Day 4 (1): New Martial Arts
'Ah......'
Chohee held her breath, her eyes fixed solely on the dark crimson lump in her master's hand. Even in that brief moment as Seorin crushed and kneaded it with bloodied hands, it had writhed like a venom that could scorch mucous membranes. Yet this monster casually popped it into his mouth like some after-dinner treat.
Crunch.
Dark red juice burst from the corners of his lips. Before the horrific poison could even dissipate into the air, the monster swallowed the rest with a satisfied look.
It felt like her entire lifetime of experience rolling through the evil factions—everything she knew—was being utterly denied.
Suddenly, the deadly poisons from her past life flashed through her mind. Hakjeonghong, which rotted the liver with a single drop's graze; Cheonyeoksan, which reversed one's blood vessels the moment it was inhaled, forcing up gouts of blood. As far as she knew, none surpassed the toxicity of Chilheol Gyogeuncho.
And this monster had chewed and swallowed a condensed extract of that ferocious Chilheol Gyogeuncho.
Not suppressing or neutralizing the poison with some technique—just eating it like a meal.
'Hahaha......'
A hollow laugh escaped her. It was a sight no sane person could endure without losing their mind.
At that moment, the monster slapped his belly and let out a hearty laugh.
"Haha! It's got a nice bitter tang, but the effects are truly remarkable."
He wiped the dark red residue from his mouth with the back of his hand, then smacked his lips as if refreshed. His nonchalant attitude left her too stunned to even form words.
'Bitter...... tang?'
The shallow creed of the evil factions—"If the poison works, it kills"—shattered.
The poison Seorin had ground until her nails cracked and mixed with such care had been digested in this monster's body without emitting even a whiff of toxicity.
Accepting that fact cleared away her stray thoughts.
'Then...... poison is useless.'
If he could casually digest Seorin's deadly brew and even Chilheol Gyogeuncho, no poison would work on this monster.
Chohee glanced absently beside her master. There, a massive white bulk trembled violently.
Just a few hours ago, it had been a ferocious spirit beast they'd barely smashed the head of after fighting for their lives, leaving them collapsed. Now, it had tucked its tail between its legs and flattened itself to the ground like a stray dog at a single touch from her master.
'A beast that savage rolls over like a mutt in front of him...? Then what the hell were our desperate struggles?'
As her master stroked the white ape's fur, the house-sized creature merely nuzzled his toes and whimpered. Unable to even growl roughly, it lay there with its fur smoothed flat under the touch of a human half its size—like a perfect lapdog.
Only then did everything click into place.
'That's no wild spirit beast. It's a sayeokma this monster raised.'
The isolation of White Ape Valley as a spirit herb field. The white apes' blind aggression. And now, their utter submission before him.
They were just guard dogs he'd let loose in his front yard.
Which meant every brutal fight in White Ape Valley had been nothing but thrashing around in a penned enclosure from start to finish.
The image of themselves rolling in blood was so ridiculous she couldn't help but laugh.
To him, they were just pets let loose in the yard.
'You think I'll give up just because of that?'
If poison didn't work, she'd use something else. Chohee desperately sought a path to survival, shoving down her fear.
He digested poison. A Hyeonkyeong body wasn't fazed by amateur toxins. If she couldn't win with strength or assassination, only one option remained.
This monster was utterly immersed in his little game of being a kind master.
Fine. She'd play along.
No concrete plan yet. But the moment her most trusted weapon—poison—proved worthless, she found another.
Pride as the former overlord of the evil factions? Don't make her laugh. You had to survive to be an overlord; dead, you were just a corpse.
If she couldn't beat him with power, she'd become such a capable, obedient dog that he'd hesitate to kill her himself.
Wag her tail if he wanted. Bark if he commanded.
With a sharp dagger hidden deep in her heart, she'd crawl faithfully until the day he handed her the leash himself.
Ten years or a hundred.
For that one moment he let his guard down and turned his back.
