Because It Was Mount Hua (4)
"Ugh……."
Every breath sheaved out of Jo Gul’s mouth kicked up a haze of dust.
He couldn’t even manage to spit out the grit that kept flooding into his mouth. All he could do was twitch weakly where he lay.
Crazy.
There wasn’t a scrap of strength left in his body. He’d rolled around so much that the sky looked yellow, and every so often his consciousness seemed ready to slip away. If he was in this state, then how much worse must the others be?
He forced his head up and looked around.
Utter collapse.
Not a single person was standing. No, it was even worse than that—they were all sprawled across the ground like corpses, gasping for breath. Only Yoon Jong was still sitting with his backside on the floor, managing at least to keep his upper body raised.
Sahyung.
Admiration surged up from deep in Jo Gul’s chest.
In terms of raw skill alone, Jo Gul was actually a little stronger than Yoon Jong. In swordsmanship talent and instinct for combat, Jo Gul clearly had the edge.
But right now, he felt in his bones why Yoon Jong was the great senior brother.
Jo Gul could barely twitch a finger, yet Yoon Jong, having gone through the same training, was still sitting upright and catching his breath instead of flopping helplessly onto the ground. That wasn’t a matter of skill. That was a matter of will.
How could he not respect a senior brother who could do what he himself couldn’t?
And then there was the other one…….
Jo Gul’s gaze drifted in the opposite direction.
"Hrrrrah! Hyah! Hyaaahhh-ha-ha-ha!"
"……."
What he saw was Chung Myung, wearing sandbags that looked three times heavier than his own body, repeatedly sitting down and standing up again. He was moving so fast that his motions were nearly a blur.
"Huff! Huff! Huff! Hey! Why the hell is this so light? Hey, if the others are done, hand over their sandbags to me……. Huh? Why is everybody lying down?"
That monster.
Jo Gul ground his teeth.
The amount of training they’d been put through was absurd. A few days ago, Chung Myung had apparently decided to get serious and had driven the third-generation disciples harder than ever before, to a degree completely unlike anything they’d endured so far. This was the result.
And yet there was one reason no one could openly complain: Chung Myung was right there in front of them, training with five times the load they were handling.
If you had any pride and any competitive spirit at all, how could you possibly voice your dissatisfaction in a situation like that? Even if you were seething inside, wouldn’t you keep your mouth shut simply because of everyone else’s eyes?
And Chung Myung had not only handled that amount, he was still going on without a hint of strain.
"Ah, is it already this late?"
Thud!
Chung Myung threw the sandbags he’d been carrying onto the ground. Then he clicked his tongue.
"What, you’ve only done that much and you’re already flat on your backs? Tsk. These days’ kids are soft. It wasn’t like this in my day."
You’re the youngest one here, you bastard.
What was this “kids these days” crap coming from the youngest damn brat in the room?
"That’s it for today’s training. Eat first, then you’ll train again this afternoon. If anyone dozes off during training or wanders off doing something else, I’ll double tomorrow’s workload, so keep that in mind."
Devil!
Demon!
Son of a bitch!
They cursed him with the kind of desperation only possible in their hearts, but even if Chung Myung was a lunatic, he had no talent for reading minds. Unfortunately.
"Then I’m off. Make sure you put the training gear away properly."
Watching Chung Myung stroll off toward Baekmae Hall, all the third-generation disciples let out a collective sigh.
Meat.
There was meat on the table.
These days, Mount Hua seemed to have money coming out of its ears, because every meal included meat. There were even unfamiliar cooks coming and going from the dining hall, which meant they must have hired new staff.
The third-generation disciples, who used to practically set their eyes on fire at the mere sight of meat, now hadn’t touched a single bite despite having sat at the table for ages.
"……Eat," Yoon Jong said weakly, but no one lifted their chopsticks.
"……I feel like I’m going to throw up if I do."
"I don’t have an appetite."
"I can’t believe meat is making me want to puke. Am I about to die?"
No one could bring themselves to put anything in their mouths.
"Great senior brother."
"……What?"
"Aren’t you going too far with this?"
Yoon Jong couldn’t answer. But that didn’t mean the complaints stopped there.
"I mean…… no, look, training itself is fine. To be honest, it’s true that we haven’t exactly been dedicating ourselves fully to training since climbing Mount Hua. And yes, I understand that it’s better to use the time properly and actually gain something rather than just wasting it half-heartedly."
"But?"
"But this is too much. There isn’t a single part of my body that isn’t battered."
It seemed the other senior brothers felt the same way.
"……At this rate, we’ll die, sahyung."
"It used to be bearable, but lately it really feels like we’re going to die."
"The second I get into my room, I crash like a corpse. Every time I fall asleep, I get scared I might not wake up."
"I can’t even hold my chopsticks. My hands are shaking too much."
Yoon Jong let out a long sigh.
"Telling me that won’t……."
"But if sahyung says something, he might at least pretend to listen."
"He’s the great senior brother, after all."
Yoon Jong frowned.
But that’s not wrong.
In the past, when they’d faced similar issues, Jo Gul and Yoon Jong had suppressed the complaints themselves. But this wasn’t something that could simply be handled that way now.
Even Yoon Jong was nearing his limit.
When fatigue built up through training, you were supposed to recover from it before the next session so it wouldn’t interfere with your progress. But lately, Chung Myung had been driving them forward without giving anyone time to recover, as if he had some warped idea in mind.
Every day felt like they were pushing past the limit. It was no wonder Yoon Jong even felt dread when dawn training came around.
Yoon Jong glanced sideways at Jo Gul.
"Gul."
"Yes, sahyung."
"What do you think?"
