Mu-hwi strolled through the grounds of the Hwasan Sect, draped in a new plum blossom robe that Im Su-ryeon had sent him. After the intense battle in Sichuan, Mu-hwi and the other Plum Blossom Swordsmen had returned to Hwasan for some much-needed rest.

Beside him, Mu-jin kept pace, deep in conversation. “Teaching others is definitely more challenging than training alone,” Mu-jin remarked, seeking advice on instructing disciples.

Mu-jin had turned to Mu-hwi for guidance, recognizing his significant role in nurturing the second-generation disciples. “I pushed my disciples to their limits, but you don’t have to do the same. There’s no single right way to teach,” Mu-hwi advised.

“True, but I can’t be too lenient either, can I?” Mu-jin replied.

“Of course not. While the overall approach might be consistent, each disciple requires individual attention. Everyone’s different, after all.”

For instance, Mu-ryun thrived on encouragement and praise, while Mu-sang needed to be pushed to his limits to stay focused. Understanding each disciple’s unique nature was crucial for effective teaching.

“Your ability to assess disciples will develop naturally as you work with more of them,” Mu-hwi assured him.

Mu-jin smiled. “It’s impressive how you managed to guide us all so well, even when you were suddenly put in charge.”

“That’s because I’m the senior disciple,” Mu-hwi replied with a grin. “So, have you made your decision?”

“Yes, I’ve informed Elder Baek-chun that I want to learn the duties of the Chunmae Pavilion.”

Mu-jin had been frequenting the Chunmae Pavilion, showing a keen interest in training and nurturing future disciples. He often sought Mu-hwi’s advice on teaching.

“What do you think of the third-generation disciples?” Mu-hwi asked.

“There are many promising ones, like Myeong-san, Myeong-yeong, and Myeong-am. If trained well, they might surpass us.”

“Is that so?” Mu-hwi mused, listening to Mu-jin’s detailed observations about several third-generation disciples. He could sense Mu-jin’s genuine dedication to the Chunmae Pavilion.

“It seems you don’t plan to take on personal disciples when you become a senior disciple,” Mu-hwi noted.

“Probably not. At the Chunmae Pavilion, I’ll need to focus on many disciples rather than just one,” Mu-jin replied without hesitation.

“I can’t imagine the others taking on disciples either,” Mu-hwi chuckled.

“Neither can I,” Mu-jin agreed.

Their conversation was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes, and Mu-ho emerged, his clothes smeared with dirt and grass.

“Have you been gathering herbs?” Mu-hwi asked, noticing the pouch at Mu-ho’s waist.

“Elder Baek-jin requested some herbs,” Mu-ho replied, opening the pouch to reveal his collection.

“You must have ventured deep into the mountains. Be careful, the terrain can be treacherous,” Mu-hwi cautioned.

“Of course, senior brother,” Mu-ho said confidently, puffing out his chest. “I’ve been studying herbal medicine diligently.”

Mu-ho had been balancing martial arts and medicine, frequently moving between the Plum Blossom Pavilion and the Medical Pavilion. Elder Baek-jin saw potential in him and was grooming him to be the next head of the Medical Pavilion.

“Senior brother, I need to get back. I only stepped out briefly while the decoction is brewing,” Mu-ho said.

“Take care,” Mu-jin waved him off.

As Mu-ho turned to leave, he paused. “We’re meeting tonight, right?”

“Yes,” Mu-hwi confirmed.

With that, Mu-ho dashed off, his figure quickly disappearing into the distance. Watching him go, Mu-hwi chuckled. “The ones who couldn’t even master the Six Harmonies Sword are now finding their own paths.”

Some second-generation disciples were still focused solely on martial arts, but many, like Mu-jin and Mu-ho, were pursuing their interests and learning from elders and senior disciples.

“Time has certainly flown by,” Mu-jin remarked.

“Indeed, it has,” Mu-hwi agreed, recalling how young and inexperienced the second-generation disciples had been when he first met them. Now, they were maturing into adults.

