Creating martial arts for others was an arduous task.
It was something Jeong Yeon-shin had never done before. It was a path typically taken by great grandmasters in the twilight of their years, far beyond what a young man not yet in his twenties could imagine.
“Martial arts are the culmination of studying the human body.”
To develop a technique, one had to master all 365 acupuncture points, the twelve primary meridians, and countless secondary channels. Without this profound understanding, it would inevitably harm the body.
The first step was ensuring the safe alignment of energy pathways to prevent chaotic qi flow—a step that was already immensely challenging.
To craft a technique that produced tangible results from energy flow was even more so.
“It cannot be something only I can perform.”
Jeong Yeon-shin was well aware of his unique sensitivity and abilities.
While not constantly at the forefront of his mind, his potential was evident. Within three years, he could achieve the heavenly tree’s fruit—a feat few could dream of. But such potential came with both admiration and resentment.
It couldn’t be reduced to a mere trade-off for longevity. That would be unacceptable. How could anyone agree to such a price if it were imposed upon them? It was an unfair burden placed by the heavens.
For nine days after secluding himself in the Ma Gwang-ik command pavilion, Jeong Yeon-shin grappled with one pressing thought as twilight spilled into his quarters nine times.
If a single junior or senior failed to benefit from this new martial art, its purpose would be meaningless. It had to be accessible to all.
No one in Ma Gwang-ik could be left behind. The worst fate in the line of duty was the loss of a warrior.
He refused to lose subordinates as carelessly as Seonmok Leader Cheon So-so had, nor did he wish to experience the same agonizing conflict Suncheon Wing Lord Ha Do-un faced over Namgung Hwa-shin, the White Qilin.
“I don’t have Jin Myeong-jo’s patience or magnanimity. I’m too selfish. I don’t want to lose anyone.”
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Jeong Yeon-shin mused.
Seated cross-legged, he began to unearth every principle of martial theory in his mind. He needed to create a technique that anyone within Ma Gwang-ik or the Seomye lineage could easily adopt.
—Think of it as teaching a monkey.
His thoughts coalesced into a single conclusion.
He simplified his writing, annotating every sentence of the formula with meticulous care.
—Ma Gwang-gyeol is about how to use the body. It explores everything the human hands and feet can achieve. Its instinctive movements make it versatile, covering close-quarters combat and mid-range spear techniques, with the exception of bows.
He recalled how he had learned Ma Gwang-gyeol from his uncle Ma Jin and aimed to leave behind a legacy that could provide the same clarity, even in the event of his death during a mission or from natural causes.
—Ma Gwang-gyeol is a sword-like technique for martial artists with exceptional senses. However, for other practitioners, it is imperative to question their instincts. Your senses are dull and slow, unsuited for discovering deadly techniques. Instead, use this guide as a framework for other martial arts.
“This is the key point; I must emphasize it. The utility of a martial art lies in following its essence.”
—Keep the principles above firmly in your heart. Repeat to yourself, “I am wrong.” This will enhance your mastery. The senses of the practitioners are blunt. This manual’s guidance is correct. Simply follow the essentials.
He wrote in clean, bold strokes, using the classic haeseo script akin to Ming Dynasty calligraphy.
The instructions were concise and straightforward.
“As long as they take this to heart, the rest will follow.”
He twisted the core principles of Ma Gwang-gyeol and integrated them into Seomye martial arts. The term "interlinked" was apt.
When practiced, the movements seamlessly incorporated techniques from Ultimate Polar Flower Fist and Radiant Sword Style, while utilizing Hwanikbo’s footwork and the layered qi of Si-geuk-gyeong.
The mindset was simple: The optimal path becomes your martial art.
Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t see this as arrogance. He thought it over calmly. Was it not the truth?
Flow without obstruction. To move without resistance.
The sequences of Ma Gwang-gyeol connected flawlessly with the Seomye lineage. His uncle’s teachings and his own studies merged.
The result was luminous. The amplified energy from Si-geuk-gyeong united with the cutting force of Radiant Sword Style.
The white light intensified, and the radiance flowing from his body crystallized into the martial art’s distinctive aura.
Nine days later.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood in the grand martial arena, his body radiating this new essence.
Shhhh—
Ripples of energy extended from his sword-wielding hand, scattering into vivid streaks of white light.
From the hem of his black sleeve to the ends of his shoulder-length hair, light fragments shimmered, catching the orange hues of the twilight before slowly fading.
As Ma Gwang-ik's commander, Jeong Yeon-shin felt immense joy and satisfaction. Though his expression remained calm, the emotions stirred within him were unlike anything he had experienced before. For the first time, he truly relished the act of creating martial arts.
“This is well-crafted. A fine martial art.”
The sense of accomplishment surpassed anything he had created before. This was a martial art for his people.
At that moment, he confirmed that he had built a fortress to protect Ma Gwang-ik.
“...”
The gathered martial artists around him did not see it the same way. To them, Jeong Yeon-shin appeared as the embodiment of martial perfection.
This was not simply a spectacle to be judged by its martial level.
