Escort Duty (2)
Thud! Thud!
That poor example was Ga-bok. He pitifully stared in the direction of the Gu family estate, his heavy footsteps matching his longing gaze. Anyone would think he'd lost his home.
Cheon-woo bestowed his teachings without stint. "Your posture and balance are faltering."
"I'm fine, I tell you!!"
"A man's word is worth a fortune in gold. If you plan to go back on your word, then from today, you're no longer a man."
Hic! His mouth had run away with him again. He'd bolted saying he hated it, but he was just a servant of the Gu estate—what good did running do? He'd end up coming back anyway.
Better a shoddy something than nothing at all...! But the young master was dead serious, no joking matter. Meeting those impassive eyes made his legs go weak—hell, he nearly pissed himself every time.
Again!! He had to go.
If he screwed up during the escort, his name might go down in Gu family history. He could endure anything else, but not that. Burning with indomitable will, he clenched his sphincter.
"But why do I have to carry the luggage too?"
"Since you're receiving my teachings, you're no different from my disciple. Would a disciple refuse to carry luggage when his master does?"
It was nonsense like "master and disciple as one." Ga-bok seethed at his young master's shameless retort. This was punishment for his own screw-up, personally meted out by the division leader. Yet why was he suffering? It made no sense.
"If you have breath to whine, the load must be too light."
"Then I'll die!"
"You won't. If you want to test it, I'm game."
"No need—I trust you completely, young master!"
Cheon-woo nodded as if it were only natural. Receiving guidance from the lord of Mireok Paedo was a stroke of fortune not even gold could buy. In time, Ga-bok would never forget this day.
To Cheon-woo, Ga-bok's opinions didn't matter. To follow his master, one needed at least basic competence. Panting after a mere ten ri? That stamina was perfect for a quick death on the road.
He'd forgotten this was practice before teaching his untalented sister Cheon-ye—a living example.
As eyes gathered, Cheon-woo glanced around and said, "Ignore us and focus on your duties."
"...Y-yes, sir."
The merchants wore uneasy expressions. The young master wasn't known for tyranny, but what the hell was this bizarre spectacle? Martial arts training, of all things.
The loads weren't heavy enough for carts, but burdensome for escort newbies. And they had to cover at least twenty ri a day. Each step bent the rear knee to brush the ground, with precise front strides. If Ga-bok was just whining, fine—but it hurt.
Can't we call it quits?
Can't even say it.
As long as it didn't hinder the escort, crossing the young master was unwise. Still, watching that gait was painful for them too. They'd beat the youngest merchant senseless to teach him, but with the young master? Embarrassing to travel together.
Is this even martial arts?
Martial arts my ass—it's torture!
Looks retarded to anyone.
Every time the Jeokgeum escorts glanced back with disbelieving chuckles, it confirmed their thoughts. Teaching others when you'd never trained a day? Bizarre. At least if he knew what he was doing. They prayed for Ga-bok's poor soul, the guinea pig.
Stay clear.
Don't get on his bad side!
A lazy playboy was better than a madman for a boss. No smooth sailing there.
"Ga-bok, your knee's touching the ground."
"It's Ga-bok! Wait, is this really effective?"
"Doubt shortens life."
Sweating buckets, Ga-bok gasped for air, on the verge of death. It was weirder still—the young master walked the same odd gait. He should be suffering too. Not a drop of sweat? Suspicious.
Young master's stamina can't beat mine!
Our young master was Xiang Yu only in his room. Outside, he was useless, whimpering weakly. Conspiracy. That load was fake—foam for show. Veterans lightened packs to haze rookies on marches, he'd heard. Scamming then scolding!
Manly Ga-bok!! He wouldn't take this lying down.
"If you carried my load, young master, you wouldn't say that."
"You'll regret it."
"Never regretted a thing in my life!"
"Who was whining to turn back the whole way?"
"Must've misheard."
"You really want to carry mine?"
"Damn right!!"
Cheon-woo gently set his load before Ga-bok.
Thud! The ground shook. Thunder in Ga-bok's ears. If that loud, heads would've turned—but no one did.
With bated breath, he lifted the young master's load. Ugh! Couldn't budge it. Bracing his waist, he barely hoisted it.
"There."
Cheon-woo shouldered Ga-bok's load. Ga-bok gawked cat-eyed, stunned—but no dice. He'd shot himself in the foot.
Is this for real?
Ga-bok was dumbfounded. The shut-in young master's stamina outclassed his? Absurd. No heavenly blessing explained it—he shadowed him daily, knew every move. No time for training. Utterly baffling.
