Eun Wi-ryong deeply respected his master, Eun Yu-do.
A benefactor who had taken in an orphaned child and raised him as his disciple. To Eun Wi-ryong, Eun Yu-do was a teacher, a father who had passed down his family name, an irreplaceable friend at times, and occasionally an irritating older brother.
But what did Eun Yu-do think of him?
A pitiful disciple, struggling in place and unable to take a single step forward.
Eun Yu-do never scolded him about his martial arts or forced him to pursue anything against his will. His words were comforting, of course: "Do whatever you wish."
But was that his true sentiment? Did he not want to cast out such a useless disciple?
Eun Wi-ryong stared blankly at the martial arena.
The duel between Namgung Su-a and Namgung Myeong. Watching it set his heart ablaze.
But he exhaled deeply, suppressing the heat that had risen within.
Martial arts—damned talents reserved for geniuses.
A few more curses spilled from his lips before his emotions settled.
“Eun Wi-ryong of the Jeomchang Sect…!”
At the referee’s call, Eun Wi-ryong moved his feet. He stepped onto the martial arena he had been gazing at.
Straightening his hunched shoulders under the weight of the crowd’s stares, he clung to the hilt of his sword as though it were a lifeline.
"I expect nothing."
If he expected nothing, he would not be disappointed.
Even if his sword failed to reach the sun, it wouldn’t matter. He had never believed it could, after all.
“Hwang Bo-hyeji of the Hwang Bo family…!”
Eun Wi-ryong looked at the woman standing opposite him.
Hwang Bo-hyeji met his gaze with a crooked smirk.
“Finally, I get to beat that shameless face of yours.”
“Go ahead. If you can.”
His stomach churned. If he lost here, what would become of him? The imagined scenarios were nothing but miserable.
Yet a part of him—a sly, hopeful part—wondered.
Perhaps he, too, had potential. Perhaps he could shoot down the sun in the sky.
“Begin!”
At the referee’s signal, Eun Wi-ryong drew his sword and watched Hwang Bo-hyeji intently.
Her expression twisted in irritation as she stepped forward.
“What’s with that face of yours?”
Twisting her waist, she pulled her arm back, her fist brimming with immense energy, and launched it forward.
Mountain-Crushing Fist (Taesan Geo-gwon).
A punch as heavy as a mountain itself.
Reflexively, Eun Wi-ryong executed a technique deeply ingrained in his body.
Lightning Cloud-Splitting Sword (Seomgwang Bun-un Geom).
A streak of light cut through the clouds as his sword shot forth.
Shiiing—!
It was faster than Hwang Bo-hyeji’s fist. Her eyes widened as the blade approached, its tip nearly touching her face.
She twisted her body, retracting her punch just in time.
Rip!
Her clothes fluttered as she spun, launching another punch.
Boom!
Eun Wi-ryong blocked it with his sword, but the force pushed him back.
Hwang Bo-hyeji flexed her aching fist, her eyes fierce.
“How pathetic.”
What was this response? That dazzling opening strike, followed by nothing worth noting.
It was worse than the Eun Wi-ryong she had seen years ago.
“Are you really planning to give up entirely?”
Her frustration boiled over. While she had climbed her way here with near-fatal effort, he seemed to have regressed, frozen in place with lifeless eyes.
“I told you. Martial arts are meaningless for those who aren’t destined for them. No amount of dedication changes that.”
Eun Wi-ryong assumed a stance again. His words belied the flawless precision in his posture.
His talent and effort were evident to anyone who had witnessed his swordsmanship even once.
How much passion and diligence must he have poured into his sword to achieve such mastery?
And yet, how could he let a few wasted years ruin it all?
Hwang Bo-hyeji couldn’t forgive it.
“Well then, let’s see how the so-called ‘failure’ fares when they’re utterly beaten.”
Perhaps that would snap him out of it.
Clenching her teeth, Hwang Bo-hyeji’s body erupted with a rich, earthen-colored internal energy.
Mountain Thunder Divine Fist (Taesan Byeokryeok Singwon).
The expectations of her family. The hopes of her mother. They weighed heavily upon her shoulders.
“I’ll never lose to someone like that.”
She stepped forward and launched her punch.
Boom—!!
The air roared as her fist cut through it.
