CHAPTER: Chapter 13
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Chapter 13
Since that day, three months had passed.
The outlines of muscle had begun to form along Uncheon's once skeletal arms and legs.
To make that happen, Uncheon had to pass through hell twice every single day.
The first hell began the moment dawn broke, in the lessons of Head Instructor Ma Chung of Blood Wind Leg.
"Your lower body is no better than a bundle of dried kindling! How do you expect to stir up a storm with roots that feeble?!"
"Straighten your waist and put strength into the tips of your feet!"
"Endure! Endure longer!"
As though he meant to restore his own tarnished honor, Ma Chung drove Uncheon with merciless severity.
Half of every lesson consisted of nothing but repeated foundational training: holding the horse stance and squatting down and rising again with water jars balanced upon his head.
'Simple... but for now, it is fairly effective.'
His thighs had grown considerably firmer by now, but the cramps were still unavoidable.
Muscle had begun to show even in his once emaciated legs, and there was spring in his calves as well.
Drops of sweat gathered at the tip of his chin and fell ceaselessly to the floor, forming a small puddle beneath his feet.
But Uncheon endured without letting out so much as a single groan.
Pain of this degree could scarcely be called pain at all.
'...I will become the Heavenly Demon and break the Demonic Cult.'
Whenever the dying faces of his senior and junior brothers of Gonryun rose before his eyes,
Uncheon would awaken even from sleep and practice the Heaven-and-Earth Dynamic Art.
Day after day, all of it accumulated steadily within his body.
At the very least, by appearance alone, Uncheon was no longer the wretched boy he had once been.
"Hm... not bad. From now on, I shall raise the intensity of the training even further!"
While Uncheon held the horse stance, Ma Chung casually tossed something down before him.
Clang—!
The metallic sound striking the floor was peculiarly heavy.
They were four iron weights made of steel.
"Strap them to your limbs."
Without a word, Uncheon stretched out his trembling arms and picked up the cold iron weights.
The instant he fastened them to his wrists and ankles, it felt as though the whole of his body were sinking into the earth beneath a crushing burden.
His muscles, already at their limit, let out a silent scream.
"Urgh...."
At the groan forced from Uncheon's lips, Ma Chung smiled in satisfaction.
"Heh heh... well? I shall increase the weight little by little. Only now does the real beginning arrive. Prepare yourself! Again, the horse stance!"
How much time passed like that, he could not tell.
The iron weights were unlike the sandbags commonly used in training.
It was not only because of the weight, but because of the material itself.
Along with the pain of his joints seeming to wrench apart, the sensation of cold metal biting into his flesh steadily gnawed at his mind.
'And still... I cannot even endure this much weight....'
At last, Uncheon's knees buckled.
Crash!
His body collapsed and was thrown hard against the cold floor of the training hall.
Clatter—
The iron weights strapped to his arms and legs scraped noisily across the floor.
"Haa... haa...."
Air no longer seemed able to reach the depths of his lungs.
Face-down on the floor, he could only gasp out rough breaths with difficulty.
Ma Chung looked down at him indifferently and said,
"Hmph. Only when the body reaches its limit does it finally prepare itself to receive something new."
He urged the collapsed Uncheon on.
"Get up. You may remove the iron weights now. From here, you will begin learning the forms."
But Uncheon shook his head and rose to his feet without taking the weights off.
"You wretch, are you mad?!"
Shock rang in Ma Chung's voice.
"To learn the forms in that state is not training, but self-destruction! Remove them at once!"
Yet instead of answering, Uncheon forced his staggering body into motion.
Faintly circulating the power of the Heaven-and-Earth Dynamic Art, he straightened his knee joints by force and planted himself upon the ground as though taking root there.
A will of tempered steel was compelling his body upright.
At the sight of that mad resolve blazing in his eyes, even Ma Chung was left momentarily speechless.
He let out a long sigh.
"Hoo. The body, too, needs time to adapt.... Very well, do as you please and let me see it."
Whoom—
Ma Chung's leg cut through the air with a sound like thunder.
It was not a simple kick.
It was a movement that added rotational force through the waist and exploded that power from the tip of the foot.
Where his leg passed, a blood-red afterimage lingered, together with a tearing shriek through the air.
"This is Wind-Thunder Kick, the first form of Blood Wind Leg. Can you unfold it properly even while wearing those iron weights?"
Form training began immediately after the hellish foundational conditioning.
But Uncheon clenched his teeth and forced his swaying body upright.
'...If it is to reclaim Gonryun, I can endure training such as this a thousand times over!'
In his mind, Uncheon perfectly reconstructed the movement Ma Chung had just shown him.
Then he forced his trembling legs to move.
