The Hidden Dragon of the Stale Board

“So you're the glutton who traded in all his rank tags for food, I take it?”

At that provocative question, Yun Cheon did not look away. Instead, he tilted his head and returned it with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mild puzzlement.

“What I do with my rank tags is hardly your concern, is it?”

“……!”

The unexpected, icy counter struck home, and Yayul Hui's face stiffened for an instant. With a short, false cough, she forced her voice back into sharpness.

“Hmph! And they called you a vessel worthy of bearing a blade. You haven't spent a single tag on training—you've only been stuffing your belly! I was going to shatter that shallow floor of yours with my own hands once you actually learned some martial arts… but this is just pathetic.”

At her answer, a faint smile of mockery touched Yun Cheon's lips—the look of a man watching a child throw a tantrum.

So she's the demon cultist's daughter who protested to the instructor that day. She never fully accepted it, it seems.

Yun Cheon was not the sort to take such bait.

“The Hidden Demon Cave holds its evaluation soon enough. You can judge my skill then. Until then, spare me the trouble.”

A merciless dismissal. As a daughter of the Wild Wind Yayul Family—one of the Twelve Guardian Families of the Heavenly Demon Cult, raised like a jewel beyond price—this was the first time in her life she had ever been brushed aside.

“…Why, you! I graciously took an interest, and this is how you repay me? Who do you think you are, you insolent—!”

The moment she drew breath to lash out again, Yun Cheon spoke over her.

“You and I are different. You were born eating the tributes others laid at your family's feet, and built your inner energy on them.”

It had been the same in his days at Kunlun. While the great sects and noble houses of the murim swelled their ranks with wealth scraped together from every corner of the world, Kunlun had provisioned itself entirely on the frontier—food, herbs, everything self-grown and self-made. If anything, it struck him as strange that here in the cult, one could simply purchase such things with a rank tag.

“Before you plant a field, you must first turn the soil. It only looks foolish to you because you've never built anything from bare earth.”

“…What would you know! I've trained in the martial arts since childhood, and do you have any idea how hard I worked to earn my family's recognition—”

“You know nothing about me either, do you?”

Stung into silence, Yayul Hui found her eyes sweeping over his body once more, unbidden. If a body were soil, his was barren wasteland. He was past merely gaunt—she could have believed him a dying invalid.

Up close, his condition is… absurd. With this body, he really held out on that cliff? He really faced those Serpent Scorpion Muk bastards?

It was then that Yu Ha, who had been watching, smoothly cut in.

“Well, well. How interesting. The daughter of the famed Yayul Family, taking an interest in a mere cadet?”

Amid the shabby training robes, his jet-black silk attire stood out like a jewel in ash. The ease and breeding in his bearing spoke volumes about his background.

“If word gets around the Hidden Demon Cave, everyone will think you've fallen head over heels for this fellow.”

She shot him a murderous glare.

“Hmph. I merely wished to see whether he has the mettle to stand up to an instructor. He might be my rival, after all.”

“Oh? The great Wild Wind Yayul Family rates a kidnapped cadet that highly?”

“…….”

Yu Ha deflected her glare with an easy shrug.

“My apologies, but I actually have business of my own here.” He turned to Yun Cheon. “If you don't mind, I'd like to sit in on Instructor Ma Chung's lesson.”

Yun Cheon glanced back at Ma Chung. He caught the man's mouth twitching upward before he wrestled it back into a dignified expression.

Instructor Ma Chung seems pleased to have the cadets' attention.

He had no intention of revealing Kunlun's arts, so there was no particular problem. Still, Yun Cheon was not the sort to simply grant the favor.

“Two observers, then. I'll charge you half a day's lesson fee. One rank tag.”

“What?! You want us to pay you—not even the instructor—for observing?”

Yayul Hui bristled instantly at the proposal.

“You're the one who invited yourself into my lesson time. If you don't like it, request instruction from Instructor Ma Chung separately.”

“…….”

He had her there. Both she and Yu Ha were far more interested in Yun Cheon than in Ma Chung's teaching. Both had already learned whatever their families could offer, and both stood at the first-rate realm. The instructors might be seasoned among the first-rate, but first-rate all the same—there was no reason to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hunger after each one's lessons.

“You got me.” Yu Ha laughed and readily held out a rank tag. “Here—I'll cover Yayul Hui's share too.”

Tag in hand, Yu Ha stepped closer and introduced himself properly.

“I'm Yu Ha. And your name?”

At that question, Yun Cheon's eyes sank deep for a moment. The orphan's memory held no name at all. Nor did he wish to lose himself in someone else's identity. His resolve settled, he answered quietly.

“Yun Cheon.”

A brief silence hung in the corridor. Yu Ha turned the name over in his mind.

…Yun Cheon. So it's Yun Cheon.

