Chapter 19. Something Thicker
Rarosa rose before dawn, sitting cross-legged on the bed and sinking into meditation. Meditation was the mental discipline her master Cheonma had emphasized time and again. Even if she couldn't train in anything else, he had implored her to never skip this, so she made time for it whenever she could. It had undoubtedly aided her mental growth immensely. And of course, it greatly boosted her skills as well.
Your goal from now on is that man.
Rarosa's eyes snapped open. She thought of Hero Kang Ji-hyuk. She still didn't know exactly what her master had seen in him to say such things, but he certainly seemed different from the others.
Finishing her meditation, she rose and headed to the mansion's backyard. She'd gotten permission the day before to use it. It was still too early, the sky dim and dark. But she loved this predawn darkness—the moment just before light arrived. She always likened her own situation to it, never slacking in her efforts. This could be the instant right before her own dawn broke. A little more effort, and she might see the light.
She took a deep breath—sip, whoosh—and stood in the center of the wide backyard. Then she began thrusting her fists with sharp whooshes. It was like a single flowing dance. Her fist techniques blended attack and defense fluidly: supple as water, swift as wind, fierce as fire, solid as earth. All of it packed into a single punch.
Put your entire life into that one fist. Then you can strike the heavens and split the earth. If you master your mind, that fist becomes nature itself—god itself.
And Cheonma unleashed a punch with all his might. It cleaved clouds and ground alike. Recalling her master's divine technique, the disciple thrust her fist in the same way.
Haap—!
The air exploded with a bang. But it neither struck the heavens nor split the earth. Just a loud whoosh of wind.
A fist must be light yet heavy at the same time.
But the lowly disciple couldn't even match her master's toes. Still, she didn't stop. She kept pushing endlessly. More, more, more…!
Finishing her fist techniques, Rarosa caught her breath lightly and adjusted her stance. Standing tall, she clasped her hands in prayer-like fashion.
Clap, clap, clap, clap.
She whipped her head around at the sound of applause. The hero was clapping lightly as he approached her. She quickly turned fully toward him and bowed deeply in respect.
"My lord, what brings you here at this early hour…?"
"Just happened to pass by on a stroll. Sorry if I interrupted."
"Not at all. I just finished."
Rarosa bowed even deeper. Ji-hyuk grinned.
"You'll make a fine hero. Master Cheonma will surely be proud one day. I guarantee it."
"Your praise humbles me beyond words."
"Too much formality can feel awkward sometimes. Just say 'thank you' in moments like this."
"…Understood. Thank you."
"Good. Keep at it. Looked impressive. Master will have every reason to be proud."
The hero patted Rarosa's arm lightly and turned to leave. She slowly raised her head. His back receded into the distance.
"…Um, my lord…!"
Gathering her courage, Rarosa called out to stop Ji-hyuk. He paused, half-turning to look at her.
"A presumptuous request, but… may I ask something?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"I'd like a lesson. Just one."
It was the first time she'd ever asked for a spar with someone outside the guild. Strangely, her limbs tingled with tension as she made the request.
The hero stared at her quietly, then fully turned back. Hands lightly clasped behind his back, he walked slowly toward her.
"A spar?"
"…My apologies."
"No, no, that's fine. …But I don't have my sword right now."
Come to think of it, that was true. But Rarosa couldn't possibly ask the hero to fetch his sword. She realized her request had been too hasty.
"Ah, forgive me. I didn't think of that. Please forget I asked."
"Then… how about no swords? You okay with that?"
"…Pardon?"
"If you're fine with it, I'll go bare-handed too. …I've dabbled in fists before, so it won't be that embarrassing."
Rarosa blinked in slight bewilderment. She hadn't expected a swordsman to suggest fists. Sword arts and fist techniques were worlds apart—not just the presence of a weapon, but the movements, breathing, everything differed. Every martial art was unique like that. In the worst light, it could seem like disdain for fist techniques.
Of course, Rarosa didn't take it that negatively. But it didn't sit entirely right. …Facing her with something other than his main weapon felt like underestimating her.
Still, he was graciously offering a lesson. She couldn't harbor ill will. That was the whole point of meditation—a mind clear as water. Her master had said that evil in the heart tainted the body.
"If that's more comfortable for you, then so be it."
"Good."
They stepped back to create distance. Rarosa gave a light bow as if to say "please go easy" and assumed her stance. It was every bit the posture of Cheonma's disciple. Impressive indeed.
