Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Joining the Orthodox Sect (6)
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Seoran had quite a competitive streak.
This had been true even when she was a man.
One day in her previous life, she had gone to the movies alone.
With some time to kill, she wandered into the arcade in the same building.
As she pondered what game to play, something caught her eye.
It was a claw machine.
In particular, there was a mole plushie about the size of her fist that she desperately wanted.
She immediately fed some money into the machine.
It teased her, grabbing it only to drop it at the last second.
Before she knew it, she was hooked, and the movie she'd bought tickets for was forgotten.
When her spending topped 100,000 won, an arcade employee came over and just gave her the mole plushie.
She got the plushie, but she wasn't happy.
Skipping the movie, she clutched it tightly on the bus ride home, stewing in her defeat the whole way.
The next day, she rushed back to the arcade.
She'd spent the night meticulously studying claw machine tips on YouTube.
After an intense battle, she finally claimed her second mole plushie.
It cost her another 200,000 won or so, but she'd won, damn it.
She was born to be the embodiment of competitive spirit.
After reincarnating, her peaceful days hadn't given her much chance to indulge it.
But yesterday's defeat had lit the fuse.
Now, Seoran was turning into a beast.
As soon as Yi Agum left to clean the Medicine Hall, Seoran shoved a spirit stone into the wooden puppet's back.
She wanted to take that thing down as soon as possible.
Her plan was to fight it every day until she won.
And so began the endless sparring between Seoran and the wooden puppet.
Four days later, Seoran pondered deeply as she applied medicine to her bruised eye.
She felt a crisis: at this rate, she might never win.
Sure, real combat was the best practice, but mindlessly trading blows felt a bit too brute-force.
Her proficiency with the Blazing Flame Fist had plateaued.
Without progress in her fist technique, she kept losing helplessly.
Improving her physical abilities seemed like the better bet for boosting her win rate.
Right—gotta use her head.
Seoran immediately revised her plan.
She recalled a workout video from her past life.
‘Viewers, you have to exercise properly.
Eat a balanced diet, get adequate rest, and train consistently—that's the key to staying healthy.
Pushing too hard in a short time just wears out your body and ruins your health.
Honestly, getting help from a professional is the most hassle-free way.
If you found this video helpful, please like, comment, subscribe, and turn on notifications.’
A million-subscriber YouTuber lived up to the hype—truly informative stuff.
Why hadn't she hit like back then?
Seoran immediately sought out the martial arts instructor for advice.
The instructor, whose joy in life was training people, gladly obliged.
He even assigned a dedicated Foundation Establishment cultivator to Seoran.
And threw in a whole bundle of pills to boot.
The next day, Ma Susa arrived at Seoran's cabin.
Ma Susa was extraordinary from the start.
Towering height wrapped in flawless muscle.
The kindly smile atop a neck thicker than her head exuded the leisure of the strong.
“You're Disciple Ryu, right? Nice to meet you—call me Ma Susa!”
With that booming introduction, training began.
Ma Susa first checked Seoran's proficiency with the Blazing Flame Fist.
He marveled at the polished form and movements—hard to believe she'd learned it solo.
Then he moved straight to physical conditioning.
“For a martial artist, stamina and strength are paramount!”
Ma Susa was a master of the Black Bamboo Sect's secret body-tempering methods.
His orders were to unlock the full potential of Ryu Seoran's physique.
Unlimited resources had been promised.
They started with calisthenics.
Extremely slow movements to loosen a stiff body and prevent injury.
Once familiar, slow it down even more—that was the training method he taught.
Next came handstands.
Seoran, stronger than most grown men, handled basic handstands with ease.
But strapping sandbags all over her body made her arms quake.
The moment Seoran hit her limit, Ma Susa called out from where he watched.
“Alright, that's enough! On to the next.”
He set up a thick log in the yard, waist-high to a man.
“I'll demonstrate first.”
Ma Susa leaped from standstill and cleared the log.
Then turned around and jumped it again.
It was a type of stationary jump training.
“See? Easy, right? Just mind your feet don't clip the log.”
Seoran gritted her teeth and jumped.
After watching for a while, Ma Susa stopped her.
This time, he had her jump side to side.
Sweat-soaked Seoran was finally released after cooldown stretches.
“Disciple Ryu, don't forget your pills. They clear fatigue and speed recovery. Rest well—we'll go again tomorrow.”
Ma Susa flew off on a flight artifact.
True to his word, he came every day.
Unlike his appearance, Ma Susa ramped up the intensity methodically.
He found the edge of Seoran's recovery capacity and pushed right up to it.
With help from the expert, Seoran grew stronger at a startling pace.
Once handstands were mastered, he demanded she spring up from them onto the log.
As her physical prowess rose, the log got taller, sandbags swapped for metal weights.
Stationary jumps intensified too.
Eventually, Seoran cleared man-height logs in full-body armor.
Swimming for stamina was at least tolerable.
Seoran had trained swimming for years in her past life.
Of course, familiarity just meant quicker escalation to hellish levels.
Beyond that, countless conditioning drills awaited that she'd never imagined possible for a human body.
Months passed in this body overhaul.
Intensity that would cripple mortals or even most cultivators.
But a Single Spirit Root Holder who ate pills like rice and drank decoctions like water was the exception.
