When Cadets Become Enemies
The promise Gal Mu-heun had made sent ripples through the entire pavilion.
The eyes of the cadets packed into the training grounds blazed with greed and ambition.
'Damn it all! Sparring between cadets — that's how it's always been!'
Even Drill Instructor Ma Chung was clearly flustered, which suggested he hadn't known the content of the assessment either. If things went on like this, there'd be no point in the trouble he'd taken to arm Yun Cheon with iron rings and teach him at all.
Senior Drill Instructor Ya Jin, for his part, stroked his chin, wholly absorbed in analyzing this unfamiliar examination format.
'…A treacherous setup.'
On the dais, Pavilion Lord Gal Mu-heun swept his gaze across the seething cadets and the instructors who were scarcely less tense.
"As you all know… a cadet's survival earns its reward. However…."
His frigid voice slid like a blade into the instructors' ears.
"Do not forget that this Pavilion Lord shall be judging the instructors as well."
That chilling declaration spread a taut tension even through the ranks of the instructors.
Whatever their rank above the cadets, a drill instructor was still an assistant — not a true faculty officer. Within the cult as a whole, their position counted for little. One careless mistake, and being stripped of their instructorship was no remote possibility.
Gal Mu-heun seemed satisfied with their reaction. With a tilt of his chin, he gestured toward one side of the dais, shrouded in shadow.
There, shadowy figures of unknown identity sat motionless.
"Heh heh… For this evaluation, talented scouts have even come to observe from each organization of the cult itself. Any instructor who shows himself a fool had best be prepared."
His voice carried a trace of laughter, but the content was unmistakably a threat.
This exam was no longer merely about the cadets' survival. It had become a board on which the instructors' honor and futures hung in the balance.
The students the instructors had poured their very souls into teaching had, in an instant, become their enemies.
Worse, going too hard against those who had started at a low level would count against them — which meant the instructors' eye for talent was itself under examination.
It was a breathtaking paradox.
The instructors' faces stiffened, and the way they looked at their students changed.
Gal Mu-heun, pleased with the atmosphere he had manufactured, at last raised his hand.
"Then, the Hidden Demon Cave evaluation shall begin."
His declaration echoed across the vast training grounds.
"The sparring rules are simple. Internal energy is forbidden, as is taking a life. Begin!"
Before the words had even finished echoing, clashes erupted simultaneously atop the dozens of sparring platforms erected across the grounds.
The dull crack of bone meeting flesh, the sharp whistle of blades rending the air — explosions of violence burst from every direction.
"Kuhk!"
"Ughak!"
The cadets' battle cries, charged with desperation, mingled with the instructors' cold commands — and the short screams of those who fell and were cast out.
However much these were students they had taught, the moment an instructor's own neck was on the line, there was no mercy to be had. They had been told to hold back, but any cadet who fell short of even that lowered bar was eliminated in the blink of an eye.
Yun Cheon swept the whole of the arena with sharp eyes.
'The instructors' skill is roughly first-rate….'
The realm of First-Rate was a curious one. Beyond it stood a distant wall with a name — Peak.
Which meant that if cadets of this age could stand against the instructors, they would rival the rising prodigies of any storied orthodox sect.
First-rate was the highest realm an ordinary person could reach through relentless training — through sweat and time invested without end. Yet it was also a realm of despair, littered with those who trained their whole lives and died without ever crossing that wall.
'So the instructors aren't merely teachers — they entered the pavilion to try and cross that wall.'
After all, the level at which one could teach and guide others ended at first-rate. Everything beyond was determined solely by one's innate talent and enlightenment. The instructors were, in other words, those who had reached first-rate and earned the right to teach — and at the same time, those who now stood blocked before the wall.
'For abducted cadets to face instructors within a single year would be asking too much… unless they were children of the cult, raised in the martial arts from infancy.'
For most of the cadets, simply holding out against an instructor seemed a struggle.
Yun Cheon took his place along the outer edge of the many platforms. Beside him stood Yu Ha and Yayul Hui, arms crossed.
Yu Ha watched the pandemonium like a spectator at some diverting spectacle, and began offering commentary. Where his chin pointed, a cadet was being knocked sprawling by a single kick from an instructor.
"The instructors aren't holding back. That fellow won't be seeing the Hidden Demon Cave again."
Just as his commentary wound down, Yayul Hui's turn was called.
"Next, Cadet Yayul Hui!"
She gave Yun Cheon and Yu Ha a glance of farewell and headed for the platform.
'I'll go first.'
But beneath the light farewell, her heart brimmed with competitive fire.
'Yun Cheon. Yu Ha. I'll show you both something better.'
True to her resolve, Yayul Hui's duel set itself on an entirely different course from the other cadets' from the very first exchange. She circled the instructor with minimal movement, and his vicious strikes cut nothing but empty air, time and again, against her restrained footwork. Her gaze was fixed on a single point at the instructor's bare chest — the exact spot where the iron ring would be fastened after the half-quarter.
