The Invincible Commander – Chapter 16

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HwasanSect

[Translator: Chyluck]

[Proofreader: Chyluck]

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Chapter 16

Even masters aren’t always invincible.

An unexpected moment.

A brief lapse.

A misstep, losing balance.

That’s how they die.

As no grave lacks an excuse, defeat comes with countless unforeseen reasons.

Sometimes a novice’s blind blade kills, just as Cheon Sinwoo, ever vigilant against assassins, was floored by Woosaeng’s fist for such a reason.

“Huh?”

Woosaeng, stunned by landing the blow, gaped.

His first hit since training began.

He could hardly believe he’d done it.

“Ugh, my nose.”

Cheon Sinwoo, barely sitting up, clutched his nose, grimacing.

Thankfully, it wasn’t broken.

What a brute.

Though far from regaining his past strength, he never imagined Woosaeng could hit him.

“Damn, my head’s ringing.”

No one to blame.

It was his fault for getting hit.

He was too shocked.

“Right?”

Chang’s soft murmur blanked his mind.

His focus shifted from Woosaeng to Chang, and the fist flew.

More than the pain, he wondered how Chang predicted his move.

Just chance?

He glanced at Chang.

Blinking, eyes full of concern for him.

Yeah, chance.

How could a twelve-year-old predict his movements?

Overthinking, Cheon Sinwoo chuckled, rising.

A salty taste seeped into his mouth.

Blood?

His sleeve was soaked red.

Nose… nosebleed?

Hah, a nosebleed.

When was the last time he had one?

In front of his son, no less.

He wanted to look cool.

Even with torn flesh or a stabbed gut, he’d never had a nosebleed.

It was his fault for getting distracted mid-fight.

“Damn…”

Eyes blazing, fist clenched, he saw Chang’s face.

Oh, his son’s watching.

Closely…!

“Sorry, big brother.”

Woosaeng bowed apologetically, and Cheon Sinwoo’s stiff lips trembled, cracking into a forced smile.

He unclenched his fist with a creak, patting Woosaeng’s shoulder.

“Haha! It happens. Training’s like that. Not bad, really not bad. You’ve improved fast. Even beating your master…”

Smiling, his encouraging voice was flat, words stilted.

“Big brother, you okay?”

“Of course.”

Brushing off Woosaeng’s attempt to wipe the blood, Cheon Sinwoo nodded, forcing a grin.

Training him so hard.

And a nosebleed!

Ignorant fool who doesn’t know “lord, teacher, father as one”!

Humiliating his master!

His eyes said it.

His face smiled.

He kept glancing at Chang.

No change in expression, thankfully.

He held it together.

Cool father vibes, despite the nosebleed…

Damn it!

This brute’s strength—his nose stung.

The more he thought, the angrier he got.

He’d hold back, but after Chang left, he’d repay the nosebleed… no, train him harder.

Then a question hit.

“Young master.”

“Yes?”

“That ‘right’ you said.”

“It was obvious.”

“Oh, right… What? Obvious?”

Cheon Sinwoo, ready to argue, was speechless.

“You were pulling your foot, twisting sideways. I saw it all.”

Chang’s sheepish look left Cheon Sinwoo dumbfounded.

What the…

“Is seeing that weird?”

“Well…”

Then—

“Chang! Chang!”

Sohyang’s voice called from afar.

With the sun high, it was lunchtime.

Startled, Chang spun around in a fluster.

“I’ll go now.”

“Huh? Oh…”

Watching Chang scurry off, Cheon Sinwoo frowned.

He saw it?

That’s troubling.

He needed to talk to Sohyang.

But first—

“Woosaeng.”

“Yes? Lunchtime?”

“No, training.”

“What? No food?”

“Shut up!”

Channeling energy, Cheon Sinwoo stomped, darting like a swallow skimming water.

“Huh?”

Woosaeng couldn’t react to the sudden speed.

His prior dodges were only because Cheon Sinwoo held back for training.

Thud!

Kicked in the gut, Woosaeng crashed.

Cheon Sinwoo followed, unleashing relentless kicks.

Woosaeng’s clothes got dirtier, torn again.

This was training.

Sure.

All for Woosaeng to get stronger.

That night.

