Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: First Martial Arts Training (3)
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‘He’s trying hard.’
Hui let out a sigh.
Woonsik Oh, whom he thought would give up after a few attempts, had stopped challenging and assumed a cross-legged position to circulate his inner cultivation method.
No matter how much of a genius he was who had mastered a high-level inner cultivation technique from a manual in just half a shichen.
The current Woonsik was merely a third-rate martial artist who had barely accumulated inner power the size of a single grain of rice.
In other words, it meant he could never claim victory against Hui, a first-rate master.
‘Does Young Hero Oh lack any sense of caution, or is he so hopelessly optimistic? I can’t tell at all.’
Because of Woonsik calmly building his inner power, Hui had to continue this boring tug-of-war.
The long night passed.
It was when morning dew was beading delicately on the tips of the weeds.
Woonsik quietly opened his closed eyes. Narrowing his eyes at the corners, he spoke toward Hui.
“Then I’ll challenge you again. Hero Hui.”
Hui responded with his usual listless expression, not even bothering to reply.
Woonsik, with a determined face, spat on his palms, gripped the rope tightly, and pulled with all his might.
“Urraaaah—!”
His thunderous shout echoed across the training ground.
The sound was so loud that sparrows on the tree branches startled, dropping the insects they were eating.
The sparrows chirped angrily, flapping their short wings furiously.
“Aigoo, looks like I’m still not quite there.”
Unlike his dramatic exclamation, the red cloth didn’t budge an inch.
Woonsik scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
“……?”
In that instant, Hui’s heart sank with a thud.
‘It’s worlds apart from yesterday. Possible in just one day? How……?’
Hui was shocked but furrowed his brow to hide it.
He didn’t want to acknowledge it easily.
“Huh? Grandfather. Brother Hui, it felt like you just used inner power.”
“Hoho, it seems Woonsik has gotten Hui riled up.”
Before they knew it, Jang Mucheon and Jang Ryeongwol had brought chairs and were watching the scene.
That was right.
Until now, Hui had only used external martial arts against Woonsik.
‘I can’t burn down the thatched roof just to catch a flea.’
However, just moments ago.
For a split second, the power Woonsik unleashed gave Hui an inexplicable sense of crisis.
‘It definitely felt like the inner power only a second-rate martial artist could produce…….’
Instinctively, Hui channeled inner power into the rope to halt the red cloth’s movement.
His response was so swift that Woonsik, still lacking in inner power, didn’t notice the change.
‘Growing this strong in just one day? Is he really a genius as Master said?’
Hui straightened his posture for the first time. A chill of competitive spirit gleamed in his eyes beyond mere seriousness.
‘In that case…… I won’t hold back either.’
The moment Hui shifted from treating Woonsik like a child to getting serious.
“I’m sorry, Hero Hui. Because of me, you couldn’t even rest. I’ll prepare a proper feast soon.”
“…….”
He felt terribly sorry for Hui.
Because of his stubborn refusal to give up, they’d been at this tug-of-war for two days straight.
For Hui’s sake too, he needed to produce results quickly.
“Hoho, your disciple’s tenacity is a sight to behold.”
His master, who had been silently watching from afar, stroked his long white beard as he approached.
After staring intently at Woonsik for a long while, he lightly lifted the corners of his wrinkled mouth.
“Disciple, does the man before you seem mighty strong?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Indeed, very strong. Yet sometimes, a fragile butterfly can defeat a fierce tiger.”
“Pardon?”
Master left behind those cryptic words and slowly shifted his gaze to the sophora tree.
There sat his granddaughter Ryeongwol, and Maban chasing a white butterfly.
‘Even a beast like Maban sometimes misses a single butterfly…….’
The moment he saw it, a scene from his past life flashed into his mind like lightning.
‘Woonsik, still the same as ever?’
In his previous life, Woonsik had worked at Huaxiyuan, one of Korea’s five great sects of Chinese cuisine, starting at age 17.
For a long time, he did menial tasks.
Only after years could he stand at the wok.
Eager to do well, he put excessive force into his wrists.
He thought strong power was needed to wield the heavy iron wok effortlessly.
Because of that, his wrists often ached and creaked.
Each time, his Chinese cuisine master roared like a tiger and scolded him.
‘It’s not about brute-forcing it. You’ll ruin your wrist. How many times do I have to tell you? If you’re going to do it like that, quit right now!’
He felt upset.
But after work, opening his locker, it was always piled high with pain relief patches someone had secretly left.
It was his Chinese cuisine master’s consideration.
‘Why am I suddenly recalling that? Could it be……?’
He felt like he understood the reason.
It was like a clue unlocking the puzzle in his mind.
‘Right, I spent half my life shaking a wok.’
The wok is one of the largest and heaviest iron cooking utensils.
To handle it properly requires not just strength, but skilled technique.
Moreover, with one hand holding a ladle or other tool, it ultimately meant wielding the wok single-handed.
Because of this, many Chinese chefs damaged their joints and ligaments, retiring early against their will.
‘My Chinese master got so angry back then, telling me not to wok with brute force alone.’
Woonsik’s eyes sparkled.
It might work; he had to try.
‘What I need now isn’t just strength, but technique.’
Without hesitation, he circulated his inner cultivation method to push his power to its limit.
Then he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Ryeongwol, it looks like Woonsik is trying with his eyes closed.”
“Why? Wouldn’t that make it more disadvantageous, Grandfather?”
As he closed his eyes, he heard Master and Ryeongwol’s voices mixed with curiosity and concern.
‘To wok well in the past, I had to think of the wok as part of my body.’
He blocked out his sight and maximized his imagination.
‘The man before me is a giant wok. This rope is the wok handle.’
