Chapter 40: The Difference in Level (6)
“Father.”
“Come in.”
Yeon Ho-jeong entered the family head’s chamber.
Whoosh.
The moment Yeon Ho-jeong stepped inside, the thick scent of sweat permeated the air.
Yeon Wi’s eyes glinted.
“Were you training?”
“I’m fine. I was planning to stop for the day anyway.”
Yeon Wi scanned Yeon Ho-jeong’s body up and down.
As usual, he wore a tight martial uniform instead of his outer robe. The sweat-soaked fabric clung to his body, revealing every contour.
‘He’s grown.’
Yeon Ho-jeong’s physique had transformed beyond recognition.
His once lanky legs had filled out, now as solid as steel towers. Though still lean, his shoulders, chest, and forearms were far more defined, with muscles visibly sharper in quality.
The changes over four months were staggering—a result of extreme training, ample nutrition, disciplined rest, and internal energy enabling rapid recovery.
Of course, such progress wasn’t easily achieved. Pushing himself to the brink of collapse during every session demanded extraordinary mental fortitude.
“I recall you being even skinnier two months ago.”
“I nearly died.”
“That’s why I told you to ease up.”
“If I’d listened, would I have grown this much?”
In truth, it had been eighty days since they last met. Yeon Wi had intentionally refrained from summoning him.
To not visit even once as a son—however focused on training—was ruthlessly disciplined.
“You’ve built a solid foundation now.”
“Yes. I think it’s time to adjust my regimen.”
Yeon Wi shifted his gaze to documents on the desk.
“Visit occasionally for tea.”
Yeon Ho-jeong smiled.
“Understood.”
“Sit.”
“Yes.”
Once seated, Yeon Ho-jeong asked,
“Why did you call for me?”
Did a father need a reason to see his son?
But there was a reason. Yeon Wi finished reviewing a document and handed him a letter.
“This arrived for you.”
Yeon Ho-jeong tilted his head. A personal letter?
‘Huh?’
Then it struck him. There was one person who might send such a thing.
He hastily opened the letter. His eyes lit up instantly.
“Pay up, you thief!”
The opening line nearly made him laugh aloud.
“Damn it! I thought this investigation would wrap up quickly, but it’s been a nightmare! You knew, didn’t you? Of course you did. Screw this—I only agreed because you asked, and now I’m broke!”
Since when do beggars worry about money? The writer seemed to have forgotten their own identity.
“Anyway, most of it’s done. Wanted to visit within two months but got delayed. My bad. I’ll come in half a month—prepare good food. If it doesn’t satisfy me, I’ll wreck the place!”
The frustration was palpable. But Yeon Ho-jeong understood: the harder the struggle, the sweeter the reward.
‘The investigation’s complete.’
Yet they insisted on delivering the findings in person rather than by letter.
‘Either the information is too sensitive or too vast. Maybe both.’
Yeon Ho-jeong’s gaze deepened.
‘Half a month… Tight, but manageable.’
Once Gadeuksang arrived with the intel, Yeon Ho-jeong would need to act. Until then, he had to refine his skills further—the martial world waited for no one.
“The letter mentions Gadeuksang.”
Yeon Ho-jeong looked up. Yeon Wi remained focused on his documents.
“The Beggar Sect’s successor?”
“Yes.”
“When did you connect with him?”
“During the gathering.”
A ghost of a smile touched Yeon Wi’s lips.
“Well done.”
He knew how most youths viewed the Beggar Sect. That his son had earned their successor’s trust was noteworthy.
“They’re counted among the Nine Great Sects for a reason. Nurturing ties with their heir is crucial.”
“He’s decent company regardless.”
“Naturally. Few could tolerate your stubbornness.”
Yeon Ho-jeong coughed.
“He’ll visit in half a month. I ask that you welcome him.”
“The Hundred Thousand Beggars’ successor—and your friend. He’ll be received accordingly.”
Yeon Ho-jeong tucked the letter away. Yeon Wi didn’t pry—if his son chose silence, there was cause.
“Then I’ll take my leave—”
“Ending training already?”
“Ah—yes.”
Yeon Wi stood, shedding his outer robe.
“Follow me.”
Behind the family head’s chamber lay the training ground where Yeon Ho-jeong had once transformed Biyeonsimbeop into Byeokrajinki.
‘This place still feels right.’
Uncluttered and serene, it focused the mind.
Yeon Wi stood at the center, hands behind his back.
“Still practicing spear techniques?”
“Yes.”
Yeon Wi gestured to the weapon rack.
“Choose one.”
Yeon Ho-jeong’s eyes brightened.
‘A spar with Father?’
His heart raced. They’d never crossed blades seriously before—only harsh childhood drills lingered in memory.
Approaching the rack, he hesitated.
“Properly?”
“Meaning?”
“Will you take this seriously?”
Yeon Wi’s gaze sharpened.
“Would I summon you otherwise?”
In answer, Yeon Ho-jeong seized a halberd—a fangtianji (方天戟) with a crescent blade, its iron shaft heavy as a log.
‘Good.’
He tested its weight with satisfaction.
“I’ll use this.”
“You’ve learned halberd techniques?”
“An extension of spear arts. It’s my current limit.”
‘Limit? So he plans to surpass even this.’
Yeon Wi selected a sword from the rack—a heavy blade forged by a master smith, uncommonly weighty despite its ordinary appearance.
Yeon Ho-jeong’s eyes widened.
“A heavy sword?”
“You recognize it?”
“Yes. The balance is unusual.”
Yeon Wi marveled inwardly—his son’s discernment surpassed even his perceptive second brother.
Clang!
The sheath hit the ground with a thud.
“Step forward.”
Yeon Ho-jeong took a steadying breath.
‘Nervous… But not because he’s strong.’
He assumed a stance, the halberd resting on his shoulder—flawless, unyielding.
Yeon Wi’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you know why I’m evaluating you today?”
“Do fathers need reasons to test their sons?”
“True. But today has a specific purpose.”
“Which is?”
Yeon Wi closed his mouth.
“Why?”
“…After the spar.”
“Understood.”
Yeon Wi assumed his stance—left hand behind his back, heavy sword pointed downward, gaze fixed on its tip. A gentleman’s posture, yet thrumming with lethal energy.
Hummmm.
The blade vibrated faintly.
Sword Extreme Thought Energy—one of Mount Biyeon’s Five Supreme Arts, concentrating aura to its zenith.
Gentleman Eight Sword Stances—among the Three Great Sword Techniques. Together, they signaled serious intent.
Yeon Ho-jeong’s eyes blazed blue.
Boom!
He stomped, lowering his stance further. The halberd’s grip resembled an axe-wielder’s—dynamic, contrasting Yeon Wi’s stillness.
Whoosh.
A breeze cut through the tension.
“Come.”
“Now!”
Yeon Ho-jeong charged.
Thud!
His footfall echoed like war drums.
‘Fast!’
Closing the distance instantly, he swung the halberd diagonally—a ruthless strike that would split a mountain.
Clang!
Yeon Wi’s sword rose smoothly, deflecting the halberd effortlessly despite its triple weight.
‘Incredible.’
Yeon Ho-jeong spun, following with a Chain Palm Strike aimed at his father’s chest—
Thud!!
Yeon Wi’s eyes flared in surprise.
