Martial Arts Ain't That Big of a Deal

Chapter 5

“...I’m gonna kill you.”

Chun-bong’s sharp glare stings.

“...You insane pervert bastard.”

I stand my ground. No matter what, I never crossed the line into actual insanity. I just washed her off with a wet cloth, for crying out loud.

And besides, she’s the one who saw everything when I got stabbed.

But Chun-bong didn’t care.

“...You should just cut it off.”

“What? Cut what off?”

If looks had the physical power, I’d have already made a big hole in my lower half.

Honestly, I was a bit scared, so I covered myself with my hands and backed off, causing Chun-bong to let out a hefty sigh.

“Dammit, I’m done for.”

“Medical treatment is fine, you know. If I just keep my mouth shut, no one will ever know.”

“Just die already!”

Things started flying at me. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, right?

Rumor has it that women love compliments. And when it comes to flattery, I consider myself quite skilled.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’ll grow up to be a man who’ll make plenty of girls cry... What the hell! Why’s there a rock in your house?!”

“You... just try getting up here. I swear, you better be ready.”

“Haha.”

I approached Chun-bong with a mischievous grin.

“Come on, Chun-bong-sensei. I can’t waste this opportunity.”

“Your true colors are showing...! You rapist!”

“Huh?”

Chun-bong, with her sore body, suddenly leaped up and charged at me with fury.

“Die!”

Her kitten punches came flying in hot. But seriously, she’s just a sickly little girl. After a bit of a struggle, I easily pinned Chun-bong down.

“Haha! Accept my service willingly!”

You think you’ll get revenge once you feel better? I’ll make sure you’re so comfortable you won’t even think about revenge.

“Ugh...! Kill me!”

But all that commotion made my hard-earned cleanliness go to waste; I was drenched in sweat again. I couldn’t just let this slide.

“Again, again...!”

After another wash, Chun-bong finally settled down. Did she realize that getting sweat-soaked meant she’d be pushed into the wash again? Or was she slowly starting to give up after the second round?

Feeling a bit sorry for her droopy state, I asked, “Hey, Chun-bong. Why do you look so drained?”

“...You little bastard, it’s because of you. Plus, I’m not Chun-bong; I’m Geum.”

“Pardon?”

Geum Chun-bong? How could a person’s name be Geum Chun-bong?

It wasn’t a joke, and I was a bit shocked, rolling my eyes. But then her furious gaze shot at me.

“You dimwit. Do you really think my name is Chun-bong? You’re such a blockhead.”

“Was that a stage name? I thought it was the real deal.”

“...Heh.”

“Why’s your mood swinging suddenly?”

Bam—! A random object hit me square on the head.

“Ow...!”

“Idiot, my name’s Hee. Geum Hee.”

“Ah... Geum Hee. That’s kind of a pretty name.”

As I mulled this over, I asked, “Do you mean like the princess character using the same character for ‘Hee’?”

“Well, it has that meaning.”

“Is that allowed? Doesn’t anyone say anything?”

In most martial arts stories, there’s a clear distinction between the martial world and officialdom. There’s even an expression for it! The official and the martial world don’t meddle with each other.

But then again, unless you’re provoking the royal family, I figured it was uncommon to use words like king, emperor, or princess in names. Or am I wrong?

“Who cares? My family’s got that privilege.”

“Oh... Is your dad the emperor?”

“Can’t you tell just by looking? They’re the kind of scum from the Black Path. They seem to have some martial arts chops, though low-grade trash arts.”

“Those types?”

“They must have enough muscle to afford that knife. Thugs like them would find it hard even to get a scrap knife.”

“Oh.”

I gently placed the beak knife back into its spot. As Chun-bong lay there grumbling, she suddenly seemed to think hard about something before springing to her feet.

“Hey, how much money do you have there?”

“Didn’t I tell you to rest?”

“Hey, am I your mother or what?!”

Chun-bong snatched the money pouch from my hands, checked the amount, and nodded.

“This will do. Let’s go.”

*

“Can’t you move any faster? This is too slow.”

Chun-bong, clinging firmly to my back, kicked my rear end with her foot.

“Throw you off, maybe?”

“Give it a try, you little punk.”

“Just do it.”

As I pretended to toss her off, Chun-bong wrapped her arms around my neck tightly.

“Whoa...! Hey, hey! My neck! I’m choking!”

“Stop whining.”

With Chun-bong clinging to me fiercely, she guided me to what was clearly a blacksmith’s shop. It seemed stocked with mostly sickles and hoes—definitely not top-notch quality.

“Let’s buy you a sword here.”

“A sword? You told me to learn martial arts instead.”

“Now that I see it, you’re just average in ability.”

As I followed her teasing touch, we approached a corner where she began explaining.

“First off, martial qi doesn’t mean you have anything until you reach a peak level. Before that, there’s nothing you can do.”

“Really?”

“Of course! The ability to expel qi from your body is what we call a first-rate skill. When you can maneuver that qi skillfully and freely, that’s when the peak experts are truly known as such.”

Yet the start of martial qi is all about managing the expelled qi. So obviously, to use martial qi properly, you’ve got to reach that pinnacle first.

“Hmmm.”

As I contemplated, I hoisted Chun-bong with one arm while extending the other forward.

“Isn’t this some kind of martial qi?”

I cocked my bent index finger as if loading a straw.

‘It felt like gathering qi at the tip of my finger.’

I recalled the sensation I accidentally achieved last night. It wasn’t too hard.

As the feeling settled in, I flicked my finger like shooting a marble.

Swish—!

A slight scratch formed on the surface of the wood I aimed at. The qi I gathered at my fingertip shot out like a bullet.

“How awesome! I’ll name this ‘Darting Finger’ or something...”

“What the hell! How did you do that?!”

“Just a bit of practice.”

After calming Chun-bong, quite a while later, we entered the smithy.

*

“...You better explain everything properly when you get home.”

“Got it.”

As I opened the blacksmith’s door, a slow-moving old man approached us.

“What do you want? We have no food for beggars, so scram.”

His white hair contrasted with his bulging muscles. One hit from him and my head would probably burst!

While I chose my words carefully, Chun-bong spoke up first.

“I’ll pick my items and handle the payment, so just buzz off.”

That punk clearly had zero respect for elders.

“True, you should leave, old man.”

I’m not sure who’s worse.