The Doctrine of the Strong
"Twisted bone structure and blocked meridians. There's nothing more to say. Trash grade. Lowest."
Without so much as a glance at him, the Drill Instructor slapped the Lowest tag against his chest and turned away.
'Now!'
This was the habit Yun Cheon had caught—the Drill Instructor's tell. That careless sweep of his arms behind his back the moment his gaze drifted to the next child. The sliver of a gap, no wider than a breath.
Crack—!
As the man's sleeve brushed past, Yun Cheon's five fingers curled with the cunning grace of a living dragon's talons.
It was Cloud Dragon Grasp—the supreme art of Kunlun, the technique with which he had once deflected countless hidden projectiles with his fingertips alone.
The instant his soundless fingertips, reaching into the Drill Instructor's robe, felt the texture of the tag, Yun Cheon snatched it away without a flicker of hesitation.
'That sensation... even in this ruined body, it hasn't rusted.'
Never in his wildest imagination would the instructor have conceived that the scrawny brat just judged Lowest might dare reach into his very robes. Carelessness, met by a precision honed to its absolute extreme—that was what had made this miracle possible.
The first-rate master who had graded Yun Cheon as Lowest noticed nothing at all, and strolled on to the next child as if nothing had happened.
'Whew. That was close.'
Pretending to sweep off his chest, Yun Cheon fastened on the tag he had pilfered.
And so, on Yun Cheon's chest now hung a rank tag bearing a vivid red character: High.
'I can't be thrown away the very moment my second life begins.'
Just as Jeok Mu-gwang had promised, the evaluations proceeded at relentless speed. Once a hundred-odd first-rate masters moved as one, assessing the bones and sinews of several thousand children took less than a single meal's time.
"The evaluations are complete! All of you—check the tag on your chest!"
Every pair of eyes shot down to its owner's breast at once. Yun Cheon, too, looked down at the red High marking pinned to his own.
'The urgent fire is out. But the real game starts now.'
From all around, the children's suppressed sobs and despairing wails began to seep out.
"Anyone with a Lowest tag, get out here! Anyone who doesn't come out on their own will be executed on the spot!"
The children judged Lowest were dragged away like livestock headed for the slaughterhouse.
"From this day forward, you will labor in the Cult's work camps!"
Watching them go, Yun Cheon's eyes sank into cold stillness.
'So this is the way of the Demonic Cult. Endless sacrifices offered up to forge ever more steel...'
That was why, no matter how many Demon Lords he cut down, there had never been an end to them. The fiends snatched children from every corner of the Central Plains and made them into warriors and slaves alike.
And in contrast—what of Kunlun? On that barren frontier land, how much painstaking effort had it poured into winning even a single disciple? Worse still, the Central Plains brimmed with Daoist sects of illustrious reputation; there was no reason at all for anyone to seek out Kunlun, where war with the Demonic Cult was a daily affair.
'Run like this, and no wonder they can't sustain a war of attrition against the Cult.'
Observing the way the Mad Path Pavilion was run, Yun Cheon understood anew that the Demonic Cult was a far more formidable enemy than he had thought.
'The Immortal Elder was right. Destroying them from the outside is difficult.'
Yun Cheon's eyes gleamed as he bit down on his lip.
'But from within, it will be different... I will survive in the very heart of this demonic path, and with my own hands, I will cut off your breath. This is my new Dao.'
By the time his vow of vengeance was sworn, every child judged Lowest had been dragged away.
"Heh heh... only eight remain already. But the makings of a High-grade warrior are not bones and meridians alone!"
Just as expected, a second trial remained.
"Those judged Highest—step forward!"
At Jeok Mu-gwang's shout, Yun Cheon breathed an inward sigh of relief. Having culled out the Lowest, they now intended to sift out the very finest. But presenting this wreck of a body as Highest would be tantamount to suicide. His moderately stolen High tag had proven its worth.
"Any of you who cannot read will have their grade lowered by one step. Step over there."
Among the children judged Highest in bone and sinew, the illiterate ones shuffled forward, cowering. Tattered rags and trembling, bony shoulders—the overwhelming majority looked like children scooped off the streets, lucky if they knew the three characters of their own names.
And yet even in that mud, some held their heads high with pride.
Disciples of the Demonic Cult, draped in lustrous silk martial robes, chins lifted as they surveyed their surroundings. Every face bore the unmistakable stamp of those raised on rich food and easy sleep.
Yun Cheon measured their breathing and skeletal frames at a single glance.
'Raised on expensive elixirs, no doubt.'
Several of the standout ones, still mere children, had already opened their qi channels and carried a substantial internal force—even their martial attainment rivaled that of the Drill Instructors standing right over there.