It matched a name he had once read in the records—the legendary swordsman who, decades ago, had single-handedly held back the cult's main force. The last First Sword of Kunlun. The man's body had never been found after he drove back the cult's vanguard with a single blade.

What an amusing coincidence.

Unlike Yu Ha, Yayul Hui seemed to feel nothing at the name. She merely nodded and repeated it to herself—but in her eyes, the contempt had somehow given way to a coiling curiosity.

With matters settled, Ma Chung broke into a satisfied grin.

“To the training hall, you whelps. If you want to observe, follow along.”

The air of the Third Training Hall was cool and still. Yayul Hui and Yu Ha took up positions in a corner, well away from the floor.

“Right—let the lesson begin!”

Ma Chung stood at the center of the hall and faced Yun Cheon, anticipation burning in his eyes.

…Heh heh. If the boy shows results, these onlookers will be eating out of my hand too.

Yun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Cheon was no longer the insolent brat who had picked his pocket—he was an investment now.

“Blood Wind Leg is a destructive kicking art. And an unorthodox one at that. Most masters rely on their hands, or a weapon in their hands, as their primary instrument.”

Ma Chung cleared his throat with great ceremony and began his lecture, dignity dripping from every word.

“Therefore, mastering a kicking art is the same as gaining a weapon no one else possesses.”

Yun Cheon nodded along.

“Of course, that comes with its own weakness. Commit one leg to an attack, and you lose your balance that much more easily. A practitioner of the kicking arts must therefore forge his lower body until he can hold his center on one leg alone.”

Having sketched out his own art, Ma Chung immediately barked his order.

“So first, we'll see how long those legs of yours can hold! Take the horse stance!”

The perfect form unfolded in his mind's eye, and Yun Cheon dropped into the stance at once. But his body betrayed his will.

Trash of a body, as expected….

Despite the flawless form, his skeletal legs began trembling within moments, and cold sweat poured down his forehead like rain.

The form is perfect… to have this stance so deeply ingrained, his lower body should have been trained to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bone. So what is this contradiction?

By the time the sweat dripping from Yun Cheon's chin had pooled into a small puddle on the floor, Ma Chung's command finally fell.

“Enough! At your limit already? Your lower body—no, your whole body—is woefully weak! From now on, you'll do basic conditioning every day before the lesson.”

Though Yun Cheon swayed, his eyes never wavered.

“When learning a new form, it is effective to first drive the body to its limit and strip away old habits. So no complaints.”

Yun Cheon nodded as if it were only natural.

“Now, I'll teach you the forms and the formula of Blood Wind Leg.”

The moment Ma Chung opened his mouth, a voice transmission bored directly into Yun Cheon's ear.

A short formula, but the very heart of the art. Yun Cheon had already witnessed the movements; the moment he heard the formula, every motion of Blood Wind Leg and the flow of its qi painted itself across his mind like a single unbroken scroll.

Well now… not a bad kicking art at all. The claim that one can glimpse the peak through it is no empty boast.

When the transmission ended, Ma Chung asked, “Shall I recite it again?”

“I have it all memorized, sir.”

“…Your memory is decent too, I see.”

Ma Chung had already witnessed the boy's monstrous talent with his own eyes.

A monster of a kid.

Nodding, he moved straight into demonstration.

“Now watch closely, and recall the formula I just gave you!”

Whuum—

His leg tore through the air with a sound like thunder.

“This is Blood Wind Leg's First Form, Wind Thunder Kick! Anchor the waist as your axis and whip the leg like lightning!”

Yayul Hui, watching the lesson, murmured to herself.

“That boy… what on earth is he thinking? He chose a saber and a sword, and now he's taking kicking lessons?”

She studied his movements with sharp, absorbed eyes.

“Surely he regrets spending that rank tag on the lesson fee….”

The thought slipped out of her before she could stop it. Yu Ha smiled, intrigued.

See? She does care.

Whether Yayul Hui muttered or not, Yun Cheon paid her no mind. He simply watched each of Ma Chung's forms once—and then replicated them.

Shwik—

His body, as ever, could not keep up, and the power fell far short. But the principle within each movement was reproduced perfectly—because he had heard the formula as well.

Ma Chung's eyes went round. So did Yu Ha's and Yayul Hui's.

“Well now! Not bad at all. The next form is the one that follows directly—Wind Heaven Kick. Just as the name says, it's a kick that rises like wind surging toward the sky.”

He demonstrated the higher-level linked form, and again Yun Cheon mirrored Ma Chung's movements without the slightest difficulty.

Watching him, Yayul Hui whispered involuntarily.

“…Impossible. He sees a form once and copies it exactly?”

The cunning he'd shown in the trials had been startling enough, but the caliber of this talent was on another level entirely.

Then Yun Cheon, still heaving for breath, put a question to Ma Chung.

“Instructor. When transitioning from the First Form, Wind Thunder Kick, to the Second Form, Wind Heaven Kick—the weight shift and the linkage feel unnatural. Is that intentional?”

