Chương 4: A Powerful Ally

The moonlight was unforgiving, highlighting every tremor that passed through Chae-ha's slender body.

"Remember what I said about your center of gravity," Mu-cheon noted, leaning against a granite pillar as the young girl struggled.

"Move your feet farther apart and sink deeper into the Jeong-am-gi." Despite being short of breath, Chae-ha did her best to comply.

"Your heels are lifting," he called out, his voice carrying in the misty silence.

"Remember, the stone beneath your feet is not your enemy – it is your foundation. Connect yourself to the mountain! That way, you won't move unless it does." Gritting her teeth in determination, Chae-ha forced her heels back down, willing herself to somehow, please, become anchored to the stone.

"Don't try to be something you're not! You need to fight with what you have. Use your bones, not your muscles! Shift your weight an inch further forward, and re-lock your pelvis." Mu-cheon's advice was effective, and the young girl felt the pressure ease slightly. But holding the stance was still a struggle. Her will was constantly being pitted against the insidious urge to allow her legs to straighten.

"Break," Mu-cheon called. Breathing a sigh of relief, Chae-ha allowed herself to fall backwards into a seated position, passing her arms over her knees to hold herself up. After a few breaths, the young prodigy came and sat beside her.

"Why are you doing this, junior sister? You could have found a place in a merchant guild or a needlework house. You must know by now that you were never meant for this. What's the point in becoming a martial artist?" She gave him a long, sideways glance, her eyes glowing softly in the moonlight.

"I am not here to become a martial artist. I am here to become a payment."

"A payment?" Mu-cheon echoed, clearly confused. Chae-ha's breathing began to steady itself. She looked at her senior-brother-turned-teacher, raw vulnerability in her expression, and wondered how much of herself she was comfortable putting on display.

"I owe three blood debts," she finally whispered, her hand trembling as it pushed a damp strand of hair back into the weave of her braid. She began to recite the vows that had been running through her mind every night since she arrived.

"The first is to my father, who took his own life to buy me this chance." She held up a single finger.

"I won't let him be remembered as a failure. Someday, I will find a way to restore his honor and his legacy." She held up another finger.

"The second debt I owe is to the men who drove him to do it," she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I don't care how long it takes. I will destroy the Black Ink Consortium." Mu-cheon whistled softly. He waited patiently for her to continue, but the young girl remained quiet, leading him to prompt her.

"And the third?" Chae-ha faltered slightly, her expression falling before finally hardening once more. She held up a third finger, staring at it for a moment before curling them all together into a fist so small and tight her hand visibly shook.

"My final debt isn't to a single person or group," she whispered, looking up at the moon. Exhaustion and grief bled through her words.

"It's to society. To the laws and customs that teach us that life is cheap and suffering is normal." She looked at him with pleading eyes, almost begging him to understand.

"This world is broken, senior brother. It is unjust and cruel. But I am going to fix it." Mu-cheon remained silent for several breaths as her determined proclamation hung in the air. He didn't have the heart to tell her that those dreams were beyond her means. But then he considered his own dreams, which were equally unrealistic, and began to chuckle under his breath. Chae-ha immediately looked offended, but Mu-cheon walked it back.

"I'm sorry, junior sister. I wasn't laughing at you; I was laughing at myself." He joined her in looking up at the moon.

"I have big dreams, too. The stories of our sect tell of a time when we were the terror of the Murim. Now? The truth is, we are barely second rate. The world speaks of the nine great sects and five great families, and our influence in the Jianghu continues to erode." The outline of his jaw hardened, rimmed by soft rays of moonlight.

"I'm going to change that. I'm going to make people speak the name of the Tai-shan sect with reverence once more. I will restore our sect's status as a top powerhouse in the Murim. Or I will die trying." Chae-ha took his statement completely seriously.

"I owe a debt to you, too, for helping me train," she reassured him earnestly, "and I am someone who pays her debts. For helping me achieve my dreams, senior brother, I promise – I will do everything I can to help you achieve yours." Her energy was infectious. Mu-cheon couldn't help himself; he reached out and playfully ruffled her hair.

"It seems I've acquired a powerful ally," he grinned. The next day at morning training, Chae-ha's posture had noticeably improved. But as he watched her continue to fail from his vantage point in the Training Hall, Mu-cheon could tell it still wasn't enough. The young man sighed in frustration. The problem was neither lack of effort nor speed of comprehension. The girl tried hard and learned fast. She was simply limited by raw physicality, and he saw no plausible future in which she would be able to overcome it.

He expected her to look discouraged when the morning training session ended, but as she walked past him toward the edge of the plaza, she still didn't look defeated. Chae-ha caught his eye, gave a deliberate nod, and signaled for another meeting that night. Mu-cheon frowned. He'd like to help her more, but there was nothing he could do. It tore at his heart, but she needed to give up on this path. He resolved to tell her that night that she had hit her ceiling.

For a second time, the two disciples met under the light of the moon. But before Mu-cheon could deliver his carefully rehearsed speech, Chae-ha burst out excitedly.

