Chronicles of the Northern Heavens Chapter 70: Jo Yeong's Change
"Hey, you lot. Why are you looking for the Iron Blood Clan?"
Jo Yeong mimicked Baek-un's rough tone with a sharp retort. Before Baek-un could even respond, Akso lightly smacked the back of his comrade's shoulder with an open palm. No words were exchanged, but Baek-un got the message and bared his teeth in a grin at Jo Yeong.
"Sorry. My tongue got a bit ahead of me. Heh heh heh."
He started to brush past, but Jo Yeong blocked his path.
"I asked why you're looking for the Iron Blood Clan."
Baek-un halted. Akso, meanwhile, kept walking without a care. As a feral glint crept into Baek-un's eyes, Akso's indifferent voice drilled into his ear.
"Don't cause trouble."
"I already apologized, but this punk keeps pushing!"
"'This punk'?"
Jo Yeong, already primed for a fight at the word "punk," wasn't about to stay quiet.
Ching!
He drew his sword. In the world of murim, this was the kind of situation where blades could clash without raising an eyebrow.
"Just come at me, Baek-un."
"You're driving me nuts."
Baek-un scratched his head and turned back to Jo Yeong.
"Fine, my bad. Sheathe that sword and get lost."
"Can't do that."
"Jo-hyung, cut it out!"
"Yeah, the instructor strictly ordered no trouble! So stop it already."
The young men tried to restrain Jo Yeong. But his eyes had already rolled back in rage. Perhaps it was the pent-up resentment from being half-forcibly dragged to the Iron Blood Clan that finally erupted through Baek-un.
It was true. Right now, he wasn't seeing Baek-un—he was exploding at Yeon-hoo and Baek Mu Yeong like a millennium-old volcano.
Whoosh.
Flames ignited in Jo Yeong's eyes.
"Damn bastards treating people like dogs and pigs."
Thud!
"Guh!"
Jo Yeong bent at the waist like a shrimp with a strangled groan. Baek-un's right foot rested casually on his abdomen.
"If I say scram, you scram. Who told you to flap your trap?"
Snap!
Baek-un's brutish hand seized Jo Yeong's sword. What followed was astonishing.
Crack!
The sturdy blade shattered like porcelain.
Baek-un grinned, fangs glinting.
"You all heard me apologize, right?"
"……!"
The young men froze like statues, too scared to intervene.
"Unless you wanna light incense at your buddy's grave next year, drag him off and beat it."
With that, Baek-un glided away after Akso, slipping past the youths. Only then did they rush to Jo Yeong's side—and recoiled in shock, eyes bulging.
He had collapsed unconscious, back arched in agony. Then a dull thud echoed in their ears.
Whack!
"Kuh!"
Akso had smacked the back of Baek-un's head.
* * *
In the barracks bedroom of the Martial Academy, Jo Yeong thrashed in nightmares. A yaksha in human form chased him down to kill.
"Hah!"
He jolted awake, clutching his abdomen and groaning. Excruciating pain tore through him, as if his muscles were being ripped apart.
"Urgh!"
A young man entering through the door saw this and hurried over.
"Why'd you sleep so long?"
"What... happened?"
"You don't remember?"
The youth's tone was lukewarm.
"You picked a fight, got kicked once, passed out—and we couldn't even hit the market before hauling back."
Memories flooded Jo Yeong's mind: Akso and Baek-un's faces, the brutal impact to his gut, then blackout.
Grip!
Humiliation burned his face red as he ground his teeth, veins bulging.
'Damn it...'
"Those guys... they're here right now."
Whoosh!
"What?"
"Meeting with the lord as we speak. Feels like the instructor called 'em in. If that's true, you're damn lucky it ended like this."
Another youth entered with a bowl of cold water. His glare at Jo Yeong wasn't friendly—probably pissed about the ruined outing.
"They say it's great for bruises. Down it."
Snap!
The youth spat irritably and stormed out. Jo Yeong's face flushed deeper.
"Come on, rein in that temper already. How many times has this happened?! We've gotten chewed out by the instructor five times because of you, Jo-hyung!"
"Shut it."
"Shut what?! Can't you tell by looking? Their eyes were scarier than demons'. Why pick a fight with guys way out of your league?!"
"...They started it."
"They apologized."
"That a real apology?"
