Absolute Regression

Chapter 575: It’s Not So Bad for a Man to Get a Few Bruises, Right?

The next day, while heading to attend the White Dragon Class, Seo Jin asked worriedly.

“What if he tries to kill the Young Cult Leader again by taking us hostage?”

In response, Lee Ahn, who was walking a few steps ahead, glanced at Geom Mugeuk’s back and replied with composure.

“The Young Cult Leader will protect us.”

But Seo Jin remembered clearly how tense and explosive the situation had been the previous day.

“If you're staying behind because of me, I’ll be fine.”

Seo Jin was concerned that Lee Ahn might be pushing herself to stay behind just for the sake of her revenge.

When Lee Ahn stopped walking, Seo Jin also came to a halt.

“You asked me what kind of person the Young Cult Leader is, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“If he had decided we needed to leave, the Young Cult Leader would’ve packed our bags himself and sent us away. Honor? Justification? Pride? He’s not someone who pushes himself for those things. If the Young Cult Leader says nothing, it means everything is fine.”

After returning from class yesterday, Geom Mugeuk had gone out for a while. No one asked where he went, but it was clear the outing was in preparation for what was to come.

And in the early morning, she had heard the sound of his room’s window opening. That meant he hadn’t slept at all.

Whenever Lee Ahn lay on her bed, staring at the stars through the half-open window, she would think, surely, Geom Mugeuk was also looking at those same stars.

“If the Young Cult Leader said the sun wouldn’t rise tomorrow, I’d bet my entire fortune on it.”

That was the extent of Lee Ahn’s absolute trust in Geom Mugeuk.

“Please tell me when you make that bet.”

“You want to bet with me on the sun not rising?”

“Ah, no, I can’t do that. Since I left home, I’ve had so many expenses to cover.”

Lee Ahn and Seo Jin looked at each other and laughed.

At that moment, Geom Mugeuk turned and looked back at them from up ahead.

“What are you doing? Hurry up!”

The two women resumed walking. As they walked, Lee Ahn continued with another dose of optimism.

“The Young Cult Leader isn’t just any expert. With his level of skill—and considering that anyone who could pose a threat to someone like him would have to be equally powerful—I think hostages would be meaningless. It’s like this: if someone’s strong enough for the Young Cult Leader to defeat, then even if they took us hostage, he’d still win. And if someone’s so strong he can’t beat them, they wouldn’t need to take hostages in the first place.”

Seo Jin had lived her entire life as the direct blood of the Ghost Clan, lacking nothing. And now, for the first time, she was feeling an unfamiliar yet powerful desire.

“I want to become stronger too. Truly.”

That was why she wanted to fight alongside the strong in this world, not as a hostage, but as a main player.

How could Lee Ahn not understand her feelings? She had once felt the exact same desire and had thrown herself into training with reckless abandon.

That was what happened when one spent time around Geom Mugeuk. It wasn’t because anyone told her to do it. It was simply because the path that man walked was one that couldn’t be followed unless you ran hard enough to make your heart burst.

“If that’s what you want, don’t ever doze off during class!”

The Sword King’s second lesson began.

Today, he appeared a little different from yesterday. The worn martial uniform and hair tied back tightly were the same, and he still carried a single iron sword—but today, he came barefoot.

“Try going barefoot sometimes. It helps you feel the energy of the ground. It’s pretty nice.”

The trainees chuckled when they saw him with his shoes hanging from the side opposite his sword.

He had even dragged in a large box.

“Got this from the storage room.”

When he opened the box, which was thickly covered in dust, it was filled to the brim with wooden practice swords.

In the early days of the Golden Dragon Martial Hall, trainees used wooden swords for the first few years after joining.

But as the hall became more famous and began selecting trainees through examinations, wooden sword classes had quietly disappeared.

“Alright, each of you take one.”

Until now, everyone had trained with their own real swords, so the sudden introduction of wooden ones left the trainees puzzled.

“You punks, swinging real swords already? Who are you trying to fight? Even wooden swords are too good for you lot.”

The trainees looked dumbfounded as they picked up the wooden swords. Between his laid-back attitude, being barefoot, and now the sudden switch to wooden swords, he seemed every bit the slacker instructor.