"Senior brother, do you know how to circulate Ki?" The Inner Disciple did a double-take.

"What? I mean... yes, but... why...?"

"All day today, I was thinking about the technique Elder Jung showed us. About how easily he lifted that huge sword. Circulating Ki... can make a person stronger, right?"

"Junior sister, stop. Yes, Ki can be used to make a person stronger. But it's dangerous to try before your physical foundation is ready! Didn't you hear Elder Jung?" Chae-ha looked down at the ground, before looking back up at the Young Master. Her voice, when it came out, was soft.

"Then…tell me the truth, senior brother: how long will it take for my foundation to be ready? If I work really hard, will I be able to bridge the gap?" Her fierce eyes glowed in the moonlight. Mu-cheon opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come out. No, he wanted to say. It doesn't matter how hard you work. You won't be able to close the gap. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Chae-ha wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

"I have nothing left but my debts, senior brother. And I would rather die than fail to pay them back. It's my body, and it's my life! Please…I need you to teach me. I'll accept the risk." Mu-cheon stared at her, stunned by her audacity. He looked around the empty courtyard, his heart hammering in his chest. Was he really going to do this? The young man closed his eyes, torn between his desire to help her and genuine concern for her safety. When he opened them again, there was a hint of steel behind them.

"Our internal art is called the Chuk-ap-gyeol – the Secret of Storing Pressure. All I can teach you is the first mnemonic," he warned her.

"It's not meant for combat; at least, not directly. It creates an internal pillar of pressure that supports your body from within. But storing pressure inside yourself is dangerous – if you lose control of it, you can rupture a meridian."

"I'll do it," Chae-ha said, without a second thought.

"Show me!" Mu-cheon hesitated a moment longer before finally nodding. He walked up to her, his voice dropping low so it wouldn't carry.

"The key to the Chuk-ap-gyeol is a specialized, one-way seal. It lets Ki flow into your meridians, but not back out. As the pressure builds, your body becomes sturdier. Here," he said, drawing in a deep breath, "feel my arm." The Inner Disciple held out a forearm as thick as a small log, and Chae-ha hesitantly put her hand on it. The skin was taut and rigid, and it was unnaturally smooth. His limb felt like a piece of solid stone, even though she knew it was made of warm flesh.

"Watch what happens when I release the pressure," Mu-cheon said. His arm began to deflate as he spoke, definition returning to his muscles and flexibility to his skin.

"That's the effect of internal pressure." Chae-ha nodded, seemingly fascinated by the change. The young man could see that her mind was already racing.

"Sink into the Jeong-am-gi again," he instructed her. Once she did, he walked around behind her and placed a hand on her back.

"Now, breathe. Pull the air into your lower Dantian. Don't let it out – pack it in! Constrict the muscles around it. And once you've done that, form the seal… like this." Through his hand on her back, Mu-cheon carefully guided his own Ki into her system, constructing seals at each of the places where pressure would normally leak out. Almost immediately, a barely audible humming underscored the otherwise silent night. Mu-cheon's nose twitched at the sound, but he continued maintaining the seals.

Chae-ha's eyes widened as she felt the pressure rising in her abdomen. Her legs stopped shaking, and her stance steadily grew more solid. Satisfied, Mu-cheon released the seals. The humming slowly stopped as the pressure within her returned to normal. The weight of her own body took the young girl by surprise, but she managed to stay upright. Chae-ha tried to recreate the feeling of the seal, but her clumsy first attempts bore no fruit.

"It will take time and practice to learn, but that's the basic concept. If you practice every night, you may be able to do it within a few months."

"That was…amazing! Show me again, senior brother." Mu-cheon showed her the seal a few more times, before making her memorize the words of the first mnemonic so she could continue studying on her own. After that, they wrapped up their training for the night. Chae-ha lay down on the tiles to look up at the stars, and after a few awkward moments, the Young Master decided to join her.

"I was thinking about what you said last time," she said, hesitantly.

"Why, exactly, is the sect's influence in the world waning?" Mu-cheon sighed.

"In the Murim, they say power is everything. But have you ever tried to shoot a fruit fly with a siege ballista?"

"No," Chae-ha frowned, trying to picture the physics involved.

"I imagine it would be almost impossible. Unless you somehow pinned its wings in place."

"That's right," the young man nodded. His finger began idly tracing out a few characters in the air. 斬 (Cham) – 尖 (Jeom) – 術 (Sul)"Within its own domain, the Art of the Sundering Edge is absolute. But the other sects don't try to compete with us in that space. They step inside our guard, denying us the time we need to prepare. Or they stay a hair's breadth beyond our reach." He pointed his blade at the moon.

"We are specialists, in an era of generalists. Our techniques can cut through almost anything, but it means nothing if we can't hit the target."

"Power and speed alone aren't enough," she said slowly, still trying to process the ballista analogy.

"The problem is with…controlling space. With the 'geometry' of fighting."

