Chapter 223
Chapter 223: Ho-ae and Seok-gyeong (4)
At first, he didn't notice.
The Guild Master's gait was the same as before. The stride length, the swing of his arms, the rhythm of his feet meeting the ground. Nothing seemed to have changed.
One thing.
The formation had broken into a trot.
It wasn't clear from exactly when. Like the current of a river quickening invisibly, the distance covered by each of the Guild Master's steps was gradually increasing. He was clearly walking, yet those following behind couldn't keep pace without running.
It wasn't walking.
It was a martial art that took the form of walking.
Seok-gyeong's legs quickened on their own. The load of two people's worth of baggage hammered his spine with every step. The breath he had been drawing through his nose had somewhere along the way shifted to his mouth.
Cries broke out ahead.
"G-Guild Master! You're going too fa……"
There was no reply.
The Guild Master didn't look back. He didn't slow his pace.
Seok-gyeong watched the Guild Master's feet even as he ran.
A porter lives by his feet. Which roads are slippery and which are firm, where to place one's weight to avoid stumbling. Reading the movement of feet was the one thing Seok-gyeong did better than anyone else.
So he noticed.
There was a pattern in the Guild Master's feet.
The left foot pushed off the ground first. Then the right foot came forward, and at that moment the toes curved ever so slightly inward. And the instant those curved toes met the ground, the center of gravity shifted forward, and the next step was propelled by that force.
A structure in which each step pushed the next forward.
Seok-gyeong knows nothing of martial arts. He doesn't know what kind of Footwork this is, nor what name it carries.
But seven years of living by his feet were telling him. That isn't speed gained through strength. The very structure of the stride is generating the speed.
***
The formation began to fall apart.
The new Disciples were running with everything they had. They churned their arms and ran with clenched teeth. But that was running on raw force—it was not the same as keeping pace with the Guild Master's gait.
One person collapsed.
Knees buckled first, then a face planted into the dirt. Seok-gyeong reflexively reached out a hand, but the Instructor was already there. The child caught the fallen man's arm and pulled him upright.
"Get up. It's not time to fall yet."
The man shook his head. His breathing was too ragged for words to come out.
The Instructor's voice dropped.
"You can rest here."
A brief pause.
"But the formation won't wait."
Another one broke. Then another.
The Instructor moved back and forth through the formation, pulling up those who fell. His face was flushed from exertion. His voice was cracking too.
Then.
The Instructor's feet stopped.
The child's gaze fixed on something at the front of the formation. The Guild Master's feet. The very feet Seok-gyeong had been watching.
Something the child had noticed showed plainly on his face. Eyes widening, mouth parting, and then—
"Stop!"
The Instructor cried out.
The formation dissolved into chaos. Those running stumbled into one another and staggered. The Guild Master continued ahead at the same pace.
"Don't run."
The Instructor's voice cut across the field.
"Watch the feet. The Guild Master's feet."
"……?"
"If you just sprint, it'll only be killing-hard for nothing. Focus and watch that person's feet."
The Instructor ran to the front of the formation and fell in behind the Guild Master. Then he began following the Guild Master's gait. The child's feet matched the same rhythm as the Guild Master's. Left foot, right foot, toes curving inward, weight shifting forward.
It was slower. Much slower compared to the Guild Master. But the speed coming from the child's stride was unmistakably something no leg strength alone could produce.
"This is Footwork. Our Hero Gate's basic Footwork…… that's right, isn't it? Basic Footwork?"
The child received no answer from Kim Rae-won but kept shouting while running. A voice slightly winded. But clear.
"The moment you plant your left foot! Pour all your energy into the center of your sole! It's called Dragon Spring!"
Seok-gyeong was hearing the name Dragon Spring for the first time. But he understood "center of the sole."
"From there, 4cm above the inner ankle! Three Yin Junction! Bring it up from that point all the way to 2cm below your navel! Like drawing up water!"
The Instructor called out while pointing to his own body as he ran. Striking the inner ankle with a tap, then pressing a palm below the navel.
"Sea of Energy! That's the sea where energy gathers!"
Seok-gyeong didn't know a single acupoint name. But he understood the positions on the body that the child was pointing out. The center of the sole. Above the inner ankle. Below the navel.
"Now the right foot!"
The Instructor cried again.
"From below the navel to the outside of the thigh! The spot where your middle finger lands when you make a fist and drop your arm!"
Still running, the child made a fist with his right hand and tapped it to the outer thigh to demonstrate. Exactly that spot.
"From there to behind the outer ankle! Push out firmly! Hard!"
A path formed in Seok-gyeong's mind. It wasn't precise. But the body of a porter was more accustomed to motion than to words.
As he planted his left foot, he pushed as consciously as he could into the center of his sole his internal energy—the mosquito-eye-sized amount cultivated through Energy Circulation learned by eavesdropping at Ten Thousand Gold Tower—and tried to imagine carrying that feeling up past the ankle and toward below the navel.
