Great Power Iron Hardening Skill (Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong) (1)
As expected of a supreme expert like Gabul. He could tell just by touching.
I felt my remake plan for this world brightening as I grinned sheepishly.
"Is it really that good?"
"Of course it is! Especially, you've got exceptional talent for fist and foot techniques."
Gabul's insight was the real deal. After all, I, the protagonist Cheon Myeong, would wander a long and winding path, pushed to the brink of death, only to rise as the world's greatest—the Fist King.
Come to think of it, Gabul was skilled not just in external arts and liquor, but in all sorts of miscellaneous skills too.
Was that why? He was peering deep into my talents, which most people overlooked. Especially when he pointed out my aptitude for fist and foot techniques—I nearly lost control of my expression.
Drunken Gabul's observations didn't let up.
Smooth strokes, rubs! He kept prodding my entire body.
"Oh ho~ Ooh!"
Exclamations spilled from him nonstop. By sound and action alone, it bordered on harassment—but far from it.
"You look ordinary on the outside, but you've got martial bones that blend flexibility and strength."
Gabul was purely admiring my frame.
Until now, as a lowly servant, no one had paid me any mind. And even those experts who glanced my way because I was old enough to start martial arts soon withdrew their interest.
But Gabul was different.
"How old are you this year?"
"Seventeen."
Seventeen years old. Still young, but children of prestigious clans started training at eight or nine. Prodigies even earlier. I was extremely late.
"What a shame."
As expected, Gabul's eyes seemed to cool—
But then!
"A late start doesn't matter. If you work hard, you'll surely achieve great things."
Gabul patted my shoulder with kind words. No exaggeration or empty talk. He'd forged his own path in external arts, which everyone said was impossible, unbound by prejudice. This was his way of telling me to do the same.
"Let me teach you a move. Got the guts to train like a madman?"
At his question, I replied instantly, as if I'd been waiting.
"Of course."
Gabul must have read the sincerity in my sparkling eyes.
"Good. I'll teach you Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong, which I created myself."
"……!!"
The words Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong shattered me completely.
He was really going to teach me that? The precious technique?
Fortune was piling up.
"Y-yes? Really?"
I stammered in shock, asking again. I'd expected something ordinary, like a basic external art or a toughness-building trick. But no.
Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong is... one of Gabul's ultimate masterpieces!
This was the culmination of a lifetime's martial learning from an external arts fanatic.
"Why the look? Oh, you thought it'd be Shaolin techniques? No way. If I taught those to an outsider, we'd both end up dead or crippled."
Thankfully, Gabul mistook my shock for disappointment. Shaolin arts were everyone's dream, after all. An ignorant young servant might assume that.
"Don't worry, though. It might not be famous yet, but Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong is damn good."
Gabul spoke with genuine pride.
That hit me—the timeline of Seven Falls, Eight Rises: The Invincible Fist King.
Right! Gabul hasn't gained fame with Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong yet!
Looking back, current Gabul was hailed as the external arts master, but his reputation came from Shaolin's vast arsenal.
Gabul will soon step down as temporary advisor at Cheonmu Academy, return to Shaolin, refine his training, and unveil this legendary external art.
In the original, he was said to create it at Shaolin post-advisory. Turns out, he'd made it earlier. At first, it seemed ordinary—but no. It shed Shaolin's Buddhist flavor, forging the strongest body-protecting qi.
"Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong draws from Shaolin's external arts but is entirely my creation... It'll serve you well."
Listening, I was certain.
Gabul doesn't yet realize how amazing Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong is.
This art freed him from Shaolin lay disciple status, establishing his own school. It defined him. At its twelfth completion, it granted defense surpassing the Vajra Indestructible Body.
My uncle, the setting geek and world creator, declared:
—In pure physical defense, Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong is the Central Plains' strongest body-protecting qi.
What did that mean? Master it right, and you'd never die from a blow. Depending on proficiency, it could block peak Entry to Divinity, even Martial God realm attacks.
