Conquering the Precipice
Even climbing five meters was grueling.
He jammed his fingers into the cracks and held on, but his body and the sandbag dragged him downward. His finger joints felt like they were tearing apart. His elbows and shoulders ached as if they might pop out of their sockets.
Still, Kim Jun kept climbing.
Even when he paused, he mustered his strength again.
Then he'd slip with his foot or his fingers would give out, sending him tumbling down, where the waves eagerly swallowed him whole.
Kim Jun sank beneath the surface.
Go Cheolmin leaped into the sea and barely fished him out.
"Phew, looks like I need to teach you the basics of climbing first."
Go Cheolmin explained the terms: the rock crevices called cracks, the holds for hands or feet, the leaping grab known as a lunge, climbing like gripping a pull-up bar in mantling, stemming up with legs spread wide for support, large enough gaps called chimneys, jamming feet into cracks for foot jams, and sections steeper than vertical known as overhangs.
Kim Jun memorized the terms, but he knew nothing about actual climbing techniques.
"Have you ever climbed that cliff?"
"...Not quite that high, but I've scaled similar ones hundreds of times."
"Then show me a demo."
Kim Jun looked up at his master with sparkling eyes.
Go Cheolmin nearly burst out laughing. He'd come all this way for the kid, but he hadn't expected to end up doing this.
"Alright. Let's go."
Go Cheolmin took the lead.
Kim Jun eyed the holds where Go Cheolmin stepped and followed behind.
Whenever the climbing novice Kim Jun slipped and fell, Go Cheolmin spun around and dove down instantly. It was to rescue him before he got sucked into the underwater cave.
Who's the one training here? This is harder on me.
Go Cheolmin was seriously regretting it.
Sudden plunges and near-misses getting dragged to the sea cave entrance happened dozens of times.
Before long, Kim Jun surpassed five meters, hitting ten, then fifteen. He broke through twenty even with the sandbag, and soon he was scaling the cliff face in a style all his own, different from Go Cheolmin's.
This guy—did he grasp the basic principles just by watching a few times? Smart ones really are different.
Go Cheolmin stepped aside to let Kim Jun take the lead.
He breezed past thirty meters, then forty, fifty, sixty in rapid succession.
Near seventy meters, it got tricky.
It was an overhang, steeper than vertical—the key point to push upward.
Go Cheolmin scowled, scanning for a climbing route, glaring at the overhang.
No obvious holds.
With ropes, nuts, or pitons, it might be doable, but the old man only recognized bare hands.
There were two main routes.
The left started tough but had dense holds later, making it easier. The right, conversely, ramped up in difficulty toward the end.
"What about that side?"
Kim Jun pointed to the left route on the overhang.
Go Cheolmin grinned.
Showing some spirit, eh? That's my pick too.
"You first."
"Got it."
Kim Jun grabbed three holds and climbed up, then suddenly launched into a lunge.
Hanging by his left hand on a hold, his body floated in midair. Just three fingers supporting his weight and the sandbag.
Like a monkey, he twisted his head slightly to look down at Go Cheolmin, flashed a grin, and used the momentum to pull himself in.
Go Cheolmin was startled.
That's not the route I spotted! It's way harder. And after abusing his arms and legs all morning, how's he got that kind of explosive power?
Then came a triple lunge. He leaped across three sparse holds in succession.
Go Cheolmin's jaw dropped.
Because of that, while climbing a safer path, he missed a smooth hold.
Tumbling down, Go Cheolmin caught a glimpse just before hitting the water: Kim Jun cresting the overhang above.
Is it his talent? Or the Lyposaurus recovery ability?
The waves crashed over him.
Now Go Cheolmin stood on the wave-battered rock, looking up at Kim Jun.
Kim Jun had reached 120 meters. The cliff grew smoother higher up, making it brutally hard. Barely any footholds anywhere.
Kim Jun spread his legs wide, stemming against both sides of a massive crack, pondering for a long while.
Go Cheolmin, peering through binoculars from his bag to scout routes, felt the same.