'The real contest begins once the iron ring goes on.'
Braaang—!
At last the gong sounded, marking the half-quarter.
"Cadet Yayul Hui. The movement you've shown so far has been splendid. I, too, shall give you my best from here on."
The moment the instructor fastened the iron ring across his chest, Yayul Hui lowered her blade into the ready stance.
Yet she, too, had not been fighting at full strength.
The next instant, her aura transformed.
"Haahp!"
With her cry, the blade left its sheath, and a violent wind swept the platform. The Wild Wind Thirteen Sabers of the Wild Wind Yayul Family finally unfurled from her fingertips!
The first form — Single Blade Severs the Wind!
Kaaang!
The instructor parried it without trouble, but that was only the beginning. Without a moment's pause, the second form — Wild Wind Summons — tore through the air with a shrieking crack, driving straight for the instructor's upper body.
The instant he dodged sideways, Yayul Hui's footwork closed on him like it had been waiting for exactly that.
The third form — Wind God Slays the Shadow!
Like the wind god itself cutting down shadows, her body became a single streak of gale, striking at the instructor's back.
'Ho… quite the level.'
Twisting his body, the instructor launched a counter. But Yayul Hui, as if she had foreseen it, caught the blow on the flat of her blade.
The only defensive form in the Wild Wind Thirteen Sabers — and the fourth form, the one that flowed into a counterattack.
Headwind Returning Saber!
The blade, borrowing and reversing her opponent's force, drove for the instructor's flank. Caught off guard by the unexpected counter, he flinched and flung himself backward, his side robes tearing away in a long strip.
The training grounds stirred.
"The instructor was pushed back?"
"So it's true… a daughter of the Wild Wind Yayul Family?"
Before the humiliated instructor could even square his stance, Yayul Hui's assault began anew.
The fifth form — Wild Wind Whirling Wheel!
Her body spun like a top, becoming a great wheel of blades that crashed down upon him.
The instructor calmly beat away her saber strikes, one after another.
Kakakakakang!
Victory flashed before Yayul Hui's eyes.
"It ends here!"
There was still one form left — the final technique of the first half of the Wild Wind Thirteen Sabers.
'Blades of Wind, Riotous Dance!'
Her saber left afterimages as it whirled in like a storm.
And that was the exact moment.
"Foolish girl! Unleashing a form you haven't fully mastered!"
The instructor's eyes flashed. Its momentum overwhelmed everything that had come before, but saber force that could not be perfectly controlled was nothing but flourish — and it left a fatal opening wide open.
The instructor absorbed her storm of blades, and did not miss the sliver of an instant when she threw her full strength in and her balance collapsed.
Kwajijik!
Yayul Hui's training saber shrieked and shattered to pieces.
Her body was flung back by the impact, but she did not fall — she planted both feet and stood firm on the ground.
'Kgh… So I still haven't even completed the first half of the Wild Wind Thirteen Sabers.'
Though defeated, her eyes still burned with unbroken fighting spirit. Watching her from the dais, an observer wearing red epaulettes — of the Iron Blood Unit — gave a look of satisfaction.
"Yayul Hui, is it…? Her spirit is fairly impressive. Worth raising…."
Yayul Hui descended from the platform with her broken saber in hand, her steps perfectly composed.
As she came down from her bout, someone called out to her.
"Hey, Yayul Hui! That's all you've got? Open those eyes wide and watch me fight! I'll show you exactly who belongs at your side."
It was Muk Ha-jin of the Serpent Scorpion Muk Family. He threw her an arrogant glance as he passed on his way to his own platform.
"You worked hard. Seems that fellow's rather interested in you."
Yu Ha whispered beside her, sounding amused.
"From what I hear, he's never once asked any instructor to teach him. I suppose he thinks the Muk Family's arts alone are enough?"
"…Hmph. Don't care. Anyway… Yun Cheon."
Instead of answering, Yayul Hui scoffed, then turned to Yun Cheon. Her desire to gauge her own limits ran deeper than her wounded pride.
"How was my saberwork? Any advice for me…?"
He hadn't expected her to be the one asking for counsel, but Yun Cheon answered readily.
"Your intensity wasn't bad. However… it looked as though your feet couldn't keep up with your blade."
Yayul Hui, who had sought the advice, was the one left stunned.
"…How did you see that?!"
"……"
Yun Cheon offered the observation without ceremony, then fixed his gaze on the platform where Muk Ha-jin had ascended.
Standing atop it, Muk Ha-jin flicked his tongue at his opponent like a serpent. This was the instructor who had rated his sinew and bone as the finest he'd seen.
"Instructor. I'm grateful you rated my constitution as top-class, but for this evaluation, you'll need to become my prey."
At the arrogant provocation, the instructor's brow twitched.
"…Cadet Muk Ha-jin. However exalted a scion of the Twelve Guardian Families you may be, one cannot leap over the years."
"If you're so confident, Instructor, why not forgo this tedious endurance match and fight me at full strength, face to face?"