In pitch-black darkness, the sensation of holding a massive wok flooded him.
He was making Yangzhou Fried Rice in it, enough for dozens—no, hundreds.
To do that, he had to shake that giant wok properly.
As immersion deepened, a massive wok heating atop the brazier vividly appeared before him.
‘Recall the sensation when I first succeeded at wokking.’
Step 1: Slightly shake the gripped handle and push the wok forward to tilt it.
Step 2: Continue pushing while lowering the handle; the wok’s rim lifts slightly upward.
Step 3: At that moment, ingredients inside float gently into the air. Immediately pull the handle to catch them.
In other words, don’t yank the wok with brute force—ride the rhythm, shake it smoothly.
And pull at the moment you release power.
Huff, huff, huff, huff.
He stopped imagining and opened his eyes.
The giant wok had become Hui, and the handle in his hand overlapped seamlessly with the rope.
And the red cloth hovering in midair had crossed the line, ever so slightly—but unmistakably.
“……How did you do it?”
Hui asked.
His steadfast pupils wavered, lost for direction. Shock was evident.
“I applied the sensation from when I first learned to wok. Glad it worked.”
“What……?”
“I treated Hero Hui like a giant wok and cooked.”
Woonsik lifted the corners of his mouth fully, revealing his joy of victory.
However, his whole body’s muscles screamed in protest, and like melting thin ice, he collapsed flat onto the ground.
Huff, huff, huff, huff.
He did it.
It took long, but he finally did it.
“Hoho, my judgment wasn’t wrong. Not only does my disciple possess the Heavenly Martial Physique, but his ingenuity is exceptional too. Hohoho.”
“Wow, Grandfather. This disciple is different. Wonder how long he’ll last. Hehe, hope he sticks around.”
Lying on the ground, catching his breath with eyes closed, those words lingered ambiguously—praise or threat?
Master and Jang Ryeongwol’s conversation echoed in his ears.
And then.
Swoosh. Feeling something heavy approach, he opened his eyes.
“Hero Oh has defeated me.”
Hui extended a hand to the exhausted, sprawled Woonsik.
Moreover, the form of address had changed.
From young hero to great hero.
It seemed like acknowledgment as Master’s formal disciple.
“Hero Oh, from today, please call me Young Hero Hui.”
“Got it, Young Hero Hui.”
Today, they sorted out their titles.
Woonsik looked up at him with a gentle smile, and Hui faintly lifted his mouth too.
Grabbing Hui’s extended hand, he rose. A massive sun blazed hot overhead.
“Huff, it’s already lunchtime. Everyone must be hungry? Since I held you all up, lunch is on me.”
He lifted his sun-dried upper garment and headed to the kitchen.
All the sect members gathered around the table in the main hall.
“I made it with what we had; hope it suits your tastes.”
For them, Woonsik prepared Dongpo Pork, a pork dish said to have been favored by the poet Su Dongpo during his time as a local official in Hangzhou in the Song Dynasty.
Dongpo Pork was born by accident when Su Dongpo, engrossed in a go game with a long-lost friend, forgot about the pot on the brazier.
The pork, simmered for a long time, produced an unexpectedly superb flavor, and he named it after himself to spread the taste far and wide.
Clink. He placed three plates of Dongpo Pork before them.
On the white plates sat large chunks of glossy, brown pork glistening like silk.
Around them, blanched watercress stood neatly arranged like dancers in a circle.
The spicy-sweet aroma of star anise tickled the nose, stimulating the appetite.
“No, Disciple. How did you make the pork melt in your mouth the moment it touches your tongue, sliding down effortlessly?”
“Wow, Brother. The thick lean meat and fat dance in your mouth. The sweet-salty flavor keeps drawing your hand back.”
“……!”
Dongpo Pork’s tender texture made it enjoyable from children to elders.
They busily wielded spoons and chopsticks, bringing the pork to their mouths.
Soon, clinking sounds of empty bowls being stirred echoed repeatedly.
Regretfully, they stared blankly at the empty bowls, spoons still in their mouths.
“I made plenty, so I’ll bring more.”
He served them second plates.
“No, this delicacy is a first in my life. This isn’t food; it’s treasure.”
“Grandfather, it’s so delicious I keep tearing up. I won’t be able to eat anyone else’s cooking anymore.”
“……!”
With each new plate, they forgot decorum, bouncing in their seats, eyes glued to the dishes.
“Our Ryeongwol, eat more.”
“Last plate, you sure? But Grandfather, you look thirsty? Keep swallowing.”
Smooth…….
Wasn’t he the one who once earned a Michelin star?
Today’s Dongpo Pork elicited explosive reactions too.
Master yielded the final plate entirely to his recently ravenous granddaughter.
But moistening his lips with saliva, he kept glancing at the pork.
Maybe an illusion, but Hui pulled his plate close, avoiding eye contact, eating quietly.
A sense of fullness, languor, and the warm happiness from the food bloomed on the sect members’ faces…….
Like plum blossoms in full bloom, one by one.
It had been so long.
Gathering in a room, sharing conversation and meals.
‘Cooking is still the best for me.’
With a satisfied smile, he headed to his quarters.
“Maban needs to eat too.”
Entering the room, Maban approached with tail wagging briskly at his feet.
Followed by a heavy thud as it rammed its head into his calf.
“I know. Here’s your food.”
He shook the fish in his hand and went to Maban’s exclusive bowl.
“……?”
Inside the bowl, someone had already grilled a large yellow croaker golden brown and placed it there.
“Who keeps feeding Maban?”
Fortunately, it seemed Maban was acknowledged as one of the family here too.
“Miyaaa—”
As he lay on the bed for rest.