Ttak—Tatak! Tak!

One quarter-hour passed. Then two. Then half a sijin. Now they were well into the second sijin.

For nearly two hours, Seolhwa and Seop Mugwang had remained locked in a drawn-out contest—one striking, the other evading.

It had long since surpassed the promised quarter-hour after which she was supposed to get tanghulu, but Seolhwa refused to give {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} in.

No—by now, it had become sheer stubbornness.

Whooosh—Tak, Whip—Tatak!

With her right hand, Seolhwa lashed out with her sword. With her left, she struck with a palm technique designed to follow the trajectory of an evasion.

“You’re rushing.”

As if he had predicted every move, Seop Mugwang sidestepped it effortlessly.

His arms, crossed since the very beginning, showed no signs of unfolding now.

Tap.

At last, Seolhwa raised the white flag.

“Ha... haa... ha...”

She wiped the sweat pouring down like rain with the back of her hand, still standing where she had fought.

“Still, not bad. A few times, even I was caught off guard by how sharp your strikes were.”

“Is that the clan lord’s footwork?”

“It is. It’s called Thunder Shadow Step—a movement technique tailored for my sword.”

Thunder Shadow Step (Noyeongbo). A footwork style that moved like the shadow of thunder.

It fit him—his entire martial path was filled with lightning.

“Have you ever seen the shadow of thunder?”

“No.”

Thunder didn’t even leave a trace, let alone a shadow.

Seop Mugwang let out a dry chuckle.

“Of course you haven’t. Thunder is light itself. Where there’s light, where would a shadow fall?”

“...”

“Hahahahaha!”

He looked genuinely delighted.

Even as Seolhwa’s face stiffened, he continued laughing heartily, wiping at his eyes as if moved to tears.

“Thunder leaves no shadow. But I call it Thunder Shadow Step because this movement is like a shadow.”

He shifted his feet lightly.

The movements were effortless—but precise and swift.

“That’s what footwork is. The very foundation of all martial arts. No matter how well you swing a sword—or a spear, or a fist—if your footwork is a mess, you might as well be flailing in the air.”

Think about it: no matter how fast your hands are, if your feet are slow, you’ll never reach your enemy.

“Just like you a moment ago.”

“...”

He was enjoying himself now—clearly having fun teasing her.

Seolhwa narrowed her eyes and glared at the stone still perched serenely atop his head.

“That’s why I poured the most effort into my footwork. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

She had known footwork was important.

But no one had ever explained why. No one had ever told her why it mattered enough to dedicate time and energy to.

It was frustrating that she hadn’t managed to knock off the stone—but this moment, this lesson, was... enjoyable.

Is this what enjoyment feels like?

The fact that she wanted to hear more, to learn more—it must be.

“Now then, from this point on, I’ll teach you the movements of Thunder Shadow Step, one by one. Come here.”

She trudged toward him.

“But first, I have something to say.”

“Hmm?”

As she stepped up beside him and rose onto tiptoe, Seop Mugwang instinctively bent down to meet her height.

“What’s so secret it needs to be whispered?”

The moment he leaned closer—

Plink. Something fell lightly to the ground at his feet.

He looked down.

It was the stone he had balanced on his head.

“...”

He turned to find Seolhwa beaming with a triumphant smile.

She had used the moment he leaned in to swat it off with her scabbard.

“I never said I gave up.”

“...That’s cheating.”

“A fight isn’t over until it’s truly over.”

“Hah.”

Seop Mugwang straightened up and let out a breathy chuckle, more exasperated than angry.

“You’re right. One should never lower their guard. I’ve learned something today—so I’ll buy you tanghulu on the way back.”

A satisfied smile tugged at Seolhwa’s lips.

She stepped to stand at his side.

“Wait just a moment.”

Still chuckling, Seop Mugwang wandered into the woods and returned with several more stones, which he laid out in front of her.

No two stones were the same—some were the size of her foot, some as big as her fist, and others no bigger than two fingers.

The spacing between them was uneven, scattered in random patterns.

The last stone he placed was the very one that had been on his head.

He clapped the dust from his hands and straightened his back.

“From this point on, you must dodge my attacks while stepping only on these stones.”

“...Pardon?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy.”

He spun his scabbard in one hand with playful flicks—whoosh, whoosh.

“For the first round, I won’t attack. Just walk across the stones to the other end and back. But if you step on the ground, you get a flick to the forehead.”

His grin made it clear: he was thoroughly enjoying this.

Seolhwa opened her mouth as if to speak—but closed it again. She turned to study the line of stones laid out before her.

