Chapter 175
Chapter 175
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 175
Chapter Title: Frog in the Well (7)
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Exactly seven days had passed since I declared the hellish training.
When you push your body to its limits, there's a moment when it feels as heavy as a waterlogged cotton ball, yet your mind becomes crystal clear.
The training over the past seven days involved stuffing sandbags and iron weights into the students' clothes to artificially induce that state of heightened focus before pitting them against each other in spars.
Reaching the limit of one's stamina draws out concentration, but it also gnaws away at it, so occasionally, some students would falter.
Whenever that happened, I would stop my personal training on the platform and descend to the training ground.
"Eun So-jeo, feeling tired?"
"...No."
"No? Good. Then let's change your sparring partner to me."
"......!"
"Come at me."
Chaeng!
"You look exhausted. Your sword strikes are dull, your breathing's off. One wrong move, and your eyes will glaze over too."
"That's because we've been at this for a week already..."
"Why do you think Amidapa specifically singled you out among all these students?"
Chae-chaeng!
"...To humiliate you through me."
"You get it. No matter which disciple they put up against you, it'll be a swordsman with more years gripping the blade than you. You might face a similar situation. Planning to spout the same excuses then?"
"......"
"As I said before, you can lose in a spar. Sword Empress wouldn't fuss over something like that, and you've barely held a sword, so you'd have excuses. But if you lose with that look on your face, I won't stand for it. Bite your lip and bear it."
With so many people around, focusing on one meant someone else would slip up elsewhere.
But it was worth it.
I had my master, after all.
—Yong-un, that So-cheon kid looks a bit worn out.
"So-cheon hyung! No So-jin noona this time. Uncle's reputation rides entirely on you?!"
"!"
"...Does this guy have eyes in the back of his head? Even now, he spots So-cheon hyung faltering."
"Cheon Jang-ho, got time to worry about others? Hey, Bok-cheol. Add another sandbag to Cheon Jang-ho!"
"Yes sir!"
"Uwaaaaaah!"
How long had we been drenching the Azure Bamboo Hall training ground in sweat and tears that day?
A beggar scout I'd sent to the Beggar Clan sub-branch returned to report on the ming-suks' location.
"Vice Chairman! The ming-suks' procession has reached Nanyang!"
It was a distance that could be covered in a single day if they rushed from Nanyang to the Righteous Martial Academy.
But the ming-suks visiting the academy to demonstrate the Orthodox Murim's vitality wouldn't come rushing in looking sloppy.
They'd travel at a leisurely pace in carriages, consoling the common folk they encountered along the way.
'That means about three days from now.'
I immediately halted the students' training.
"Stop. That's it for today's training. And the hell training ends here. You can remove the sandbags and iron weights now."
On the first of the remaining three days, I had them spar without the weighted restraints.
"Resting is training too, and maintaining peak condition is preparation, so rest your bodies today."
On the second day, instead of physical rest, I conducted mental swordsmanship visualization—what would be called image training in modern terms.
And on the final day, I let them rest fully while offering words of encouragement.
"You all worked hard for the past ten days or so. Let me say it again: anyone who loses in a way that doesn't convince me is dead meat."
The next day, after those three days passed, word came that the ming-suks descending from Luoyang had entered the Dangang District around noon, so the students donned their formal uniforms and assembled in the plaza before the main hall.
"The ming-suks have entered the Dangang District!"
Leading the Azure Bamboo Hall students, I took position in the plaza before the main hall.
Namgung Yun suddenly spoke to me.
"Why didn't you call me?"
At first, I didn't even realize it was directed at me—it was so out of nowhere.
But Namgung Yun's inscrutable gaze was fixed squarely on me.
Thinking about it, she was asking why she hadn't been included in the hell training.
The reason I hadn't called her was because she was the type who could handle it herself, but saying that outright felt off, so I deflected.
"I didn't call Jeon Gal-seol either."
"......"
Just then,
Administrative Director Im Tae-ok spoke up.
"The guests have arrived!"
The ming-suks from various sects entered the academy grounds, leading their disciples and bearing flags symbolizing their sects.
'Left Path Main Mountain—Mosan Sect.'
Among the entering flags was one proclaiming "Left Path Main Mountain," the Mosan Sect, which claimed to be the originators of proper exorcism arts.
'The old frog has arrived.'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ While the sect leaders among the visiting ming-suks shared tea with Academy Chief Kyung Hye Sa-tae and the other executives in the main hall,
the lower-ranking ming-suks and disciples either encouraged the academy's enrolled students or toured the grounds they hadn't seen in ages.
"...So that's how it happened. That Eon Yong-un punk is sly as a fox, but even so, Mu-gil, how could you, a Mosan disciple, so carelessly leave a corpse puppet unattended and flop down?!"
"S-Sorry, Elder."
"You lot too. When he told you to retrieve it, you should've stepped up and shown the exorcism arts taught at the Main Mountain. Instead, you just stood there gawking?"
"It might sound like an excuse, but we would've looked even more foolish if we'd gone. His presence was different. Even Professor Yeong-hwan always says during class that Eon Yong-un is leagues ahead of us."
While Song Yang-ja was grilling Mosan's three great disciples like this,
Professor Yeong-hwan came looking for him.
"Elder, let's talk with So-jil."
Song Yang-ja had been hoping for a chance to speak with Yeong-hwan anyway, so they moved.
"Fine! Let's talk!"
