Chapter 83
After the situation had settled down, only Un-yeong and Elder Deung Noya were left sitting in the reception hall.
“I showed you something disgraceful,” Un-yeong said calmly after taking a sip of tea.
“It’s fine. I found it rather entertaining.”
At Deung Noya’s words, Un-yeong clenched his fist under the table and inwardly cursed the sea goddess.
“But are you really sure about this?”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I’m talking about Jin-ryang. Are you certain he’s suitable to be your writing instructor?”
Deung Jin-ryang had decided to stay at the Seol family estate and become Un-yeong’s teacher in classical writing. Apparently, that fact weighed on Deung Noya’s mind.
“I’m grateful, of course. Before I fell ill this past spring, I did have a writing teacher. But after that, I stopped studying. I’m happy to have a good one again.”
“Thank you.”
At Un-yeong’s composed reply, Deung Noya smiled gently.
“You two seem to get along very well. You’ll make a fine senior-junior pair. Haha!”
At that, Un-yeong’s nose twitched slightly in irritation.
Why on earth did I ever miss this old man so much? Ugh.
He took a deep breath, calmed himself, and said,
“Yes, he’s helped me a lot, and I plan to keep learning from him.”
“Haha, I wonder what kind of debt that boy owes you. You’re quite the formidable creditor.”
“Well, life’s all about owing and repaying debts, isn’t it?”
“You’ve a good grasp of life. Jin-ryang won’t have much left to teach you, then. Heh.”
“I’ll continue to learn much from your grandson, sir.”
They had interacted like this even back in Hwangsan.
Back then, Un-yeong’s condition had been terrible, so Deung Noya often joked around to lift his spirits. At first, Un-yeong hadn’t known how to respond, but eventually, he learned to return the old man’s jests.
Five years was no short time. In that span, Deung Noya had taught Un-yeong not only martial arts but also about the ways of the world.
While Un-yeong reminisced, Deung Noya suddenly asked in a sharp tone,
“Boy. What is it you’re looking at?”
It was a layered question — he had seen through Un-yeong, knew the boy was observing something beyond the surface, preparing for the future.
“…I’m not looking at anything.”
For the first time, Un-yeong averted his gaze from Deung Noya.
“So now you can lie without flinching.”
Clicking his tongue, Deung Noya continued,
“When you’re with that boy, you act like a child. Yet here you are, sly as ever.”
“Is that so? Well, I suppose it’s better than being a stupid disciple, isn’t it?”
“Is that truly what you think?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Very well then. But I must ask you one thing.”
Deung Noya’s eyes darkened.
“Please, go ahead.”
“What is it that you truly want from me?”
“Just as I said before — I want you to become my teacher.”
“Is that all?”
“There’s an old saying — gun-sa-bu-il-che (君師父一體): the grace of a king, a teacher, and a father are one and the same. My father has bestowed much kindness upon me; if my master grants me the same, that will be enough.”
“So you intend to wring me dry, eh? Haha.”
“Yes, sir.”
Deung Noya chuckled, amused, and Un-yeong smiled as well.
“Haha, you’re quite the robber — and without even drawing a sword.”
“If you teach me the sword, I’ll get even better at it.”
He meant it — he really would.
“Haha! But you still have much to learn from Jin-ryang.”
“Why is that?”
“The phrase gun-sa-bu-il-che means you must serve your teacher, father, and ruler with equal reverence.”
“However you phrase it, it means the same thing — I’ll repay whatever you bestow upon me.”
“Haha, so you’d repay grace with a promissory note?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can’t win with you. I surrender.”
Deung Noya raised his hands in mock defeat, shaking his head.
“They say, ‘The blue comes from the indigo but is bluer than the indigo itself.’ A master should be proud when his disciple surpasses him.”
“And I am, sir — all thanks to your teaching.”
Un-yeong lifted the corners of his lips in a soft smile.
“Your stamina’s improved, and your inner energy has grown considerably.”
“Yes, I’ve been training hard.”
“And that inner energy… seems you’ve had quite a fortuitous encounter.”
“If you call it that, yes, I suppose I have.”
He had properly absorbed the Summoning Pill and gained a great amount of poison energy from the cave of the pupil technique. Even the toxic buildup in his blood had been cleansed — a true miracle any ordinary warrior could only dream of.