"Exactly. On the training ground, it all looks very impressive. But in a real war, well…you come face to face with just how big the world really is." A long silence followed, broken only by the lonely call of a mountain owl. After a while, Mu-cheon noticed that Chae-ha hadn't responded, and her eyes looked distant. He shifted his weight to look down at her.

"What are you thinking about, junior sister? Is the mnemonic too complex?"

"Honestly…?" she responded, blushing heavily.

"Acorn jelly."

"Acorn... jelly?"

"Seasoned with perilla oil and toasted seeds," she whispered, her voice small.

"My mother used to spend all afternoon making it. The gruel we eat here every morning tastes like wet sand." Mu-cheon stared at her for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

"I'll try to sneak you a little meat. Maybe some proper nutrition will help trigger a growth spurt." For the next two weeks, Chae-ha spent her nights trying to form the one-way seal in her room. After seven days of frustratingly slow progress, she began to sketch out the shape she remembered onto a sheet of the sect's hand-pressed paper, graciously given to her by one of the study-masters. The drawing that emerged showed a complex series of teardrop-like loops branching off a central path.

The young girl traced the lines with her brush, pursing her lips as she tried to understand how Ki would flow through it. It was clear that anything flowing inward would move in a straight, unobstructed line. But if it tried to flow in the opposite direction… the pressure would be diverted into the side-loops, curving around until it crashed back into itself. The resulting chaos would block the flow. But there was a problem. The seal Mu-cheon had shown her seemed to be designed to hold back a raging river of Ki.

But Chae-ha didn't have a river; she barely had a stream. And she knew she needed to use it efficiently if she wanted this to work. Using her brush, she began crossing out parts of the diagram. The young girl redrew the image of the seal, streamlining the bulky loops into a single, elegant path. It might offer less total reinforcement than the version Mu-cheon had shown her, but it felt more achievable with her capabilities.

As the logic gradually settled in her mind, the gap between understanding and execution began to narrow. After another week of tracing over the lines and practicing the new seal in her room, she felt herself reach the threshold of a breakthrough. Later that night, Mu-cheon was anxious to see her progress.

"Concentrate," he called out, as she tried to hold her stance.

"Don't just hold the air in your lungs. You need to pull it into your lower abdomen. As you do, build the seal. Remember the placement I showed you, and the shape of the one-way gate." Chae-ha closed her eyes and pulled the freezing mountain air deep within her body. Once again, she tried to implement the new seal she'd been practicing. She pictured the diagram in her mind, tried to assemble all the different pieces, and to replicate it across her system.

For a heartbeat, the seal seemed like it would simply break again. But then, unexpectedly, it held. The same resonant, low hum she'd heard last time swelled up in her chest, slightly irregular at first, but quickly settling down into a smooth rhythm. She felt the pressure begin to inflate her body, shoring up her quaking legs and causing her arms to finally fill out the rough hemp sleeves of her uniform. The weight of her own body, which had been a crushing millstone for three weeks, finally felt bearable.

"I…I did it," she whispered, her voice incredulous.

"I did it, senior brother!" Mu-cheon's eyes widened. He reached out a hand and pushed against her shoulder. She didn't budge. He tried again, but her stance was completely solid. The young girl felt as rooted to the tiles as if she was cast in bronze.

"You've created the seal, and your posture is excellent," he said, notes of awe and pride both filling his voice.

"You're using the internal pressure to compensate for your lack of muscle mass. It…worked." He shook his head, still not believing it had only taken her two weeks.

"Be careful to maintain it. Remember, if the seal slips, the pressure has to go somewhere."

"I'll be careful!" she exclaimed, almost gleefully.

"Can you check if everything is flowing correctly?"

"Yes – let me feel your pulse." Mu-cheon steadied her trembling hand and then put his calloused fingers on her wrist. After a moment, he frowned slightly.

"What's wrong?" Chae-ha asked, a hint of worry creeping into her otherwise elated voice.

"The flow is…erratic," Mu-cheon murmured, still pressing his finger firmly against her tendons.

"It's backing up here, at the forearm. Like water hitting a wall. We'll have to watch that."

"I'll keep practicing every day, until it's perfect," the young girl swore.

"Thank you so much, senior brother. You have no idea what this means to me." Chae-ha felt a strange sensation tugging at her lips. It was a small but genuine smile, and it was accompanied by tears that, for once, didn't come from sadness or pain. The next day, at morning training, the young girl breathed deeply as she settled into the Jeong-am-gi. Her posture was perfect: her thighs were level, her heels were down, her hips were forward, and her pelvis was locked.

She invoked the first mnemonic of the Chuk-ap-gyeol and felt her quaking muscles solidify, the supportive pressure building within her. Maintaining the stance still wasn't easy, but suddenly it was bearable. She held it for an entire ke, eliciting a nod of approval from the distant Elder Jung. Chae-ha felt a surge of pride in her accomplishment. She glanced around expectantly at the other disciples, who no longer seemed so far out of reach. The low hum in Chae-ha's chest rang through her like a victory anthem.

For the first time since her father's death, she didn't feel like a fragile little girl. She felt invincible.