Chapter 186
Chapter 186
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 186
Chapter Title: You Were Snoring Like Crazy
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“…How much longer do I have to keep doing this crap?”
Yu Sumin dragged herself back to her quarters and collapsed.
She couldn’t even remember how she’d made it from the training grounds.
No matter how exhausted she got and fell over, he’d forcibly haul her back up for more sparring—that madness…
By the end, just hearing Unhwi’s “Kuhehehel!” or “Eumhuhehe!” made her break out in chills.
If there’d been no progress, she could’ve at least yelled at him.
But the results were insane—every morning after sparring, her skills had leaped forward. No room to complain.
“Da… damn it… Young Master Unhwi… just you wait… I’ll get you… leave you… alone—"
Yu Sumin buried her face in the pillow and plunged into deep sleep.
She should wash up and go to bed. At least change clothes. Sleeping without covers would mean catching a cold.
Those thoughts swirled briefly in her mind, but exhaustion won out.
Just then, the door to the quarters burst open as her roommate entered.
It was Jeok Sobin.
Originally a fervent follower of Gong Sonbeom, clashing with Yu Sumin. Even after Hori Jung merged into Banakbeol, she stuck by Gong Sonbeom, keeping things distant with Yu Sumin.
“What’s this? Sleeping without even changing? She was always so obsessively neat, like she wasn’t a mountain disciple.”
Jeok Sobin snorted at Yu Sumin, pillow soaked with drool.
Then her eyes fixed on Yu Sumin’s right arm dangling off the bed.
The scabbard hung from a pinky string tied to her wrist. The string was filthy with dust and sweat.
Probably to keep from dropping the sword mid-spar.
“……”
Jeok Sobin stared for a long moment, then untied the string from Yu Sumin’s wrist and set the scabbard on the floor.
She stripped off the half-removed top for comfort and loosened the tightly cinched belt.
It’d be chilly at dawn. She pulled the blanket up to Yu Sumin’s chin.
Jeok Sobin gave the still-grumpy-looking Yu Sumin one last glance and waved out the lantern flame.
“Sleep well. Don’t catch a cold and start hacking away.”
Whoosh!
The flame went out.
Darkness fell.
* * *
The next morning.
Yu Sumin groaned as she opened her eyes.
“Ugh, everything hurts.”
It was the kind of day that made her understand her master’s grumbling about how mountain winds on rainy days chilled you to the bone.
As she propped herself up, she belatedly noticed the blanket covering her.
Her clothes were loosened comfortably.
Did I sleep like this…?
Trying to recall the foggy events of last night, she spotted a simple meal tray by the bed.
A note sat beside it.
—Training on an empty stomach will cramp you up and ruin your performance. Don’t drag everyone else down—eat this and come.
“…No way, Jeok Sobin?”
They’d always ignored each other like strangers, so this kindness felt awkward, even embarrassing.
—P.S. I’m heading to the training grounds first. Oh, and you snore like crazy. Mind toning it down next time? Thought three elephants were breakdancing.
“That bitch?”
Yu Sumin’s eyebrow twitched.
* * *
‘It’s definitely changed a lot. The atmosphere is totally different now.’
Tang Gon thought as he watched the Banakbeol examinees gathered in the training grounds.
Just yesterday, an invisible ‘distance’ hung between the factions.
Even to Tang Gon, unfamiliar with Banakbeol’s structure, the factions were starkly divided.
One was the original Execution Trio and their friends, acting familiar.
Another was the forcibly absorbed disciples from Hori Jung.
The last were those who’d joined just on the fame of the reborn Banakbeol.
Banakbeol’s numbers weren’t small. Internal conflicts lingered fiercely.
Tang Gon had wondered how Unhwi would handle it.
He’d shown brilliant tactics escaping Namgung San-yeong’s clutches to become Nine Dragons Branch heir, but merging power struggles was one thing—uniting disparate origins was another.
Yet Unhwi solved it simply.
‘By making himself the common enemy…’
The examinees burned with unified fury.
“If the Squad Leader fires a Gale Cannon from there, we fan out wide and counter with Radiant Barrage—”
“Good idea! Then your team circles behind in this sector to block the Squad Leader’s Tempest Step!”
“Oh, that works!”
“Yeah. So this time, let’s just land one hit on the Squad Leader’s face! Just one!”
“One hit……!”
“Yeah. One hit! No more, no less—just one on that mouth that keeps taunting us! Wouldn’t that fulfill all our dreams!?”
“One hit!”
“One hiiiit!!”
