Chapter 43
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Education
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From the early morning when dawn was just breaking, the merchant caravan's campsite was already bustling with noise.
"Uwaaaah! Just one hit, please!!!!"
Screaming in frustration, Song Seol-ryeong wildly swung her sword in a desperate frenzy.
Once right after waking up, three times after breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and once right before bed.
As mentioned before, So-hyang sparred with Song Seol-ryeong five times a day, fine-tuning her senses each time.
Her innate animalistic instinct was a talent that had been bound by the rigid forms of techniques, unable to be fully utilized while stuck below the Three Essences Realm.
After suddenly reaching the peak realm and achieving formless swordsmanship as a backlash, Song Seol-ryeong had developed a habit of relying too heavily on her instincts, leading to excessively free movements.
"Seol-ryeong's innate animalistic instinct is ultimately still a matter of senses. Just as it's hard to gauge distance if your left and right eyes are imbalanced, you need to properly harmonize it with reason."
So-hyang, believing direct experience was best, raised the wooden sword above her head and unleashed sharp killing intent.
"Hiek!?"
Startled, Song Seol-ryeong leaped to the right with her characteristic feline agility, but a flick to the forehead from So-hyang's left hand—the one not holding the sword—struck true.
"Ugek!"
"See? It was too far for the sword to reach, but you overreacted to the killing intent. You didn't even notice the preliminary motion of me hiding my left hand and twisting my arm."
Retreating backward might have been fine, but dodging toward the side with the prepared left hand was the worst possible mistake.
It was a feint obvious enough for Song Seol-ryeong's skill level, yet she hadn't sensed anything off and fell for it completely.
Instinctive judgment without sufficient reason naturally becomes shallow.
"Forms are a way to train the eyes and the foundation of systematic martial arts. Especially for prestigious schools like the Wudang Sect."
With that, So-hyang added that she shouldn't rely solely on talent and should properly utilize the forms ingrained in her body, then unleashed a fierce barrage of strikes toward Song Seol-ryeong with a smiling face.
"Kyaaaaak!"
It was an onslaught overwhelming to block, but if she maximized her focus and responded with full power, there was a slim chance to barely defend.
With exquisitely controlled intensity, the sparring continued until she squeezed out every last drop of strength, collapsing like a wrung-out rag.
"Ahw, uweeeek…."
The sparring was grueling enough to induce actual vomiting, without exaggeration.
Even amid it, So-hyang meticulously ensured no lingering fatigue or injuries remained, thoroughly wringing out both body and mind.
Such hellish spars five times a day.
By now, any fear of peak masters had evaporated, leaving only the desperate will to land even a single blow.
With her head burning hot, she knelt gasping, utterly drained, unable even to twitch a finger.
In the midst of it, So-hyang's gentle hand patted her back, whispering praise in the kindest voice.
"Good girl, you're much better than yesterday. Practice in real combat really is the best medicine."
Her warm words seeped into Song Seol-ryeong's mind at its extreme limit, bringing tears to her eyes.
The malice and hostility that had filled her vanished in an instant, replaced by the softest gaze.
"Uh, ueeeng…!"
Overwhelmed by surging grievance, her head spun, and she threw herself into So-hyang's arms, sobbing.
"Aigoo, that was tough, wasn't it…? This is all for your own good, Seol-ryeong. But if it's too hard, you can give up anytime."
So-hyang accepted the embrace, stroking her head tenderly and hugging her tight. Song Seol-ryeong's face buried straight into So-hyang's chest.
"Et."
Soft, plush, heavy... an indescribable bewitching sensation enveloped and ravaged Song Seol-ryeong's mind.
"Eh, hwe, ueeeng…?"
The shocking tactile bliss that could halt anyone's thoughts regardless of age or gender expanded a vast universe in her mind.
"Uuu…."
Forgetting fatigue, pain, anger—even language—she went limp with blank, infant-like eyes.
So-hyang looked down at her momentary lapse in cognition with fondness, then scooped her up under the arms and carried her into the carriage.
Massaging her limbs, shoulders, neck, scalp—her entire body—Song Seol-ryeong passed out again as if fainting.
"Neuek…!"
When Song Seol-ryeong opened her eyes again, the sun was high in the sky, and the caravan had paused, bustling with lunch preparations.
"…Huh? Wait, wasn't it just morning a moment ago?"
"Seol-ryeong, you're awake? Then come sit and eat with me?"
