Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

Before going to bed, I washed my face thoroughly, and after waking up early in the morning, I ran laps in the training grounds and finished my Qi cultivation exercises. As a result, by the time breakfast came, I was able to present myself with a clean and composed face, just like before.

As I picked and ate each grape from the fruit served with the meal, I marveled at how I had been reborn in such a bountiful land. Just then, I heard a sound from across the table.

“What’s wrong?”

“Could you say it in seven words?”

“…Why are you staring at me eating?”

“No, I just wondered how you’re not bloated at all.”

Feeling a little annoyed by the strange comment, I couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the following words.

The knights here didn’t perform Qi cultivation exercises like I did, but I had heard that they practiced something similar, like mind control or meditation. Their mana only seemed to strengthen their heart and major organs, spreading out, but it didn’t seem to reduce swelling the way Qi cultivation did for me.

I had thought that one day I might pass on the internal cultivation methods to them, but I wondered how I could explain and translate the many meridians and acupoints in their language, especially since some terms weren’t even pronounceable. If I made a mistake, I might end up leading them down the wrong path, and I couldn’t help but feel a little regretful that I hadn’t read more medical texts when I lived in Zhongyuan.

“It’s just the way it’s always been.”

When I answered casually, I heard a small laugh from across the table. “Let’s go, time for class,” he said, leading me with his small back, which somehow made me feel reassured.

—

The beginner’s swordsmanship class began by checking how well we had corrected the mistakes pointed out in the previous lesson. Everyone practiced their sword forms once more, and after receiving individual corrections, we all struggled not to fall back into our old, ingrained sword styles.

Having come to a new land and taken on a new body, was there any reason to hold on to my old sword techniques?

In Ernhardt’s Magnolia Knight Order, I couldn’t find a proper sword style, so I had no choice but to make do. But now, things were different. As I observed the younger students from afar, one of them, Sanson, approached me. I tried to grab his sleeve, but he swiftly pulled his arm away.

Both of us were surprised. I was startled because, without thinking, I had used my technique to grab his sleeve in a way that resembled a *Geunna* (a technique where you hook your hand like a claw to grab and control your opponent). Sanson, surprised too, laughed and spoke.

“What’s on your mind, so deeply?”

“I was wondering, is it better to remove the killing intent from the sword style I’m using and add what’s missing, or to learn a better sword style from scratch?”

“…Hmm…”

It seemed that this question caught Sanson off guard, as he paused to think. At that moment, I found myself curious about something. Why didn’t the academy, which trained the empire’s knights, teach a uniform sword style to all its students?

If they were military personnel, shouldn’t they all learn and practice the same sword style? Why was it done differently? Was it because there were so many fairy tales where a single hero saves the world?

As I pondered these trivial thoughts, Sanson finally spoke.

“Probably better to refine what you have, right?”

“Why is that? Is my sword style inferior to yours, Professor Sanson?”

“No, that’s not it. Well, let’s… move over there for a moment.”

Sanson led me to a spot a little further from the students, but still within sight. The wisteria was nearby, though it wasn’t the blooming season, so it didn’t smell fragrant. I blinked and looked up at him.

“Where did you learn your sword style? Do you know its name?”

“It’s called *Changcheon Mu-ae Gyeombeop* (Endless Sword of the Blue Sky). The one who taught me is no longer in this world.”

“…When did you learn it?”

“Oh, I was very young…”

“Before you developed the habit of running around the training grounds?”

“Yes.”

I could tell he was looking at me like I was something strange. However, I didn’t want to lie in front of my teacher. I wasn’t good at lying in general, and I was afraid it would be found out later.

“You’re not strange. Wait, no, it’s strange. But is it weird to say it’s strange?”

What is he talking about? As my expression turned puzzled, the man sighed and scratched his chin, pausing for a moment to think. I quietly waited, knowing that he was straightforward and would give me a clear answer soon.

“You’ve developed a habit.”

“If it’s a bad habit, I can fix it.”

“No, it’s not the kind of habit that’s in the sword technique. It’s something more fundamental. The way you breathe is different. Even when you’re not using a sword, you breathe, extend your arms, and bend your knees in a certain way, all according to a set pattern, to perform this technique.”

“…”

“When most kids find something interesting, they tend to rely on their vision. But you try to draw from your aura. Whether you’re looking at something, listening to something, or even thinking, everything you do is combat-oriented. Considering your age, the achievements and actions you’re showing are things that even the person who briefly taught you swordsmanship when you were young wouldn’t have understood…”

I gasped. I hoped my face didn’t turn pale. It dawned on me that he might be a formidable martial artist, and at the same time, I realized that the day I had decided to push my past life aside, I might accidentally reveal it. Sweat began to form in my palms.

