Chapter 39: The Difference in Class (5)
After Yeon Hojeong returned to the Yeon family estate, the atmosphere in the household shifted dramatically. To put it kindly, it grew fervent; to put it bluntly, it turned savage. And the reason was entirely Yeon Hojeong.
The day after his arrival, Yeon Hojeong appeared at the Great Training Ground of the Yeon estate. This expansive outdoor arena was open to all family members. It was vast enough to host unit inspections or celebratory banquets for the household.
Yeon Hojeong ran laps around its perimeter without pause. The track alone stretched over two hundred jang, and he kept at it relentlessly. That was his morning training.
After loosening up with this sprinting, he devoured a hearty lunch, then spent the afternoon alternating between full sprints and slow jogs.
The Yeon warriors watched in bewilderment. The eldest young master's regimen was pure physical conditioning. Stamina was crucial, of course, but seasoned martial artists each had their own tailored methods.
The young master's skills must still be lacking, the warriors concluded.
The next day, Yeon Hojeong rose at dawn and ran again. But this time was different. He wore a thirty-geun weighted vest—complete with iron chains.
The warriors were stunned. That vest was reserved for the family troops' hellish endurance drills.
With that heavy burden, Yeon Hojeong collapsed just before noon. It was only natural. Sprinting at full speed without drawing on inner energy—no one, no matter how tough, could endure it.
Tsking their tongues, the warriors carried him back to his quarters.
The day after that, Yeon Hojeong reappeared at the Great Training Ground. Well-fed and rested, he at least looked human again. Yet he collapsed once more. Still, he'd run farther than the day before.
Five days passed like this. Finally, Yeon Hojeong spat blood and crumpled.
No amount of nutrition or rest could prevent illness from such overexertion. Yet the warriors, clucking their tongues, couldn't help but admire his ferocity. Beyond mere diligence, pushing to the point of unconsciousness demanded extraordinary resolve.
Ten days later, having recovered, Yeon Hojeong returned to the arena. But this time, he was utterly transformed before collapsing. Faster, lighter on his feet. He even wrapped heavy chains around both arms, yet his movements flowed smoother than ever.
That day, for the first time, he completed a full session.
The warriors training nearby applauded his triumph.
But for Yeon Hojeong, that was merely the beginning. Day after day, he shattered his limits, always intensifying beyond the previous day's grind.
The warriors, who had inwardly scoffed at his "simple" stamina drills despite their admiration, soon gazed at him with awe.
A month passed, then two. Before they knew it, four months had flown by. As the new year dawned and winter's chill made its final stand, Yeon Hojeong no longer wore the weighted vest or chains.
"Here I come."
"Bring it."
Thud!
Yang Heum lunged with buoyant footwork, swinging his wooden sword. Sharper than before, it was a straightforward thrust at the midsection—yet so swift that even seasoned experts would struggle to parry.
Whoosh.
The blade sliced empty air. Yeon Hojeong merely twisted his body and took a single step, evading while seizing the counter opening.
His fist drove toward Yang Heum's flank. Not blindingly fast, but impeccably timed.
Yang Heum deliberately crumbled his stance, kicking out to deflect the punch. His balance held firm despite the feint. From there, he unleashed the Three Changes Kick—a barrage of rapid, short strikes targeting Yeon Hojeong's upper vital points.
In that instant, Yeon Hojeong's elbow smashed down on Yang Heum's sole.
Thwack!
"Urk?!"
Yang Heum tumbled across the ground. The strike to the Yongcheon acupoint on his foot numbed his entire right leg.
Regaining his footing with agile poise—his flexibility and springiness were top-tier even among the Chaeng-eungdae—Yang Heum moved superbly.
But Yeon Hojeong's palm was already pressed to his chest.
'...!'
Yang Heum paled.
Yeon Hojeong stomped the arena floor.
Boom!
"Gah!"
Yang Heum soared through the air before crashing down.
Whoooosh.
In his low stance, faint heat haze rose from his extended palm. It was the Chain Flying Swallow Palm, one of the Yeon family's foundational arts alongside the Thirteen Fists.
Yeon Hojeong grinned. "You lose?"
"Cough! Y-yes... I lost!"
Yang Heum hacked up phlegm flecked with blood.
Yeon Hojeong looked sheepish. "Sorry. Still working on my power control."
"N-no, it's my fault for getting hit!"
That wasn't the point. Yang Heum asked incredulously, "But that palm technique just now... was it the Chain Flying Swallow Palm?"
"Yeah."
"Whoa?!"
