Chapter 165
Envy and jealousy were never particularly special emotions for me.
In my life, I had far more experience with lacking than possessing.
At one point, I practically lived with jealousy always at my side.
Why does that child still have living parents?
Why was that person born with talent?
Why did that one get lucky and obtain a fateful encounter? And so on.
But, well… those feelings never lasted long.
Because I had pride in what I had built with my own hands,
because I had confidence I could achieve even more in the future,and because a bit of arrogance had taken root within me—that I had already surpassed those I once envied.
At some point, the "above" was no longer something to look up to, but something to climb toward. And so, there were few things that could make me feel envy again, and even if I did, the feeling would fade quickly.
Surely, even this reaction to Gak Myeong, who gained enlightenment mid-sparring, wasn’t a big deal either.
"Tsk."
No, the more I think about it, the more absurd it seems.
How could a Sub-Perfection master gain enlightenment from a single sparring match?
I don’t know what he saw in me, but… I wish he’d shown me too.
I only briefly watched him, my posture naturally slouching with annoyance.
Despite his size, sitting down brought him nearly eye level with me—that amused me enough to sheath my sword with a soft chuckle.
Well, what good would envy do me anyway?
Enlightenment is merely the trigger. Whether or not you can grasp it depends entirely on the preparations you've made up to that point.
Gak Myeong had been prepared. He would have gained enlightenment sooner or later, with or without me.
So there was no need to obsess over the fact that we just happened to be sparring when it happened—
"Namu Amitabha! Brother Gak Myeong has gained enlightenment not once but twice before the end of the year! And it’s all thanks to this good karmic encounter with Benefactor Cheon. I offer my sincere gratitude!"
“Uh, Monk Geum Myeong! Shouldn't you be maintaining protective duty? We’ll help!”
“Haha. Your intentions are admirable, but leave this to me.
From what I’ve seen, when someone like Brother Gak Myeong with his level of martial prowess gains enlightenment, he sometimes draws in nearby internal energy to its limit. Normally it’s fine, but… if you stay too close, you may suffer internal injury.”
“Ah! Understood! Then we’ll observe from a distance, Monk Geum Myeong!”
The young Shaolin disciples scampered away, and Geum Myeong kept offering his heartfelt thanks to me, face glowing with emotion.
But the only phrase echoing in my ears was:
"Twice in one year?"
I had managed to grasp a thread of willpower while facing the Blood Flame Fist Demon, but the last time I had experienced anything remotely like enlightenment was years ago—back when the Orthodox-Murim Alliance and the Demonic Cult were still in fierce conflict.
In the chaos of battle, where multiple warriors clashed, I had managed to survive by wielding killing intent like a sensory field.
Since then, I’ve only focused on becoming more familiar with what I already have, regaining what I’d lost.
But nothing that could be called true enlightenment.
And yet this Sub-Perfection master had a casual spar and gained enlightenment? For the second time this year?
Suddenly, my stomach began to ache.
At that moment, Tang Sowol approached with her usual bright smile—and instantly caught on.
“We don’t know who really won, but I suppose you now owe Shaolin a favor!…But what’s with that face? You look like someone forced to leave the training hall because it suddenly rained just after you drew your sword.”
“…Isn’t that a little too specific?”
“Well, it’s because soaked Little Cheon looks just like a drenched puppy—absolutely adorable, you know?”
“…?”
It was a comparison I’d never heard before in my life, and I was honestly at a loss.
But judging by her chuckles, Tang Sowol wasn’t just joking—she meant every word.
“You come trudging along all messy, and when I get a close look, your face is all sulky.”
“I’ve never done that.”
“But if I shake the water off your head and play with you a bit, you smile and your lips twitch.”
“…So you’ve been playing with me this whole time?”
“Ehay. It’s just a way of speaking. Just words.”
Tang Sowol giggled into her wide sleeve, and I found myself tempted to tug on her round ears peeking through her dark-green hair.
Just then, Seorin narrowed her eyes, watching the golden aura surrounding Gak Myeong, and spoke.
“Well then, how was it, you?”
“What do you mean?”
“The spar, of course. You looked like you were really starting to enjoy yourself when it got cut off—and then your opponent got enlightenment on top of it all. No wonder you’re so prickly.”
“I said it’s not like that.”
Ignoring my protest, Seorin poked Seol Lihyang’s shoulder beside her.
“What do you think, Hyang?”
“Hmm… He does seem a little moodier than usual,
but I don’t think he’s that upset.”
“You saw it too? Same here.”
“Why are you deciding my emotions between the two of you?”
“Isn’t it true?”
“…It’s roughly accurate.”
Though the ending wasn’t quite to my liking, the spar itself had been enjoyable.
For one, I got to experience a Buddhist martial art—something that had nearly vanished due to the Heavenly Demon annihilating entire sects before my regression.
The Immovable Wisdom King Steps, especially, were fascinating.
Instead of using the body to control force, it was about using force to control the body.
That immovable upper body, the way force still transferred even when attacks were deflected—it was likely all due to that reversal of principle.
This wasn’t something that could be imitated just by moving one’s body the same way.
It required incredibly complex internal energy manipulation, and a profound internal reservoir to support it.
But I didn’t need to be discouraged.
I had already achieved Divine Sword Unity, perfectly controlling every motion of my body.
A body that didn’t sway even during intense movement wasn’t something I considered extraordinary.
Since I’d seen it once, mimicking it to some extent was doable even now.
What truly impressed me wasn’t the flawless stance, but the way the impact transferred fully even when deflected.
I didn’t know the exact formulas behind the Immovable Wisdom King Steps or Fist, so I couldn’t copy it exactly.
But the fact that such a thing was possible—that alone meant I could experiment with my own method.
