Chapter 41: Chapter 41

Chapter 41: Attending Together

Two days passed quickly.

Ten days since I returned—the day the poetry gathering opened.

"Honey, in the end you trained with the sword all last night again, didn't you?"

I saw a sword path through poetry at Scholar Bang Wongeol's house. I devoted myself to training so as not to lose what I'd realized.

Last night was the same.

However, while paying attention to movements inside the house, when Taebok woke I quickly went in to change his diaper, helped Jayeong with nursing, and after finishing, burped Taebok, then held him more to put him to sleep.

Then I devoted myself to the sword.

A martial artist with a baby devotes himself .

"Fortunately, the sword path obtained at Scholar Bang's house is a slow sword."

A slow sword chasing time.

The reason time was slow yet fast was only because it didn't stop.

Following that time, Mukheun also didn't stop.

If it were a swift sword or tyrannical sword, it would have made quite loud sounds, but the slow sword I obtained—

like time that had approached before one knew, made no sound.

Thanks to that, I could continue training without disturbing Taebok's sleep.

Watching me smile gratifyingly, Jayeong also smiled.

"You really. Better to quickly move and make one storage room a training hall. Or how about getting a separate storage room even now?"

Different from a meditation room focusing on breathing regulation. A training hall for sword practice must be spacious.

"No. I don't want to be apart from you and Taebok. I'll make a training hall after we move. Until then, I'll manage somehow."

The me now was someone who wanted to be by my family's side somehow.

Ultimately, what martial arts learns is a person.

Even learning the same martial arts, it differs slightly according to the person.

Everything from the tempo of techniques to the nature of inner power differs.

While people contain martial arts, martial arts also contain people.

But I newly learned this time.

Even if the same person trains martial arts, results differ if the environment differs.

In my previous life, I trained martial arts amid successive missions. A truly harsh environment.

Huh, the Ink Sword Hero's sword technique is extremely dense, yet why does it also feel so desperate?

An evaluation from some past master.

What had I answered? I think I said it really was desperate.

Because there was no other path for Taebok, it was more desperate.

I leave sleeping Taebok in the room and go out to the courtyard to train.

While moving the sword, I briefly stop and sharpen my hearing.

Unlike what I'd imagined before birth, babies sleep making quite many sounds.

Kking, kkiing, golong, gorolong.

After hearing those sounds and smiling once, I move the sword again.

Something's different.

Martial arts become very different.

This life, what appearance will my martial arts have in the end?

"But honey, is it okay?"

"You said you're going to the poetry gathering. Saying you must compose poetry that ranks."

Visiting Scholar Bang's house was because of poetry.

I conveyed the request to Magistrate Yang Daeryang.

It was a request to attend Guyang Je's banquet since I would compose poetry and approach closely.

[I'll attend. I'll also reduce security numbers as requested. Show the Ink Sword Hero's martial prowess. But does the hero also compose poetry well?]

Since he readily accepted, now it was my turn.

Time to compose good poetry.

"Asking if it's okay to just train with the sword ."

Jayeong's question was proper.

"Look. I composed one poem at Scholar Bang's house."

"That's right. This is the poem I'll submit at the poetry gathering. How does it look to you?"

She began reading the poem while furrowing her brows.

I waited for her reaction with a pounding heart.

"Oh, you finished reading? How is it?"

She looked at me with shining eyes.

"This crap... is poetry?"

"If the paper the poetry is written on had a soul, it would appeal to rather have ink painted on it to be made black."

I hadn't heard wrong.

A scathing critique flew in.

"Even a layperson like me can tell this is a complete mess."

She looked at me with contempt, not worry or concern.

"Hmm. Indeed that level."

"What do you mean indeed! What did Scholar Bang say?"

He couldn't help but be impressed.

Uuk. To compose such a thing. Uuuuk.

Thinking about it, was that vomiting rather than admiration?

If that was vomiting, and layperson Jayeong's critique was correct?

"Then everything is according to my plan."

"Not bluffing. Don't worry. It's really according to plan."

The last sentence in the magistrate's letter caught my eye.

[But does the hero also compose poetry well?]

Swoosh—I pushed the letter away. Shoved it under the basket on the table.

"Has the person to do disguise arrived?"

"Yes, among Luoyang's Rogues' Guild members, someone skilled in disguise."

I requested the Rogues' Guild since I needed a higher-level disguise than when infiltrating Xinyang Trading.

"Mm, can't keep them waiting."

"They said it's fine though? There's still time too."

I hastily left my seat.

Leaving one poem on the table.

So, who did I become through disguise?

"Scholar of Luoyang Bang Wongeol's son, Mister Bang Yuyo has arrived."

Precisely Scholar Bang's son.

I became the fourth son, Bang Yuyo.

"Will you come this way?"

One warrior approached.

He glanced at something held in his hand—probably a small physiognomy manual.

It's fine. My face now—

A generous impression with a thick bulbous nose.

Light eyebrows and soft lip line.

Even hands were disguised so calluses from gripping the sword didn't show.

They became plump hands with good flesh.

Since they couldn't investigate guests attending the poetry gathering by frisking their bodies, this was perfect.

"Did you bring writing materials?"

While saying something trivial, he shot eye pressure at me.