"How long you gonna rest? Disrupt the escort, and your pay halves."
"Steal a flea's liver, why don't you!!"
"Your footwork's off. Maintain it."
"Young master, can I have my load back?"
"Your wish?"
"Yes."
"Even this?"
Cheon-woo added a merchant's load to his pack. Now half again heavier than Ga-bok's original.
This heaven-defying young master! No need to enjoy tormenting his servant.
Heaven knew Cheon-woo had no intent to torment. Adapted to the load? Time for the next stage. The body plateaus without adaptation—trained flesh demanded greater extremes.
"You're doing this on purpose, right?"
"Still light."
Hic! Each word added another load. Ga-bok vowed silence from here on.
Twilight fell. In a village, they'd pay for an inn—but per schedule, they camped in the mountains.
Merchants swiftly pitched tents around the carts, basic shelter from dew.
As a lowly escort, Cheon-woo prepared his spot. But sitting on bare ground? Ga-bok despaired.
Cheon-woo sat motionless, cross-legged in meditation—or so it seemed. Mere show. Breathing, sensing, circulating, accumulating. Since returning, he'd never paused this torturously slow cycle of circulation and buildup. Even daily, it ran automatically.
The difference? Speed and volume varied by form.
Max range about 100 jang.
Even amid qi circulation, he stimulated his body, honing his five senses. The higher the realm, the sharper senses must be. Know thyself to preempt surroundings, eliminate variables.
As Mireok Paedo's lord, he'd honed senses like blades, ready for any variable—foundation of the undefeated Paewang.
Cheon-woo divided the range into chon units. Mere presence detection differed from precision. Within 1 jang, even insects' breaths. Divide, confirm, expand. Repeat to sharpen and grow the sensory domain.
Currently, just 100 jang presences.
"Lowly escort, huh? Not lifting a finger—what's this? Division leader finds out, thunder falls."
"Blood's thicker than water."
"Sometimes thinner than outsiders."
"Time for horse stance, then."
"...Young master needn't move a finger. This one'll handle everything!"
Ga-bok was dying already. Add horse stance? He'd never rise.
Thereafter, all chores fell to Ga-bok. Cheon-woo accepted the conveniences as due. How many masters treated disciple-servant so well?
Ga-bok was blessed. Other things burst too, unexpectedly.
Hah. Merchants shook their heads. They knew Ga-bok's cheeky ways—a crown prince's jester. Today? Born sucker. Or young master beyond their ken.
Merchants wavered: fool or prodigy? No clue which beat to dance to. Best ignore weirdness—entangle, and you're screwed.
Whooo!
Late summer chilled at night. A windy mountain overnight was hellish. At least no rain—blessing.
Competent merchants avoided camping in rain.
Hmm. Across from Cheon-woo, the deputy manager watched oddly. Per division leader's orders, no favors for young master—treated as lowly. Yet thriving. "Lowly" meant porter duties. Delegating to Ga-bok, sweet-talking—but adapting smoothly for a newbie. Quiet compliance aided the escort.
Had the division leader-hated young master stirred trouble for merit? Headache. He'd changed.
Unlike the feather-light, flighty past, now solemn, taciturn. But coming here, he'd pulled odd stunts. Half-day journey, yet first time so inscrutable. His eye for people unmatched—yet now?
"What do you make of it?"
"Stamina'll build."
"So, martial arts?"
"All martial arts stem from the lower body. Broadly, can't deny it."
"Can't tell him to stop, then."
Shameful gait begged halting, but better than worthless idler. Body training helped escorts. Problem: doing it on public roads.
Self-inflicted hardship—no say.
Direct per orders? Awkward. Arm bends inward; no gain crossing young master. Interfering wrong—better systematic learning?
"What if deputy leader teaches him?"
"You take a warrior's guidance lightly."
"Ah, sorry if offended."
"We take pay for escort, but I'm a warrior. Can't teach just anyone."
Deputy leader disliked young master from start. Treating warriors lightly, like merchants. Even if lower-body antics helped, mere basics. Teaching unasked? Against propriety.
Warriors had pride. Unique arts demanded due respect.
Ugh! Mistake. Deputy manager winced at the sharp reaction—forgot pride amid the spectacle. Young master must reach first; he'd skipped as bridge. No wonder offense.
Still, no need to bristle. As merchant, he couldn't fully grasp. Deputy's skills barely known locally. Not clumsy enough to show feelings.
Ask come dawn.
In the end, Cheon-woo's antics persisted. Post-breakfast, deputy manager probed gently—but "I'll handle it, no worry," sealed it. Thus, young master earned the deputy leader's lasting grudge.