“Shall we head back?” Mu-hwi suggested.

“Yes, senior brother,” Mu-jin replied.

The two of them moved deeper into the forest, preparing for the evening’s feast. When they returned to the hut, Mu-hwi carrying a boar and Mu-jin with two deer, the second-generation disciples were already gathered.

“Wow, that’s a big boar!” one of them exclaimed.

“Everything in these mountains is big,” Mu-jin replied.

Mu-ho eyed the antlers on the deer with interest. “These would be great for medicine. I’ll take them to the Medical Pavilion.”

“Go ahead,” Mu-jin agreed.

“Elder Baek-jin will be pleased,” Mu-ho said.

With a thud, Mu-hwi dropped the boar to the ground. “I trust the drinks are ready?”

“Of course! We raided the taverns in Hwaeum for the best,” Mu-sang, who had helped procure the drinks, replied. “But please, call it ‘grain tea,’ not alcohol, senior brother.”

“Grain tea, alcohol, what’s the difference?” Mu-hwi shrugged.

As he surveyed the gathered disciples, his eyes narrowed. “Why is someone who’s not a Hwasan disciple here? Who invited him?”

All eyes turned to Dok-go Yul, who offered an awkward smile. Mu-hwa stepped in front of him, hands on her hips. “I invited him. It’s a friendly gathering, so why not include him?”

Mu-hwi shook his head. “Do as you wish.”

“Hehe, just enjoy yourself, Dok-go,” Mu-hwa encouraged.

“Thank you,” Dok-go Yul replied, nodding to Mu-hwa, the two of them seemingly in sync.

Mu-hwi found Mu-hwa’s attachment to Dok-go Yul somewhat irritating but decided to ignore it. He focused instead on the boar and deer before him, summoning his sword energy.

With a hum, three daggers floated into the air, ready to prepare the meat.

“Wow!”

“They’re moving!”

“So this is the Sword of Will.”

The second-generation disciples watched in awe as Mu-hwi manipulated the daggers with precision.

‘Controlling three is still challenging,’ Mu-hwi thought, continuing his practice of refining his Sword of Will technique.

He was working on both the precision of controlling a single sword and increasing the number of swords he could manipulate simultaneously.

As the daggers deftly skinned and prepared the meat, the disciples marveled at the display.

“Seeing the Sword of Will used like this is amazing,” one commented.

“You won’t see this anywhere else,” another agreed.

While splitting his internal energy to control three swords and perform complex techniques was still beyond him, Mu-hwi aimed for smooth, efficient movements as if wielding the blades by hand.

“Senior brother will finish soon, so get the fire ready,” Mu-ryun instructed, snapping the disciples out of their trance.

Under Mu-ryun’s direction, they busied themselves with preparations, while Mu-hwi continued to work with the floating daggers.

As he watched the process, Mu-hwi pondered the nature of the Sword of Will. ‘I’ve already achieved unity with the sword. My intent naturally flows into the energy. Do I really need to use hand gestures to control the Sword of Will?’

He considered the distinction between the Sword of Hand and the Sword of Heart. ‘Perhaps the boundary between them isn’t as distant as it seems. Maybe there was never a boundary at all.’

‘Is it just a matter of perception?’ he wondered.

The purple glow at the tip of Mu-hwi’s hand faded, and he lowered his hand to his knee, deep in thought.

As the three daggers, previously controlled by the art of Igi Eogeom, hesitated momentarily, they soon resumed their natural, fluid movements.

Mu-hwi’s hands remained resting on his knees.

“So, it was truly a matter of the heart, just as the term ‘Sim Eogeom’ suggests. It all depends on how I perceive things.”

The art of Igi Eogeom was so advanced that Mu-hwi had mistakenly assumed it required some special insight or reason.

“It seems simple at first glance, but if misunderstood, one might never grasp it, even after a lifetime of study. It’s challenging. When thoughts become narrow and confined, the heart naturally follows.”