The warrior simultaneously raised his momentum.

Checking whether inner power reacted unconsciously.

'Such eye pressure is nothing.'

Even Demonic Cult members' gazes determined on a death battle were daily life.

A security warrior glaring a bit, so what.

"Hehe, a warrior's gaze is good. Captain Guyang's subordinates have magnificent spirit. Hahaha."

"You're too kind. Hahaha."

I smoothly passed inspection and mixed among literati.

Though Bang Wongeol seemed known among Luoyang literati regardless of examination success—

"I am Bang Yuyo. I greet senior literati."

"Oho. I heard Scholar Bang's fourth son was away?"

"I briefly returned to see father."

The real Bang Yuyo was studying abroad.

When in Luoyang, he apparently had an introverted personality and didn't show his face often before people.

"Will I recognize you?"

"Aren't you Scholar Kwak?"

"Right. Seems it's been years since I last saw you. You seem taller?"

"Yes. Much time has passed."

Scholar Bang had asked close people not to attend this poetry gathering.

Other than that, I'd memorized the few adults Bang Yuyo would know. Follow current novels on novel(ꜰ)ire.net

"I'll briefly view the reservoir... Ah, this."

I scanned the reservoir that would be the poetry gathering's stage.

'This isn't a reservoir but an entire lake?'

When saying reservoir, one thinks of ponds made to supply water to farms.

Even holding a poetry gathering, one thinks at most they made the pond large.

This wasn't that level.

People also shared impressions similar to mine.

"To create an entire lake—Banyang Trading must have spent much money."

"But I don't understand."

"This year's farming also ended, so why make such a lake?"

"Who knows? Perhaps planning for next year?"

"That can't be. This place doesn't lack water to begin with."

The moment I heard the conversation, another conversation came to mind. A conversation heard in the past.

The Gishan Three Swords lost their lives unable to do anything.

What? Masters at the Three Swords' level couldn't do anything? Did a demon head appear? Beast demon? Corpse demon?

Not that. They fell to water arts.

The boat sank. Though their martial prowess was high, surrounded by those using water arts in the middle of a great river, they couldn't do anything.

Damn... Water arts—the Demonic Cult bastards have the advantage...

Only sects with rivers, lakes, and seas as main activity areas trained in water arts.

The Nine Sects One Gang and Five Great Clans, the Murim Alliance's main forces, didn't treat water arts importantly.

As a result, where water existed, the Murim Alliance had to fold before the Demonic Cult.

'A water arts unit hid and trained here.'

At minimum, the water arts unit active on the Luo River—this would have been their training ground.

'Demonic Cult bastards. As expected, they weren't just quiet this period. Invasion preparation was in full swing.'

The water arts master who entered with Cloud-Severing Sword might be the one who would create water arts units going forward.

If so, he must be eliminated, even if not today's matter.

'I don't even have one training hall at home. Yet Demonic Cult bastards even make lakes to train?'

Enjoying everything with lifeblood wrung from Luoyang.

'Eliminate. Eliminate them. I should tell the magistrate to fill in the lake.'

Since he's friendly to me, if I explain well, he'll listen.

After glaring at the lake interior for a while, I turned my head toward the magistrate's still-empty seat.

White canopies lined long along the lakeside.

The central round table was where Magistrate Yang Daeryang would sit.

To the right of the still-empty seat sat Guyang Je, to the left a regional literatus.

The table where I'd sit was far from the magistrate.

Since it was seating for regional rising talents submitting poetry today, everyone's features looked young.

Not only seating arrangement but the order of events was traditional.

Enjoy the banquet then formally compose poetry.

After honored guest the magistrate, host Captain Guyang, and established literati graded—

the magistrate boards a boat with top-ranked winners.

The final highlight was the moment winners recited their own poetry toward lakeside people from the boat.

Of course, today one event would be added.

The magistrate assassination attempt.

"The Magistrate has arrived!"

Yang Daeryang revealed himself.

All people at the lake rose at once to greet the magistrate.

After greetings from Guyang Je and senior literati ended—

"These are young literati participating in today's poetry gathering."

The group including me also went before the magistrate and bowed heads together.

"We greet the Magistrate."

Unlike when meeting in the alley, a dignified appearance properly wearing official robes.

I had already informed him who I'd disguise as.

'Isn't using me as bait too bold a move?'

'Who accepted that move?'

We conversed with gazes.

We scattered to respective seats while passing.

I headed toward a round table where eight people sat together.

At the head seat, Guyang Je was saying something to the magistrate.

Wondering if there might be clues in the conversation, I carefully operated Eight Sensations.

Eight Sensations that not only detected natural energy but expanded my senses.

I tried to hear what Guyang Je was saying with expanded hearing.

Amid sounds of chairs moving competitively—

Someone sitting at the same table as me—

'Caught by aura sense.'

Together with water's natural energy,

I felt turbid and viscous energy—that is, demonic arts energy.

I turned my face toward him.

"Shall we exchange names? What is brother's honorable name?"

A refined scholarly face resembling someone?

"I'm called Guyang An."

"Captain Guyang Je's relative."

I slowly loosened my hands.

You? That water arts master?

Not waiting underwater but a poetry gathering participant?