"Hmm……."
As Jo Gul made a low sound, everyone’s attention focused on him. Among the third-generation disciples, Jo Gul had a voice second only to Yoon Jong—or perhaps even greater than Yoon Jong’s in some matters.
"Honestly? It’s a bit much."
"Right?"
"Our bodies can’t keep up. The problem is that the intensity keeps getting worse by the day. I welcome hard training, too, but this is too cruel."
"……Hmm."
"Steel gets harder the more you hammer it, but a human body is something that breaks if you keep hammering it."
"Then what do you think we should do?"
"The problem is……."
Jo Gul’s eye twitched.
"That bastard…… no, Chung Myung. There’s no way he doesn’t know that."
"Ugh."
Yoon Jong let out a groan.
He had the exact same thought. The training they were doing now made no sense. But it made even less sense to think Chung Myung didn’t know that he was pushing them too far.
Because it was Chung Myung.
"For now, I think we should endure a little longer. If nothing changes after a bit more time, then we can talk to him then."
"All right. If that happens, I won’t hold back first."
Once Jo Gul and Yoon Jong finished speaking, the rest of the disciples all looked persuaded. For now, just hearing that they would complain if this kept up was important.
Whether the complaint would actually do any good was another matter entirely.
"For now, let’s eat. Even if it doesn’t go down, force it down somehow. We still have afternoon training, and if we look weak, Uncle Disciple will tear us apart."
"Ugh."
"Let’s eat."
"Oh, man."
With hands that had no strength left in them, they all reluctantly picked up their chopsticks. Watching those pitiful movements, Jo Gul clicked his tongue softly.
"Ughhh."
Jo Gul made his way toward his bed with great effort.
I’m seriously going to die like this.
He was grateful he’d even managed to wash up. He’d wanted to just charge straight at his bedding and collapse, dust and all, but he felt he deserved praise for using what little willpower he had left to wash his clothes and scrub his body clean.
As a result, his eyelids felt like lead, and there wasn’t a shred of strength left in his body. It was amazing he could still walk at all.
Thud.
Jo Gul flopped face-first onto the hard bed and let out a sigh of his own.
When I wake up, it’ll be training again.
Actually, Jo Gul had no complaints about Chung Myung’s training methods. No matter how harsh they were, he thought he could endure them. Because in the end, all of it would make him stronger.
But lately, he’d started to have doubts.
What if his body broke first? Could his flesh and bones really keep taking this kind of punishment?
Yet before the doubt could settle in, sleep came crashing over him. Jo Gul gave up on thinking and surrendered himself to the wave of exhaustion.
"Sahyung."
"……Mm."
"Sahyung. Wake up. Sahyung."
"Mm?"
Jo Gul forced his eyes open. In the dim blur of his vision, a human shape loomed over him.
"Who—!"
He tried to spring up, but a heavy hand pressed him back down.
"Don’t make a fuss. Just get up quietly."
"Chung Myung?"
"Hurry up."
What the hell was that crazy bastard doing barging into Jo Gul’s room in the middle of the night? And how had he even opened the door?
"……What is it?"
Jo Gul struggled up. He’d slept for a while, but the fatigue hadn’t eased at all. His body felt heavy, and irritation rose in him on its own.
At that moment, Chung Myung held something out to him.
"Here."
Jo Gul stared at the small pill lying on Chung Myung’s palm, and his brow furrowed before he even realized it.
"What is this?"
"A spiritual pill."
"What?"
"Shhh."
Jo Gul realized he’d raised his voice and clamped his mouth shut.
"I got this at great trouble. I’m giving it to you because I’m your sahyung."
"I-is it really a spiritual pill?"
"Have you been cheated your whole life? Just smelling it should tell you."
It was real.
The clear fragrance had been piercing at Jo Gul’s nose for a while now. The reason he’d asked twice was simply that he couldn’t believe what was happening.
What was a spiritual pill? It was medicine that increased inner energy and purified the body. In the jianghu, just the rumor that some top-grade spiritual pill existed somewhere was enough to spark bloodshed and leave bodies piling up.
Even if it wasn’t on that level, it was the same. If it had even a slight effect on increasing inner energy, its value far exceeded that of the same amount of gold.
And he was just giving that away?
"It’s not poisoned."
"No, that’s not what I meant!"
Jo Gul barked the words, then drew a deep breath.
"Why are you giving this to me? You could take it yourself."
"You need it, sahyung."
"……."
"Hurry up and take it. Before the others find out. And it has to stay a secret that I gave you a spiritual pill. It’s only for sahyung."
"……You."
Jo Gul opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words.
Could he really eat this?
Under normal circumstances, he would have agonized over it, but Jo Gul, exhausted to the bone, couldn’t work his head like he usually did. And this pill did seem to really be a spiritual pill. As proof, his worn-out body was reacting violently to it.
"Just take it first. I’ll guide you."
"……I can really eat it?"
"I’m giving it to you because I’m your sahyung, aren’t I?"
Chung Myung flicked the pill resting in his palm. Before Jo Gul could react, it slipped into his mouth and melted instantly, sliding down his throat.
Instinct told him at once that this was a genuine spiritual pill.
"I’ll guide you for now, but don’t absorb it too quickly. Take at least a month and slowly let it sink in."
"O-okay."
"Turn around. I’m starting the guidance now."
Jo Gul looked at Chung Myung with faintly moved eyes, then turned around and settled into a cross-legged position. Looking at his back, Chung Myung smiled wickedly.
Only when you give water to a thirsty man does he understand gratitude.
Chung Myung was already looking forward to the expressions his senior brothers would wear when they showed up at the training grounds tomorrow.