After Chang slept, Cheon Sinwoo met Sohyang outside.

Moonlight bathed her face, her beauty glowing… but that wasn’t the point.

Entranced by her grace, he shook his head.

His mind was tangled with other issues.

“The moonlight’s nice, isn’t it?”

Walking a few steps ahead, she closed her eyes, murmuring as if feeling the moon.

Opening them, she drew someone’s face in the moon with wistful eyes.

“We used to sit and watch the moon like this. It felt like I could forget everything.”

“Huh?”

He tilted his head at her sentimental tone.

“Oh, I said something silly, didn’t I?”

She smiled brightly, changing the subject, and he chuckled.

She hadn’t changed.

He recalled a similar moment…

She always loved moonlight.

He’d built a pavilion on a mountaintop for her to see it best.

On full moons, they’d climb, gaze silently, and descend… Damn, why these pointless thoughts?

“My lady, I have a question.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how this’ll sound, but have you noticed anything odd about the young master?”

“Odd… about him?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, her eyes suddenly filled with alarm.

“Why? Did something happen to Chang?”

“What?”

“Tell me. What’s odd about him?”

The moonlit reverie vanished, replaced by a mother’s worry.

She looked like she feared a grave illness.

His poor wording struck again.

Too serious.

“No, not that… Don’t worry, it’s not big. Just, does he ever sense things that aren’t there, find items in unexpected places, or say odd things about bugs or animals?”

Trying to ease her, he rephrased, but her face grew more shocked.

“What? Chang does that? Sees strange things?”

“…”

“Why would he?”

Another misstep.

Damn.

It sounded like, “Is your son a crazy kid seeing hallucinations?”

In his past life, she’d begged him to think thrice and pause ten breaths before speaking.

He rethought his words.

Counting ten breaths, he organized his thoughts.

“Not that he does, just asking if he ever has.”

“No, never.”

“Oh, good?”

Relief.

He’d worried Chang inherited it.

Fatherhood taught him.

You want them to take after you, but not the bad parts.

He’d been like that.

Oddly sharp senses from childhood.

When Chang said he saw, his heart sank.

Chang should grow differently.

Some say you can’t pickle because of maggots.

They’ve never seen maggots.

If Chang inherited his senses, would he become a villain, a martial scourge?

No, he wouldn’t.

Chang took after Sohyang.

Except his eyes, he’s her spitting image, handsome.

Unlike him, who hated studies, Chang recites Confucius and Mencius fluently.

Relieved, he sighed, finally seeing the moonlight.

Through Sohyang, he learned to feel its calming charm…

“Oh, there was something odd recently.”

“…What?”

“He said you were on the roof.”

“…”

“When you were avoiding me. I meant to ask, did you tell him?”

Cheon Sinwoo froze, staring at the moon.

She knew he was on the roof?

“I thought it was strange then too.”

“…”

“Somehow, he knew my thoughts. Never mentioned them. Odd, right?”

“What’s that mean?”

His eyes widened.

His heart raced.

Fear crept in.

“And that day. When the Huangdu Gang attacked. He said to hide in the kitchen. Out of nowhere. I was too frantic to think it odd then.”

As she spoke, Cheon Sinwoo’s breathing quickened.

His body stiffened, joints creaking, as he glanced at the kitchen by the main pavilion.

That day’s scene flashed like a vision.

The Huangdu attack.

He stopped the flaming arrows.

They needed a hiding spot.

A place with one entrance, safe if guarded.

Woosaeng was chosen.

His resilience made him ideal.

Time was short.

Even a wise child couldn’t judge in such fear at twelve.

Instinctive choice.

He’d done the same.

In dire moments, such instincts saved him more than once.

“So, that…”

If seeing wasn’t chance…

Chang took after him?

Meant to live differently, yet born with a martial prodigy’s instincts.

He’d worked madly, but without those instincts, he wouldn’t have become a notorious villain.

“What’s wrong?”

“…”

Facing Sohyang’s concern, he forced an awkward smile.

He couldn’t tell her, who’d recoil at martial talk, “Your son’s a born martial genius.”

He needed to think thrice, no, ten times, breathe not ten but a hundred times.

In the end, he said nothing, staring at the moon.