"That technique... to a wretch like me? Should I offer the Nine Bows Rite?"
Joy and shock mixed; this was a massive catch. Learning his signature art meant becoming master and disciple via the rite?
"Haha, it's not Shaolin stuff—no need for that. Truth is, Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong is brand new. Only I've mastered it. Side effects? Might not suit others. And the training's tricky..."
Gabul scratched his bald head apologetically. To him, unaware of the future, it was an unproven art. Tricky to learn, uncertain safety.
No one gets used without gain. Gabul wanted to test it, plied with fine liquor.
Learning Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong from the start?
Like starting a game with the world's best armor. High-difficulty dungeons? Might not kill mobs, but no death worry. Huge perk.
"Ahem, got it. From the external arts king Gabul himself? No issues there."
"Ooh! Thanks for saying that."
Thanks? I'm more grateful. The future top body-protecting qi, handed over easy.
"Um... just hypothetically. If Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong turns out amazing, and I master it to a high level—what then?"
Puhahaha! Gabul burst out laughing before I finished.
"You rascal! Such flattery."
He took it as a joke or sweet talk.
"No, really. It could happen, right?"
"Hmm."
My seriousness made him ponder, then speak.
"Nah, impossible. Even if I'm proud, it won't surpass Shaolin arts."
Defense-wise, it does, though?
"And even with your great frame, no way you'll pass three stages."
I'm the protagonist, though?
Still staring intently, he relented.
"Sigh, fine. Ahem, I may look like a monk, but I'm a true Buddhist son. Know of Buddhist 'affinity'?"
That eased me.
"I see. Whatever happens, it's Buddha's guidance?"
"Hahaha! Sharp servant. Yes. All Buddha's will. Even if it doesn't suit and yields nothing, don't resent me."
Resent? No way. Uncle officially confirmed it; no fear.
"Understood."
I'd picked Gabul for basic external arts, but hooked a monster fish. Remaking Invincible Fist King might be easier.
From that day, days I roamed Seongseongsan’s vine fields for fifth princess peaches; nights, Gabul's lessons.
"No matter what, trust and follow me."
Gabul dunked me in boiling hot springs, then ice-cold water. Hot: inhale, absorb fire qi. Cold: exhale reverse.
That's why he taught it easy.
Through this bizarre process, I understood why he shared it. No sane warrior would try this madness.
So, me learning benefited us both. Confirming the method worked, Gabul grinned throughout.
And more.
"Tense your whole body."
"Yes?"
Smack!
Sudden beatings. Nothing like a servant's punches.
"Ack! Aaaack!"
My waist bent 90 degrees; I retched.
External masters hit different. Soul-body split on impact.
"This is tanning! External core: temper body like weapon. Even fist-foot experts same! Strong body breeds strong spirit. Forge flesh like blacksmith hammers steel thousands of times!"
Gabul hit just shy of killing or maiming, relentlessly.
Skin split, blood flowed—he slathered Geumgang High, his self-made salve.
"Wh-what's this?"
Fishy, dizzying stench doubled my misery. I inwardly cursed the setter, my uncle.
We brainstormed broad strokes; details his. Never dreamed this hell.
"Told you: quenching and tanning. No whining—focus recovery!"
Gabul was strict. Pure mad Sparta.
Modern me got it; Central Plains commonsense? Unthinkable. Later, seemed Gabul profited more.
After a hellish week!
"Stand straight, Cheon Myeong."
Hot-cold, beatings, salves—Gabul called.
"Yes, Gabul."
No complaints now. Clearly: attack incoming—deploy Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong, block.
"Huuuup."
I breathed deep, unleashed it instantly.
Gritting teeth, I poured every ounce of strength into it.
Bam!
Gabul's mighty fist slammed my gut. No inner power, but enough to floor third- or second-rate experts for days.
Thunderous boom echoed.
But—
I grinned.
No pain at all.