Chun-bong came home and immediately handed over a stick he’d picked up off the road.

“Swing it.”
“You’re not even showing me how?”
“Just try it, damn it.”

The brat had no manners. Seo-jun grumbled but took the stick and swung it through the air a few times.

Surprisingly, it fit his hand pretty well. Maybe it was a rare stick. The balance felt weirdly right, so swinging it was easy.

Still, it didn’t seem to impress Chun-bong much.

“Huh… ordinary.”
“So what, you think one stick’s gonna let me cut the sky?”
“Quit your crap.”

Chun-bong sighed and stared at Seo-jun.

Really, the more Chun-bong thought about Seo-jun, the more suspicious he became. The kid could tell at a glance that Seo-jun wasn’t from the slums. Even when he ate, there was some sort of propriety—not exactly refined, but a sense of manners you wouldn’t expect from a gutter rat.

‘A scion of a clan? But there’s no trace he learned martial arts…’

Tsk. Chun-bong clicked his tongue and jabbed Seo-jun in the ribs with the stick as he swung.

“Ow! Hey—”
“Shut up. That’s enough—sit over there.”

Still… he seemed like not a bad guy. Teaching him the Three Talents Sword Style wouldn’t hurt. Chun-bong exhaled.

What a fickle brat. Seo-jun grumbled and sat where Chun-bong pointed.

‘Still, he’s kinda cute.’

At first the kid had been wary, but after a few days he’d been trailing Chun-bong like a shadow.

Living in the back alleys at that age must have been rough. No wonder he could be clingy.

“Shut up and listen. It’s not hard—you’ll memorize it quick.”

Chun-bong took the stick, drew in the dirt like a teacher giving a lesson.

“Can you read this?”
“Tian, Di, Ren?”
“What? You can read? This is suspicious.”
“Come on, even a local brat can read this much.”

天, 地, 人

Basic Chinese characters.

‘Huh?’

Now that he thought about it, the language here wasn’t Korean. It was strange he could understand at all.

‘Is this one of those possession buffs or something?’

But it didn’t feel like he’d possessed someone’s body, no status window popped up or anything.

While Seo-jun mulled, Chun-bong poked his side.

“What about this one?”

He pointed to an odd pictogram.

“What’s that?”
“Grape— 葡萄.”
“That one’s rough. I might guess the others, but this is tough.”
“What’re you on about?”

Chun-bong sighed, pointed at the character for heaven.

“The Three Talents Sword Style has three techniques. They’re based on Heaven, Earth, and Man; and the corresponding mental method is the Three Talents Mind Technique.”
“Oh—mind technique.”
“Don’t make that face. Anyway, there are mnemonic phrases. You gotta memorize them.”

Chun-bong cleared his throat and continued.

“People originate from earth and aim to rise to heaven; when one touches heaven and becomes a celestial person—”

It wasn’t that long. If read smoothly, maybe three minutes total.

Of course, memorizing it on the spot is another story.

“Wait—again.”
“People originally—”
“Ss—start with ‘heaven’ again. Heh heh.”
“Heh heh, don’t make me laugh. Alright… ‘when one touches heaven and becomes a celestial person—’”

After clumsily memorizing the mnemonic, Seo-jun was exhausted.

“Why are we memorizing this anyway?”
“You actually don’t have to.”
“What? You—”

He held back the urge to shove the kid. Good job, Seo-jun. Beating up a child, no matter what, would be too much.

“But yeah, you’d be dumb not to. Just reciting the mnemonic implants some core imagery into your subconscious that forms the basis for martial technique. It also helps later against possession or dark arts if you’ve got the phrase memorized.”

This wasn’t just nonsense. Chun-bong tapped his head with the stick. The kid was sharper than he looked.

“Were you from a well-off family originally?”
“W-what!? No!?”
“Oh, okay.”
“What’s ‘okay’ about that!?”

Chun-bong bounced around happily and Seo-jun frowned.

‘You understand “okay”? Ridiculous.’

Did China mix with the West in this era? He didn’t know history that well. Not even sure whether this world followed his world’s history.

“Alright, teacher. Let’s try the mind technique.”
“Ugh—!”

