The Weight of Iron

Three months had passed since that day.

Muscle began to trace its contours along Yun Cheon's once-skeletal limbs.

And to earn that much, Yun Cheon had to pass through hell twice a day, every single day.

The first hell began the moment dawn broke — the instruction of Instructor Ma Chung, master of the Blood Wind Leg.

"Your lower body is nothing but a bundle of kindling! How do you expect to raise a storm with roots that flimsy?"

"Straighten your back! Put strength into your toes!"

"Hold it! Hold it longer!"

As if seeking to reclaim his tarnished honor, Ma Chung drove Yun Cheon with merciless severity.

Half of every training session was devoted to nothing but the horse stance and endless repetitions of squatting with water jars on one's shoulders — the most basic of conditioning drills.

Simple, but… for now, it's fairly effective.

His thighs had grown reasonably solid by now, though the cramping was beyond his control. His once-bony legs had begun to show real muscle, and a springy resilience now ran through his calves.

Sweat gathered at his jaw and fell ceaselessly to the floor, pooling into a small puddle at his feet.

Yet Yun Cheon endured without a single groan.

Pain of this degree could hardly be called pain in the first place.

…I will become the Heavenly Demon, and I will shatter this cult.

Whenever the dying faces of his fellow Kunlun disciples rose before him, Yun Cheon would wake even from sleep to circulate the Heaven and Earth Moving Art.

Those days of accumulated effort layered themselves steadily upon his body.

At least in appearance, Yun Cheon was no longer the wretched boy of the past.

"Hm… not bad. I'll be raising the intensity from here on out!"

Ma Chung tossed something down in front of Yun Cheon, who was holding the horse stance.

Clang—!

The sound of iron striking the floor was heavy in a way that was hard to forget.

Four steel rings, forged of solid metal.

"Wear them on your wrists and ankles."

Silently, Yun Cheon reached out a trembling arm and picked up the cold rings.

The moment he strapped them on, a heaviness like his whole body sinking into the earth crashed over him. His muscles, already pushed to their limit, screamed.

"Ugh……"

At the groan forced from Yun Cheon's mouth, Ma Chung smiled with satisfaction.

"Heh heh… how's that? The weight will keep increasing. This is where the real training begins. Steel yourself! Back into the horse stance!"

How much time passed after that, he could not say.

The iron rings were nothing like the sandbags commonly used in training. It was not just their weight — it was the material itself. Alongside a pain that felt like his joints were being wrenched out of alignment, the sensation of solid steel gnawing into his flesh slowly devoured his mind.

To think… I still can't bear even this much weight.

At last, Yun Cheon's knees buckled.

Crash!

His body collapsed and was flung hard against the cold floor of the training hall.

Scraaape.

The rings strapped to his limbs scraped noisily across the ground.

"Hah… hah…"

Air refused to reach the deep recesses of his lungs. He lay face-down on the floor, barely dragging in ragged breaths.

Ma Chung looked down at him impassively and spoke.

"It is only when the body reaches its limit that it prepares to accept something new."

He urged Yun Cheon, still sprawled on the ground, to rise.

"Get up. You may remove the rings now. From here, you'll be learning proper forms."

But Yun Cheon shook his head, and rose to his feet without taking off the rings.

"Are you out of your mind!"

Shock rang through Ma Chung's voice.

"Training forms in that state isn't practice, it's self-mutilation! Take them off, this instant!"

But instead of answering, Yun Cheon simply moved his staggering body.

Circulating the faint energy of the Heaven and Earth Moving Art, he forced his knee joints to straighten and planted himself as if rooting into the ground. A will like tempered steel was hauling his body upright by sheer force.

Seeing that mad gleam in his eyes and the resolve behind it, Ma Chung found himself at a loss for words. He let ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out a long sigh.

"Hmph. Even the body needs time to adapt, fool… Fine. Do as you please, then."

Whuum—!

Ma Chung's leg tore through the air with the sound of thunder. It was no mere kick — a rotation powered from the hips as its axis, the force detonating off the tip of his foot. In its wake remained a blood-red afterimage and a tearing shockwave.

"Blood Wind Leg, First Form — Wind Thunder. Can you unfold it properly even with the rings on?"

The form training came directly on the heels of that hellish conditioning.

Yet Yun Cheon gritted his teeth and hauled himself upright, swaying.

…If it means reclaiming Kunlun, training like this is nothing!

Yun Cheon perfectly replayed the movement Ma Chung had just demonstrated inside his mind. Then he forced his trembling legs to move.

