Chapter 212
Chapter 212
S-Stop what?" "Unleashing it so loosely. Neung Pung-un taught you that, right?" "...
Yes. But this way, I can definitely stop before completely wrecking the opponent."
"Aren't you starting to feel like this isn't right?"
"Eep!"
Moyong So-hye let out a sparrow-hit-by-a-carriage squeak and slumped her shoulders. Then she admitted it.
"You're right, Instructor. At first, I didn't notice, but now my body and hands feel strangely out of sync."
It had definitely felt fine initially.
"Why would Instructor Neung teach something like this?"
"Neung's not entirely wrong. Maintaining balance while leaving room to switch between offense and defense—that's textbook stuff."
"Then why can't I do it?"
Moyong So-hye's resolve not to create more victims came through loud and clear. Chu Un-hwi answered.
"Why? Kid. That's something you can only pull off after drilling basics for over ten years at Mount Hua. No newbie who's barely learned any martial arts could manage it easily."
"Ugh. You're right."
"Simple fix. First option: Go back to square one and retrain all the basics properly. Give it about ten years, and you'll do what Neung said."
"Ugh. Ten years? Any other options?"
"Go back to how you were—hone one thing to death. Instead of patching weaknesses, drill your strengths relentlessly."
Moyong So-hye's strengths were her small frame's speed and agility, fueling one-way relentless attacks.
"Some folks babble about how softness overcomes hardness, 'yielding conquers the rigid' and all that. But I see it differently."
"How so?"
"If strength gets overwhelmed by softness, first question if you even have enough power."
Raw, overwhelming power. Absolutely dominating force.
"They endure? Hit harder. Still endure? Smash even harder."
Fixing weaknesses is fine. Being above average across the board is definitely helpful. But for Moyong So-hye, maximizing strengths while ignoring flaws was most effective.
"That'd make me a one-trick pony martial artist."
"In the end, all martial arts converge. Reach a certain realm in one thing, and insight blooms across others."
All rivers return to the sea, or something? Master one path, and even starting anew elsewhere brings enlightenment. It was such a brute-force approach that Moyong So-hye yelped in protest.
"What kind of advice is that?!"
"What else? You're fated to live your life with blood dripping from both fists."
"Waaah! Stupid instructor!"
Moyong So-hye burst into tears and swung her fists wildly.
"Hey, hey! Those fists can kill. I'm your instructor, you punk!"
"Villain! Idiot! You're awful!"
"Good girl. Bloodthirsty fiend. Step over your instructor's corpse and become a legend!" "You're really, really bad! Waaah—!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Alright. Let's begin."
After Moyong So-hye, Jegal Tan stepped up, took the stance for the Phantom Sword Technique, and thrust his sword into empty air. Hwik!SHEEEEEK! What followed wasn't sharp swordplay, but a rippling, flexible one.
"Oh!"
Chu Un-hwi's first exclamation drew a wary question from Baek Ri-seol.
"Is it something amazing? Looks the same as before."
"Sis. The sword tip feels strangely grounded now. It used to seem so aggressively sharp."
"I know. Feels like a step back, even."
Ignoring the chatter, Chu Un-hwi slowly parsed Jegal Tan's changes. 'He's steadied his mind, it seems.' Previously, as critiqued, Jegal Tan had fixated on unleashing fierce swordplay to create illusions. Not anymore. U-duk.Tat!Hwiririk!Puk-puk! He swung his sword, drew circles with his toes, spun in spiral footwork, slicing at imaginary foes. 'He's realized how to maximize the Phantom Sword Technique by incorporating terrain and surroundings beyond mere swordplay.' Formations don't need swords specifically. The essence of Phantom Sword Technique was luring foes into illusions for a killing blow. Still, he'd held off pointing it out for another reason. 'He was too hung up on swordsmanship.' Something about losing embarrassingly to his younger sibling in swordplay? The shock lingered, fueling a burning drive to surpass her with the blade. 'Now he's shed those mental burdens.' Freed from past trauma, Jegal Tan was forging his true path.
"The problem child's Nangong Yun-ho."
Surprisingly, Nangong Yun-ho was at a standstill. This guy, who seemed slowest but immersed endlessly in the infinite realm, was showing pitiful progress. Um-jil.Um-jil. He always ran the first three forms of Divine Martial Swordsmanship—simple moves no one could spot differences in.
"Something feels off. Stifling."
"Yeah. Less solidity than before."
"... Definitely a messy vibe."