Maelo Sanson looked at me seriously.

“I hope you don’t lie about this, Michael Ernhardt. Have you ever…”

“…”

“Have you ever held a cursed sword?”

“Sorry, what?”

A cursed sword?

Seeing how flustered I was, Sanson awkwardly chuckled and waved his hand.

“Never mind, you look too much like something out of a fairytale for me to be sure… if not, it’s fine. Anyway, because of how you are, you don’t really need to abandon your established sword style. After all, swordsmanship isn’t perfected with just one technique. If there were such a thing as a perfect sword style, there wouldn’t be so many different sword styles in the world.”

“…”

“Swordsmanship is just… a tool to help you wield a sword effectively. You can choose whatever style you want to use when the time comes, just like deciding whether to use a spoon or a fork when eating.”

“…I don’t think there’s a knife on my table yet.”

“Right, and it seems like there’s no cutlet fork or dessert spoon either.”

It seemed like he liked how I responded to his metaphor, as Maelo Sanson nodded with a gentle smile.

“Well then, let’s find some time next time. This is a class with other students, so I can’t just spend time on you alone, Ernhardt. You understand, right?”

“Of course! I’m free this Friday afternoon!”

“An incredibly eager date proposal, well received. Have lunch on Friday and then come to the training grounds.”

“Yes!!”

Maelo Sanson returned to the other students, and I stood there, once again lost in thought.

The act of breathing was likely referring to internal cultivation techniques. Like the swordsmanship, the *Cheonggung Daeyeon Sin Gong* (Celestial Bow Great Extension Technique) was a martial art passed down through the generations of the Namgung family, just like the bloodline of the Namgung family itself. The two naturally complemented each other, though I had almost missed it due to my impatience.

I walked slowly, distancing myself a little from the wisteria, and after positioning myself in the open space, I began to use the techniques of the Namgung family, examining them as if studying an ancient martial art.

I followed the breathing methods in accordance with the *Cheonggung Daeyeon Sin Gong*’s principles. Though I had primarily used swordsmanship, when I let go of the sword and extended my hands, naturally, *Cheonroe Samjang* (Heavenly Thunder Three Forms) and *Gubyeok Sin Gwon* (Nine Walls Divine Fist) came out first. I moved towards the direction of the celestial wind and felt the energy of the Heavenly Thunder as I stepped forward.

Namgung’s martial arts were the martial arts of emperors, and it was natural that, as the technique unfolded, I resembled a person from the Namgung family. It was only to be expected.

As I slowed my breath, both my sweeping hands and my steps became slower. Without the force of a strong momentum, I followed the most direct path and pursued it. I tried to follow the white trail drawn across the blue sky.

It shifted from white clouds to a cabbage butterfly to a graceful swan, all the while the white in my heart deepened my understanding of the way.

Reaching out to push further, my hand reached into the sky. The green energy gathered in my right hand extended outward. The energy that bloomed from my lower abdomen spiraled around my limbs, and my palm extended to the *Soobu Hyul* (palm acupoint), an energy technique not typically used in the central plains due to my lack of knowledge in *Bayoung* (external energy flow for striking).

Instead of trying to gather the scattered energy, I let it flow freely and continued my next step. I moved forward, keeping my focus inward.

I wasn’t looking ahead but instead looking within my body. I observed the flow of my internal energy. I could feel the energy that had risen from my lower abdomen responding to every gesture of my hands and feet. Rather than leading the energy, I let it flow freely, going where it wished.

Naturally, the calm and gentle energy, like the vast sky, did not act aggressively. Following that energy, I too began to feel a vastness in my heart.

I felt a gaze directed toward me. I let the momentum I had built up subside. With a gesture, I grasped the energy in my hand again. The subtle sound of energy swirling around like a snake echoed and then dispersed. I knew the name of that green energy.

“…Cheonroe Jeowang Sin Gong (Heavenly Thunder Emperor’s Divine Skill)…”

A technique passed down as a one-on-one inheritance only within the direct bloodline of the family, superior even to the *Cheonggung Daeyeon Sin Gong*. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was certainly similar. Not fully believing it, I clenched and unclenched my hands a few times, and then suddenly raised my head.

As if expecting it, Maelo Sanson, who had been watching me, nodded approvingly, as if praising me for a job well done.

A smile crept up on my face once again.