Swish....
Because of the iron weights, the movement was slow and clumsy.
Forget a tearing shriek through the air—there was not even the sound of wind.
And yet the posture itself was flawless, not a hair's breadth different from what Ma Chung had shown him only moments before.
"...!"
The eyes of Ma Chung, who was watching, filled with astonishment.
'What a vicious brat! It should have been even harder because he could not build up any speed... At this point, I had expected him to beg me to take those iron weights off!'
That day, Uncheon did not once ask Ma Chung to remove the weights before the lesson ended.
No, even after the lesson was over, it was the same.
When he stepped out of the training hall, the heavy iron weights were still fastened to his arms and legs.
At the sight, it was Head Instructor Ma Chung who became flustered.
"You... don’t tell me you mean to keep wearing those iron weights all the time?"
"...That is correct."
Uncheon's answer was entirely calm.
Just as a swordsman who took the sword as his companion would not place it far away even in sleep,
'For now... these iron weights are no different from my sword.'
To Uncheon, not removing them was only natural.
Ma Chung stared blankly at him for a moment, robbed of words, then suddenly let out a hollow laugh.
"Good grief, do as you like.... You vicious bastard... no, you truly are a madman."
Behind Uncheon as he left the training hall, Ma Chung muttered under his breath,
"Tch, I will have to put in an order with the forge at once. For something twice as heavy... damn it, at this rate all my Instruction Tokens are going to be bled dry."
***
If Ma Chung's training was a furnace that tempered the body by drawing out sweat and blood,
then Yajin's training was an abyss that froze even sound and presence.
His training always began in absolute darkness.
"...Iron weights? Did Head Instructor Ma Chung give them to you?"
"Yes."
"...Certainly, it is not a poor method for hardening the body more quickly. But can you truly endure this Head Instructor's lessons in that condition?"
"I will try."
A deep smile, as though he found the notion ridiculous, spread over Head Instructor Yajin's lips.
"Hmph. Very well, endure it if you can. The first virtue of an assassin is not strength, but senses that surpass the enemy. Even if you bind yourself in iron weights, I will not lower the intensity of the training."
Inside the special training ground, where not a single thread of light existed, Yajin's voice struck the walls and echoed with a chill.
"Erase yourself. Your breathing, your footsteps, even your very presence. You must become perfect nothingness."
Yajin's first task was always the same.
Cross the training ground from one end to the other without making a sound, over a floor scattered with dry leaves and small beads.
But this time, there was one difference.
The moment Uncheon took his first step, the iron weights fastened at his ankles gave off a faint sound.
Clink—
A sound that would not have existed before.
'Damn....'
But within this silent space, it was like a peal of thunder.
"I clearly told you that I would show you no mercy! You brought this upon yourself!"
Whir!
Several wooden pellets tore through the darkness toward the source of the sound and hammered into Uncheon's entire body.
"Ghk!"
The strength left his legs, and Uncheon staggered without meaning to.
At once, the iron weights on his arms and legs sounded again.
Rustle. Clink.
"Once you have decided to wear the iron weights, you must silence even that sound!"
There was not a trace of emotion in Yajin's voice. It was cold and absolute.
Uncheon steadied his ragged breathing and searched for a method.
Ma Chung's training was about making power explode, but Yajin's training demanded that he kill that power completely.
Two requirements that stood in perfect opposition.
'This will not do. The more I try to suppress it with brute force, the louder the sound becomes....'
At that moment, the first principle of the Heaven-and-Earth Dynamic Art flashed through his mind.
The essence of the Heaven-and-Earth Dynamic Art was not to accumulate force, but to entrust the body to the flow of heaven and earth.
'Have I, without realizing it, been resisting the weight of the iron weights with all my strength...?'
Rather than forcibly enduring their weight, he accepted those heavy masses of iron as a natural force that could not be opposed.
Recalling the formula, Uncheon released the strength from every muscle in his body and erased the conscious tension from within them.
Only then did the taut strain in his body finally loosen, and the pain in the places where the iron weights pressed into him began to fade.
Srrk....
When he rose again, his movement was utterly different from before.
Like water flowing, like a shadow brushing past a wall.
Rather than resisting the weight of the iron masses, he moved by making use of their very flow.
'...He silenced the sound even while wearing the iron weights? No, that is not it!'
The leaves did not crack beneath his feet.
The beads merely rolled quietly along the path of his steps without making a sound.
'It is as though... his movement itself has become a soft current.'
At last, Uncheon reached the opposite end of the training ground without producing so much as a single sound.
"Hoo...."
Only then did the deep breath he had been holding escape his lips.
