The Po Principle of Mokhonbo
Lee Wan-yeol reflected on whether he'd made some kind of mistake.
"Dungeons are unprecedented territory for raiders. No, they're places where you have to ignore precedent to survive. Facing the monster in front of you the same way you killed the last one in a raid? You'd end up buried there, bones and all.
"New monsters appear in dungeons too. With no precedent, you might think to avoid them, but then we'd have to close the dungeon gates entirely and send no one in. A world with no raids at all. The Association wouldn't even exist.
"The Association was created to support raiders entering dungeons. But now it's rejecting change? If that's even remotely the Association's official stance, it'll spark problems across all raids going forward.
"The Association would lose its very reason for being.
"Because an raider association that can't understand raiders—who must always adapt to survive—won't be able to help them anymore."
Lee Wan-yeol was speechless.
But even more critical was the subtle hint that the pillars of Cheonhondan could outright deny the Association's existence.
What if Choi Min-su said this in front of the press?
Just imagining it was horrifying.
Every media outlet would savage the Association.
It wouldn't be digging into simple mistakes or corruption. They'd question the Association's fundamental right to exist.
What if Jushin, Brave, and Miracle—the other three of the four great guilds alongside Cheonhondan—backed that claim?
What if guilds across the nation agreed?
The Association might collapse.
"This isn't about criticizing the director. Put my name on it. Talk to the chief or someone higher up again. I want the Association and raiders walking the same path."
Choi Min-su left behind that gentlemanly threat and departed.
Lee Wan-yeol headed straight to the chief. This was beyond what he could handle alone.
His fingers twisted in a spasm.
The glass slipped from his grip and shattered on the floor.
Crash!
Go Cheolmin hurriedly massaged his right hand with his left.
As the trembling subsided, he dumped a handful of shimmering pills—red, yellow, blue, and more—into his mouth.
This time, he managed to drink water with his left hand and swallow them.
Whenever he felt even a bit better, dungeon sickness would rear its head and ruin the moment. Steady medication brought no sense of improvement.
After cleaning up the shards, Go Cheolmin slumped onto the sofa. A glance at the wall clock showed it was already 1:30 a.m.
Raid prep was nearly complete.
There'd been the hiccup with Skyla, but Pink Team's training was going smoothly. Gear was secured, and Association business just needed wrapping up.
So why this unease? His gut felt off, nothing like usual.
Something's bothering me.
He recalled the parking lot incident—summoned by the disciplinary committee to meet Choi Min-su, only to find Yeon Un-jae there too.
They'd joked about him folding Uramata and joining Cheonhondan.
Back then, he'd raged and called it nonsense. But as time passed... as dungeon sickness worsened... he wondered if it might actually be the smarter move.
If he collapsed without warning, unable to fulfill his role as master, Uramata—with just the kids, Skyla, the guild doctor, and old carriers—would become prey for greedy neighboring guilds or the Association.
"No. Not yet."
Dungeon sickness expert Shim Gyeong-ju had insisted there was still hope—don't give up.
He lay in bed, but sleep wouldn't come.
His stomach growled, so he headed to the kitchen, boiling water while rummaging for ramen.
Not a single pack left. All devoured.
"...Damn."
Then the doorbell rang.
Who at this hour?
Go Cheolmin crossed his cramped, one-room apartment to the door. Opening it, Kim Jun strode in, black bag in hand.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Kim Jun ignored him, barged in, and spotted the boiling pot on the stove. He flashed a grin at Go Cheolmin and pulled out ramen from the bag.
Canned beer, squid, and kimchi went beside it.
Go Cheolmin burst out laughing, swapped the pot, and added more water. Four packs minimum for that guy.
"Why're you here?"
"Single guy living alone—total bachelor stench."
Kim Jun with the nonsense.
"...What?"
"Guildhouse is inconvenient. Skyla should crash here."
Go Cheolmin was dumbfounded.
Skyla in this tiny, filthy roach-infested dump? She'd bolt without looking back.
And grown man and woman under one roof? Absurd!
"Master, time to get married."
Go Cheolmin smacked Kim Jun's head as the kid smirked, then grabbed the ramen and added the spice packets to the stove.
"Real reason you showed up this late?"
Kim Jun sidled up beside him.
"Teach me."
"...That again? Told you Mokhonbo's Po after Changwon raid. You've been hounding me all day."
"Can't sleep. Bad condition means dragging the team. Ignoring that makes you unqualified as master. If I were master, I'd teach that footwork for Pink Team's sake."
Go Cheolmin was floored.
When did this kid get so sly? Where was the earnest rookie carrier Kim Jun?
"Fine."
He relented.