Eun Wi-ryong twisted his body at the last moment, his eyes sharp. In that instant, his sword cleaved through the air.
Slice—!
His target was her shoulder. Hwang Bo-hyeji quickly assessed the situation.
Ignoring the sword, she stepped forward again.
Thud!
The blade buried itself in her shoulder. She reinforced it with internal energy but couldn’t completely block the attack. Blood splattered.
Eun Wi-ryong’s eyes widened. His gaze wavered, and the tremor passed to his sword, causing its tip to falter.
“You…!”
Hwang Bo-hyeji swung her fist.
Boom!
The punch landed in Eun Wi-ryong’s abdomen, sending him sprawling across the ground.
“Cough…!”
Rolling several times, Eun Wi-ryong lifted his head. Looking up at Hwang Bo-hyeji, he gritted his teeth and tried to rise, only to find it all laughable.
“What’s the point of continuing?”
Even if he stood, even if he fought back desperately, what would change?
Eun Wi-ryong’s lips parted.
Surrender.
But before the words escaped, his eyes caught sight of the audience.
His master was watching him.
There was no disappointment or scorn in that gaze. Only a faint, gentle smile.
Why.
Anger whipped through his body.
Why didn’t his master rebuke him? Why wasn’t he disappointed, even after seeing such a pathetic display?
If there were no expectations, there would be no disappointment.
Was it that his master had never expected anything of him in the first place?
Eun Wi-ryong knew such thoughts were foolish, but his heart refused to follow his reason.
Staggering to his feet, he looked at Hwang Bo-hyeji. She, too, looked at him.
Seeing the ugly, tangled emotions in his eyes, she smirked.
“That’s better.”
“You know nothing.”
Eun Wi-ryong’s sword began to vibrate faintly. The subtle tremor grew into a larger ripple, the tip of his blade multiplying into phantom images.
“Be careful.”
His sword shot forward like a streak of light.
Shiiiing—!
Trailing faint afterimages, it closed in on Hwang Bo-hyeji.
She clenched her teeth and threw a single punch.
Boom!
The countless sword strikes dissipated. But the clash left wounds on her body.
Hwang Bo-hyeji advanced another step. Eun Wi-ryong swung his sword dozens of times.
Boom!
Another clash. The sword was broken apart, and her body bore fresh wounds.
The arena floor was stained with blood. Her footprints headed only forward.
Eun Wi-ryong, who had once led, had rusted while he hesitated. The straightforward Hwang Bo-hyeji had steadily advanced, surpassing him before he realized it.
Boom!
Another strike shattered his sword. Eun Wi-ryong’s eyes quivered.
He couldn’t win. He knew that, but it was already too late.
The frustration he had buried deep erupted uncontrollably.
“Why—!!”
Master, Eun Yu-do. Why don’t you correct me?
Why do you simply believe in a worthless disciple like me?
Tears welled up in his eyes, the sunlight reflecting in them as they fell.
The dazzling sunlit arena, the steady sweat of Hwang Bo-hyeji, the blood dripping onto the ground—everything shone vividly.
Her fist drew back.
The distance was now close enough. If that punch landed, he wouldn’t withstand it.
Before he could think, his body moved.
The Lightning Cloud-Splitting Sword. A technique etched deeply into his very being, it unfolded flawlessly.
Eun Wi-ryong saw it from above, as though detached.
His body moved, his mind following, and his eyes caught sight of the sun breaking through the clouds.
The sunlight cleaved through the clouds and descended.
Frustration boiled over.
He defied that light, returning to the source. He gazed at the sun that cast its light.
If only he could pierce a hole in that damnable sun.
The sunlight that descended gathered in his blade, which turned its ungrateful edge against the sun itself.
"A frog in a well glimpses the sky, knowing not its depth. Yet if the sun reached out to the frog, would it remain unreachable?"
Eun Wi-ryong’s sword reached for the sky.
“I see.”
The sword of Jeomchang pierced the sun, leaving a black dot at its center.
Shooting the Sun (Sa-il).
Eun Wi-ryong smiled as he looked at the blade that had extended beyond the sun.
“Haha…!”
Boom!
Hwang Bo-hyeji’s fist slammed into his abdomen.
She froze momentarily, startled, while Eun Wi-ryong, sprawled on the ground, continued to laugh.
“Haha, hahaha…!”