As Lee Ahn picked up a wooden sword, she sent Geom Mugeuk a sound transmission.

—This is unexpected. I thought he’d set a grim atmosphere with even more realistic combat drills.

But the reply from Geom Mugeuk was just as unexpected.

—I’m even more afraid now.

—Huh? Why?

—You’re going to swing these wooden swords without holding back, aren’t you?

—!

Lee Ahn, that wooden sword in the Sword King’s hand will be sharper than any real blade.

Geom Mugeuk looked down at the wooden sword in his hand.

‘Come to think of it, how long has it been since I held one of these?’

He remembered the day he first picked up a real sword at his father’s training hall.

But now that he thought about it, while he had always considered the day he first held a real sword to be special, he had completely forgotten the day he first held a wooden one. And perhaps… that moment had been even more important.

The martial arts taught at the Golden Dragon Martial Hall were based on the Golden Dragon Sword Art.

The Golden Dragon Sword Art had played the most critical role in making the Golden Dragon Martial Hall the best in the Central Plains—but not because its sword techniques were particularly destructive. It had been designed so that no matter what internal cultivation method one had learned, the sword techniques wouldn’t clash with it.

“The Golden Dragon Sword Art consists of twenty-six techniques.”

At this, the trainees corrected him.

“It’s twenty-nine.”

“Oh, was it?”

The trainees wore expressions that said I knew it, but the Sword King didn’t look embarrassed in the least.

“If you master this sword art properly, you could give the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult a good spanking.”

The trainees laughed at that comment. The one who laughed the loudest among them was Geom Mugeuk. He showed no sign of offense and fully enjoyed the Sword King's joke.

Lee Ahn could feel it. The invisible clash of auras between the two men. And both of them were enjoying it.

“Now then, today we’ll learn the first three forms of the Golden Dragon Sword Art.”

The Sword King stepped to the front, holding a wooden sword.

Only Geom Mugeuk could truly sense it. Though it was only a wooden sword, the moment he took it in hand, his entire presence changed.

What kind of presence would he show if he drew a real sword? The thought alone was terrifying. The Sword King with a sword in hand felt like an entirely different being.

“I don’t usually show this stuff just anywhere.”

The trainees took him as a playful instructor spouting theatrics, but Geom Mugeuk paid attention to every single word and gesture. The trainees had no idea who they were learning swordsmanship from.

The Sword King’s movements were incredibly smooth. He seemed to exert no strength at all—it almost looked like he was dancing.

Everyone tilted their heads in confusion. The Golden Dragon Sword Art they had learned so far had always been fast and forceful.

So they all thought the same thing. Looks like he’s just trying to breeze through the lesson again, like yesterday.

He even changed his movement midway through a form.

“Ah, this way’s better.”

Everyone shook their heads, but Geom Mugeuk saw something different.

He could tell the Sword King had reinterpreted the fierce Golden Dragon Sword Art with a foundation of softness.

How long could he have possibly studied the Golden Dragon Sword Art? Likely, he had only skimmed the secret manual briefly to serve as a temporary instructor. And yet, he had reinterpreted the entire martial art and presented it as something new.

After finishing the demonstration, the Sword King sat on the box that had held the wooden swords and brushed the dust off his feet.

“Did you all watch carefully?”

Then his gaze turned toward Geom Mugeuk.

From that look, Geom Mugeuk could tell.

'The fight had begun.'

'This is how I wield it—now how will you display the Golden Dragon Sword Art?'

It was both a feeler to probe Geom Mugeuk’s skill and a game played between the ones who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship—and also, the opening of a battle where heads could fly at any moment.

“Alright, now all of you, try it!”

The trainees simultaneously thrust their wooden swords forward. As if to say, This is what the Golden Dragon Sword Art looks like, they executed the forms swiftly and with strength, just as they had learned.

A few tried to imitate what the Sword King had demonstrated, but quickly abandoned it, feeling foolish, and returned to the original techniques.

Among everyone present, the only ones who followed the Sword King's demonstration exactly as he had shown were Geom Mugeuk, Lee Ahn, and Seo Jin.

