currents of immortal qi possessed the profound virtue of repairing and invigorating the vessel from within—a miraculous truth he had unraveled while mending the ailments of his mother, Jeong Inhwa.
Legends spoke that achieving absolute mastery over Shaolin’s Muscle-Tendon Classic allowed an ascetic to manifest the state of Vajra Indestructibility.
Though the secret scriptures detailing that supreme art of bodily conditioning were beyond his grasp, directly circulating immortal qi through his flesh held the power to produce a comparable miracle. In truth, he knew with absolute certainty that he could forge a mortal frame vastly superior to anything he achieved in his former life.
The swiftest route would be retracing the exact footprints I left behind in my previous existence. Yet that is a path I must strictly reject.
Too much of his fate had shifted. Not only had he attained profound martial insights that had completely eluded his grasp in his past life, but he had also inherited the sublime guidance of the Sound Empress. Having secured the ability to anchor his martial roots in countless new directions, merely treading the identical worn trail would be a foolish waste.
Even should progress crawl at a slower tempo, plunge deeper and spread wider. Steady and unshakeable, precisely as the tenets of Heaven-Covering dictate.
In his prior life, he had spent his bitter years withered by the lingering agony of qi deviation. He harbored no desire to taste such torment a second time. Thus, he was determined to polish both sinew and meridians into pure perfection. Step by methodical step, he would forge a seamless, unyielding body (é«”).
Balancing the triad of mind, qi, and body dictates that cultivating the form inherently elevates the inner breath and the spirit…
Such a challenge posed no obstacle. Retaining the profound enlightenment from the days preceding his regression made weaving the harmony of mind, qi, and body vastly more attainable than in his prior incarnation.
The river of sweat flowing from my flesh today will carry me toward greater heights. In this life, I shall break through the boundary beyond apex.
For a clan to stand as the undisputed greatest noble house under heaven, they required a singular existence: the Greatest Under Heaven. He fully intended to ascend that pinnacle. At the absolute minimum, he would seize the immortal glory reserved for the Ten Paragons Under Heaven.
A full year drifted by amidst such relentless toil. Then another season turned, marking the passing of a second year.
“Little Brother! Gwahahahahaha!”
A glorious piece of fortune suddenly descended upon the Baek Estate.
“Rangnang! Rangnaaang!”
Three whole years had slipped away since Gu Ak had first settled beneath the eaves of the Baek Estate. Apart from brief journeys beyond their borders, Gu Ak had lived in warm, affectionate harmony beside Yeo Arang. Yet despite those tranquil days, no whisper of an heir had ever surfaced, burdening him with the humiliating neighborhood moniker of a seedless watermelon. But now, Gu Ak had finally achieved his triumph.
“Our Rangnang carries a child! Gwahahahahaha!”
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