Over Seorin's despair and Chohee's venomous resolve rang only her master's laughter.
The next morning.
He sat on the veranda, watching his three disciples diligently practice their morning routine in one corner of the courtyard. Not a single falter until sweat beaded on their foreheads and dripped steadily—they flowed through the sword forms seamlessly.
'They're all...... starting to carry themselves like true martial artists.'
But the Cheongpung Geombeop couldn't fully capture his disciples' talents.
Seorin's sword tip was incomparably sharper than before, as if she'd grasped the trick of condensing power to a point. Chohee excelled in irregular strikes piercing vital spots over direct clashes, while Hwaran hid her unique flexibility within rock-solid lower body stability.
'The foundation from Cheongpung Geombeop is solid now.'
He set down his teacup, sipped slowly.
He was genuinely pleased. In his past life grinding away like corporate cogwheels, he'd never had the chance to watch someone's growth up close and feel this pride.
"Master."
Seorin's calm voice drew his attention. She had sheathed her sword in the center of the training ground and was looking his way. Chohee and Hwaran followed suit, pausing their practice to turn toward him.
"Oh, morning training's done already?"
He rose leisurely and approached his disciples.
"Good work. You've all mastered the Cheongpung Geombeop so far... exceptionally well."
Three pairs of eyes fixed on him. Seorin lowered her gaze silently, Chohee swallowed hard, and Hwaran...... for some reason, the tip of her nose was flushed red.
"But."
He paused deliberately. They all held their breath.
"Cheongpung Geombeop is just the basics. The grammar for learning to infuse qi into the sword. Now that you know the grammar, it's time to write your own sentences."
Seorin's face stiffened.
"Seorin."
"Yes, Master."
"You're cool-headed and meticulous. How about walking a path that demands not just the sword's sharpness, but precision as well?"
He simply gazed at her with admiration.
"Learn alchemy alongside the sword. Watching the prescriptions and pills you brought me, I felt it. Your skill in neutralizing herbal toxins and blending energies is no ordinary talent. Binding yourself to just the sword would limit you—pairing it with the path of alchemy, which commands life and death, will forge a greater vessel for you."
It was a carefully considered decision. Given her devotion to gathering herbs and refining pills for his health, her innate gift for alchemy was undeniable.
Seorin's shoulders twitched rigidly. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then bit her lip and bowed her head deeply, as if resolving something.
'Master recognized my talent, so she's at a loss for words.'
Next, Chohee.
"Chohee."
"......Yes, Master."
"Whenever you grip the sword, you unconsciously angle your toes diagonally to secure a retreat. Your body is optimized not for honest clashes exchanging blades head-on, but for slipping into blind spots and stabbing weaknesses. Wudang's upright sword wind would be poison to you. Rather than frontal swordplay, a stealthy, swift path suits you better."
Honestly, it diverged a bit from Wudang's arts. But martial arts only became whole when tailored to the learner's nature. Forcing Chohee into Wudang's mold would be wrong; opening a path that fit her instincts was a master's duty.
"I'll have you focus on hidden weapons and lightness skills. Striking where the enemy least expects. That's your form."
Chohee stared blankly, fiddling with her fingertips.
'Rascal. Her hands must be itching already at the thought of new weapons.'
Finally, Hwaran.
"Hwaran-ah."
"M-Master!"
Hwaran startled and replied.
"Your movements are fluid, infused with power. Especially your lower body's springiness and footwork stability—they're the best of the three. Rather than weapons...... your own body as the weapon suits you."
He met her wide eyes.
"Learn fist and palm techniques. Infuse your very nature into your martial arts."
Hwaran looked flustered but nodded cautiously soon after.
He slowly scanned his three disciples in turn.
"From now on, you'll each walk your own paths. But don't forget: Cheongpung Geombeop is your root. Only with strong roots can branches reach high."
Under the morning sun, the three stood lost in their thoughts.
'Yeah, they'll all do great.'
Groundless confidence, but that alone was enough—more than enough.