“So then, what have you learned up to now?”
“I’m practicing the Three-Essence Sword Technique.”
“You’ve mastered the forms and structures?”
“Yes, I have.”
“A foolish question, I suppose. For you, it’s only natural.”
Deung Noya knew Un-yeong possessed the Heavenly Martial Body. Someone like that could grasp even the profound essence of the Three-Essence Sword after seeing it only once.
“In that case, what do you wish to learn from me?”
“Everything except the sword.”
“Everything?”
“How to handle stratagem weapons…”
Un-yeong paused, then smiled faintly.
“…and how to steal. Isn’t that obvious?”
He truly looked like a thief — minus the sword.
“Haha! So you’d have me hand over all my secrets?”
“Isn’t that what being a disciple means?”
“Very well, then…”
Deung Noya stroked his beard, a smile playing at his lips.
“You’ll have to perform the Nine Bows Ceremony (九拜之禮).”
“Well then…”
Un-yeong rose from his seat.
“…of course.”
He stepped past the table and stood before Deung Noya, who turned to face him.
“Disciple Seol Un-yeong… offers his greetings to his master.”
“Very well. I accept my disciple’s bow.”
Un-yeong folded his hands neatly, knelt to the ground, placed both palms on the floor, and lowered his head until it touched them.
After thirty years… I bow to you again, Master. Forgive your unworthy disciple.
His shoulders trembled. Uncontrollable tears fell to the floor.
Watching him, Deung Noya slowly stood, knelt beside him, and patted his shoulder.
“My disciple, rise. Why cry on such a fine day?”
Pat, pat. His gentle voice only made Un-yeong’s tears flow harder.
“What makes you so sorrowful, my boy?”
Pat, pat.
Because you called me your disciple.
Un-yeong answered only in his heart, choking down his sobs.
Pat, pat. Deung Noya kept soothing him until his tears finally stopped.
After some time, still with his head lowered, Un-yeong spoke.
“Master.”
“Yes, my disciple.”
“Um…”
He mumbled without lifting his head.
“Speak. There’s nothing you can’t say to your master.”
The old man’s tone was still warm and patient.
“It’s just that…”
“Go on, say it.”
“Could you… turn your head away for a moment?”
His voice grew smaller with embarrassment.
“And why’s that?”
But a master like Deung Noya couldn’t miss even the faintest whisper.
“It’s just… I’m embarrassed.”
At last, Un-yeong confessed.
“Ha ha ha ha! My one and only disciple is such a fussy one!”
“Huh? Master, what did you just say?”
Un-yeong’s head snapped up at once, his face still streaked with tears.
“What? What did I say?”
“You said I’m your one and only disciple! So it’s true, right? I’m the only one, aren’t I, Master?”
“Yes, yes, Seol Un-yeong. You’re my only disciple.”
“What about Hae-shin?”
“She’s Lady Yeo Sang-yang’s student, not mine. If she heard otherwise, that woman would charge in here with a sword.”
He shuddered slightly, mimicking Yeo Sang-yang’s angry face — even he didn’t dare cross her when she was mad.
“Then everything that belongs to you… is mine now, right?”
“And why would that be?”
“Because of gun-sa-bu-il-che, of course.”
“Hah! Look at you — you’ve even got snot running down your nose, boy.”
Deung Noya lifted the hem of his robe and gently wiped Un-yeong’s tear-streaked face. His touch was so kind, Un-yeong couldn’t help but smile shyly and lean into it.
I’m ten years old — nothing to be embarrassed about. Kids are like this. It’s normal. Gun-sa-bu-il-che — I even do this with my father.
When Deung Noya lowered his sleeve, Un-yeong’s face was clean again.
“Master.”
“What is it, my disciple?”
“I won’t covet your grandson’s belongings. But the rest — please give them all to me.”
“Haha, what a greedy brat.”
He chuckled, patted Un-yeong’s back, and offered him a hand. Un-yeong took it and stood up.
“But, my disciple,” Deung Noya said,
“Yes, Master?”
“You’ve already stolen Jin-ryang’s things.”
Indeed — the account in the Golden Battlefield belonged to Deung Jin-ryang.
Realizing that, Un-yeong’s face flushed red.
“A thief’s disciple should at least act like one,” Deung Noya said lightly as he turned away.