“…How did you—?”

Astonishment flooded Ma Chung's face. The chronic flaw of his own art—and a whelp who had barely begun learning martial arts had pierced it precisely. A cold line of sweat ran down his spine. He could no longer afford to take Yun Cheon lightly.

Keep coasting like this and my shallow depths will show. But… this boy's talent is the real thing!

Ma Chung's eyes blazed with new fervor.

“…Ah—ahem. You saw correctly! I intended to explain once you'd mastered every form….”

Instead of teaching the forms one by one, Ma Chung laid out the linkage of the entire sequence before Yun Cheon finally nodded his acceptance.

Damn it all! He's stripped the entire Blood Wind Leg sequence bare in a single day….

“…Since it's your first day, we'll end here. Tomorrow we push harder!”

At that very moment, Senior Instructor Ya Jin—who had been watching from the darkness—materialized without a sound and stood before Yun Cheon. His emergence, as though seeping out of the shadows themselves, froze the expression on Ma Chung's face.

Ya Jin looked Yun Cheon up and down, then spoke in a voice like cold steel.

“Instructor Ma Chung. You've wrung the boy completely dry.”

“Th-that is….”

The moment Ma Chung began to stammer out an excuse, a faint smile touched Ya Jin's lips.

“I'm not blaming you. Well done.”

He left the brief praise behind and turned his gaze to the swaying Yun Cheon.

“You're in the perfect state to receive my instruction. When the flesh's strength is spent and only will and instinct remain—that is when the killer's senses first awaken.”

His voice was cold as a sheet of ice, yet—

“Well? Shall we test your talent as a killer?”

At that proposal, Yayul Hui's eyes went wide. Another lesson, on top of a body so drained his legs were shaking? To any observer, it was madness. But a faint smile bloomed on Yun Cheon's lips instead.

“I accept gladly.”

“Hah. Good.”

Ya Jin nodded, satisfied.

“Ah—one thing. My lessons permit no observers. Cadet Yun Cheon alone will follow me.”

In an instant, the principals were gone from the training hall. Ma Chung soon departed as well, leaving only Yayul Hui and Yu Ha. It was she who broke the silence, forcing a casual tone that fooled no one.

“Why did you sit in on Ma Chung's lesson? He didn't look like anything special.”

Yu Ha shrugged at her question. “It wasn't about the instructor. I'm interested in Yun Cheon. Same as you, no?”

“…Hmph. What nonsense.”

She turned away with a dismissive sniff, but inside, her curiosity about Yun Cheon only multiplied.

He's still absurdly weak… yet he's won the attention of two instructors without spending a single tag….

A mischievous glint flashed through Yu Ha's eyes as he read her thoughts.

“If you're that curious, just ask him directly. How he captured two instructors' hearts without paying a thing.”

“I have no interest in your petty schemes! I'm leaving!”

Hit squarely on the mark, Yayul Hui spun on her heel and fled the training hall. Alone now, the playfulness drained from Yu Ha's eyes.

The Hidden Demon Cave as he saw it was a vast go board—its game long decided, the stones sitting stagnant, rotting in place. And yet just now, a stone had been placed at the very center of that dead board. A stone no one had predicted. A single move that would sweep everything aside and begin a new game.

“Yun Cheon… could that boy be the hidden dragon who will overturn this stagnant Hidden Demon Cave—no, this whole game?”

Senior Instructor Ya Jin led Yun Cheon toward a massive iron door that was normally sealed fast.

“This is a special training ground for honing the senses.”

When the iron door swung open, absolute darkness that permitted not a single ray of light swallowed them whole. A space sealed off completely from the world. Ya Jin, melting into the dark a step ahead, spoke—and his voice struck the walls and echoed back, cold and hollow.

“First test. Reach that far end without a sound. If you truly stole my Shadowless Step, you can manage it.”

Yun Cheon steadied his breathing carefully and set his foot forward. His body was drained from the lesson with Ma Chung, but his five senses had been honed sharp as blades in compensation.

Rustle—

A texture against the sole of his foot.

…Dry leaves?

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, the leaves and small pebbles scattered across the floor faintly revealed themselves.

And in that very instant—

Shwik—!

A whisper of sound, and a thread of air brushing the fine hairs of his cheek.

Killing intent!

Instead of dodging the incoming object, Yun Cheon reached his hand straight toward its trajectory.

Thwack—!

His hand cut through the empty dark and closed around something with perfect precision. In his palm: the hard grain of wood.

“…Hah!”

For the first time, genuine astonishment bled into Ya Jin's voice from the darkness.

“Your eyes shouldn't have adapted to the dark yet. Beyond merely evading it… you caught the wooden ring I threw?”

In that jet-black darkness, Ya Jin's breathing faltered, ever so slightly.

“Just what in the world have you been fed, boy?”