He glanced up at the sun in the sky, still pristine and flawless.
The sensation of piercing it had felt like an illusion.
Yet Eun Wi-ryong understood. If he pushed just a little further, endlessly forward, the sun would be there.
And he realized, it wasn’t the sun he wished to bring down.
Rather, he sought to transcend it, to embrace it.
That was what he truly desired.
“I understand now, Master.”
Though his doubts had clouded his vision, knowing the truth meant there was no reason to remain lost.
Eun Wi-ryong extended his hand. The sunlight met his, warm like his master’s faith.
This was the way.
This was Shooting the Sun (Sa-il).
"The winner! Hwang Bo-hyeji of the Hwang Bo family!"
The referee's declaration echoed across the arena, but not one elder from the Sixteen Great Houses spoke a word.
Amidst the thunderous cheers of the crowd, Seo-jun let out a small laugh.
"Is he crazy or what?"
Abandoning a duel midway to thrust his sword at the sky?
As Seo-jun chuckled, an elderly man nearby joined in with a hearty laugh.
"Haha, well, my disciple isn’t exactly sane."
"Oh, he’s your disciple? Congratulations."
"Congratulations? Hah! That wretched kid. If he was going to end up like this, why waste so much time dithering around?"
Despite his grumbling, the old man's face beamed with pride, his grin threatening to split his cheeks.
"You’d better take him back quickly. If he organizes his realization properly, he could reach the transcendent level within a few years."
"Hmm, you’re right."
Still smiling, the old man leapt into the arena with a single bound.
Eun Wi-ryong, lying on the ground and laughing softly, looked up at him.
"You’ve come, Master."
"Yes, I’m here, my disciple."
"Master."
"What is it?"
"What is the Way ?"
"I don’t know. If I knew, I’d already be an immortal."
"Do you truly not know?"
At Eun Wi-ryong’s probing gaze, Eun Yu-do burst into laughter.
"What your heart truly desires. I believe that’s what the Way is."
"Then doesn’t that mean the Way differs for everyone?"
"Of course it does. People are different, so how could their paths be the same?"
Eun Yu-do bent down to look his disciple in the eye.
"The Way isn’t a destination, but a path. The foreigners call it a way , don’t they?"
"What nonsense are you spouting, Master?"
"Why do you think the Way is called the Way? Because it’s a road, not the end. It’s the journey toward the destination."
"I saw the sun."
Eun Wi-ryong stared intently at his master.
Shooting the Sun (Sa-il). Reaching beyond himself, surpassing his master, climbing higher than anyone else.
Grasping the hand extended toward him and rising, to become a disciple his master could be proud of.
"Maybe your eyes are broken."
"My eyesight is fine, Master."
"Cheeky brat."
Clicking his tongue, Eun Yu-do continued.
"If you’ve seen it, then go. That’s your Way."
"Haha…! Understood, Master."
"Simple-minded kid."
Instead of replying, Eun Wi-ryong stood up.
Looking toward the high spectator seats, he caught sight of Jin Gi-jae-cheon.
"Thank you, Senior!"
He shouted loudly, and a voice transmitted directly into his mind.
[For what?]
["A frog in a well gazes at the sky." That phrase.]
[Did it help?]
[Yes. Even in the small sky of a well, the sun still rises.]
[Well said.]
[You seem carefree, but I didn’t expect such depth from you.]
[What the hell, kid?]
Cheeky brat.
Seo-jun smirked, waving his hand dismissively.
It seemed certain that the martial world would soon gain another transcendent.
Of course, if Eun Wi-ryong stumbled at the Life and Death Threshold , it could be disastrous. But judging by the current momentum, there didn’t seem to be any major obstacles.
With a few years to solidify his foundation, Eun Wi-ryong would likely challenge the transcendent realm and succeed.
To think that someone who had been stuck for so long could change so dramatically with a single realization.
"Well, thanks to him…"
Seo-jun gazed up at the sun.
Forming a finger gun with his thumb and index finger, he aimed at the sun and mimed shooting.
"Bang."
For a brief moment, it looked as if a black hole appeared in the sun.
Seo-jun grinned.
Shooting the Sun (Sa-il). The principle seemed so clear, as if it were within his grasp.
"Watching from the side makes it easy to pick up crumbs, doesn’t it?"
Thanks, Jeomchang.