So-hyang smiled warmly as always, handing over a steaming bowl of porridge.
"Ah, I'm fine. I just woke up and have no appetite—"
No way food would go down right after waking…
"Hmm? No way that's true…?"
Fatigue and minor damage from intense exercise had mostly recovered via So-hyang's massage.
But as backlash, Song Seol-ryeong's body plunged into extreme hunger.
Groooowl—the resounding rumble from her small stomach—
She felt a hunger that would make her faint immediately without nourishment.
"Wha, what?"
"You should eat, right?"
Song Seol-ryeong snatched the bowl without a word and shoveled it down frantically.
One bowl was naturally not enough. Only after four or five refills did the hunger subside slightly.
"Mmm, seeing you eat so well is a delight."
So-hyang watched happily, beaming. A child eating heartily was such a precious sight.
Well, precious was precious.
"Now, shall we start the post-meal spar?"
"…Pardon?"
Her words hit like a bolt from the blue, Song Seol-ryeong's pupils trembling like aspen leaves.
As said before, So-hyang planned to teach Song Seol-ryeong with utmost dedication until reaching Wudang, so spars were non-negotiable.
"W-Wait a moment. I haven't digested yet—"
"Hmm? But you have?"
"What? No way…!?"
Incredibly, her starving stomach had absorbed the nutrients in an instant. Her briefly bloated belly was now flat again.
"Ah, no, why…??"
Question marks flooded Song Seol-ryeong's mind as she experienced her body's hidden potential firsthand.
Inconceivably, her condition was perfect.
No joint aches, light steps without heaviness. Her sword felt perfectly fitted to her hand from repeated spars.
"Shall we begin? I'll raise the intensity a bit from morning, so stay sharp—"
But her mind was at its limit!
"Gyaaaaaak!"
Thus, like morning, Song Seol-ryeong was thoroughly thrashed into unconsciousness, waking to find evening had arrived.
"Ah, you're up? Shall we eat and prepare for the evening spar?"
"…Ah."
Now unable even to scream, she let out a dead-eyed sigh, tears silently flowing.
Most of the day deleted by sleep and fainting; brief awakenings filled with frantic, tasteless meals and grueling spars.
Yes. It was undoubtedly a fateful encounter.
Each spar brought insights expanding her overall martial horizons, especially swordsmanship.
She could feel her flawed habits visibly correcting.
The intensity perfectly matched her level—not too much, not too little—so her growth didn't stop.
Strictly speaking, it was a once-in-a-lifetime golden opportunity…!
"S-Save me…!"
"Pardon? Are you hurt somewhere? No way…?"
-----
If the optimal training for Song Seol-ryeong was endless hellish spars,
Je-gal Han-sang's lessons differed slightly.
"Unlike Seol-ryeong, Han-sang's martial arts already have a solid foundation and stability."
Outputting immediate reactions via formations, forcibly executing even from broken stances using innate divine strength.
"The Hunyuan Qi-Dispelling Divine Art and formations are areas Han-sang must develop himself."
Thus, So-hyang's role was improving his foundational physical abilities.
"C-Could I ask how this pose relates to that…?"
Je-gal Han-sang maintained a pose like a dancer—one leg raised, arms gathered—with a highly reluctant expression.
In Central Plains norms, it was bound to look somewhat effeminate and undignified for a grown man.
"Ahem, it all has meaning."
Though he followed stoically, hiding his emotions, doubt still showed on his face.
Thinking how transparently honest he was, So-hyang teased playfully.
"If you can't believe it, try holding that pose for one gak (about 15 minutes) without using inner energy. If you succeed, I'll grant one wish of yours."
"Wha, really!?"
"Absolutely. If you succeed."
At the unexpected offer, excitement lit up Je-gal Han-sang's face.
Not a difficult pose; even without inner energy, one gak was a piece of cake, he was sure.
Shaking off fleeting improper thoughts, he decided to ask for an outing together upon reaching Gyeonhyeon.
His eyes brimmed with confidence, as if the wish voucher was already his.
And after half a gak.
"Kuh, kuhuuup…. Ugrrrk…."
Je-gal Han-sang's eyes trembled like his quivering limbs.
Sweat poured from his forehead; his gritted teeth and flushed face bulged with veins.
Why?
He couldn't comprehend why such a ridiculous pose burdened his body this much.
Comprehension aside, his body reached its limit, but he glared fiercely, enduring with sheer grit.