None present were unfamiliar with the Seomye lineage. They all understood the techniques unfolding before them.
The fusion of fist and sword dances was breathtaking. Each strike flowed into the next seamlessly, without the slightest interruption in energy flow.
He had reshaped the martial art’s nature. While the technique’s consumption of internal energy was significant, its overwhelming power more than compensated.
This was the work of a grandmaster.
A cold wind swept past the shadowed walls, brushing their skin with a shiver.
A hushed stillness gripped the arena, lasting until a speck of dust rose from the Northern Bright Sword’s tip.
“All members of Ma Gwang-ik.”
Jeong Yeon-shin sheathed his sword as he spoke. The pristine blade traced a smooth arc toward its scabbard.
The click of the sword sliding into place rang unusually clearly, coinciding with his final words.
“Use your bodies like this.”
“...What...”
Sim Hyeop-gwon Gong Ya-mi-ryeong, a spirited warrior sent by Hahoe Wi-jin, let out a stunned whisper before quickly regaining her composure.
For a martial artist who kept her hair cropped short for close combat, even she was awestruck.
No one criticized her reaction. It reflected the feelings of everyone present. They had witnessed a martial art once known for its singular, devastating strikes transformed into one optimized for sustained combat.
The principles interwoven into the movements formed a cohesive whole.
“Use our bodies like that?”
Shin So-bin asked suddenly.
Her tone carried a faint unease, which Jeong Yeon-shin caught. Since the events at Ipwang Fortress, she had grown more familiar, yet her spirited personality seemed to lack the drive to pursue martial mastery.
The sight only deepened Jeong Yeon-shin’s satisfaction. His chest swelled with pride and confidence.
The commander of Ma Gwang-ik straightened his posture, his eyes glinting with subtle amusement.
“It’s simple. I wrote it all down in detail. Once you grasp the essentials, it’ll come naturally. Any martial artist trained in Ma Gwang-gyeol or the Seomye lineage should find it easy to master.”
He thought of the manual he had left behind in the pavilion. Anyone who read it would surely be moved.
Perhaps they would feel as elated as he had, even choosing to live and train in the martial arena for a while.
“Shin So-bin.”
“Yes, Commander?”
“There’s a manual on my desk. I’ve dried the ink with my energy, so bring it here.”
Jeong Yeon-shin ordered.
The manual consisted of four volumes. Given the remarkable memories of Ipwang Fortress warriors, it wouldn’t take long for all of Ma Gwang-ik to study it thoroughly.
Tap.
Shin So-bin’s white robe and braided hair fluttered as she vaulted over the wall. Her nimble movements, combined with her uniquely feline grace, reflected her nickname, “White Cat of Ma Gwang-ik.”
Since the Ipwang Fortress incident, Shin So-bin had acted as the commander’s trusted confidante.
“It feels as though an entirely new principle has been embedded in this martial art...”
Baek Mi-ryeo, standing to one side, hesitated before speaking. Though this was an official setting, her tone carried due respect.
“What is it called?” she asked.
It was a weighty question. Martial arts that achieved renown across the world often carried names that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies.
Few sects dared to challenge the Shaolin Sect’s Hundred Steps Divine Fist or the Celestial Demon Divine Technique of the Bright Sect.
For Jeong Yeon-shin, it didn’t matter. This martial art wasn’t created for fame.
“It’s just...”
He thought of one character.
There are words in the world that encompass contradictory meanings. Words that embody both extremes within themselves.
The character Gwang was one such word.
Vacant and bright. It was a character he had contemplated even before his seclusion.
“...”
Jeong Yeon-shin fell silent, his gaze sweeping over his juniors and seniors.
The faces that turned each return from missions into a homecoming. With each conversation, they gave him the warmth he had never found in the Jeong family estate.
They were unlike the brothers who had rejected the Jeong family’s martial techniques.
If it were them, they would gladly accept the martial art he had created, as if it were a gift exchanged between siblings of the same lineage.
“Grow stronger and remain with me...”
It was a sentiment difficult to express as their commander.
—If you vanish, my heart will be left empty. But you fill it, and I am made whole because of you. You’ve shown me kindness after I left my family. I owe you a debt I cannot repay.
Thus, I bestow upon you this martial art, crafted under the name you gave me, Seomye.
Only one phrase came to mind.
“Gwang-ye-gyeol.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke, the name of a martial art destined to become a legend.
This was Ma Gwang-ik’s moment.
Ak Su-rim smiled softly as she stood to the side.
A warmth rose within her chest, like a bundle of cotton clouds, tempering her curiosity. She made a mental note.
“I’ll have to come back later.”
Her thoughts briefly shifted.
Where’s Jin Myeong-jo, that rascal?
With a slight tilt of her head, Ak Su-rim began walking away lightly.
***
Three days had passed.
Three nights and days alternated between awe and bewilderment.
For the first time since ascending to the position of commander, Jeong Yeon-shin had devoted himself to training. The Grand Martial Arena of Ma Gwang-ik was more vibrant than ever.