A curse slipped out toward the old man unbidden. The cliffs Go Cheolmin had climbed before were child's play compared to this monster.
Growing old made him harsher. He must've roamed the country seeking walls like this.
Kim Jun kept glancing right.
Go Cheolmin knew what that meant. Moving horizontally right offered more holds. The problem: razor-sharp rocks jutting below.
Fall, and you're dead.
"Not the right side!"
He cupped his hands and yelled, but the waves drowned it out up top.
Go Cheolmin gathered his waning inner energy and unleashed Sound Forest Technique. The shout from his throat would pierce straight to Kim Jun without scattering.
Kim Jun turned and looked down.
Go Cheolmin crossed his arms into an X. Mistake on the right, arms or legs give out... death. Or severe injury at best.
Kim Jun, holding steady up there, tossed something down. Splash—it was the sandbag.
"That rascal..."
He meant to go right anyway.
Ditching even the ankle sandbags, Kim Jun inched rightward.
Finding a route, he climbed.
Watching from below, Go Cheolmin's heart pounded; he couldn't stand still. His clenched fists hurt.
He passed 130 meters.
Up to 145, he moved fast.
At 170, snug in a safe chimney, Kim Jun rested and waved down at Go Cheolmin.
Reaching 185, he lunged for a hold but slipped.
Kim Jun plummeted.
Go Cheolmin bellowed with Sound Forest Technique.
"Look below! Aim for no rocks!"
Hearing it, Kim Jun eyed the rock forest, then kicked off the cliff.
Clear of the wall, he splashed between reefs.
Go Cheolmin dove in. Submerging to search, but no Kim Jun.
Did I get him killed?
Gasping back to the surface for air, he spotted Kim Jun atop a reef, glaring upward with deep pity in his eyes.
"Hey, you crazy bastard! You scared me!"
"Master, I'm starving."
"...Got it."
Go Cheolmin climbed to the rock with his bag, fired up the burner, and boiled water. Once bubbling, in went the ramen, plus spam. He even prepped and added abalone he'd found on the seabed.
Kim Jun's stomach growled nonstop beside him. Hollow-cheeked, he eyed the ramen hungrily.
How many people ate freshly boiled ramen to the sound of crashing waves?
Go Cheolmin and Kim Jun slurped noodles in silence, mixing in rice packs to shovel down. Not just Kim Jun—Go Cheolmin was famished too, wolfing it down.
"Next time, I think I can reach the top."
Kim Jun whispered it, lying back on the rock after finishing, staring at the blue sky.
Go Cheolmin lay beside him, arm pillowed under his head. Glancing over, Kim Jun's hands were callused and bruised amid the muscle—like a veteran climber of months, maybe years.
"What for dinner?"
Kim Jun chuckled at Go Cheolmin's words.
As sunset painted the sky in gold-flecked crimson, Kim Jun finally stood atop the cliff.
"Woooaaah!"
He bellowed in triumph.
"That's one down. Two to go."
The old man, perched on a small rock smoking his pipe, spoke.
"Understood."
"Want me to kick you off?"
"No need."
Backing from the edge, Kim Jun sprinted and leaped toward a safer spot.
He finished the third ascent at the tail end of dawn the next day. Each repeat sped him up. Scaling the cliff three times in under a full day, Kim Jun roared in victory.
Go Cheolmin, who'd watched anxiously for falls till then, shouted in joy too.
Climbing a safe, gentle path to the summit, Go Cheolmin found Kim Jun asleep in a gap between tree and rock. He'd promised grilled meat on success, but sleep mattered more now.
Go Cheolmin draped his shirt over Kim Jun and turned at a presence.
The old man stood in the moonlight. Dawn would break over the sea soon.
"Quite the entertaining kid."
"He'll get even more entertaining, sir."
"A day's passed. Two left means he might crack and beg to quit."
Go Cheolmin couldn't deny it. Even he, unflinching in most training, had fled three times learning Wood Blend Step from this old man.
"Rest. Training starts at sunrise."
Then, the sun peeked over rippling waves.