A wish voucher. From So-hyang.
But willpower alone couldn't suffice; feeling his legs give, he unwittingly circulated inner energy to hold on.
"Tch! That's cheating?"
Of course, So-hyang noticed.
A disciplinary flick struck his forehead; his barely-held legs buckled, and he toppled over.
"See? Felt meaningful experiencing it firsthand?"
"Kuhk, yes…!"
Patting the teary-eyed Je-gal Han-sang—who was shocked in another way—So-hyang pondered.
Stronger physique naturally meant greater power output, but Je-gal Han-sang's martial arts amplified this intensely.
With Fluid Linkage Chains' trait of exponentially increasing options as proficiency grew, physical development directly tied to martial prowess.
What was needed: tearing apart various muscles throughout the body, unused even by most martial artists.
Hence, exercises based on her past life's Pilates and yoga systems.
Customized for Je-gal Han-sang's body, adapted to Central Plains' qi and martial laws—far from the originals.
So-hyang's goal: rigorously train his body for fluid, robust strength throughout.
One issue, though—
"Hmm, the effect is a bit weak…."
Due to his innate divine strength, such training yielded less than expected.
Normally unbearable even for a minute, yet he'd lasted over half a gak despite willpower.
A shame. Was there a surer way to thoroughly wreck every muscle?
Tilting her head, So-hyang exclaimed "Ah!"
"Han-sang, Han-sang! I had a great idea!"
"…Y-Yes?"
At her excited shoulder pats, Je-gal Han-sang blushed naturally, then shuddered at a strange chill.
So-hyang focused on the constant foreign sensation in her body since entering the martial world.
Thirty-six titanium stakes embedded directly, applying reverse load to movements—a sealing procedure.
Thinking it over, the seal formed an internal formation; couldn't the Hunyuan Qi-Dispelling Divine Art replicate it without tools?
"Circulate your inner energy as I guide to form a formation?"
Seizing the flash of inspiration, So-hyang instantly modified the sealing rite for Je-gal Han-sang's body.
"…Uh, uuk!? M-My body feels heavy…!"
His limbs twitched amid the heavy load; a successful result as he groaned.
"Ahaha, it worked pretty well!"
A formation applying opposing load to all movements—superior to any past-life equipment.
A bright smile bloomed on So-hyang's face.
Thus, for about half a shi-jin, she made him perform static yet intense exercise.
"Kuh, uh, kuuk…."
Dead-eyed, limbs trembling like a newborn water deer, Je-gal Han-sang collapsed in a heap.
"Whew, that was satisfying!"
Smiling refreshed, So-hyang gave him a gentle, meticulous massage to relieve muscle fatigue and damage, like the day before.
"…!"
Determined to remember her touch this time, Je-gal Han-sang glared to stay conscious—but
"Kreaaaa—"
Her palms pressed, and he blacked out. Opening his eyes to birdsong, he squeezed them shut again.
"—Why…!"
This time too.
Her.
Touch.
Not remembered.
This time too!
This time too!!
"Heavens!!"
The caravan members, who had first watched with concern, now just shook their heads and went about their tasks.
-----
Rewind time a bit.
The first night of travel, after spars with Song Seol-ryeong and Je-gal Han-sang, next turn began.
The man assisting Song Seol-ryeong, the caravan heir and leader.
A peak martial artist whose unremarkable trait was his lack of traits: precise, upright swordsmanship.
Warrior Kang Pyo, it was his turn.
Seeing the predecessors drained like rags, beaten to dust, he looked somewhat daunted.
"No need to force yourself. I went a bit hard on the others, so if you want, I can go easy."
The stern-faced middle-aged man, with age etched deeply and white hairs sprouting,
shook his head.
"I'm fine. Please teach me."
His quiet words carried complex, earnest emotion.
Ten years since reaching peak at a late age; seven years since his progress halted.
A modest talent blocked by a not-so-high wall, tormented by endless despair.
Now facing a situation where even his young lady charge reached the same realm he guarded.
Among the talented youths, perhaps the most desperately thirsting for learning.
Peak-entry swordsman Kang Pyo aimed his gleaming eyes—and sword—at So-hyang.
It was, unmistakably, the sword of an utterly ordinary man.
"Hoo?"
The honed, unflashy ordinary sword clearly stirred So-hyang's heart.
"Come at me. Let's see your skill."
Interest lit her silvery-white eyes; the gleaming black ones responded.