Shhh….

Because of the iron rings' weight, the movement was slow and crude. There was no cutting shockwave — not even a whisper of wind.

But the posture itself matched, to the very inch, what Ma Chung had shown moments before.

"……!"

Stunned disbelief flooded Ma Chung's eyes as he watched.

The relentless bastard! Without speed, the form only becomes harder… at this rate I was certain he'd be begging me to take the rings off!

Yun Cheon never asked to have the rings removed for the rest of that day's training.

No — it was the same even after training ended. His limbs, walking out of the training hall, were still weighted down with the heavy iron rings.

The sight was enough to fluster even the instructor himself.

"You… don't tell me you intend to live with those rings on permanently?"

"…That is my intention."

Yun Cheon's answer was entirely matter-of-fact — like a swordsman who keeps his blade at his side even as he sleeps, never letting it stray far.

For now… these iron rings are my sword, in their own way.

To Yun Cheon, refusing to remove the rings was the most natural thing in the world.

Ma Chung stared at him blankly for a moment, then let out a hollow laugh.

"Heh, suit yourself… stubborn bastard… no, you're a madman through and through."

The instructor muttered behind Yun Cheon's departing back.

"Tch, I'll have to put in an order at the smithy right away. Double the weight this time… Damn it, at this rate it'll be my savings going up in smoke."

If Ma Chung's training was a blazing furnace that tempered the body in sweat and blood, then Ya Jin's training was an abyss that froze even sound and presence themselves.

His lessons always began in perfect darkness.

"…Iron rings? The ones Ma Chung gave you?"

"Yes, sir."

"…As a means of rapidly conditioning the body, it's not a bad choice. But in that state, can you withstand my instruction?"

"I will try."

A deep, sardonic smile crept across Instructor Ya Jin's lips.

"Hah. Go on and try, then. The first virtue of a killer is not strength — it is a sense that surpasses your target. Even wearing those rings, the intensity of my training will not be lowered. Not by one measure."

A special training ground with not a single ray of light. Ya Jin's voice echoed coldly off the walls.

"Erase yourself. Your breathing, your footsteps, your very presence — all of it. You must become perfect nothingness."

Ya Jin's first task was always the same: to cross the training ground from end to end in silence, where dry leaves and small glass beads lay scattered across the floor.

But this time, something was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠different. The instant Yun Cheon took his first step, the iron rings on his ankles let out the faintest sound.

Chrrk—.

A noise that would never have drawn notice under ordinary circumstances.

Damn it….

But in this chamber of silence, it might as well have been thunder.

"I told you I would show no mercy! You brought this on yourself!"

Whish!

Wooden rings split the darkness toward the sound, raining blows across Yun Cheon's entire body.

"Kgh!"

The strength drained from his legs and Yun Cheon staggered — and in that instant, the rings on his limbs sounded out once more.

Rustle. Chrrk.

"The moment you decided to keep those rings on, you had to kill even their sound!"

Ya Jin's voice was cold and utterly without emotion.

Gathering his ragged breath, Yun Cheon searched for an answer.

Ma Chung's training demanded the explosive release of power; Ya Jin's demanded that same power be perfectly killed. Two demands in perfect opposition.

This won't do. The harder I try to suppress it with force, the louder it gets….

At that moment, the first mantra of the Heaven and Earth Moving Art flashed through his mind. Its principle was not the piling up of force, but entrusting the body to the flow of heaven and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠earth itself.

Have I been rejecting the weight of the rings with everything I had, without even realizing it…?

Do not resist the weight by force — accept the heavy steel as one accepts an irresistible force of nature.

Yun Cheon recalled the mantra and consciously wiped awareness from every muscle in his body, letting the tension go. Only then did the taut strain melt away, and the pain in the strapped areas slowly faded.

Slide….

His movements, as he rose again, were entirely transformed. Like water flowing; like a shadow brushing along a wall. Without opposing the weight of the steel, he used even its pull, moving his body along with the flow.

…He silenced the sound even with the rings on? No — that's not it!

The dry leaves did not crunch beneath his feet. The glass beads merely rolled quietly along his path, making no sound at all.

It's as if… the boy's movements feel like a single unbroken current.

Yun Cheon finally crossed the training ground without emitting a single sound.

"Hoo…."

Only then did the breath he had been holding escape him in a long exhale.

They say among those born with innate blocked meridians, many are short-lived geniuses… but this one runs on an entirely different track!

