Chapter 125
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Second-Rate
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In her previous life, So-hyang never took a disciple.
Why was that?
When she was young, she was swept up in the machinations of various factions and the gaps in the laws of the world, barely able to protect herself, so it was only natural.
But even after her hair had turned streaked with white and she possessed martial prowess greater than an entire army, why did she still not take a disciple?
No matter how peerlessly she dominated the world, So-hyang must have wanted to pass on the skills she had built up to someone, to ensure they continued into future generations.
However, she knew better than anyone that she could not.
On the opposite side of the Earth, in an era of face-to-face conversations, skyscrapers piercing the heavens, and universal rights.
The successor to the techniques of a madman obsessed with anachronistic obsessions would inevitably turn their life into an utter mess, far worse than a thorny path.
Therefore, So-hyang held back.
Even from children born with sturdy bones and tough constitutions, the physiques of brave warriors who did not easily succumb to fear.
Even from children gifted with sharp eyesight, instantaneous memory, and talent in handling their bodies, able to perfectly mimic any movement they saw in an instant.
Even from children who lived in a world of endlessly accelerated time, perceiving reality differently from ordinary people.
Children who, had she taught them her sword, would have grown at a pace where "one step to the moon" would be an understatement, perhaps even inspiring her anew.
But So-hyang never taught the children her sword.
To her, being born with talent in the sword and martial arts meant they were gifted with the ability to excel at anything they pursued.
Even when the children themselves asked to learn the sword, she ignored it.
She merely helped them secure proper jobs in normal society, form bonds with good people, and live upright lives.
But in this life, on the soil of the Central Plains, things were different.
Of course, the fundamental principles governing the world had not changed.
Wealth, authority, and martial force.
Wealth exists because of authority.
Money is ultimately a social contract, and the power that constitutes that society is authority.
This was why the Third Imperial Princess, Zhu Yeonhwa, who controlled all the empire's gold, desired the throne.
No matter how much money and economy she grasped, under the absolute imperial authority of the Dragon Emperor, where the value and laws of currency were dictated at whim, she could not maintain it.
If her brother, the Second Prince, ascended the throne, the princess had no choice but subjugation under him or mutual destruction.
Either way, it meant defeat.
In other words, even the world's greatest wealth fades before absolute authority, unable to hold its head high.
And authority presupposes martial force.
Yet in her previous life, that martial force was ultimately a value created from human relationships and social contracts.
The right to possess techniques, command armies, judge righteousness, and punish others.
Such great rights are intangible concepts, meaning martial force was a power that paralleled authority.
Whether wealth or martial force, both were subordinate to authority in her previous world's society.
This authority was not the absolute power of some ruler, but the force of societal structure itself.
But this life was different.
A world where the path of martial arts to superhuman heights clearly existed, where individual martial force could properly sustain one's life.
A world where the standard of martial force was not defined by societal consensus or commands, but solely dependent on the individual.
In the world of the Central Plains and the martial realm, martial artists stood at the pyramid's apex.
Thus, unlike her previous life, So-hyang decided to take disciples under her wing and pass on all the knowledge she had accumulated.
She intended to take as her disciple Sang-hoo, once a victim sacrificed in a cult of jealousy.
And now, she was teaching Mok-chong, the boy struggling desperately to protect his younger sister.
As her first disciple, her teaching might be clumsy, but So-hyang was confident.
She had thoroughly grasped the boy's height, spacing, muscle strength and flexibility, endurance, and other physical conditions down to the cellular level.
She had meticulously analyzed his thought patterns, judgment speed, unconscious habits, and learning ability.
By pushing him to the brink, right up to the line where no physical aftereffects or mental scars would remain, growth was inevitable.
The only slightly difficult and cautious part was how he would come to view her.
The master-disciple relationship was not merely the transmission of techniques, but sharing lives like family, parent and child.
So-hyang, who had received love from adoptive parents but never had children to give love to, felt a bit worried.
Of course, that was one thing.
[Hey now? Aren't you breathing properly? If you keep panting like that, your stamina will hit rock bottom in an instant. If your body slows down, you'll get caught and have your bones broken—do you think you'll have the presence of mind for stray thoughts then?]
Teaching had to be done thoroughly.
"Hah, hah...! Fuck...! Easy for you to say...!"
Still, since he followed her instructions so well, So-hyang thought her disciple was exaggerating a bit but smiled in satisfaction.
-----
Though it might sound contradictory, the boy was a 'notorious pickpocket' within this city-sized society between Donghwa Village and the city.
"What the hell, Lynx? Why's a little punk like you down in the fighting pit? Is medicine that damn expensive?"
Not some run-of-the-mill thief, but a skilled professional with the ridiculous nickname 'Lynx'.
Even coming down to the underground fighting pit during festival season, the peak time for thieves—it was incomprehensible from the black path denizens' perspective.
"Suck it up, now that you mention it, he's got a face too pretty to waste dying in the pit. Hey, if you're that desperate for cash, why not sell your body? You know there's decent demand for pretty young things like you."