Once in Professor Yeong-hwan's research building, Song Yang-ja immediately unleashed a tirade.
"Yeong-hwan, whose disciple are you, exactly?"
"What do you mean?"
"When our three great disciples raised objections over the Eon Family donating that corpse puppet! Didn't you back Eon Yong-un?"
At that moment,
Eon Yong-un's voice telling him not to waste effort echoed in Yeong-hwan's mind.
But he couldn't back down.
Yeong-hwan calmly countered the elder's outburst.
"It wasn't backing him—it was that the objection that day was largely unreasonable. I'm a professor at the Righteous Martial Academy, and it was a matter of right and wrong."
"Checking for negligence in oversight is unreasonable? And you keep praising Eon Yong-un as superior while demoralizing Mosan disciples as inferior?"
"It's not demoralizing—it's the truth. Eon Yong-un excels in other areas too, but in corpse puppet studies and exorcism arts, he shows brilliant ideas and genius. Young as he is, we have much to learn from him. Put aside such prejudices and let's advance Orthodox Murim's corpse puppet studies together..."
"Heh heh. I thought you were Mosan's man all this time, but it seems they've swapped your marrow for Pearl Eon Family marrow?!"
But Song Yang-ja's attitude finally shattered Yeong-hwan's composure.
"Elder! No, Martial Uncle! That's going too far! Judge fairly! None of us can operate a corpse puppet without talismans!"
"True. But so what? Holed up in this research building, you've lost all sense of reality."
"Pardon?"
"Even setting aside your cluelessness about Orthodox Murim's rivalries, what's so impressive about operating a corpse puppet without talismans?! Using ink drawn with internal energy? You'd need to sustain multiple sheets drawn from your upper dantian. Sure, not easy."
"You admit that, yet say such things?"
"Yeong-hwan, you fool. Can you maintain that focus in a battlefield where the enemy shaman interferes and blades fly? It takes that much just for one—think you can handle dozens or hundreds? Academically groundbreaking maybe, but utterly useless in practice!"
That ended the conversation.
"Because you hyped him up, that Eon Yong-un punk thinks he can reach the heavens. This time, I'll flatten his nose. If you like him so much, take him afterward and teach or roast him as you please!"
Song Yang-ja said his piece and left Yeong-hwan's lab.
Alone in the lab, Yeong-hwan let out a deep sigh of unprecedented frustration.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ How much time had passed since the Baekbon Society ming-suks split into two groups—one chatting with the academy executives, the other touring the grounds?
As the sun dipped toward the western mountains,
the freshmen gathered again at the academy's main hall.
It wasn't for any grand reason.
With such illustrious ming-suks visiting, the academy's hosts—the freshmen representing the new-old confrontation ceremony—were holding a welcoming banquet.
"We've prepared plenty of food but only a little alcohol. With the confrontation ceremony upcoming, we can't have everyone reeking of booze, so please enjoy without feeling shortchanged."
Shortly after Chief Kyung Hye Sa-tae's words kicked off the banquet, an old Taoist accompanied by a young one approached the Azure Bamboo Hall table.
The young Taoist's face—now that I looked—seemed to be the one carrying the "Left Path Main Mountain Mosan" flag earlier.
And sure enough, the old Taoist mentioned the Mosan Sect.
"I'm Song Yang-ja of Mosan. Mind if I sit?"
"Eon Yong-un."
I offered a formal clasp of fists and tilted my head.
Ming-suks touring dorms to encourage was happening at other tables too, but usually for their own disciples.
As I tilted my head, Master at my waist chimed in.
—No seat for Mosan's old fogey!
Master's mind was my mind, but there were eyes watching.
And I was curious why the old frog had come, so I offered the empty seat opposite.
"So you're the Pearl Eon Family scoundrel? Oh, pardon. Slipped out. Should've said top of the current rankings. The title changes yearly; forgot for a sec."
Song Yang-ja sat and immediately said this.
"As apology, have a drink. Hyeong-un, pass my brush."
He took a brush from his disciple Hyeong-un under pretense of offering alcohol.
"But just handing it over's no fun..."
He dipped it in red pigment and began writing on the liquor bottle before me.
When Song Yang-ja lifted the brush from the bottle, it floated lightly toward me.
—...? Not Void Grasping.
Void Grasping meant moving distant objects or sending objects afar with internal energy.
This wasn't it.
'It's curse arts and nen-nèn moving the object. More like telekinesis than Void Grasping.'
Anyway,
Song Yang-ja had started the new-old confrontation early on his own.
'Knew he'd pull some stunt from the moment he showed up.'
If the elder wanted to embarrass himself already, I'd play along.
I used my right thumbnail under the table to draw blood from my left index finger.
Then touched it to the approaching bottle.
The bottle stuck to my finger and halted midair.
Song Yang-ja and Hyeong-un's eyes widened.
"!"
"!"
I spoke immediately.
"Custom dictates the elder takes the cup first."
I slid the blood droplet to the bottle's bottom, then floated it back like he had.
Not gently, though.
At the end, I flipped the bottle completely.
Chwaaak!!!!
The liquor poured down helplessly onto Song Yang-ja's clothes.
"Wh-What?!"
As Song Yang-ja flushed red, I scratched my head exaggeratedly and took the lead.
"Aigoo, I tried imitating Elder Song Yang-ja's noble liquor arts on a whim, but my focus slipped. Man, that's tough. Chief said not to let the booze smell waft, though—what now?"