Nothing happened. Of course. His internal energy was too shallow.
But.
When pushing off with his right foot. When he imagined sending it down from the abdomen to the outer thigh, then from the thigh to the outer ankle.
Just a little.
Ever so slightly.
He felt as though his feet had grown lighter.
Whether his feet had truly grown lighter, or whether it was an illusion created by his mind, he couldn't say. But it was certain that he had gotten one more step out of it.
This is not yet martial arts.
It is merely what a porter does.
Just one more step. The work of a porter had always been that one step.
But if it accumulates…… might it not become a martial art?
Something like belief was building within him.
He had only been with this Hero Gate for a single day.
***
The sun was beginning to tilt.
The Guild Master's pace decreased by the finest margin. The difference of an instant.
But that alone—being able to draw just one more breath with lungs that had felt on the verge of collapse—was enough for Seok-gyeong to feel it.
He slowed down.
He had slowed it for them.
A man who knew precisely, without even looking back, how far the rear had stretched. Driving them to the very edge of their limits while keeping just enough distance to avoid breaking them.
Whether that was cruelty or mercy, Seok-gyeong had no room to judge.
Only one thing.
That man's steps have a purpose.
As the sun was beginning to slip behind the distant mountains.
"Rest here."
Before Seok-gyeong could even set down his load, his knees buckled.
Two people's worth of baggage slid from his back and fell onto the grass. His legs had no strength left. His hands were trembling too.
He looked around.
Not one of the twenty new Disciples was standing upright. But there was something different from before. Some who had collapsed were still moving their mouths. Sole of the foot, ankle, below the navel. They were murmuring the path the Instructor had called out.
It wasn't just one person.
Several were doing the same.
The Instructor was weaving among them. Handing water to one person, moving to the next to check their feet, then the next. Sweat streamed down the child's face too. His voice was hoarse. His legs were visibly trembling.
And yet he didn't stop.
All the way to the twentieth.
At last, the Instructor stood before Seok-gyeong.
"Are you alright?"
Seok-gyeong nodded.
"You tried following the formula, didn't you?"
"……I understood the positions. But I felt nothing."
"That's alright."
The Instructor smiled faintly. Smiling even though the sweat hadn't dried from his face yet.
"Everyone's like that at first. Even if you feel nothing, your body remembers. You can fill the internal energy in later. The path comes first."
Seok-gyeong watched the child quietly.
The path comes first.
Were those words learned from someone?
Either way, it was remarkable that someone could say those words at thirteen or fourteen. And he envied it. The kind of envy that came from wishing someone like this had been there to guide him from early on.
"Are you alright, Instructor?"
The child's feet stopped.
One beat.
"Of course."
Seok-gyeong knew it was a lie. Because the child's legs were trembling. Because his voice had gone hoarse. And yet the back that turned away stood straight.
When the person at the front falls, the people behind fall too.
This was a child who knew that, at that age.
***
Dong Bong-soo was leaning his back against a tree, watching the formation.
'So someone caught on. And two of them, at that.'
The basic form of Light Step. The most elementary Footwork, called Welcome Step. The principle of converting the rebound force of one step into the propulsive force of the next. When imbued with internal energy, the body moves as though gliding across the ground, but even following the form alone with almost no internal energy yields greater efficiency than simply running.
The original plan had been this.
Walk with the basic form of Welcome Step built into the pace. Those following behind would at first only feel it as fast. But anyone with a martial eye would notice there was a pattern to the feet, and anyone who had learned the basics would catch on that it was Footwork.
That was within the expected range.
But spreading the formula was outside expectations.
Ho-ae noticed the Footwork, made his own judgment, and broadcast the formula to the new Disciples. And not by simply calling out acupoint names, but by pointing to each position on the body one by one. While running. While in a considerable state of exhaustion himself.
Tending to others even at the limits of one's endurance is not a matter of stamina. It is a matter of will. Will alone cannot move muscles, but without will, even what muscles remain come to a halt.
As expected, he was not Instructor material.
That child is……
Simply timber.
Which direction he'll grow in and how, that remains to be seen, but he is a sapling of a towering tree whose ceiling is so high it cannot be measured.
His gaze shifted once more.
Eom Bi-ryeong sat in the shade of a tree with her sword resting across her knees. Her eyes were closed, but she was surely not asleep. Myo Jin-heo stood beside her with his fan folded, scanning the formation.
Both of them showed no sign of having been affected in the least by the day's march. Of course. At their level, a pace like this was no more than a stroll.
'But those two are watching more than just me.'
Eom Bi-ryeong in that state would still have her energy sense extended, and Myo Jin-heo would be observing how the formation responded. Both were in the process of figuring out how Hero Gate operated.
Good. Let them watch.
The more they watched, the more they'd be drawn in.
And Seok-gyeong.
This one had been outside expectations.
He knows almost nothing of martial arts. His internal energy is shallow. He likely doesn't even know what Footwork is.