Right. He was the Thunder God of Wind and Storm, after all.

In her previous life, his martial art had died with him, passed on to no one.

How could she not be grateful for the chance to learn it now?

There must be a reason for this.

Let’s try.

With a short breath to steady herself, Seolhwa bounced forward—pop—and landed on the first stone.

There wasn’t room for both feet.

Tap. Totok. Tok.

Some stones she could step on fully. Others she barely managed with the tips of her toes. Some looked flat but proved jagged, forcing her to leap to the next without pause.

She nearly lost her balance more than once—but never fell.

“Ohh.”

She actually pulled it off?

Seop Mugwang’s mouth curled upward, thoroughly intrigued.

He hadn’t expected her to succeed on the first try.

Stepping across stones of all shapes and sizes required moment-to-moment judgment and finely tuned control of one’s strength.

That was the lesson he had intended to impart.

No—she’s even more than I anticipated.

He knew she had cultivated martial arts. He knew she possessed the Heavenly Martial Body. He even knew she was talented. But witnessing that talent with his own eyes was something else entirely.

Is it instinct? Or does she already understand the essence of martial arts itself?

To display this level of ability at thirteen...

A chill ran down Seop Mugwang’s spine.

For in that instant, he saw the future—this child, one day, commanding all under Heaven.

She’s a child worth anticipating, even just a few years from now.

To pass his martial arts on to her—it was truly a blessing.

The corners of his lips lifted with uncontainable joy.

Ttak, tatak, ttak!

Seolhwa landed on the final stone and came to a stop.

With her clear eyes, she looked up at Seop Mugwang.

“Did I do it right...?”

“You little—”

He reached out and thoroughly mussed her hair.

“Well done.”

You little rascal.

—

They continued footwork training until the sun began to set.

After many rounds of going back and forth down the same path, Seop Mugwang collected even more stones and arranged them in a circular formation around the clearing. He stepped onto a stone himself.

Many of the stones were quite small—especially for Seolhwa—but he never once wobbled.

Standing on the stones, he launched attacks at her, and she struggled to dodge them.

Each time she started to adjust, his sword grew faster, more ghostlike, more precise.

Sweat poured from her like rain. Her breath came short and ragged.

But she was happy.

So happy that she could now recognize the feeling with certainty. A swelling joy, full to the brim.

The sun had begun to dip below the mountain ridge.

—

By the time they returned home eating tanghulu, night had fully fallen.

“Martial arts are repetition in the end. You’ve picked up footwork well enough—tomorrow, I’ll teach you movement techniques.”

“Yes.”

They were chatting as they stepped into the inner residence when a voice cried out from afar: “Young Lady!”

It was Ryeong.

“What is it?”

“He’s awake!”

“Huh?”

“The boy from Mount Hua—he just woke up! Lady ChorYeon is with him now!”

Seolhwa immediately turned to Seop Mugwang.

“Go on.”

She ran straight for the pavilion.

By the time she arrived, the head of the Medical Hall was issuing instructions to the attending physicians.

Spotting Seolhwa, ChorYeon greeted her with a wide smile.

“You’ve come, Young Lady? I was about to be disappointed thinking I’d missed you.”

“How is he?”

“Quite healthy. The wounds are healing well, and the prognosis is solid. He’ll need a few more days in bed, but at this pace, he’ll be on his feet in no time.”

“I see...”

A wave of relief washed over her.

“Go on in. He’s awake. Ah—and he’s such a sweet kid, you know? Hm...”

ChorYeon looked at Seolhwa with a peculiar glint.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. Go on.”

With a playful smile, ChorYeon stepped aside.

Seolhwa thanked her and entered the hall.

As the door closed behind her—tap—ChorYeon murmured under her breath:

“A cat... and a giant puppy?”

The boy had babbled endlessly throughout treatment, offering his arm without hesitation and chattering away the whole time.

He must have been in pain, and yet he’d shown no sign of it—just laughed like a happy dog.

Where in the world had the Young Lady picked up such a large puppy?

The shock of meeting him was entirely different from the one she’d felt upon first encountering Seolhwa.

“Ah—now I really want to see what they’re like together...”

But spying would be wrong, wouldn’t it?

If she got caught, the Young Lady might try to kill her.

ChorYeon sighed and walked away with reluctant steps.

—

The faint scent of herbs lingered in the room.

Wrapped in bandages, Yu Gang sat upright on the bed, staring up at the full moon glowing outside the window.

When the door opened and closed, he turned his head.

And the moment he saw Seolhwa, his face lit up—brighter than the moon.

“Wow—you came to see me?”