MDR 09

Chapter – 09

In the end, Moyong Hyuk had no choice but to grip his sword.

Raising his wooden sword toward his son, a son so dear he could put him in his eyes and feel no pain, Moyong Hyuk’s eyes fell on Moyong Jin, who was holding something surprising in his hands—a staff.

“A staff?”

“Strictly speaking, what I want to show you is spear technique,” Moyong Jin replied.

“Spear technique…?”

Moyong Hyuk’s gaze fixed on his son’s posture, which was astonishingly clean. His chest was open, yet there seemed to be no openings at all. Just that stance alone made Moyong Hyuk instinctively clutch his wooden sword tighter.

“I’ll yield the first attack.”

“Yes, Father. Then I’ll go.”

Without hesitation, Moyong Jin stomped the ground. Moyong Hyuk kept his eyes on his son, ready to respond, when something incredible happened.

Even though they were more than a jang apart, something black suddenly shot toward him at unbelievable speed.

Thwak!

Moyong Hyuk barely managed to block it, but the force was so great that his wooden sword broke and flew into the air.

“Wh-what…?”

Stunned by the impact that broke his sword, he realized that the tip of the staff was already right in front of him.

“I’ve won, Father.”

Moyong Jin stood there, smiling calmly.

One move. Just one move—and the wooden sword was destroyed, ending the duel.

The force that struck the wooden sword was shocking, but the more shocking fact was that he, an eleven-year-old, had defeated his father in a single move.

“How… how did you do that? That distance… over a jang. To cover such distance…”

“It’s faster if you see it with your own eyes,” Moyong Jin said.

With that, he distanced himself from his father and returned to his original stance—chest open, left hand on the staff.

Then, he lightly pushed off the ground, spinning the staff half a turn to grab the end with his right hand. He rotated his body with incredible momentum, swinging the staff with his whole body, eventually releasing his left hand and putting all the force into his right hand and the staff.

With his right arm fully extended, the result was astonishing: the distance of over a jang vanished as if by magic.

“I tried to do it as slowly as possible. Did you see it?”

Moyong Hyuk swallowed dryly and nodded.

This time, he saw it clearly. The flawless movements, the perfect stance.

Looking at his son, Moyong Hyuk felt a single tear roll down his cheek.

“Ah, Father?”

Sensing something unusual, Moyong Jin prepared himself—but Moyong Hyuk’s reflexes were ten times faster than his son’s, who had just readied himself.

“Our… our son is a martial genius! Hahaha! I can’t stop crying with joy! Oh… he’s magnificent! My son!”

Even though Moyong Jin quickly noticed his father’s reaction, he still ended up being caught.

‘Ugh… as expected of Nu-eupgokma (淚泣哭魔)! In crying, he surpasses even the masters of movement!’

Even Kwangma Cheon Gi-rin would have been impressed by such movement.

But the price was steep.

“F-Father! Stop… stop it! I’m going to die!”

After Moyong Hyuk’s frenzied tear-fest ended, Moyong Jin was left a tattered mess—but he had earned his father’s approval.

One might ask how an eleven-year-old could take over a martial school, but in the martial world, only the strong survive. Moyong Hyuk, being a martial man himself, recognized the difference in strength and chose to trust his son.

From that point on, Moyong Jin and Moyong Hyuk quickly began reorganizing Moyong Academy.

The funds given by Pang Gi-moon were more than enough, and they even purchased the inn next door to expand the academy.

“But is it wise to expand without considering the students? Many might have left after the recent events. Without students, what’s the point of expanding?”

“Don’t worry, Father. Who am I? I am Moyong Jin, the sole heir of the Moyong clan and your son. I have my ways, so trust me.”

“Is that so? Haha… If our son is that confident, I’ll trust you.”

If there were no students, he’d just create some.

The sudden desire to operate the academy wasn’t just ambition—it was to fund the treatment of my Nine Yang Meridian.

Whether buying medicine or other means, money was essential, and running an academy was the perfect solution. Selling items or food might work, but it didn’t suit me, and success was uncertain.

But an academy? Perfect.

I had countless martial arts skills from my previous life, and I had experience teaching—making it an ideal source of income.

I would sell my martial skills, earn money, and use it to heal my Nine Yang Meridian. That was my immediate goal.

“And if I turn this into the world’s top academy, surrounded by wealth forever… not a bad idea either. Heh heh heh.”