And yet he had extracted a pattern from the "steps." He had already been watching the feet before Ho-ae called out.
Click.
He opened the status window.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━
◈ Seok-gyeong ▸ Position: Guild Member ▸ Combat Level: Lower Beginner
▸ Trust Level: [Faint Friendliness] ▸ Status: [Resolve], [Fatigue]
━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Nothing unusual. No special abilities. No sense-type passives either.
And yet he read the feet.
Dong Bong-soo trusts his eyes. That person has potential the system cannot capture—that much was certain.
A porter lives by his feet. Reading terrain, following the steps of the person ahead, adjusting weight distribution from minute differences in footing. Not martial arts, but survival skill. Yet that survival skill had been applied to reading the pattern of a Footwork technique.
He could see it—almost no internal energy, yet carrying intent along the formula. But intent is the first shovel that properly digs the channel for energy.
Energy follows intention.
Where intention goes first, energy will eventually follow.
The fact that he attempted the form. The fact that he attempted the formula. When those two overlap, it is the moment grooves begin to carve into an empty vessel, making way for a current to form.
'The empty vessel has begun filling itself.'
And he didn't drop the load.
He carried two people's worth of baggage, attempted Footwork, and remained in the formation to the very end.
Whether that was foolishness or the real thing, but……
He remembered those eyes from yesterday's interview. The eyes of someone gritting his teeth because he had been unable to do anything when his younger sibling was dragged away.
It is certainly not foolishness. Those eyes carry a will to never return to being someone who can do nothing.
A person who acts at a net loss by any measure of efficiency. Such a person is unpredictable and difficult to work with, but he appears to have value.
Worth cultivating.
Click.
He closed the status window.
════════════════
[Guild] Threshold of Growth
├─ Progress: 12% → 15%
├─ Remaining: 6 Days 18 Hours
└─ Condition Updated: Average Combat Level Lower Beginner → Upper Beginner
════════════════
'3%.'
The morning march had raised it by 2%, and an additional 1% had come in once the Footwork transmission began in the afternoon. The effect of the formula spreading as well. It wasn't merely physical exhaustion—seeds of basic Energy Circulation had been planted, so the system had apparently counted that as "growth."
At that moment, Jeon Ra-hwa approached. She opened her roster and spoke.
"There are four complete dropouts today. Fortunately, they all stayed within the formation, but if tomorrow's intensity is the same, there's going to be someone who actually breaks."
"If they break, just mend them."
"……Is that something you say to a person?"
"Ah, right. It was a person."
Jeon Ra-hwa smacked Kim Rae-won's shoulder with the roster.
"You hit me?"
"Yes, I hit you. Know that I held back from hitting harder."
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"For not killing me."
"What?"
"If you'd hit harder, I'd be dead, wouldn't I? Me."
"Ha. Ha. Want me to really kill you?"
Dong Bong-soo smiled quietly.
"Yeah. Kill me. If there's anyone who can truly kill me, it would only be you."
"Ah, yes, yes. Please wait until you can die at my hands, and don't go dying somewhere else in the meantime. Please."
Death.
An intimately familiar acquaintance, yet one he has no desire to grow closer to—a distant, awkward sort of relationship.
"Alright. I'll try to stay safe until you're capable of killing me, I suppose."
"Just say it once. Just once."
Jeon Ra-hwa let out a sigh and flipped through the roster.
"Anyway, today was all Ho-ae. The Footwork aside, spreading the formula on his own…… you were aiming for that, weren't you?"
"……"
"Ah, really? Was it a coincidence?"
"Yeah. Coincidence."
"Ha. Ha. How often coincidences happen around here, don't they? To a twelve-year-old, no less."
"That's precisely what makes it interesting."
Jeon Ra-hwa looked toward Ho-ae for a moment. The child sat among the others, passing around water. Eyes half-drooping with exhaustion, yet hands not stopping.
"What pace are you setting for tomorrow?"
"Double today's."
"……Are you serious?"
"Growth has to be remembered by the body, you see. The ones who heard the formula today will catch up faster tomorrow. Then even as the level keeps rising, they'll be able to hold on."
"……"
"Seven days of this and the basic forms will be embedded in their bodies."
Dong Bong-soo looked up at the darkening sky.
'Seven days.'
Within seven days, he had to make these people into something. Not fighters—at the very minimum, people who can survive.
The sword comes later. Internal energy comes later.
First, they have to run.
Run, fall, get up, and run again.
Then later, martial arts could be poured into the vessel that was shaped through that.
Far off, Seok-gyeong lay on the grass, moving his feet.
Left foot, right foot. Murmuring aloud the path the Instructor had called out.
The load was still kept at his side.
'Seems like he'll carry it again tomorrow.'
The load. And the Footwork.
Not bad at all.
That one—Seok-gyeong.
And.
Dong Bong-soo's gaze moved naturally toward Ho-ae.
'That one too.'