Ji-hyuk was genuinely awed by this genius's talent. If he'd had a first life like hers, he'd never have licked her toes. But instead of her gifts, he'd gotten multiple lives. Sure, he had talent too—at least in distance control, unmatched by any. Even Cheonma acknowledged that.
He'd spent the night balls-deep in his master's pussy without a wink of sleep, yet his mind was strangely sharp. Ji-hyuk exhaled slowly through his nose and eased into stance.
Rarosa's eyes gleamed. He'd said he'd dabbled, and it showed. His form was that of a seasoned practitioner.
For some reason, competitive fire ignited in her. This concerned her master's honor too. …At least, she couldn't lose embarrassingly.
Ji-hyuk chuckled inwardly. He'd long known her competitive spirit. Fist versus fist—she was probably thinking of Cheonma's reputation too. With her personality, it fit. Admirable.
He wished he had such a devoted disciple. He'd shower her with kisses and affection. …Not in a sexual way, of course. Anyway.
The hero cleared his stray thoughts. Time to focus on the fight. The skill gap was vast, but her unpredictable talent's depths could flare anytime. …He wouldn't lose, but even taking one hit would bruise his pride.
Rarosa struck first. She dashed in nimbly, launching a wedge-like punch. As Cheonma's training maniac disciple, her basics were flawless—fast, precise. …But too straightforward.
It would crush peers. Hell, obliterate them. But Ji-hyuk was far beyond that league.
Whoosh!!
Her fist grazed by a finger's breadth. But this was no near-miss luck—it was his insane reflexes.
Aah—!
His hand shot out in a blur, slapping her solar plexus with his palm. Not a fist.
Thwack!!
A real punch would've punched through her chest. Still, the shock pierced her core, choking her breath.
Urk…!
She whipped her arm out and retreated swiftly, regulating her breathing. His movements were perfection—no waste. Minimal dodge, then counter to the opening. The exchange proved the gap.
But she pressed on. She'd expected the disparity. This spar was for learning, not winning.
Rarosa gathered her strength and attacked full-force. Desperate flailing to land even one hit. But he dodged everything—fists always grazing harmlessly. She swung faster, harder. Same result.
She fought to stay calm. But the near-misses fueled impatience. …Just a bit more, and it'd connect. Why wouldn't it?
As she pressed, his palms tapped her body all over. …Finally, fed up, he shouted.
"Don't get heated—focus! Approach it to learn, not flail around in frustration?!"
Thwack!!
His yell cooled her chest, snapping reason back. …Only then did his movements start registering. She still couldn't track fully, but better than before. At least not embarrassing.
Time to wrap this. Guests were arriving; this dull spar could end.
Ji-hyuk exploded in speed. Rarosa lost him entirely. His fist halted lightning-like right at her nose.
Paaaaang—!
A massive gust slammed her face. Her hair whipped wildly. The wind blasted past, kicking up a dust storm behind her.
……Ah…….
A strike to soul-shatter. Unbelievable for a swordsman. …His self-taught fists had no flaws in her eyes.
Your goal from now on is that man.
Same age, yet worlds apart in prowess. …An abyss to bridge.
The hero's stern face softened into a grin as he lightly patted her cheek with his palm—like to a cute junior.
"Good work. Solid skills. Keep growing like this, and in ten years, few'll match you."
Despite the praise, she felt deep self-disappointment. But she couldn't show it. He'd sparred kindly; gratitude was right.
"Thank you truly for the lesson. …Today feels like my eyes were opened wide."
"Glad it helped. …Anyway, I'm off. Take care."
"Yes, my lord. Safe travels."
Ji-hyuk veered toward the garden deliberately, avoiding Cheonma near the entrance. …Master and disciple likely had private words.
As expected, Rarosa timidly approached Cheonma, bowing apologetically.
"…I'm sorry, Master."
"No need. You gave your all—that's enough. It was the predictable outcome anyway."
She bowed deeper. She knew defeat was inevitable, but the thought saddened her. She'd faced losses before, but today's cut deep.
"You gained much insight, I trust."
"…Yes."
"Never forget today's spar. Etch it in your mind. Replay it whenever you have a moment."
"Yes, Master. I will."
Cheonma turned and walked the hall slowly, lost in thought. …What a ridiculous genius. Especially that evasion—mind-blowing. He'd never seen better distance control, himself included. Unreal for that age. Talent too vast to fathom.
For the first time, Cheonma felt a wall. A chill gripped his chest. …Then strange elation bubbled up. For a lone ascetic, it hinted at a companion.
…Perhaps…. A spark fell on his long-cold heart. Light gleamed in Cheonma's eyes.
…Time to move the guild to the capital.