Chun-bong ground his teeth and pressed his palm to Seo-jun’s back.

“First you need to feel qi. If you can’t, you’ll suffer for nothing.”
“I’ll be fine. I have a good feeling.”
“Where’d that confidence come from?”

Chun-bong smirked and explained.

“I’m going to pump a little qi into you. It’ll be weak, don’t expect miracles—just try to feel it.”
“What a responsible promise.”
“Starting now. You can’t do this long, so focus.”

Seo-jun closed his eyes. Warmth seeped from Chun-bong’s hand through the clothes. As he concentrated, a ticklish sensation stirred.

‘Is this qi?’

Following the faint feeling, he broadened his awareness and realized something permeated everything—most evident inside his body. When he grasped that presence firmly, he opened his eyes.

“What, why are you opening already? Pathetic focus.”
“I think it worked.”
“What? This guy’s full of it.”

Chun-bong sneered and pressed his hand a little harder.

“Try moving. If you felt it, you can move it to some extent by will.”

No way. Even legendary martial gods didn’t sense qi in one minute.

Chun-bong clicked his tongue.

“What the—”

Was this kid seriously pulling a fast one on me?

Chun-bong’s jaw was agape. He’d felt it—Seo-jun’s qi responding to his will. From Chun-bong’s perspective, it was reason to suspect whether Seo-jun really wasn’t from a clan and was deceiving him.

But if he was lying, why so sloppy? If you’re going to fake being clan-born, at least be convincing.

Either the guy was a mastermind or an idiot.

“I’m gonna be a MUGONG master~.”
“Stop talking like that, you sound obnoxious.”
“It’s a local accent.”
“What is he even saying.”

Maybe he was just an idiot.

Chun-bong sighed.

“You must’ve had good luck.”
“Hey, Chun-bong.”
“Hm?”
“Do you have a branding iron or something?”
“A branding iron? No—why?”

Seo-jun jumped up and grabbed Chun-bong’s wrist. Chun-bong shrieked.

“What are you doing, you lunatic!?”
“You said you could do it!”
“…You really wanna test me?”

Chun-bong’s eyes trembled. He hesitated, then closed them and handed his hand over.

“Fine—whatever.”
“Don’t just— I’m not crazy.”
“You kinda are….”
“What, man?”

Seo-jun sighed and let go.

“Alright. So the mind technique is working then?”
“Working? This is just the start.”

Now that he felt qi, they needed to form a dantian (energy center).

“Ugh—”

Already tired, Seo-jun slapped his forehead.

That day disappeared in a flash once they worked on the dantian exercises.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the hole in the roof and Seo-jun shot up.

“Strong and good morning!”

Stretching, he felt unusually refreshed. Maybe it was in his head, but he felt stronger than usual.

“Ah… so this is martial arts.”

Just as he was about to start his day with that thought, a deep sigh echoed.

“Tch. Aren’t you tired already? Someone who just barely reached third-rate status and you’re yammering about qi.”

Chun-bong sat up, scratching his head and yawning.

“If you’re awake, earn your keep. Get food today. I’ll watch the lookout.”
“Sounds good. Mutual, not permanent relocation—been on my bucket list.”
“Shut your mouth.”

Seo-jun flicked sleep from his eyes and gulped from a cracked water bowl.

“Ugh… drink this and you’ll catch every disease.”
“Everyone dies young here for a reason.”
“You say that.”

After swallowing the gross taste, Seo-jun stretched.

“Let’s go.”

High-brow nonsense aside: thieving. Today was the day for his first proper job advancement.

“So what do you wanna be when you grow up? A thief for life?”

People said stuff like that, but they didn’t understand: thievery is an art, and talent matters.

Seo-jun remembered Chun-bong’s tips.

‘First rule: be stealthy. Second rule: BE stealthy.’

Not getting caught is ideal. If you are caught, escaping is second best.

‘This is more pickpocketing than outright theft. Target moments when your mark’s attention is elsewhere.’

That’s third-rate skill. Second-rate thieves do more: they can subtly redirect attention without making it awkward. First-rate… he didn’t know.

Today he aimed for second-rate.

“Ah—caught.”

Of course, it wasn’t that easy.