The attention of the skilled warriors was focused on him. The carefree attitude they had displayed during his seclusion had largely disappeared.
"That’s it. A little lighter. Imagine transferring the qi from the Large Intestine Meridian of Hand-Yangming entirely to your fingertips. From there, let it flow naturally as if it were second nature."
Jeong Yeon-shin stood side by side with Shin So-bin and Heon Won-chang, observing their internal energy flow without even checking their pulses, relying solely on his acute energy senses.
For the seasoned warriors of Ma Gwang-ik, this was an extraordinary sight. Despite the boyish appearance of the newcomer, his demonstration of Gwang-ye-gyeol had raised expectations of his teachings.
Gwang-ye-gyeol was less of an introductory technique and more an advanced refinement. Within just a few days, the path to bolstering their combat strength had become clear. These warriors were already formidable, but now they were capable of competing with elite sect members like the Plum Blossom Swordmasters or the Eighteen Arhats.
"Time is moving quickly. It’s already time for the advancement ceremony..."
"That swordsman from the Goonshim Blade Clan caused trouble again. He’s not unpleasant, but he’s rather full of himself, being the son of a major trading guild."
"Wasn’t he supposed to be a Suncheon Wing swordsman? Seems like he returned from a solo mission. What did he say?"
"He boasted about securing a spot among the blues, crediting the misfortune of a Hwangbo scion. Seems he’s only wary of Tae Yeom-ryong and doesn’t realize the true weight of the restrictions we’ve lifted."
"An accurate observation."
The warriors of Ma Gwang-ik chuckled softly, their conversation reflecting the swift passage of time since the demonstration of Gwang-ye-gyeol. Out of the 23 blue ranks and 7 white ranks in Ma Gwang-ik, a third had already studied the manual.
It wasn’t passed around individually. Instead, the team, as structured by the previous commander, had collectively absorbed it, starting with the first squad of Ma Gwang.
Their reactions were peculiar.
A mix of astonishment, admiration, and unease. Even Cheongmyeong, the Blue Flame Swordsman, felt the same.
Ipwang Fortress was home to some of the finest martial arts in the world. Every official martial artist within its ranks possessed exceptional talent.
None among them had grown up without being regarded as a prodigy in their hometowns.
"Look, there’s another one. That expression again—always amusing."
Hyo-su Sword Gang Chang-mu crossed his large arms, observing with a faint smile.
It was the only way to describe the faces of those emerging from the commander’s quarters: members of Ma Gwang’s third squad and an anonymous junior disciple.
Their raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips hardly resembled the composed expressions of seasoned warriors.
Had they been insulted beyond comprehension? Their astonishment seemed to have softened their emotions, leaving them in a state of dazed awe.
Only Tae Yeom-ryong carried a grin, casually strolling with his hands clasped behind his head.
"This is it," he murmured, his voice too faint for Gang Chang-mu to hear.
"Even that brat from the Hwangbo family can make such a face," Gang Chang-mu muttered with narrowed eyes.
Having previously lost to Tae Yeom-ryong, Gang Chang-mu judged others solely by their innate abilities. Seeing someone reduced to such an expression just from reading the manual only fueled curiosity among the mid-level recruits.
"Even without seeing it myself, I can tell. The movements of those who’ve started practicing it have changed. Their ability to link powerful strikes has improved significantly, even compared to yesterday. There are limits, of course."
Sa-wol Gung-gwi Wi Ye-ryeong spoke, standing alongside Gang Chang-mu atop a roof. It was the tiled roof of the commander’s quarters, constructed near the edge of the Grand Martial Arena.
The martial force of Ma Gwang-ik had begun training with the manual. Naturally, it was their duty to stand guard.
Wi Ye-ryeong glanced down at Jeong Yeon-shin, her blue eyes gleaming with the unique luster of the noble Ming clan.
"Commander Seomye is quite the intriguing figure."
"I already know that."
"That Gwang-ye-gyeol... once you try it, you’ll realize it’s beyond what you’d expect. The rumors about him being favored by the Fortress Lord aren’t baseless. He might end up handling matters in our clan’s domain someday."
"You think the commander will be invited to the realm of the immortals?"
Gang Chang-mu raised an eyebrow just as a clear chirping sound echoed from afar. From the sky, a pure white swallow descended with rapid wingbeats.
Its dazzling white feathers reflected the sunlight as it swiftly approached.
It was a spirit beast nurtured by the Ming clan for the commanders of Ipwang Fortress. Among Ma Gwang-ik, it was called the White Swallow (Baek-yeon).
"That little one seems urgent."
Wi Ye-ryeong’s melodic voice rang out just as the commander raised his arm slightly. The swallow perched delicately on his forearm with its tiny feet.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips parted slightly.
"Out playing, were you? So, you’ve been to see the General Commander."
"It’s from the General Command...!"
Wi Ye-ryeong’s sharp hearing captured the commander’s voice as he spoke.
Her lips paused mid-sentence, her gaze filling with a mix of curiosity and surprise.