For example—
What if I didn’t just contain the energy of a sword strike within the blade itself, but extended it into the sword wind?
Even now, my sword wind was sharp enough to slice flesh,
but not enough to claim a life.
Against someone with properly trained external techniques, it was virtually useless.
And the further the distance, the more its effectiveness diminished exponentially.
In truth, sword wind was little more than a cheap trick for cutting down weaklings.
But if I could fully transfer the power of a strike into the sword wind, its applications would expand dramatically.
A hidden trump card in an unexpected moment… or perhaps—
“Mn. Like this, maybe…”
Focusing on the sensation in my fingertips, I swung a knife-hand through the air.
My hand sliced through the air. And as it cut, it seemed to carry some of the space along with it.
As if someone had pushed me from behind, the motion felt far smoother than usual.
It was only my hand, and the swing was half-hearted,
but had I used my sword, it would’ve looked like the blade suddenly accelerated mid-motion.
This wasn’t simply swinging a sword filled with inner energy.
It was pushing the sword forward using both the arm and the inner energy together.
With more elements to manage, I could barely execute it once by concentrating fully—and even then, it lacked noticeable effect due to my inexperience.
But once I grew used to it, its power would skyrocket when applied to techniques that valued speed, fluid movement, or explosive impact.
It wasn’t enough to be called enlightenment, but…if I gained even one thing from it, wasn’t that more than enough?
My path is one no one else has walked. So there’s no need to compare or rush.
If I just continue forward one step at a time…
“Ah.”
I forgot—I had a time limit. Until the Heavenly Demon’s invasion.
The joy of learning didn’t last long. Still, I wasn’t overcome with anxiety—just a tangle of complicated feelings. I sighed briefly.
That’s when Seorin narrowed her eyes again and said,
“What you just did… it’s quite similar.”
“There’s a clear difference in the fundamentals.
It only looks similar on the surface. The actual execution will differ greatly.”
Gak Myeong was able to pour everything he had into that unshakable, straightforward fist of the Immovable Wisdom King Fist. But I couldn’t do the same. At best, I could use it occasionally as support for my sword.
“Still, the fact that you sparred once and already stole something from it—isn’t that already remarkable? You grumbled about not gaining enlightenment, but you definitely walked away with something.”
“‘Stole’ is kind of a loaded word, isn’t it?”
“Regardless of your intent, that’s how people will see it. Just look over there, for example—at that wide-eyed disciple.”
Following her finger, I saw a young Shaolin monk standing with his mouth agape.
His name… I forgot.
But I remembered his face.
He was the runner-up at the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering and had been granted permission to observe today’s match, so he was likely considered a rising star within Shaolin.
After a brief silence, I spoke.
“If you’d like, I’ll show it to you again.”
His expression twisted bizarrely, like someone who’d just been cruelly deceived.
How unfair.
***
It had only been a short while since my goodwill—sharing what I learned at Shaolin without holding back—was twisted and misinterpreted as a cheap deception.
From time to time, bursts of internal energy leaked out from Gak Myeong, and in front of key Shaolin figures, including Abbot Jeong Hyeon and former Abbot Gakjeong, Gak Myeong finally opened his eyes.
He hadn’t reached the Flowering Stage. That wasn’t something one could reach so easily.
He remained a Sub-Perfection master, but his energy had clearly transformed.
He had leapt from a level I could cut through with intention
to one I could only barely cut through at full power.
After that…
There was a bit of commotion.
Some claimed I’d stolen Shaolin martial arts. But I managed to escape the controversy once I explained that what I had shown was only superficially similar, and fundamentally different in execution.
Unfortunately, they asked me to refrain from joining the second-class disciples' sparring matches.
“I miss the Namgung Clan’s boldness, letting me learn whatever I wanted.”
“That’s because the Namgung Clan is a little strange. This kind of reaction is normal. Shaolin’s actually being generous.”
“This is why noble families…”
“You do realize you’re part of a noble family now too, don’t you?”
“Speaking of which, shouldn’t we head to the Tang Clan soon?”
“Mn. We’ve stayed quite a while. We’ve built good relationships and sparred plenty. We shouldn’t leave Little Cheon unattended any longer.”
As we chatted about when to return and how we’d get there—
I suddenly sensed a familiar presence in the distance—along with a familiar puppet.
“Hm?”
“Huh?”
As Tang Sowol and I tilted our heads in sync at the strange familiarity, a middle-aged man in green robes appeared before us in a flash of lightness skill.
Tang Jincheon opened his mouth.
“It’s been a while, Sowol. And you too, son-in-law. What were you talking about?”
“Ah… We were just saying it might be time to return to the Tang Clan.”
“Hmm. So the conversation we had nearly a month ago still wasn’t settled. In the meantime, the Hwangbo Clan has been annihilated, and for some reason, the Namgung Clan sent us a generous gift of gold and rare poisons. I assumed everyone had returned home by now.”
“Ah, well…”
“You see, Father-in-law…”
“Also, I heard Shaolin made the rare decision to allow a woman inside their temple, and not long after, one of the Vajra Warriors gained enlightenment. A month feels longer than it is, doesn’t it? Yet somehow, it still wasn’t enough for you to plan your return.”
Tang Jincheon’s voice made it clear—he’d had enough.
Neither Tang Sowol nor I could say a word.
He gently patted our shoulders and spoke.
“You’ll leave tomorrow. I brought the family’s carriage,
so you need only sit back and rest.”
“Understood, Father-in-law.”
“Yes, Father…”
Thus, the long journey that began at the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering came to a close with Tang Jincheon’s arrival.
Rumors of the Ghost Shadow Thief’s Hidden Treasure would reach the Tang Clan months later, with a single encrypted letter arriving in their hands.