Basking in the rising light, the old man grinned at Go Cheolmin.
"Daylight. A new day begins. Shall we start the second training?"
Go Cheolmin burned with the urge to kill the old man.
On the third day, a typhoon raged.
Dark gray skies merged hazily with sea mist not far off, shaking the world. Massive container-sized waves crashed endlessly against reefs, cliffs, and the whole island.
"Today's training is simple, like the past two days. Jump down there, swim to that faintly visible rock island, and back. You're used to the cliff now, but mind the waves—do it five times."
"......"
Kim Jun was speechless. He hadn't expected to plunge into typhoon seas.
The rock island the old man pointed to was nearly invisible at its base amid foam and fog. At least three kilometers, maybe five.
"What are you waiting for?"
the old man asked.
Kim Jun slowly turned to Go Cheolmin. Fatigue and drowsiness from two days of ten-plus climbs vanished.
Go Cheolmin stared at the old man in disbelief, then at Kim Jun.
"Wait till the sea calms."
Chuckling, the old man turned away.
Kim Jun gritted his teeth and walked to the cliff edge.
Go Cheolmin grabbed his wrist.
"No. Even I can't save you from those waves. This... no."
"I have to, just to spite the wasted two days."
Kim Jun's eyes hardened as he met Go Cheolmin's gaze. Soon, Go Cheolmin let go.
Kim Jun floated lightly off the cliff into the depths below.
Plunging into white foam, he thrashed legs and arms against the crushing waves.
Huh?
The typhoon had amplified the waves, yet his body surged to the surface easily.
His arms and legs were incomparably stronger than on arrival. Constant cliff hangs and lunges had adapted his muscles.
Clearing the reef zone, the real waves hit.
A faint voice drifted from above.
"Rhythm matters! Ride the waves' rhythm to reach the island!"
Go Cheolmin's advice.
Kim Jun, who'd planned to brute-force swim, carefully watched waves recede and surge.
He realized: peak crest was prime swim time. Low points meant battling waves plus gravity.
He swam long.
A 25-meter pool? He'd lap it two or three times. Here? Barely three or four meters.
Stunned, scanning around—he'd been pushed back three meters.
Kim Jun flailed desperately. His mind raced to the distant rock-isle peak, but his body barely budged a meter.
Way harder than the cliff. There, I could rest jamming hands or feet in cracks. Here, pause and you're swept away.
His breath was already ragged.
Arms and legs numb. Climbing-toned, but not typhoon seas.
Swimming was like nonstop marathon running. Realizing that, Kim Jun ignored the island.
Focus: one arm stroke shoving water back. Like pushing asphalt forward with feet.
Gazing at the goal bred impatience, sapping endurance. Each stroke got him there.
Still, five meters was exhausting.
A memory surfaced—from a documentary or somewhere. Elite swimmers trained underwater kicks for records.
Even calm pools suffered from self-wake or lane interference. In typhoon seas, diving would excel.
Dolphin kick, right?
Kim Jun dove fully, clasping extended hands.
Legs together, rhythmic up-down kicks. Awkward, uncomfortable—first time. But paradise versus typhoon-torn surface.
One issue: breathing.
Whoa, dive time's way longer. Two minutes in, and it's comfy.
Twenty meters in three minutes, he surfaced. Head barely up for air—pushed back by a wave.
Five or six meters toward shore cliffs in seconds. He dove again.
Thus: 100 meters, 200... farther into sea, toward the island.
After 350 meters dolphin-kicking, arms and legs failed—pushed back 100 meters. Kim Jun wondered what he was doing. This wasn't training; self-torture. The old man just suggested; choice was his.
I chose this. Means I could quit this damn fight anytime.
Mind tilting to quit, body reacted first. Swept back 100 meters instantly.
Kim Jun snapped alert. Quitting here? Just this training?
No.
That choice ends running too. Carrier path? Chosen; revocable.
Dim sky darkened fast. Typhoon ramped up.
No food all day. Reach island once, return—then eat.
Suddenly, wind eased.