The instructor was a martial artist in his own right — no man who could let a student's taunt pass unanswered. He shot Gal Mu-heun a look, seeking permission.
"Very well. If you both consent, that could be entertaining."
The moment Gal Mu-heun answered, the duel was decided.
Braaang—!
With the opening gong, Muk Ha-jin's movement scattered like smoke.
Serpent's Gliding Step.
Hugging the ground low like a snake crawling across the earth, he did not charge in a straight line but wormed in along a grotesque curve, straight into the instructor's guard.
"What—!"
The instant the instructor hurriedly shifted his stance against the unforeseen movement, Muk Ha-jin's twin fists shot out together.
Yin Serpent Twin-Head Fist!
One fist was a feint aimed at the instructor's face; the other was the true strike, burrowing into his flank like a serpent's fangs.
Thud—!
The instructor hastily dropped his arm to block the blow, but the shock drove him back a step or two.
The training grounds erupted.
"Good heavens! A full-strength bout right off the bat!"
"Muk Ha-jin actually pushed the instructor back!"
"Is that… really the level of a cadet?"
The ease drained from the instructor's face.
'Damn it all! He's already entered the ranks of the first-rate at that age?! This is no ordinary student. He truly means to beat me!'
He no longer saw Muk Ha-jin as a whelp — he recognized him as a first-rate master who could threaten his own position.
"Kkuh…!"
The instructor threw everything into his counterattack. The exchange between the two was on another plane entirely from the other platforms — it looked less like a cadet sparring an instructor than an even match between two masters.
"The half-quarter has passed. Instructor — don the iron ring!"
Even fighting at full strength, he had failed to subdue Muk Ha-jin within the half-quarter.
'If I let some brat hold me up here, my career as an instructor is finished.'
The moment the iron ring was fastened, the instructor's eyes changed.
"I'll finish this right here, brat!"
He surged forward like a storm. The pressure, a full measure heavier than before, hardened Muk Ha-jin's face for the first time. But what rose in his eyes was not fear — it was a venom as cold as a serpent's.
'That country bumpkin, Yun Cheon or whatever his name is, and Yayul Hui too — I can't stand a single one of them! If this had been a proper match, I'd have crushed their pride already!'
His original plan — to subdue Yun Cheon before everyone and restore the honor of the Serpent Scorpion Muk Family — had come to nothing. So now he had no choice but to display overwhelming power even against an instructor.
Muk Ha-jin chose not to evade, but the gambit of mutual destruction.
THWAAAK—!
The very instant the instructor's strike slammed into his abdomen, the serpentine fist Muk Ha-jin had loosed drove for the iron ring.
But the instructor refused to allow it, taking the blow on his shoulder.
Their attacks crossed — yet the outcome was starkly different. Muk Ha-jin's body flew off the platform like a sheet of paper and crumpled to the ground.
An unambiguous defeat.
And yet the instructor left standing on the platform could not raise a cry of victory. He staggered, clutching his shoulder. It was a hollow, half-finished victory — a wound and nothing more.
The training grounds fell briefly silent, then exploded into a roar greater than any before. The student had lost — but by wounding an instructor, he had proven his worth completely.
"Whoaaa!"
"Muk Ha-jin is the best!"
"…Truly the Serpent Scorpion Muk Family. A cut above Yayul Hui, I'd say?"
On the dais, the observer from the Blood Wolf Unit, too, seemed taken with his fighting spirit and murmured low.
'Tenacious and cunning as a serpent. And with the recklessness to stake everything on mutual destruction… I like him.'
Yu Ha, watching from the sidelines, asked Yun Cheon:
"Not bad, huh? Actually wounding an instructor. What do you think, Yun Cheon?"
Yun Cheon, his expression as detached as ever, looked in turn at the instructor staggering off the platform and at Muk Ha-jin being carried away on a stretcher. The judgment that left his lips was utterly cold.
"…Foolish."
"Ho? Harsh assessment."
"In the final moment, the instructor could have crushed his heart. He was spared only because it was a match. Had it been a true battle, the boy would already be dead. That wasn't proof of skill."
Yu Ha looked at Yun Cheon's profile and smiled an intrigued smile.
Just then, his own name rang out.
"Next, Cadet Yu Ha! Ascend the platform!"
Yu Ha gave a shrug.
"Well, well — my turn first. Wish me luck, Yun Cheon."
His gaze turned toward the dais — toward the observers from the Hall of Ten Thousand Demons.
"Your goal, of course, is to catch the eye of that oldest monster up there. Am I wrong?"
"……"
When Yun Cheon merely looked at him instead of answering, Yu Ha, for the first time, smiled a genuine smile.
"I'll be claiming that spot before you do. If you want to be noticed, you'll have to get past me first."
Yu Ha seemed to have his mind on Yun Cheon even more than on his bout with the instructor. With his usual unhurried stride, he made for the center of the platform.
Return of the Cloud Dragon
Author | Chu Sang (Autumn Frost)
Publisher | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Managing Editor | Editorial Department
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