With a shift in perspective and a change of heart, Mu-hwi’s mastery of Igi Eogeom began to move with more vitality, as if an invisible hand was guiding the daggers.

“Have I finally taken my first true step into the realm of Igi Eogeom?”

By the time Mu-hwi reached this realization, the meat had been neatly prepared. He then sprinkled various spices he had hidden in the hut and began grilling the meat in portions.

“Oh, this is delicious!”

“Senior Brother, have you been enjoying this all by yourself?”

“Hehe, I was lucky enough to taste it once before, thanks to Senior Brother.”

Mu-hwa boasted as he tore into the meat.

“Oh, is that so?”

As Dok-go Yul showed interest, Mu-hwa eagerly recounted the story, drawing the attention of the other second-generation disciples nearby.

Mu-hwi joined his fellow disciples, drinking and eating meat together.

“Mu-ryun, I haven’t seen you at the training grounds lately.”

Mu-ryun gave a wry smile at Mu-hwi’s question.

“Ah, I’ve been stuck in the Finance Pavilion. Elder Baek-san and Senior Hyun-baek dragged me there, saying I needed to be.”

“Handling money and numbers must be tough. How’s it going?”

“It’s manageable. My meticulous nature seems to shine in the Finance Pavilion.”

Mu-ryun’s joke elicited laughter from the other disciples.

“Senior Brother, my wrist feels like it’s going to fall off these days.”

Mu-san, holding his right wrist, feigned a groan as he drank.

“And why is that?”

“I got coaxed by Senior Hyun-gak into the Library Pavilion and spent all day transcribing secret manuals.”

“You always loved reading those manuals. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Mu-san shook his head with a grimace.

“No, reading them and writing them are completely different.”

Starting with Mu-ryun and Mu-san, many disciples began sharing their grievances, almost as if competing with each other.

Such stories were inevitable at a drinking gathering. Listening quietly, Mu-hwi addressed the disciples.

“You’re not using fatigue or lack of time as excuses to slack off on training, are you?”

Mu-hwi’s sharp gaze swept over the disciples, who quickly waved their hands, coughing as they drank.

“Oh, no way, Senior Brother.”

“Absolutely not.”

Mu-cheol, who had been listening quietly, added, “Many disciples have been getting up earlier than usual to train.”

“That’s how it should be.”

Mu-hwi took in the sight of the disciples before him and smiled lightly.

“For some reason, I can already envision us leading the elders’ council in a few decades.”

His words prompted laughter from the other disciples.

“Indeed. Mu-ryun as the head of the Finance Pavilion, Mu-san as the head of the Library Pavilion. It’s amusing to imagine.”

“And Senior Brother as the sect leader. Wow.”

As Mu-sang groaned at the end of his sentence, Mu-hwi’s gaze turned to him.

“Mu-sang, what do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing, Senior Brother. My cup is empty.”

“Hahaha!”

Mu-sang’s jest made the other second-generation disciples burst into laughter. The gathering continued late into the night.

The gentle breeze of Mount Hua swirled around the hut.

* * *

Baek-yu folded the letter and looked at the middle-aged man before him.

One of the three pillars of the Gu-yu Sword Sect, the head of the Narak Division. The Narak Division head stood with arms crossed, patiently waiting for Baek-yu to speak.

“I was wondering why the head of the Narak Division would come all the way to the main sect, and now I see you bring such news.”

The Narak Division head met Baek-yu’s gaze and spoke.

“Surely, the Mount Hua Sect isn’t planning to refuse.”

Just as Baek-yu was about to respond, a commotion could be heard outside.

It was the sound of first and second-generation disciples training. Occasionally, loud shouts and laughter echoed.

Hearing this, Baek-yu chuckled and looked at the Narak Division head.

Nodding, Baek-yu finally spoke.

“Very well. The Mount Hua Sect will accept the Gu-yu Sword Sect’s challenge to the Three Great Sword Sects. We will send out invitations in the name of the Mount Hua Sect across the martial world.”