That stubborn streak could genuinely mess up the raid.
"Whoa! Master's the best! Can't go to guildhouse with Skyla there. Back lot's open—perfect."
Kim Jun was already heading out.
The guy who salivated at ramen fumes. Go Cheolmin killed the stove and followed, chuckling.
A utility pole stood before a right-angle wall, lit by a lonely streetlamp.
Kim Jun was warming up in front. Light jumps felt like floating.
Huh, decent Tan. Raise success rate, master variations—combat-ready.
Go Cheolmin figured Kim Jun's growth came from bone transformation conditioning plus martial arts drive.
Under the streetlamp, Kim Jun's eyes sparkled. Learning MokhonboPo this late had him buzzing.
Go Cheolmin felt invigorated too.
A disciple who grasped two or three from one lesson? Pure joy for a teacher.
"Mokhonbo has Tan, Dang, Po, Chu, plus Jung-gyeong and more for inner power. But core is Tan and Po. Master those, you've mastered Mokhonbo.
"Po opposes Tan. Tan springs like a coil. Po holds ground against external pressure. Watch."
Go Cheolmin lightly stepped on the pole.
Then strolled up the side like flat ground, defying gravity.
Kim Jun was speechless.
At five meters, Go Cheolmin turned, looked down. Seeing Kim Jun's face brought a thrill.
"My foot and pole are one now. Mukhon Gong merges them. That's Po. Expel inner power through Yongcheon acupoint. With practice, whole sole flows power."
He descended like flat ground, stood before Kim Jun.
Kim Jun still awestruck.
"Like Tan, imagination key for Po. Imagine super glue between foot and pole. Helps."
"...One more demo?"
"Once."
Go Cheolmin ascended, descended slowly.
Kim Jun touched his legs and feet—sensing inner power flow via touch.
After pondering, Kim Jun looked up.
"One question."
"Shoot."
"Tan jumps high. Po climbs vertical walls. You said they're Mokhonbo's center. Don't get it."
"I asked the same. This'll explain."
Go Cheolmin smirked, closed five meters in a blink. Kim Jun froze.
Back to start. Kim Jun barely tracked it.
"Get it?"
"...No."
"Once more."
Kim Jun strained his eyes—still just a phantom blur.
"Still? Last time. Watch feet."
Kim Jun glared at the sneakers.
Ankle slight twist, body lean—then explosive speed.
Aha! That's Tan! No need to jump air. Forward? Change direction. And!
Then Po's value hit.
To stop Tan momentum, needed Po. Without it, Go Cheolmin would've smashed into him, forehead or nose busted.
"Got it?"
"Yes!"
"Come eat ramen."
"Practice a bit."
Kim Jun headed to the pole.
Go Cheolmin shook his head, hands in pockets, went home.
An hour later, no Kim Jun.
Instead, a call—from the police station. Nighttime pole wrestling mistaken for drunk, reported.
Go Cheolmin sighed, headed out.
Thud.
The heavy sound pierced Skyla's ears as she slept on the master room sofa.
Another thud.
Skyla pushed up her eyelids, nudged the blanket, perked her ears. Thought she misheard, tried dozing off—third thud.
Rubbing eyes, she descended the metal stairs. Beyond the guildhouse track, something hilarious unfolded at the wall.
Grabbing water from the fridge, she approached—and saw Kim Jun standing horizontally on the wall, feet planted.
She doubted her eyes.
He'd nagged Master for another Mokhonbo skill. Yesterday, couldn't stick a foot late into the night, let alone horizontal.
"Finally stuck it?"
Turning to Skyla, Kim Jun lost balance and fell.
Thud!
The sound that woke her echoed through floors and walls.
"Lose focus on soles, you drop."
Kim Jun grimaced, shifted Mukhon Gong to soles, planted left foot firm. Leaped, stuck right.
"Today's dungeon dive—you know?"
"Of course."
Still wall-stuck, he strained left foot upward.
"Raid day, no training—you know that too?"
"Don't get why I... Argh!"
Detaching left—plummeted.
Rubbing back, rising, he paused before retrying. Mom's reminder hit. Grabbed bag from entrance bench, handed to Skyla.
"What's this?"
"Breakfast."
"Breakfast?"
"Told Mom you're staying here. She packed it."
Skyla, touched speechless.
Kim Jun handed her the bag, returned to wall. No wasting scraps before Changwon.
Up in master room, unpacking, Skyla teared up quietly. Neat sandwiches, veggie salad, soup—easy eats.
Felt Kim Jun's mom's warmth. Picked for foreign-raised Skyla.
Dialed instantly.
"It's me, Skyla."
Skyla heard a mom's voice.