For the first time, shock lit Ya Jin's eyes as he watched from the darkness.

If only that body of his could be repaired… this world's sects — no, all of the Central Plains — might witness the birth of a killer counted among the very finest.

Ya Jin's low voice, charged with an unfamiliar excitement, rolled out from behind him.

"…Those rings alone are insufficient to suppress your talent. From tomorrow, I will strip away your senses, one by one. The first — your sight."

Completely spent, Yun Cheon sat in a corner of the Spiritual Nutrition Hall. The heavy rings on his limbs made even the simple act of sitting an ordeal.

Everyday movements are harder than the martial arts that use the big muscles…

Walking, running, performing techniques — these relied mostly on the large muscle groups. But lifting food to one's mouth with a spoon engaged the smallest, finest muscles of all.

…Chopsticks are out of the question.

Not even attempting the chopsticks, Yun Cheon lifted his spoon with a trembling hand. Only with that shaking grip could he barely bring the medicinal cuisine to his lips.

This was what it meant to live with iron rings on one's body — every ordinary motion became stimulation for the muscles. So exhausted was he that even his appetite had withered.

…I can't even taste it.

But for the body to recover, nutrition was essential. The warm energy of the medicine-laden food, swallowed by force, slid down his throat.

And at that very moment —

"Hmph. All by yourself with such fine medicinal food. Your tokens must be bleeding dry."

Along with the prickly voice, someone sat down across from him. It was Yayul Hui.

Arms crossed, she looked Yun Cheon over with eyes that mixed contempt with curiosity.

"Just how long do you intend to lug those steel weights around? You can't even manage your chopsticks properly. What's the point of training if your body falls apart first?"

The tone was curt, but worry seeped through beneath it.

"……"

As if he lacked even the strength to respond, Yun Cheon continued his meal in silence. The moment Yayul Hui's brows began to knit at his indifference, another voice cut in.

"Well, well, you two. Still stuck on awkward newlywed terms, I see?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Yu Ha, having appeared from who knows where, settled naturally into the seat beside them. His gaze flicked between Yun Cheon's meal and Yayul Hui's expression, and he smiled as though something delighted him.

"I've heard all about you. Half the rumors in the Hidden Demon Cave trail behind you these days. They say you've become the madman who clatters around day and night without ever taking those iron rings off?"

While Yu Ha spoke, conspicuous snickers drifted over from the other side of the dining hall. Muk Ha-jin's clique. Their voices were slyly pitched to carry to everyone present.

"Keh keh, look over there. Get a load of that beggar decked out in steel weights like a walking chandelier."

"Does he actually think that'll make him strong? Given how he thinks, I suppose…"

"To think a member of the Twelve Guardian Families would associate with such trash. Well… the blood of a frontier barbarian can't be hidden, after all."

Crack—!

As Yayul Hui's hand tightened around her chopsticks, they split and snapped. A cold bloodlust flickered in her eyes. The moment she started to rise from her seat, Yu Ha pressed lightly on her shoulder.

"Whoa, easy there. No need to mind that pack of stray dogs."

He tilted his chin toward Yun Cheon.

Yun Cheon spared not a single glance for Muk Ha-jin's clique, his attention fixed entirely on the food before him — a calm so absolute it suggested the yapping of dogs wasn't even worth acknowledging.

At that sight, the fury coiled in Yayul Hui's chest subsided of its own accord.

"More to the point, Yun Cheon — can you really keep this up? All that expensive medicinal food, and internal injury medicine besides… your tokens must be nearly at the bottom. It's about time you needed more, no?"

"What? Internal injury medicine too? Don't tell me you're the one behind that strange rumor as well…?"

Yayul Hui pressed, but Yun Cheon had drifted deep into thought.

Yu Ha's words pierced his circumstances exactly. The tokens he had wrung from the instructors were already spent. All that remained to him were ten.

…Indeed. It would be good to reinforce my supply of medicinal ingredients.

Yun Cheon set down his spoon and looked at Yu Ha. His eyes asked plainly: So what's the real point of all this?

Yu Ha, as if he'd been waiting for exactly that, curled his lips into a smile.

"As it happens, there's an opportunity to earn some tokens just waiting to be seized. How about it? Tonight, in fact. Interested?"

Instead of answering, Yun Cheon scooped the last of his medicinal food into his mouth without leaving a trace — as if to gather in even a single mote of spirit energy more.

Setting down the empty bowl, Yun Cheon replied.

"…Perfect timing."