No wonder they were arrogant. To them, the Mad Path Pavilion was merely a waystation; the certainty that they would soon have these very instructors groveling at their feet glittered in their eyes.
Yun Cheon clicked his tongue lightly.
'Tch. Demonic Cult or orthodox sect—the breed that leans on bloodline and sect name is exactly the same.'
Just as he was sweeping them over with cold eyes, a whisper drifted from among them.
"Checking whether we can read... just like they said."
"Ha! Did you know? A chosen few cadets are given the chance to undergo a procedure that transforms their constitution."
One of the boys lowered his voice, glancing around.
"Shh—you mean the Cult's secret art, the Demonic Bone Metamorphosis Art?"
"That's the one. With it, they say even someone lacking in bone and sinew can soar far past Highest."
In that instant, Yun Cheon's heart dropped with a heavy thud.
'A secret art that transforms the constitution?'
A single possibility flashed through his mind like lightning.
'Could that art cure the blocked meridians too?'
For now, he had to clutch at any straw within reach.
While Yun Cheon's thoughts spun around the secret art, Jeok Mu-gwang's voice rang out once more.
"Next! Those judged High who can read—step forward! You will be given a chance to be reevaluated as Highest."
Yun Cheon's eyes flashed.
'If that secret art can cure my blocked meridians—if it can improve this body even a little—!'
Yun Cheon resolved to take the risk, however much attention it might draw.
"Those finally evaluated as Highest may choose their own martial manuals directly from the Cult's martial library, and will be granted elixirs to match!"
The openly declared benefits were sweet indeed, but that was not Yun Cheon's goal. His target was the secret art whose very existence was uncertain—the Demonic Bone Metamorphosis Art the children had whispered about. The single rope that could change this cursed body.
'...So long as it cures the blocked meridians, growing stronger is beside the point.'
Yun Cheon stepped out from among the High-grade children. A gaunt, skin-and-bones boy draped in filthy rags.
The moment a boy who looked like a captured stray stepped forward, countless gazes flew at him and struck. The vast majority were laced with open contempt.
The instant he joined the tail of the line, a sharp voice finally burst out, unable to hold itself back.
"...Hah. That bone structure is High-grade? Impossible. The Mad Path Pavilion's standards must have fallen into the dirt."
It was a girl in a finely tailored combat silk of red—Yayul Hui.
At her barbed remark, the children around her chimed in, whispering among themselves.
"Never seen that one before. Doesn't look High-grade. Doesn't even look Low-grade."
"He's not from the Twelve Guardian Families or the Ten Demonic Sects, by the look of him."
"Some gutter-rat they dragged in, with no idea of his place."
From the corner of the group, a boy—Yu Ha—caught him with his eyes like a child discovering an amusing new toy.
"Now, now, settle down. We've been handed such an entertaining spectacle, after all."
Yu Ha cut in smoothly, slipping himself in front of Yayul Hui.
"Whether that fellow's nerve is real, or whether he's simply an idiot... the instructors will judge that themselves. All we have to do is enjoy the show."
"Hmph!"
Yayul Hui scoffed and turned her head away.
It was at that exact moment that it happened.
Instructor Jeok Mu-gwang, who had been surveying the other children with a satisfied expression, seemed to register the commotion and turned his head.
"What is this racket?!"
His gaze halted squarely on Yun Cheon, standing at the very end of the line. The instructor's brow furrowed in a heartbeat.
"What in the world is that one?!"
At the thunderous bellow, the gazes of the surrounding Drill Instructors all snapped toward him at once.
"Who judged that walking corpse as High?! What half-witted Drill Instructor handed down a ruling like this?!"
At Jeok Mu-gwang's roar, Yun Cheon could see the face of the very instructor whose tag he had stolen earlier drain to the color of ash.
The instigator of the whole commotion, however, remained perfectly composed. No—there was even a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Because the larger the scene grew, the better it was for Yun Cheon.
"Who was it, then! Which Drill Instructor evaluated this one?!"
In answer to Jeok Mu-gwang's shout, Yun Cheon said nothing—instead, he silently pointed a finger at the Drill Instructor who had graded him Lowest.
"It was that Drill Instructor over there, sir—the master of leg techniques."
Every gaze in the hall converged on a single point. Instructor Jeok Mu-gwang's brow knotted.
'Ma Chung of the Blood Wind Leg? He's hardly so inept that he'd fail to properly assess bone and sinew... what's going on?'
Even as he looked at Ma Chung, Jeok Mu-gwang dispatched his energy-sense to scrutinize Yun Cheon closely.
'And more than that... how in the world did this brat know Ma Chung was a master of leg techniques? Judging by his wretched dress, he's no scion of a cult family either...'
Hiding his thoughts behind a voice of frozen iron, Jeok Mu-gwang drove out each word with force.