'No matter how many short-lived geniuses are said to have been born with congenital Severed Meridian Affliction... this boy stands on an entirely different path!'
For the first time, astonishment lit Yajin's eyes as he watched from the darkness.
'If only this boy's body could be repaired... this Cult—no, perhaps the entire Central Plains—might see the birth of an assassin counted among the very finest.'
From behind Uncheon, Yajin's low voice rang out, thick with restrained excitement.
"...Even iron weights are not enough to suppress your talent. Starting tomorrow, I shall take your senses away one by one. The first will be sight."
***
Completely spent, Uncheon sat in a corner of the Nourishment Hall.
Because of the heavy iron weights fastened to his arms and legs, even sitting in an ordinary manner was an ordeal.
'Everyday motions are harder than martial arts that rely on great movements....'
Walking, running, using martial arts—most of those depended on large, powerful motions.
But lifting food with a spoon required the finer muscles of the hand.
'...There is no hope of using chopsticks like this.'
Uncheon did not even dare attempt the chopsticks and instead lifted a spoon with a trembling hand.
Only with difficulty could he bring the medicinal meal to his mouth.
That was what it meant to live with iron weights strapped to one's body.
Every ordinary motion of daily life stimulated the muscles.
He was so exhausted that even his appetite had fled.
'...I cannot even taste it.'
Even so, nourishment was essential if his body was to recover.
The warm energy of the medicinal meal he forced down slid through his throat.
At that very moment—
"Hmph. Eating such fine medicinal fare all by yourself? At that rate, your Instruction Tokens will not last long."
Together with that sharp voice, someone sat down across from him.
It was Yayul Hui.
With her arms folded, she swept her gaze over Uncheon, her eyes holding a mixture of disdain and curiosity.
"How long do you intend to keep wearing those iron lumps? You do not even seem able to handle your chopsticks properly. If you ruin your body like that, what meaning is there in training?"
Though her tone was curt, concern lingered beneath it.
"..."
As though he did not even have the strength to answer, Uncheon continued eating in silence.
Just as Yayul Hui's brow was about to knit at his indifferent attitude, another voice cut in.
"My, my. You two still have not gotten past being awkward with one another?"
Yuha had approached without either of them noticing and now sat down naturally beside them.
Looking between Uncheon's meal and Yayul Hui's expression, he smiled with clear amusement.
"I have heard the rumors about you. It seems half the rumors in Hidden Demon Cave trail after you now. They say you are the madman who clanks about all day without ever removing his iron weights."
While Yuha spoke, a burst of open mockery rose from another part of the hall.
It was Muk Hajin's gang.
Their voices were cunningly loud, as though they wished everyone present to hear.
"Heh heh, just look over there. Look at that beggar brat hanging lumps of iron all over himself."
"So he thinks doing that will make him stronger? What a pitiful level of thinking...."
"For one of the Twelve Guardian Families to be keeping company with vermin like that. Then again... it seems even noble breeding cannot conceal the blood of frontier barbarians."
Crack—!
As Yayul Hui tightened her grip on the chopsticks in her hand, cracks ran through them and they snapped.
A chill killing intent flickered in her eyes.
As she was about to rise from her seat, Yuha lightly pressed down on her shoulder.
"Easy now, easy. There is no need to concern yourself with riffraff like that."
He tipped his chin toward Uncheon.
Uncheon had not even spared Muk Hajin's gang a glance and remained focused solely on the medicinal meal before him.
He looked as calm as though the barking of dogs were noise not even worth his notice.
At that sight, Yayul Hui unconsciously forced down the anger that had surged within her.
"More importantly, Uncheon, will things truly be all right at this rate? Such expensive medicinal meals, and even medicine for internal injuries... your Instruction Tokens must be nearly exhausted by now. Do you not think you will need more soon?"
"What? Medicine for internal injuries too? Do not tell me that strange rumor was about him as well...?"
Yayul Hui asked in return, but Uncheon had already sunk into thought.
Yuha's words had pierced straight to the heart of Uncheon's reality.
The Instruction Tokens he had extracted from the head instructors were already gone.
He had only ten left.
'...Certainly. It would be good if I could secure more medicinal ingredients.'
Uncheon set down his spoon and looked at Yuha.
His eyes were asking, 'So what is your point?'
As though he had been waiting for that very look, a smile touched Yuha's lips.
"As it happens, there is a way to earn some Instruction Tokens. Well? It is tonight, in fact. Are you interested?"
Instead of answering, Uncheon poured the last of the remaining medicinal meal into his mouth.
As though he meant to gather even the smallest mote of Spiritual Energy.
Setting down the empty bowl, Uncheon replied,
"...That comes at the perfect time."
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