The examinees roared in unison.
One hit!
Just one hit!
It was their slogan: shut up that mouth of Unhwi’s, who flipped their clothes every clash.
To achieve it, factions and origins forgotten, they huddled, plotting how to take him down.
Tang Gon, watching, got chills at their intense madness.
A month of this, and unity would solidify.
Stormwind Arts and Formation too, naturally.
But one worry.
‘It won’t work.’
They’d never fulfill that dream.
Tang Gon recalled his old self, always getting pickpocketed trying to rob Unhwi’s pockets.
He pitied them.
* * *
Time flew.
Unhwi and Banakbeol’s days were identical.
Wake, spar; by bedtime, sun dipped west.
Like a hamster wheel, repetitive days—but no one noticed.
One goal consumed them.
—No matter what, land one hit on the Squad Leader’s mouth before training ends!
Unhwi rarely slipped.
Pin him in perfect Stormwind Formation? He’d Phantom Shift out. Tire him with rotations? He’d overwhelm with absurd stamina and grit.
Worse, his techniques were dirty and ruthless.
Sand in eyes? Child’s play.
Slightly cornered? He’d Bull Run or Thirty-Six Stratagems’ Strategic Retreat like meals.
Then lure into hidden weapon traps, shattering the formation—forcing mental chaos.
Complain it wasn’t sparring? His response was gold.
“A Tang clansman doing Tang things—what’s the problem?”
“……”
“Kidding, kidding.”
‘No! He means it! That face is serious!’
“Dirty? Ruthless? Real combat has no such luxuries. Survive, you win; die, dog’s death. Listen up. Battlefields have no honorable deaths. Just life or death.”
“……”
“Especially Stormwind Corps spirit. They were more army than warriors. Victory above all—weapons, hidden arms, explosives, poisons, no holds barred.”
“……”
“Stormwind tactics too: ambushes, guerrillas, stealth, intel, sabotage, division… issue with any?”
“……”
“This is Tang Clan. Stormwind Corps. Ditch outside common sense at the gate.”
Unhwi grinned.
“Oh, and no quitting now. No dropping the exam. You’re in my sights—expect to be drilled to death.”
“!!!”
Who’d argue against the Squad Leader’s ideals?
So the examinees shifted.
Mastering Stormwind Arts and Formation? Obvious.
To catch Unhwi? Become true Stormwind Corps.
From then, they sought instructors on off-time.
How would you slap Unhwi’s mouth… no, capture him for victory.
Tang Gon and instructors answered sincerely.
Loyal to Unhwi, sure—but rooting for examinees as instructors.
Pure support for applicants. No ulterior motives.
Absolutely not revenge for past humiliations from Unhwi. None!
Six days in, Unhwi couldn’t rest properly.
Examinees ambushed in shifts.
“Aiming for mealtime? Solid strategy. Beasts show most openings feeding. But targeting the outhouse—”
“Ah, no! Squad Leader! Mistake, we—”
“Fine. I’ll make the same ‘mistake.’”
“Wait! Hear us out, Squad Leader!”
“……”
“S-Squad Leader!? Where’d you go!!”
Unhwi didn’t just take it.
Ambushed their sleep like they did him. Waited outside privies for back-of-head strikes (even he wouldn’t hide inside).
But examinees weren’t fooled forever. They countered with wild counters, turning ambushes into traps.
Skills soared daily.
Eyes shifted from venomous madness to warrior’s righteous fury.
Ten days: blocked Unhwi’s single strike.
Half-month: traded a dozen exchanges in Stormwind Formation.
Twenty days: over a hundred clashes, forced his retreat.
Month’s end: matched Unhwi’s mid/long-range weapons and hidden arts evenly.
Whoooosh—
Clangclangclang!
Boomboomboom!
Unhwi swung his axe—frontline retreated, spear-wielders surged to check him.
Rain of needle-shots from sky? Rear short-sword examinees raised sword veils; spotting Ice Flower Needle gap, flankers deflected aggressively.
Like precision gears, no hesitation in their moves.
Even in chaos, they knew their roles.
No words needed—eye contact sufficed for instant coordination.
Thick camaraderie flowed.
Not perfect trust yet, but pride in unbreakable Stormwind Formation.
And fierce loyalty in gazes at Unhwi.
A month skin-to-skin showed the real Unhwi outshone rumors.
Annoying at times, but not hated.
Regretted no mouth-hit yet, but no hate.
Dust-covered, they grinned.
And all bore Unhwi-like feral glares.