Even with his son’s eerie smile, Moyong Hyuk felt nothing but pride.

Watching his eleven-year-old son skillfully handle expansion plans and negotiations was remarkable. In fact, Moyong Jin seemed several times more capable than his father.

‘So-so… our son is truly admirable. He must have inherited it from his late mother…’

Remembering his departed wife, Moyong Hyuk became lost in thought.

By the time he looked for Moyong Jin again, his son had already disappeared—escaping just before Moyong Hyuk transformed into Nu-eupgokma.

“Crap… our son is quick to notice now!”

Hey, don’t be impressed by that…

Three months passed swiftly.

Unable to further cultivate his internal power, Moyong Jin devoted himself entirely to external training during this time.

Even though he already knew the movements mentally, executing them physically was a completely different matter.

Since he would soon have to teach others, he had to perfect his posture even without using internal power.

On a nameless peak of the Taihang Mountains, Moyong Jin closed his eyes, sword raised.

“Ugh…”

He inhaled deeply and thrust straight forward. The tip of his sword appeared to split into three as it pierced the air.

Moving another half-step forward, his shoulders fluttered like butterfly wings, swinging his sword in an arc that seemed to split into two at the tip.

It was like a phantom sword technique.

Moyong Jin continued without stopping. He drew the sword back, slicing his invisible opponent’s flank, twisted, and struck again.

The opponent retreated in surprise—but Moyong Jin leapt into the air, spun, and his sword descended from above.

Thud!

Breathing out slowly, he opened his eyes.

Twenty-Four Hand Plum Blossom Sword Technique (Ershisi Shou Meihua Jianfa, 二十四手梅花劍法).

This technique belonged to the Hua Shan Sect and was only taught to those who had mastered the Twenty-Four Hand Plum Blossom Sword sequence.

If performed perfectly, it was said to emit the scent of plum blossoms—a truth, to some extent.

The flowing movements resembled blooming plums, creating a visual “aroma” effect. Such a precise and beautiful technique was a symbol of Hua Shan, and it was never to be taught outside the sect.

If anyone saw Moyong Jin performing it, Hua Shan would be enraged.

“One breath, five forms. Perhaps due to my youth… or my Nine Yang Meridian, it’s still lacking,” Moyong Jin thought.

Though he compared himself to Cheon Gi-rin, the fact was remarkable: an eleven-year-old following the Twenty-Four Hand Plum Blossom Sword in five forms in one breath? Possibly unprecedented in martial history.

Standing up, he practiced the forms again:

• First Form, Plum Blossom at the Roadside
• Second Form, Plum Blossom Butterfly Dance
• Third Form, Plum Blossom Emitting Brilliance
• Fourth Form, Plum Blossom Opening and Guiding Sharpness
• Fifth Form, Plum Blossom Falling Sunlight

Reciting the form names and meanings as he executed each move.

He practiced so diligently because he intended to teach someone—he refused to have a student learn incorrectly.

Yet, Moyong Jin fully intended to teach the Twenty-Four Hand Plum Blossom Sword to someone, without considering the consequences or Hua Shan’s wrath.

Once Kwangma Cheon Gi-rin made a decision, it was unchangeable.

“This should be shown to the first student on the academy’s reopening day. A flashy, impressive sword technique—it will attract others too.”

Moreover, there was a first-come, first-served rule.

In truth, this Plum Blossom Sword was only a minor example of Moyong Jin’s expertise. His repertoire of external techniques alone numbered in the dozens, most secret techniques from various sects never taught outside.

In short, Moyong Jin was a walking library of secret martial arts.

Having practiced the Plum Blossom Sword multiple times, Moyong Jin was drenched in sweat.

“Ugh… maybe time for a short break.”

He collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. The evening slowly approached, and the red sunset began to paint the sky.

On the mountaintop, overlooking the cliffs, the view was breathtaking. The sunset added a divine touch, making Moyong Jin feel as if he were in the realm of immortals.

“Late autumn scenery… I feel like an immortal. Late… yet finally bearing fruit…”

At that moment, a sudden flash of clarity struck him like lightning.

Exhausted, facing the vast view, feeling like a celestial being, he was struck with self-reflection and insight.

Smack!

A crisp impact echoed through the mountains. Feeling something approaching, Moyong Jin hastily slapped himself on the face.

“Ouch! That’s… enlightenment, right? I almost got hit by it!”

With a single slap, he had banished the enlightenment that had just arrived.