Not just Yang Heum—the twenty Chaeng-eungdae members spectating gasped in unison.
"Was the Flying Swallow Palm always this devastating?"
As a foundational art, the Chain Flying Swallow Palm was more practical than the Thirteen Fists. But that was it. Basics were basics; they had limits. Moreover, it emphasized swift, nimble handiwork to disable foes, not heavy single blows like its name suggested.
Yet this ponderous, majestic strike? Unthinkable.
Yeon Hojeong clicked his tongue. "Look at my footprint."
He lifted his foot.
"Gasp!"
The Chaeng-eung squad recoiled. Where he'd stomped with a Shock Step, the hard earth had cratered two chi deep—in the perfect shape of his sole. Immense power.
"The Shock Step isn't for showboating. It's to harness rebound force and draw up earth qi, amplifying rotational silk energy and explosive output."
"...!"
"No matter the art's nature, a strong Shock Step lets you crush foes in one blow."
That was why Shaolin arts were so formidable. Their Shock Steps were said to subdue myriad demons outright—proof of their supreme versatility.
And Yeon Hojeong was no different. His style subjugated all variations not with swift chain kicks, but with heavy, majestic strikes.
"Don't tell me all that running around the Great Training Ground was...?"
"Exactly. Extreme stamina gains, plus maximizing Shock Step proficiency."
After two months, his footfalls had grown erratic. Sometimes no trace; other times deep prints. Distances and depths varied wildly.
The warriors had chalked it up to inconsistent stamina. In truth, he was refining force flow through Shock Steps.
"Incredible. Is that even possible?"
"Of course. You've never tried it, so it sounds impossible."
"Then if we train like you...?"
"Foolish question. This is my martial path. Find yours."
Yeon Hojeong smiled. "Fundamentals always matter. But to go beyond, grasp your level, nature, and aspirations."
"Headache-inducing."
"You expect to grow strong without using your brain?"
"Urgh."
"Burn this in: Growth speed hinges on desire. Aim for one, stop at one. Aim for ten, grind relentlessly."
"Set goals?"
"Precisely. Know your destination—great or small—and the gap widens."
The Chaeng-eung squad sobered. Anyone could say it. But Yeon Hojeong had proven it over four months of action. Context changes everything. His words struck deep.
Yeon Hojeong eyed the opposite side, where a few Bi-eungdae members watched.
"Same for you. If you're content there, fine. Want more? Start with goals."
One Bi-eungdae warrior raised a hand.
Yeon Hojeong nodded. "You."
"Greetings. Bi-eungdae Third Squad's Yu Jiha."
He looked younger than expected—around Yeon Hojeong's age. Impressive to make Bi-eungdae at that.
"May I ask something?"
"Shoot."
"Chaeng-eungdae aside, Bi-eungdae has its own unit drills. We must move as one to fulfill our role."
"And?"
"But our schedule's packed outside meals and sleep. Personal training like this is rare."
"Unit training's the captain's domain. What good asking me?"
Yu Jiha flushed. "Ah, yes! I meant personal development during sleep hours..."
Skimp on rest for solo practice.
"How many sijin do you sleep?"
"Four."
"Plenty. Cut back."
"Exactly!"
Yeon Hojeong chuckled. "Then train by trimming sleep."
"W-well..."
"No one's blocking you, right?"
"N-no, but..."
"Do it. Your strength bolsters Bi-eungdae, which strengthens the house."
"I agree."
"Just don't overdo it and drag down unit drills. Balance that, no issue."
Yu Jiha beamed. "Thank you."
"No need. Anyway, keep at it."
"Yes!"
To Yang Heum: "Your sword force improved since last time. Whatever you're doing, keep growing."
"Thank you."
"I'm heading in."
"Eh? No more training today?"
Yeon Hojeong shrugged. "Gonna rest."
Of course, Yeon Hojeong didn't rest.
Back in his quarters, he unleashed spear forms without hesitation. Great Training Ground for stamina and Shock Steps; rear garden for spearwork. Four straight months, no days off.
The household warriors assumed he crashed after conditioning. In truth, he swung the spear at least one sijin before bed.
'It's working.'
Snap-snap-snap!
Five logs tossed midair shattered under a dozen spear strikes each, shredded like claw-rent beast hides.
'As expected.'
Sparring Yang Heum had confirmed his art's breakthrough. A bit more polish, and he could switch weapons.
Thud!
As he stomped for another mighty swing—
A distant knock echoed from the main gate.
"Young master. The family head summons you."
"Huh? What's up?"
"I don't..."
Yeon Hojeong scratched his head.
"Today I really just rest?"