"For peak experts, that's plenty. Anyone else would've drawn blood. And honestly... when 'bastards' slipped from your mouth, my vision went dark. Thought we were all dead."
"...!"
"Anyway, cool it from now on. One more stunt like this... and maybe don't hang with us anymore."
The youth finished and left.
'Damn it...'
Jo Yeong squeezed his eyes shut and flopped back. Rage and irritation faded to hollow defeat in his gaze.
His old cocky life of confidence. Shattered after meeting Yeon-hoo. Now, little more than a hostage.
Unbearable humiliation and pain for someone like Jo Yeong, who'd lived wild and free. But he accepted reality. Vowed to grow stronger, repay them later—threw himself into training.
In that short time, he felt himself improving. The elixir-fueled power from his youth becoming truly his, joy surging through him.
Then crushed by some street thug's kick. A humiliation beyond shame.
Despair. He hid it from comrades, but it gnawed at his core.
'The world is vast, experts like sand on the shore. I just basked in my father's and clan's glory, strutting only against the weak. Damn it...'
He clenched his teeth against rising tears.
Then—
Creak.
The door opened. Jo Yeong turned, then bolted upright, eyes wide. Gut pain vanished.
It was Yeon-hoo.
"My lord."
Jo Yeong bowed deeply. Instinct overriding thought.
* * *
Yeon-hoo quickly scanned Jo Yeong's bowed face. Baek-un followed behind.
Jo Yeong looked up, spotted Baek-un, and his eyes flickered.
"Heard there was trouble between you two."
"...Just a minor spat."
"Might be minor to him, but not for you."
"... "
Jo Yeong fell silent. Baek-un scratched his head.
"I'll apologize, my lord."
Yeon-hoo turned back to Jo Yeong.
"You accept?"
Jo Yeong stared at Baek-un, then faced Yeon-hoo.
"If you'll allow... I want to spar him."
Unexpected. Yeon-hoo had figured it'd end with acceptance.
'Not a bad thing.'
The one good thing about Jo Yeong: this stubborn fire. A fatal flaw in judging foes, but flip it—true warriors needed that grit.
Grit and bravery, a paper's thickness apart.
'Polish it a bit more...'
Yeon-hoo nodded silently.
"Permission granted."
* * *
"Hah... hah..."
Jo Yeong gasped raggedly. Lungs ready to burst, but he gritted through.
Baek-un, eerily serene by contrast.
A bit away stood Yeon-hoo, Cheol-u, Baek Mu Yeong, and others—watching from start to finish.
Baek Mu Yeong spoke.
"Plenty of talent. Strip that bone-deep arrogance and bluff, and he'll be damn useful."
"Progress rate?"
"Upper-mid to low-upper. Mindset shift, and he hits upper easy."
High praise from Baek Mu Yeong.
Seobaek grinned.
"Grit's top-tier."
"Weaklings' grit courts death. Without Akso, he'd be cold meat."
Cheol-u's flat words. Seobaek continued.
"What if he knew he's facing Demon Lord Baek-un? If he still steps up knowing... grit or bravery?"
"Recklessness."
"Figured."
Jo Yeong's sword snapped; he dropped to one knee. No final blow from Baek-un, yet blood dripped from his mouth.
Baek Mu Yeong eyed him, faint smile.
"This spar might push him up a level."
Yeon-hoo nodded wordlessly.
Seobaek asked.
"Why so sure, bro?"
"That ball of grit and pride's fully facing his weakness. Massive leap. Heh heh."
"He'd thank Demon Lord if he knew. No one's swung at him and lived."
Whack.
Cheol-u smacked Seobaek's head.
"Lord's here."
"Lord didn't even draw—obviously excluded!"
"...!"
Yeon-hoo stepped forward. Baek-un sheathed and retreated.
[Talent's poor, but tenacious mutt. Rude, but mold him right—he'll shine.]
[Good work.]
Yeon-hoo looked down at Jo Yeong, who trembled rising—then collapsed.
"Think I hold you as hostages?"
"Isn't... that it? Hah... hah!"
"Yes. But not all."
"Then... what?"
"Figure it out yourself."
Yeon-hoo turned and left. Jo Yeong, panting at his back, finally sprawled flat. Wanted to ask more—no strength left.
"Hah... hah! Urk!"
From that day, Jo Yeong lay moaning for three days straight.