The summer when cicadas awoke from long sleep to herald their emergence had long ended.
Autumn painting the Black Bamboo Sect red with leaves, winter blanketing it white—all gone.
Spring returned, and at last, Ryu Seoran's body was complete.
Seoran shed her full-body armor.
Made of special metal, it weighed far more than expected.
Through sweat-drenched clothes gleamed balanced, sculpted muscle.
“The pinnacle of beauty!”
Ma Susa stared at his creation, entranced.
Seoran's body looked sleek, but housed boulder-hurling power.
Paired with flexibility for any motion and steel-like durability.
Heaven's gift of talent, mountain-carving effort, training methods refined over generations by countless geniuses amid trial and error, pill consumption that could bankrupt the sect—all converged.
It was the very limit of human potential.
What happens when spiritual power infuses that perfect flesh?
Ma Susa shivered in delightful anticipation.
“Now focus on mental cultivation. Just maintain the body enough to ward off rust.”
Seoran's mind and body were out of sync.
Her spirit had reached the midpoint, but her body raced ahead to the goal.
Time to prioritize mental training.
“Then I'm off. Keep at it, Disciple Ryu.”
Ma Susa left to report.
Seoran was now sixteen.
Fresh as new spring leaves on bare branches—prime youth.
Caught in spring sentimentality, she closed her eyes and reflected on the past year.
How did I end up here?
It started with some friendly tournament sparking martial training, losing to the puppet, then body conditioning...
Snapping to, the tournament and puppet were distant memories—she'd just been obsessed with working out.
Come to think of it, the tournament was a false rumor, right?
Yi Agum had told her around autumn, yelling it like breaking news while bounding over.
Lost in thought, Seoran was jolted by Yi Agum's shout from afar.
“Sister, breaking news! Summer friendly tournament with other orthodox sects! This time it's real—official notice posted!”
“What!?”
*****
Seoran heard about the friendly tournament from Yi Agum.
Yi Agum heard it from Senior Brother Jang.
So where did Senior Brother Jang hear it?
Answer: from his mother.
The source, Senior Brother Jang—Jang Ok-gi—was born inside the Black Bamboo Sect, not the secular world.
Confirmed Triple Spirit Root Holder at ten, training ever since.
Six years into cultivation life, same age as Seoran, three years older than Yi Agum.
Jang Ok-gi's parents were both Foundation Establishment cultivators.
Last spring, his mother called him in and urged:
“Ok-gi, there's a friendly tournament next summer with multiple sects. They'll have Qi Building cultivators compete for a winner. I'm telling you early so you train harder—don't blab carelessly.”
Jang Ok-gi's mother handled pre-negotiations.
Hoping to snap her half-hearted son out of it, and she'd gotten boss approval despite the secrecy.
The dutiful son replied perfectly.
“Yes, Mother!”
Then he bolted to Yi Agum and spilled every detail.
“Junior Sister Yi, heard the news?”
Yi Agum looked curious, and the secret poured out.
The filial son turned unfilial in a heartbeat.
That's the terror of a honey trap.
“Soon a friendly tournament with other orthodox sects. Qi Building cultivators duking it out for a champ. It's secret, so don't tell anyone—just prep on the sly, Junior Sister Yi.”
In transmission, the info warped.
Key detail—next summer—became “soon.”
The speaker was mesmerized by the listener's looks, mind weakened.
“But do I have to keep it from my friends too?”
Yi Agum asked cautiously, thinking of Seoran.
Her hesitant charm melted Jang Ok-gi further; he boomed:
“That much is fine! Prep with your friends!”
“Thanks, Senior Brother Jang!”
Yi Agum beamed her thanks.
His crush, already severe, worsened.
Jang Ok-gi went home thanking his parents for his birth.
Yi Agum shared only with friends.
First, closest sister Seoran.
Then diligently spread to the rest.
She had to hustle because her reason was simple.
Yi Agum had tons of friends.
Beautiful looks, playful smile, approachable vibe—lethal in social circles.
Most kids wanted to befriend her.
Entry day, she gained a roommate-friend instantly.
Next day, that friend introduced her circle—boom, more friends.
She converted each new friend's network wholesale.
The chain reaction snowballed.
By entry month one last spring, Yi Agum's friends had exponential growth.
Seoran, whose only friend was three-years-younger Yi Agum, needed self-reflection.
Daily meals with her were a massive privilege.
Thus, the info spread infinitely.
“This is a secret, but...”
That night, most same-building girls her age learned the secret.
They were friends.
“Friendly tournament soon...”
Next day, swarms of Qi Building cultivators working near the Medicine Hall front got the scoop.
Friends again.
“Senior Brother Jang told only me...”
Days later, Jang's “secret” was too widespread to call secret.
Yi Agum kept her promise to Senior Brother Jang.
She told only friends.
Just... too damn many friends.
Jang Ok-gi, his mother, her boss—none foresaw this.
The warped rumor spread, summer came.
But the “soon” tournament stayed silent.
Whispering young cultivators concluded by autumn:
Jang Ok-gi bluffed to impress Yi Agum?
The buzz among the kids fizzled, leaving only “Jang likes Yi Agum” gossip.
Then next year, everyone was shocked.
Qualifiers for tournament entrants suddenly announced.
It wasn't all Jang's lie after all?
It was spring.