Of course, the only one who truly understood the Sword King's reinterpretation was Geom Mugeuk.

His movements mirrored the Sword King’s perfectly.

Smoothly, like flowing water.

He poured his full devotion into every single movement, executing the three forms of the Golden Dragon Sword Art with precision.

A flicker of surprise passed through the Sword King’s gaze as he watched Geom Mugeuk.

'He’s really doing it perfectly on the first try?'

“Geom Yeon, step forward.”

The Sword King called Geom Mugeuk out.

Lee Ahn felt nervous deep inside, but Geom Mugeuk walked forward without hesitation, wooden sword in hand.

“Let’s see a demonstration.”

Geom Mugeuk flawlessly replicated exactly what the Sword King had shown again.

He did not include any personal interpretation in the technique. He executed the martial art exactly as it had been demonstrated by the Sword King.

One should only incorporate their own interpretation after mastering the original form perfectly.

Knowing that creativity could sometimes become a trap that hindered the true essence, Geom Mugeuk strove to remain faithful to the original.

Laughter burst out here and there. To the trainees, it looked ridiculous. The instructor’s demonstration had seemed strange enough—now they thought Geom Mugeuk was just mimicking it awkwardly to win favor.

Some trainees even openly scoffed. Since becoming a Shield Geom Yeon rather than being just a new recruit, Geom Mugeuk had begun attracting jealousy and hostility.

Once the demonstration was over, the Sword King turned to the trainees and asked:

“Alright, who wants to try a friendly duel using the forms we learned today?”

As everyone hesitated and looked around, one person stepped forward.

“I’ll give it a shot.”

It was Yu Gwang. He had no personal grudge against Geom Yeon.

He stepped forward for two reasons: part of him wanted to catch Lee Ahn’s attention, and the other part was curious. Why did she keep this guy so close? What made him so special?

“Face each other and perform the forms as learned.”

The two began their exchange.

Yu Gwang performed the forms swiftly and powerfully, just as he usually practiced. Meanwhile, Geom Mugeuk moved with the utmost fluidity, just as taught in today’s lesson.

The issue was, Yu Gwang’s speed made it seem like the exchange wouldn’t work as a proper friendly duel.

Yet their movements aligned perfectly.

When Geom Mugeuk had demonstrated alone, he had looked slow—but now, matching forms with Yu Gwang, he didn’t appear slow at all.

So everyone assumed Geom Mugeuk had simply performed slowly before and was now executing the forms faster.

Only Lee Ahn saw the truth clearly.

'His speed is exactly the same as before. It only looked slow because it was so smooth.'

But what truly surprised her came right after that.

When facing each other and performing the Golden Dragon Sword Art forms, the third form was designed for the two swords to clash in midair.

And at the exact moment the two wooden swords collided midair—

Saaaak.

The wooden sword in Yu Gwang’s hand was sliced cleanly.

Everyone watching, including Yu Gwang himself, was stunned.

If a wooden sword broke, it should have made a sharp cracking sound. But what they heard was the sound of paper being sliced by a blade.

No one was more shocked than Yu Gwang. He looked down at his severed sword. The cut surface was smooth, as though it had been sliced by an actual sword.

Even more shocking was that he hadn’t felt any impact at the moment of contact.

'Was it already cut from the beginning?'

That was the only explanation he could manage.

Aside from the Sword King, the only one to grasp the truth of the moment was, of course, Lee Ahn.

Geom Mugeuk’s movements were as fluid as water—but this was no ordinary ‘flowing water’.

The kind of fluidity that, when concentrated into a single point, could cut through anything. Water that moved so fast, it looked as though it wasn’t moving at all.

The Sword King’s reinterpretation—softness imbued with extreme strength—was fully contained in the form Geom Mugeuk had just executed.

A glimmer of emotion flashed in the Sword King’s eyes. With just one demonstration, Geom Mugeuk had perfectly absorbed his interpretation.

The Sword King strode toward Geom Mugeuk in long, firm steps.

'You... are worthy of dying by my sword!'

His steps carried the intensity of someone who might draw his sword at any moment.

As always, the hardest part of facing the Sword King was enduring the moments when you had to do absolutely nothing.

