Chapter 273
Chapter 273
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 273
Chapter Title: The First Day's Grueling Trials
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Sangseo was overjoyed that Hyeok Mulin had accepted the proposal.
He was one of the few in the Volcanic Sect who knew the true extent of Hyeok Mulin's prowess.
As such, Sangseo took every possible measure to ensure Hyeok Mulin could move freely within the sect.
And so.
Hyeok Mulin had no intention of just going through the motions either.
Along with Cheon Sumyeong's accompaniment, he had added three conditions.
First.
It wouldn't be just for a single day, but spread over three days.
Second.
No objections would be raised to whatever methods he chose to teach.
Third.
No responsibility would be taken for any changes that arose in the disciples from the training.
The conditions Hyeok Mulin laid out were utterly unconventional.
A few elders worried whether they should really let him teach the Volcanic Sect's disciples.
"Are you lot casting suspicious glances at the benefactor of our sect leader right now?"
Sangseo's forceful insistence left them no choice but to yield.
It helped that they were convinced the man who had saved their sect leader wouldn't bring harm to the Volcanic Sect.
Thus, Hyeok Mulin was allowed to teach the second-generation disciples exactly as he wished, without any restrictions.
And before long, the day arrived.
In the early dawn, around thirty second-generation disciples had gathered in ones and twos in the front courtyard of the training grounds.
Those who still struggled to fully regulate their physical fatigue yawned even more than usual at this unusually early hour.
"Haaah..."
"It's chilly at this hour."
"The sun hasn't even hinted at rising yet."
"So where's this temporary master who's supposed to teach us?"
At the last disciple's words, the kids looked around and shook their heads.
"No sign of him yet."
"Calling himself a one-day teacher and showing up late."
"Maybe he's trying to put us in our place."
"He'll show up soon. Let's wait a bit."
They had heard from above that they would receive instruction from a one-day teacher.
The second-generation disciples split into two camps upon hearing this.
Some reacted positively, eagerly anticipating the new swordsmanship a master would demonstrate.
They had only ever seen Volcanic sword styles within the sect, so even just witnessing an outside technique felt fresh and exciting.
But not everyone thought the same.
'Why do we have to bother looking at some outsider's sword?'
They were Volcanic Sect disciples.
Disciples of the Volcanic Sect—one of the Nine Sects and One Gang, the undisputed heart of the Murim Alliance.
At their young age, these second-generation disciples brimmed with immense pride in their sect, and they tended to look down on external sword arts.
They already knew the Volcanic sword was the pinnacle.
So why bother memorizing some other style?
They couldn't agree with that.
And so, with these somewhat opposing sentiments mixed among them as they waited for the one-day teacher, unfamiliar figures soon appeared at the front before long.
A tall man with sharp, distinct features.
An old man with a frightening glint in his eyes walked beside him.
And the moment they fixed their gazes on the second-generation disciples.
No one had said a word, yet every single child instantly fell silent.
It was an instinctive sense that they had to listen quietly under those eyes.
The courtyard went deathly still in an instant, and Hyeok Mulin, looking at them, slowly parted his lips.
"Is everyone here?"
"Yes."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Hyeok Mulin. I'll be overseeing your training for the next three days."
"Three days?"
"Not just one?"
"That's longer than we heard."
As the disciples murmured in confusion, Hyeok Mulin continued.
"There's no need to call someone a master just for teaching a day or two, nor do I care for such titles. Call me whatever you like—no restrictions."
"We'll address you as Hero Hyeok."
Having settled on a title for Hyeok Mulin, the disciples' eyes turned to Cheon Sumyeong.
Cheon Sumyeong spoke in a low,grave voice.
"Just call me Elder Cheon."
Hero Hyeok, Elder Cheon...
As the second-generation disciples repeated the names to themselves, someone suddenly raised a hand.
"May I ask one thing?"
"Speak."
"Do Hero Hyeok and Elder Cheon have any nicknames known in the world?"
At the question, the eyes of the disciple who asked—and all the others—turned toward them.
And at the answer that came soon after, they couldn't hide their disappointment.
"No nicknames."
'...No nickname at that age?'
It was understandable for a warrior not yet of age to lack one.
But past adulthood with none?
That left room for doubt about their skills.
Nicknames sprang up flashy and bright even for minor feats in a small town.
Whether the world acknowledged it was another matter, but any decent warrior would have one without much effort.
And yet.
'Not even one that's easy to come by?'
The disciples' gazes toward Hyeok Mulin and Cheon Sumyeong cooled with disappointment.
They had some expectations since an elder had brought them in personally, but it seemed there'd been a mix-up.
Even those eager for new sword arts felt let down, joining the ranks skeptical of their one-day teachers.
They wanted a master's techniques, not some nobodies' without even a nickname.
'What a waste of time.'
Even those with faint hopes now reacted indifferently.
