Chapter 122
Even so, venturing beyond this forest terrified him. It was pure instinctual fear. Something felt real out there—something that made it impossible to cross without hesitation. He figured he'd need at least 500,000 combat power to even consider it.
His plan was to head to that other world, buy a real sword, finish training with it, and then check out what lay beyond the trees. Until then, it was nonstop intense training.
Crack! The sound rang out as a tree as thick as his thigh snapped clean in two. He'd kicked it right through. His power was overflowing more with every passing day. He could probably take on a martial arts champion now. Hell, at this rate, he might actually become the world's strongest.
What if he jumped into UFC and claimed the world championship? He'd have wealth, fame, everything. He bet he could beat a boxing champ too. Becoming a world champion in America would help him climb into the upper class, even if not the absolute elite. Fame never hurt anyone.
But money was the real key. Like Senior Euna had said, just 100 trillion won, and he'd be in the global upper echelon. Korea's elite would bow their heads, and beautiful women would spread their legs willingly.
For that day, Han Yaseong trained relentlessly. A full month slipped by like that. It was time to head back.
But he still had food left over. He'd bought way too much. Figuring he could stick around a bit longer, he did the math. Returning now would land him in the other world around midnight. One month here was about five hours there.
No point rushing back—gyms would be closed anyway. So Han Yaseong decided to stay until the supplies ran dry. That meant Yadong was screwed. No slacking off; it was train-till-you-drop time.
He even gave Yadong a dagger, telling the beast to bite down on it and stab enemies. Yadong was a wild animal, sure, but its claws were only mildly sharp, and its teeth were too small—like a Shih Tzu's. No real bite force.
So he taught it to hold the dagger in its mouth and slash or stab foes. At first, Yadong half-assed it, clearly annoyed. But once it got the hang of it, the beast practiced with gusto. Now it could charge forward, dagger in mouth, jerking its head to slice thin branches clean off.
Eventually, it'd be perfect for hamstringing enemies or severing tendons. Great results ahead.
He'd have to take Yadong beyond the forest anyway. Han Yaseong had no intention of going alone—it was too scary. He wasn't about to risk himself solo. That's why he'd armed the beast and taught it attack moves. No point risking that if he planned to leave it behind.
Another twenty days passed like that. Now there was truly nothing left to eat—not even the last ramen pack, scraped clean.
No choice; time to go. Han Yaseong tidied his shelter and headed to the temple. This stint had been hugely productive. His body felt increasingly springy, resilient. People always said you hit a growth spurt out of nowhere—and this felt like it.
Back in the real world, he might clock a 9-second 100-meter dash. Ten burly gangsters charging him? He'd mop the floor with them.
"Am I really on track to join the elite?"
Waiting for the portal, Han Yaseong pondered quietly. Step out like this, stack 100 trillion won, and yeah—he'd be upper class for real. Actually, start with 1 trillion. Join the 1-trillion club first, then aim higher.
It hit him fresh: the ordinary guy who'd achieved nothing was now setting real goals, accomplishing real things. In just a few months, his whole life had flipped. Laughable, really. Grinning, Han Yaseong surveyed this vast world one last time.
Thank god for this place. Even an average joe would get strong here. No limits—it pushed you endlessly. 1 million combat power? Not a pipe dream anymore.
His own power hovered near 180,000 now. Yadong was at 160,000. The gap had widened. Spend another couple months next visit, and 300,000 might be in reach.
Lions or tigers probably sat around 150,000. Sharks at 300,000, T-Rex-level dinos at a million. Quantifying combat power like a game made training fun—kept him grinding harder.
Around 7 a.m., light bloomed in the temple's center, forming the portal. Han Yaseong glanced at Yadong lounging behind him.
"Take care. I'll be back."
With that, he sprinted and leaped through.
As boss and portal vanished, Yadong finally stirred, ambling back to the shelter. Two months of hellish training—he'd nearly died. Don't come back. The beast needed a break.
Sure, he wanted revenge on that old enemy who'd scarred him long ago. But the daily grind was exhausting. And boss never got bored of it. Must be 'cause he wasn't a beast from this world.
Maybe the other side had tastier food... Yadong turned, staring at where the portal had winked out. Ride that light, and he'd go there too? Curiosity flickered.
But courage? Nah. No wild animal had ever crossed that glow. Only boss came and went. Shrugging it off, Yadong flopped into the shelter, yawned hugely, and sprawled out for a long nap.
Back home, Han Yaseong showered, crashed on the sofa with a drink. Already pushing 7 a.m. He'd slept in that world anyway—no drowsiness.
He stepped out, grabbed gamjatang at a nearby joint, then hit the bank. Using the card from Senior Choi Yujin, he withdrew 1 million won five times—5 million total.
Today's mission: hit the gun shop in Chungju for a real sword. Nothing else on the morning agenda, so he prepped quick, headed to the express bus terminal, and boarded for Chungju.
Two movies on his smartphone later, he was there. Taxi to the shop—but it was still closed. Phone call to the owner.
"Hey, it's the guy about the real sword."
"Oh, right? Be out in a sec."
Waiting out front, a late-40s guy emerged from the alley beside the building.
"You the one wanting a real sword?"
"Yeah."
"You look like a student. Why need a real blade?"
"I train with wooden swords. Wanted to try the real deal."
"Officially, you need permits to buy and use these..."
The guy was playing hard-to-get, despite their phone agreement. Han Yaseong wasn't here to haggle forever.
"Got 5 million here. Let's make it quick."
"Hm... alright, come inside."
The owner unlocked the shutter and door. Han Yaseong followed into the small shop. Walls crammed with shotguns, air rifles. Hunting knives, axes too. Spears and swords stood in one corner.
"You sell all this?"
"Nah, the registered stuff can't be sold. What I can sell students is separate. Hang on."
The owner ducked into the back, returning with a dusty long wooden box. Set it on the table, flipped the lid.
A single long sword lay inside.
"Old-time gang boss from around here used this. Famous swordsmith made it. When the boss went to prison, a subordinate snagged it, sold it to a buddy of mine. I bought it later. Prime blade. But gang ties mean no official sale—hence off-the-books."
"Best one's this."
He pulled it out, wiped dust off, drew it from the sheath. The long blade gleamed dully—neglected. A rinse and polish later, it shone like a proper sword.
"Can I check it out?"
"Yeah, handle it."
The owner handed it over. Han Yaseong gripped the hilt two-handed. Heavy. Solid—no cheap snap risk. He tested the flat and edge; sturdy build.
Tough enough, at least. But the price...
"Five million for this?"
"Worth over ten new. Half off 'cause used. Famous swordsmith, remember."
The guy kept name-dropping the smith. Felt like a markup anyway. Solid sword, sure—but 5 mil was steep.
Price wasn't the issue, though. For scouting beyond the forest, more gear was better. He'd haggle extras instead.