Just as his sister Mok-dang-hwa's appearance shone through despite her gaunt, blemished skin from illness, the boy's looks were refined.
Moreover, after the recovery period under So-hyang's devoted care, his fresh, clean appearance looked like prime goods in the eyes of these black path folk.
Across east and west, past and present, those with a taste for pederasty targeting pretty boys were hardly rare.
And right here, as an example, there was one such person.
"...Fuck off."
"Kids these days—why the attitude when I'm giving sincere advice?"
The boy's keen senses noticed the receptionist's underling sporting a bulge, and he grimaced as if he'd seen something he shouldn't.
"...Shut up and get the match started. Underground pits don't discriminate based on background or status, right?"
"Fine, whatever. Must be urgent. Not my problem."
But that was the extent of it. These self-proclaimed bosses of the local underworld didn't pay much attention to a novice like the boy, talent or not.
Their interests lay in finishing work quickly to indulge immediate lusts, appetites, and base urges.
Few diligent workers ended up in this cesspool anyway.
Thus, at the center of the preliminary arena.
The giant known as Bear Fist cocked his head in confusion and addressed the boy.
"What're you doing here, Lynx? You got business down here?"
"None of your business? Shut up and get ready to fight."
"...What? Get ready to fight? Bwahaha!"
The giant laughed uproariously, shaking the arena, as if it was the funniest thing ever.
"You and me, getting ready to fight? Pfft, that's the funniest shit I've heard in my life. Hey, why'd you come to the pit? You'd be perfect clowning around in a festival troupe!"
"......"
"Hey, pretty boy! I'll let you walk away with all limbs intact, so how about giving me a go!?"
"Fuck, why do all you bastards here just wanna stick it in my ass—"
"Obviously! You don't get a say in it!!"
-Claaang!
With the unpleasant ring of a bell made from cheap metal, the giant before him let out a roar and charged.
"Waaah!"
Almost playfully, like a parent mimicking a tiger to scare children, he spread his arms exaggeratedly to intimidate.
It was natural for him. Why take seriously a kid barely into his teens?
He figured if the boy didn't piss himself in fear, it'd be a win, and lunged.
And the boy easily stepped back, slipping out of the arc of the giant's arms.
"Huh?"
To the bewildered opponent embracing empty air, the boy sneered and quipped,
"Hey, what're you doing?"
"...Hah, I try to go easy, and the little shit gets cocky?"
Those living in the black path despised being looked down upon—it meant death.
Though his intentions were impure, the giant—who had meant to spare the boy—grimaced and cracked his knuckles.
Bear Fist, the resident king of the underground pit.
Not particularly advanced martial arts, but a second-rate martial artist skilled in external arts that properly utilized his innate divine strength.
The realm of second-rate.
At this bottom rung, even those reputed as fighters were ordinary folk without a shred of martial arts, while those who learned any were third-rate nobodies lucky to form a dantian.
Excluding the exceptional overlords ruling Donghwa's underworld and running businesses, he was truly the strongest under the heavens.
"Still, I'm merciful, so I won't make it hurt."
A second-rate martial artist meant a realm where one could not only contain natural qi in the body but utilize it through forms.
Feet spread shoulder-width, firmly planted. Fists like pot lids tucked to the sides.
Tyrant's Heaven-Shaking Fist, Overlord Power Strike.
True to black path bottom-feeder martial arts, a flashy-named mediocre fist technique, the only form the giant could perform.
Yet with power ample to shatter a human skull, the fist shot toward the boy.
The fist that never betrayed the giant was certain to crush the target's head this time too.
"Huh?"
"—That's all you got?"
But that confident fist merely cleaved empty air as the boy casually tilted his head with a baffled look.
"...L-Lucky dodge once! No such luck twice!"
The roared punch curved as if bending the boy's waist, slicing air.
"...Fine, twice can happen. But three times? No way!"
A few steps back, and the fist's power fizzled right at his nose bridge.
"...Y-Your fourth luck won't—"
Thus, the giant's fists poured relentlessly, pressuring the boy, who neither countered nor blocked—merely scrambled to evade.
As stamina waned, his nimble dodges slowed, barely grazing by a paper-thin margin after widening the gap.
"Puhahaha! Hey! Bear Fist! Aren't you bullying him too hard!? Just kill him already!"
"Tsk tsk, he'll die of exhaustion before getting hit. Bet's lost."
From the spectator stands, that's how it looked.
"Huff, huff... Fuck, why... won't it hit...!?"
The giant, who had been seriously trying to kill for a while now—not going easy—was driven mad.
"Hoo, huuu... What the hell, why's this... feeling easier?"
While dodging the heavy, rapid assaults in succession, the boy's breathing steadied instead, and with a puzzled expression, he glanced toward his master blended into the spectator crowd.
Why is this working?
[Goodness, I told you over and over. Can't you trust your master's words...?]
Hearing the telepathic voice in his ear, the boy finally realized his master's words had been sincere—and true.
"Whether it's martial arts, internal energy, or realms, honestly, anything below the peak level is all the same, isn't it? For our disciple's revenge, there's no need to even build up internal energy."