"Ma Chung... was it you?"
"Th-that's not it, sir! Instructor! I clearly graded that brat as—!"
The very moment a flustered Ma Chung scrambled to defend himself, Yun Cheon cut him off.
"Your assessment of my bone structure was perfectly accurate, sir. However..."
Jeok Mu-gwang's brow carved itself deeper.
"What did you say...?"
Yun Cheon had deliberately interjected himself, dragging every gaze in the hall onto his own body. Then, before the eyes of all, he peeled the High-grade tag from his chest with his own hands.
And beneath it, a black tag appeared, stamped with the grade Lowest.
The training ground erupted into murmurs.
"What's going on?"
"High-grade, and underneath it says Lowest?"
"Two rank tags?!"
Not a single soul seemed to grasp what was actually happening.
Amid that confusion, Yun Cheon tossed the peeled-off High tag down at Ma Chung's feet with a light flick.
"You let your guard down, sir. I'm returning what belongs to you."
Clang—.
The sharp sound of the jade plaque striking the floor carved itself vividly into everyone's ears.
"......!"
Only then did everyone understand: Yun Cheon had stolen the High-grade tag from Ma Chung himself.
Having not only blundered but been publicly humiliated before the entire hall, every trace of color left Ma Chung's face.
Yun Cheon at last lifted his head and looked the frozen Jeok Mu-gwang dead in the eye.
"Is what the Cult seeks not a child of outstanding martial talent, sir?"
"You claim to possess outstanding martial talent?"
As if he had just heard something thoroughly amusing, Jeok Mu-gwang curled his lips into a savage grin.
"Then let's see it... Prove it!"
With those words, the pressure Jeok Mu-gwang exuded crashed over Yun Cheon like a wave.
'Kgh... testing me, is he...'
This was the aura of a supreme master at his peak. Under the suffocating pressure, every joint in his body screamed as though it would shatter.
Yun Cheon ground his molars together without meaning to.
'Having come this far, retreat means the end!'
A brackish thread of blood welled up between his teeth.
"Bone and sinew are... kgh. Nothing more than a vessel one is born with."
A trickle of blood ran down along his lips, but Yun Cheon did not stop.
"Between a vessel that merely looks the part, and a vessel that may be rough-hewn yet carries a blade within—which of the two accords with the Cult's own law of Survival of the Strong? Which, then, is true martial talent?"
The instant Yun Cheon raised the Cult's own doctrine against it in front of everyone, a hush fell over the training ground.
The moment someone invoked the doctrine, this ceased to be a mere protest—it risked spiraling into a full doctrinal dispute.
Survival of the Strong.
Short and simple as the doctrine was, its interpretations were legion. Bound together under one roof called the Heavenly Demon Cult, its countless sects and factions had nonetheless drenched themselves in blood for generations over the very meaning of those words—it was something the cultists who knew this dared not speak aloud.
'If the dispute spreads, it's dangerous! The Twelve Guardian Families and the Ten Demonic Sects are present here. The rumor will spread, without fail...!'
'Touching the reverse scale... did that brat do this on purpose?'
Not only the scions of the Demonic Cult, Yayul Hui foremost among the grumblers—even the Drill Instructors sealed their lips.
Jeok Mu-gwang's eyes narrowed to slits. He was beginning to suspect Yun Cheon's origins.
Nothing about the boy's conduct read as petty bravado or desperate flailing. The audacity to worm into the blind spot of a first-rate master. The confidence to endure a supreme master's killing pressure and meet his eyes without wavering. And on top of it all, the sheer nerve to brandish the doctrine itself.
This was no ordinary abducted child.
'Who stands behind you?'
His murderous gaze asked the question in silence, but Yun Cheon's eyes did not so much as tremble. Standing before the instructor who held his very life-strings, daring to break a taboo and demand the meaning of Survival of the Strong—it was a kind of challenge. A kind of madness.
And Jeok Mu-gwang found that he liked the boyish spirit itself more than any hidden background the child might have.
Was this not, after all, the true makings of a Demon of the Cult?
"KHAHAHAHAHA!"
Jeok Mu-gwang's verdict came as wild laughter that shattered the suffocating stillness. Boisterous beyond measure and steeped in madness, the roar of his mirth surged past the dais and swallowed the entire underground training hall.
"Just as you say! This place exists to judge potential—and bone structure is only one measure of it..."
When the mad laughter finally subsided, he nodded, looking for all the world like he was dying of amusement.
"But to think a lunatic would appear who dares wave the doctrine in my face..."
Return of the Cloud Dragon
Author | Choo Sang (Autumn Frost)
Publisher | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Managing Editor | Editorial Department
Published by | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. — Dreambooks
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