Just as everyone shared the same sentiment.
"...Huh?"
"What's with him?"
"Something wrong?"
One person alone stood frozen stiff in place.
Dry sweat beaded on his temples, and his back was soaked before long.
The nearby disciples eyed him curiously.
"Hwe-gang, what's up?"
"You okay?"
But he said nothing, just staring straight ahead.
His nickname was Plum Blossom Sword Dragon.
The only second-generation disciple who had participated in the previous Shaanxi Sword Assembly.
Right now, Hyeok Mulin had completely captivated his vision.
'Why... why is he here...?'
Hwe-gang's mind vividly replayed that memory.
The elder he thought the strongest in the world, defeated powerlessly before him.
'No nickname?'
It didn't matter.
What he'd seen with his own eyes was skill that rendered such things meaningless.
A remarkable man, one who made him tense just looking at him.
The one he'd brought along must be equally formidable.
While everyone else relaxed, Hwe-gang alone tensed up, steeling himself fully.
And from that worry and tension bloomed anticipation.
A swordsman who could crush an elder.
What would he teach over three days?
"Everyone seems ready. Let's head out."
At that moment, Hyeok Mulin turned his back on the training grounds right before them and walked away.
The disciples watched him in bewilderment.
They'd gathered in front of the training grounds, and most training had always been held there.
They'd assumed that's where it would happen.
With puzzled tilts of their heads, they followed behind Hyeok Mulin.
Hyeok Mulin advanced without hesitation.
Passing straight through the sect headquarters, he exited the gates.
After walking another couple of li, he finally reached his destination.
As Hyeok Mulin stopped, Cheon Sumyeong eyed the front with an odd look.
"This is the training you chose."
They had three days.
To use the time efficiently, Hyeok Mulin decided not to train with Cheon Sumyeong every moment.
First day: Hyeok Mulin in charge.
Second day: Cheon Sumyeong.
Third day: Both together.
Thus, on this first day, Cheon Sumyeong was simply observing as a witness to Hyeok Mulin's session.
And.
"This...?"
"He wants us to climb that..?"
The second-generation disciples stared up in blank dismay.
Before them loomed a peak that seemed to pierce the heavens.
Its sheer cliffs made their legs tremble just looking at them.
As bewilderment flooded their eyes, Hyeok Mulin spoke.
"No use of internal energy. But I'll give you plenty of time. Eight hours. Reach the summit within that."
"Eight hours?!"
"How in that time?!"
The disciples stirred in shock.
It looked uncertain even after climbing all day, and now only eight hours?
As despair etched their faces, Hyeok Mulin signaled the start.
"Begin."
Yet despite his command, no one moved easily.
Failure was certain anyway.
Better to take it slow, avoid injury, and conserve strength than exhaust themselves pointlessly.
With such thoughts, they dawdled, loosely stretching.
Tak-tak-tak-tak!
Suddenly, someone dashed toward the cliff, drawing all eyes.
Hwe-gang reached it and slapped his hands on, swiftly scaling the wall.
A few stretches up, the hold he grabbed nearly crumbled away.
But he quickly seized another, caught his breath, and resumed climbing.
The watching second-generation disciples cocked their heads, baffled by Hwe-gang's fervor.
Then.
"You lot."
Hyeok Mulin spoke softly.
"Not going?"
There was no coercion or threat in his words.
Yet the instant they heard it.
Everyone moved as one.
Tat-tat-tak!
In a flash, all clung to the cliff.
And began climbing with all their might.
It was a warrior's instinctive intuition.
A premonition that lingering there would bring unknown consequences.
Thus, they threw caution to the wind and scaled the cliff.
Eight hours later.
"Well done."
Not a single straggler—all second-generation disciples reached the summit.
"Huff... huff..."
By now, the sun hung high in the midday sky.
Drenched in sweat, they heaved ragged breaths.
But Hyeok Mulin gave them no respite.
"Now for the next training."
'Already?!'
'No time to rest!'
The first session had been this brutal—what horrors awaited the second?
They eyed Hyeok Mulin tensely.
But he simply walked to the peak's center and set something down.
"What's that...?"
"A gourd?"
As they peered curiously, Hyeok Mulin explained.
"A gourd filled with water."
Their faces lit up.
From dawn under the sun, sweating buckets, not a drop to drink—thirst raged fiercely.
As color returned to their faces, someone voiced doubt.
"Uh... but there's only one gourd...?"
Hyeok Mulin offered no reply.
Then it dawned on them.
"Kekekekeke!"
Cheon Sumyeong finally laughed, unable to hold back, as if seeing what he'd expected.
"As if you'd end it so easily!"
Thirty people.
One gourd.
Many mouths.
One vessel.
Facing a trial they'd never known before—and never would again—the second-generation disciples' faces hardened like white jade.
Nothing remained in their eyes but the shadow of despair, like a thousand-foot chasm.