No one here missed the atmosphere from his sword momentum. 'Must have some worries.' He'd been holed up lately—maybe a wild fancy? But no urge to probe.
"Good. Everyone's fine. You can all roam free from now on."
"No way!"
"Instructor! You planned to free-range us from the start, huh?"
"This check-up wasn't just an excuse to slack off, was it?"
They griped, but Chu Un-hwi added firmly.
"No. You really did great."
Even this instructor is shocked.
"Keep growing like this and rack up achievements like crazy."
For real. Not saying it to shoo you away.
"Instructors never lie once in their lives."
Moyong So-hye shrieked at the claim.
"Liar! Big fat liar! Yesterday you told the other instructors I was practicing demonic arts!" 'Sheesh.' Pity—he'd lost all credibility as instructor.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ After a while overseeing training, rowdy voices and spirited shouts arrived.
"Instructor! I'm here!"
Come on in—. The future supervisors had arrived! With bizarre yells, Un Ho-seung, the twins, and Dang-gan filed in. Troublemakers swarming at once was headache enough, but today there was one extra.
"Long time no see, Instructor."
It was Il-pyo. After the scandal with Seo Ok-rang, he'd seemed to self-isolate, but rushed over the moment his confinement lifted.
"... Why are you lot here?"
Honestly, when he'd tipped off Neung Pung-un's location yesterday, he'd figured they'd never return. 'Even Moyong So-hye or Jegal Tan might chase after Neung Pung-un.' Misjudged, apparently. 'Assistants are bound, fine. But why do these free ones keep coming back?' Especially since yesterday they'd all praised Neung Pung-un's guidance.
"Oh, that?"
Un Ho-seung answered like it was obvious.
"Instructor Neung's teaching is solid. High level, makes you really strong."
"And?"
"That's it."
Un Ho-seung emphasized with a bored face.
"No bone-chilling sting when you get hit."
"......"
"Getting smacked by the temp instructor feels like 'this is how I die.' With Neung, it's just 'ow!'" What the hell. Couldn't relate at all, but the Jeokga twins behind nodded vigorously.
"Right. Less desperation."
"Not 'I'm dying—!' but more 'argh—!'" For some reason, Dang-gan had stripped off his top, neatly folding it aside. Il-pyo watched, head tilted in confusion.
"So naturally, we prefer training with the temp instructor."
Thus.
"Show some sincerity to your future supervisors and guide us!"
Chu Un-hwi grabbed his nape, brow furrowed at the demand like reclaiming lent goods.
"You little Un brat. Isn't next year your last shot? Failing promotion this year puts you in danger, no?"
"Oh, right."
And this guy struts in yelling 'future supervisor arrived!'? Un Ho-seung scratched his head and chuckled awkwardly at the growl.
"Haha. Fail again this year? Training with temp's fun. Bluff to the family, it'll work out."
Just send a letter home: 'Fun instructor made me fail.' Done. As the carefree fool blabbered, the twins whispered.
"Won't the Jinju Un Family break the temp's legs?"
"Yeah. Guy who flunked their young master? Fun, but..."
Amid the noisy racket, Chu Un-hwi's blood pressure spiked. He snarled fiercely.
"Hey, you worthless punks."
Eyes on these saplings not even sprouting yellow, he cracked his knuckles.
"Don't sabotage and get lost!"
He charged like lightning, tripping and yanking collars. Un Ho-seung screamed.
"Eek— Save me—."
"Aaaak! Wait! Mental prep first."
"Dumping in the swamp from the start is too much."
"Haha. Been waiting for the toss."
"Why me too."
The five plunged headfirst into the swamp in various poses. The daily routine of Sacheon-dong Swamp had returned after a long absence.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Pal-lang.Pal-lang. Callused hands flipped through the booklet. Tuk. The hand tossed the booklet aside carelessly and stroked a chin beard. Fiddling with the prickly whiskers, their owner.
"Hey, Sa-nae."
A heavy bass voice boomed, drawing the rat-bearded elder buried in scrolls.
"Speak, Lian Lord."
Straining to read his master's foul mood.
"How should I take this?"
Sa-nae picked up the indicated booklet, rifled through, and chak! snapped it shut.
"Looks like the underlings botched it."
"...
Botched. A botch under Iron Plaque Heaven's name." Tsk-tsking, the man—Cheol Pae-cheon—roared with terrifying momentum. "A mistake in deeds done in Iron Snake Lian Lord Cheol Pae-cheon's name?!" Kuwoong! His palm slammed down, pulverizing one end of the massive bookshelf, which collapsed with a groan.