Fortunately, there was no sudden strike this time either.

Instead, the Sword King came to a halt right in front of Geom Mugeuk and extended his wooden sword. From that gesture, it was clear—he was challenging him to a friendly duel.

'What were you doing here in this martial hall? What were you thinking when you appeared before me? And what are you thinking now, preaching martial arts?'

Geom Mugeuk stared at the Sword King for a moment, then nodded.

'So, are you a man who keeps his promises?'

As if arranged beforehand, both of them moved at the exact same time.

Their movements were identical. The direction of their swords, their speed, the placement of their feet—everything mirrored one another as though they were performing in front of a mirror. If overlaid, the two would appear as a single person executing the forms.

Their wooden swords grazed each other’s shoulders, brushed past their faces. They performed the forms precisely as they had demonstrated just a while ago. A slight shift in the angle of a hand would have meant a stab to the face, but neither of them deviated from the forms.

And even during all of this, their gazes never broke—they stared directly into each other’s eyes.

At last, when the third form was reached, the two wooden swords clashed midair.

Saaaak!

The wooden sword in Geom Mugeuk’s hand was sliced smoothly, just like Yu Gwang’s earlier.

Riding the momentum, the Sword King’s wooden sword shot straight toward Geom Mugeuk’s chest.

And it wasn’t just anyone’s sword—it was the Sword King’s. If it landed properly, it could have been a lethal blow.

Saaaak.

But before it could even touch Geom Mugeuk’s chest, the Sword King’s wooden sword was also sliced apart like paper and fell to the ground. Though it dropped a moment later, in truth, both swords had been severed at the same time.

“Ahh! What a shame!”

The Sword King jumped barefoot with exaggerated regret.

What bloomed on his face wasn’t rage—it was a thrill beyond words. The joy of having someone before him who could cut his sword.

“I only planned to stab you three times with that wooden sword. It’s not so bad for a man to get a few bruises on the chest while protecting a lady, is it?”

But would it have ended in just bruises?

If he’d been stabbed three times by the Sword King’s wooden sword, he likely wouldn’t be standing at all.

Geom Mugeuk replied with a smile.

“Good thing the wooden swords were worn out.”

“Then shall we try it once with real swords?”

At the unexpected suggestion, Geom Mugeuk threw the Sword King’s earlier words back at him.

“Who am I trying to fight, picking up a real sword when I’m just a newcomer?”

“And that’s why this instructor is offering to be your opponent.”

Srrrng.

The Sword King began to draw his iron sword.

“In this class, I heard both instructor and trainee have died before, haven’t they?”

At Geom Mugeuk’s words, the sword paused halfway out of its sheath.

“Then who’s going to die this time?”

“By order, I suppose it’s the instructor’s turn.”

Both men were smiling brightly as they faced each other, yet an invisible tension was rapidly building between them.

Just then, the bell signaling the end of class rang.

Clack.

The Sword King slid his sword back into its sheath.

As the bell rang, he spun around abruptly and walked off without looking back.

“See you tomorrow!”

The way he left, looking pleased, made him seem no different from the carefree, slacking instructor who’d just been waiting for the bell to ring. All the trainees could see was the pair of shoes swinging loosely from his waist.

The trainees gathered to examine the broken wooden swords.

“He must’ve cut them beforehand with a real sword.”

After all, there’s no way even a class instructor’s wooden sword could be sliced off in half with another wooden sword.

“Ah, come to think of it, he’s the one who brought those swords, right?”

“It’s obvious, totally obvious.”

They all concluded that the instructor had pre-cut the wooden swords.

Their eyes now turned suspiciously toward Geom Mugeuk, as if wondering whether he was in on it too. They figured the two had conspired to pretend to be masters. Even their last exchange hadn’t sounded like something between a normal instructor and trainee.

But Lee Ahn could see it.

She saw the same thrill bloom on Geom Mugeuk’s face as had appeared earlier on the Sword King’s.

At that moment, the face he wore wasn’t the Young Cult Leader’s—it was the face of a martial artist.

Even as everyone else laughed it off and dismissed it as a staged performance—

'Those two were really fighting.'