The Ruined House
Ruined house.
That was the first phrase that popped into Woo-gang's mind upon seeing the building before him.
The walls had more holes than solid sections, and the pillars were rotted in places.
He wondered how it even supported the roof's weight, but the roof was in no better shape.
And there were three such buildings.
'Worse than the shack I lived in,' Woo-gang muttered inwardly.
The front yard—or what used to be one—was overgrown with weeds.
Some reached up to Woo-gang's waist.
The two pushed through the weeds toward the largest of the three buildings.
Inside, it opened into a surprisingly spacious area, empty and echoing with emptiness.
If not for the sunlight streaming through the holes in the ceiling, it would have felt dank and gloomy.
Only when they reached the center did Yeom Si-woo stop.
"Curious about what this place is?"
"Yes."
"They say it used to be teeming with people. I never saw it myself, though."
Woo-gang glanced up at him.
"This is our sect—and yours. It's just a shell now, a place whose arts aren't passed to the unworthy, but long ago, it was quite prosperous."
'Sect...'
Woo-gang murmured the word.
For some, "sect" evoked a sense of unbreakable security, but it stirred nothing in him.
He had no concept of such things, and all he saw was this barren landscape.
Normally, one might ask the sect's name, but Woo-gang felt no curiosity.
Yeom Si-woo showed no intention of volunteering it either.
"We'll live here from now on."
"How long?"
"Can't say. It depends on your progress."
Woo-gang frowned slightly.
Staying long in a place like this seemed impossible.
The hot, humid cave had felt far better.
As Woo-gang thought that, Yeom Si-woo approached the one intact wall.
Painted on it was a blazing fire dragon.
Despite years without care, the image remained vivid.
Yeom Si-woo pressed firmly on one of the dragon's eyes.
To Woo-gang's shock, the eye sank inward.
Rumble rumble rumble!
A powerful vibration shook the air, and the painting split apart.
Behind the wall lay an unknown darkness.
"Let's go in."
At Yeom Si-woo's words, Woo-gang hurried to his side, and they stepped into the space.
Whoosh!
The darkness ignited with light.
Narrower than the cave but impeccably maintained—unlike the exterior—the interior gleamed.
No holes in walls or ceiling, pillars fresh as new.
To Woo-gang, it was the most luxurious place he'd ever seen.
He gawked, looking around in awe.
"You'll train here from now on."
"Here?"
"Yes."
Woo-gang felt a wave of relief at the answer.
It seemed easier than the cave training.
"See the lines on the floor?"
"Yes."
A square about twenty jang across was etched into the floor.
"Step to the center."
Woo-gang did so without a second thought.
"Now you're trapped there."
Woo-gang's eyes widened at the unexpected words.
"Three si a day."
"Three si practicing spear arts and Hyeoncheon Yeolhwa Singong here?"
Yeom Si-woo shook his head.
"You'll figure it out naturally. Far more painful than the cave. Stay sharp."
Yeom Si-woo always grew serious discussing training.
He hid it well, but worry flickered through.
This time, the intensity surpassed even the cave.
Woo-gang tensed accordingly.
"Learn through your body. Old-fashioned, maybe inefficient, but in the brutal jianghu, it'll be your foundation."
Rumble!
Something descended from the ceiling.
A massive iron wall extended downward.
Confusion filled Woo-gang's eyes as he watched.
Yeom Si-woo's figure vanished behind it, plunging the space into pitch black.
Whoosh!
Fortune or misfortune, flames lit the darkness from all sides.
Rumble!
Woo-gang tensed at the sound.
His grip tightened on the wooden staff he'd brought.
And then—
Whish!
Heavy whooshes filled the air as staffs flew at him from every direction.
Woo-gang swung his desperately.
Clack clack thwack thwack thwack!
He couldn't predict their paths; blocks were outnumbered by hits.
Cave drills had perfected his thrusts and swings, but it wasn't enough.
A staff from behind slammed his back; one from the side bruised his ribs.
He barely parried a frontal one, but it grazed his shoulder.
"Urgh!"
Woo-gang groaned.
He rarely made a sound, but this was unbearable.
Thwack thwack clack crack thwack!
He staggered.
Staffs kept coming relentlessly; he dodged and swung without pause for pain.
Crack!
One struck his torso hard.
Breath caught; excruciating pain froze him—couldn't breathe, lift his staff, or move.
"Gah!"
He collapsed to his knees.
The onslaught continued.
And this hell was only beginning.
***
Rumble!
After three si, the iron wall rose back to the ceiling.
Yeom Si-woo stood in the same spot, watching silently.
Woo-gang emerged—sprawled on the floor, a wretched sight.
Even the village beatings hadn't been this bad.
Yet Yeom Si-woo's expression remained unchanged.
He approached slowly, infusing qi to check Woo-gang's state.
'Better than expected.'
Relatively good, though unconscious from severe injuries.
Yeom Si-woo lifted him carefully.
A faint groan escaped Woo-gang's lips amid his stupor.
Outside the lines, Yeom Si-woo laid him down and removed his clothes.
Bruises covered the exposed body.
Silently, he applied golden wound salve everywhere.
Thankfully, no broken bones or swelling.
After tending him thoroughly, he covered Woo-gang with a blanket against the chill.
Woo-gang woke over two si later.
"Ugh!"
He grimaced, opening his eyes with a groan—but fell silent after.
Struggling upright, he realized he was naked and reached for his clothes.
Piercing pain halted him mid-motion; breath stuck.
"Hoo..."
After steadying, he exhaled deeply and grabbed the clothes.
Even dressing took ages.
Sweat-soaked and exhausted, he collapsed back down.
"You're awake."
Yeom Si-woo entered, bowl of medicine in hand.
Woo-gang now understood the apothecary stop.
It had been far more agonizing than expected—wish they'd bought more.
"Drink. It'll ease the pain."
Woo-gang downed the herbal brew in one gulp.
Bitter taste and scent filled his mouth.
Home remedies would've been nightmarish by comparison.
"Keep moving, focus your mind. Don't just watch—listen, feel with your body. Open all your senses to endure."
Yeom Si-woo said, taking the empty bowl.
Woo-gang knew it was training advice.
"Never wondered why I don't explain kindly, in detail?"
Woo-gang stayed silent.
"You're curious—or think it's odd. Why go this far? The arts you must master can't be learned properly through words and gentle guidance. Don't resent me."
"I don't."
Yeom Si-woo nodded.
"Emerge unscathed, without a single hit, and you'll understand its purpose naturally."
"Yes."
Woo-gang replied curtly.
It hurt, but quitting never crossed his mind.
He was numb to beatings.
Fiercer than before, but bearable.
"Mornings, train Hyeoncheon Yeolhwa Singong same as always. Skip spear arts for now."
Woo-gang nodded.
Soon, sleep claimed him again.
Next morning.
Woo-gang dragged his aching body up, sat cross-legged with effort, and cultivated Hyeoncheon Yeolhwa Singong.
He didn't forget the apothecary's recovery pills beforehand.
With the medicine, qi coursed through, soothing his injuries.
Pain ebbed; a gentle embrace made him feel alive.
Savoring it, he trained longer than usual before opening his eyes.
Yeom Si-woo was preparing food; they ate his simple meal.
Then Woo-gang stood, grabbing his wooden staff.
Despite the order to rest spear arts, he had no intention of stopping.
Trapped in the iron walls, he'd realized: dodging alone wouldn't suffice.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
He swung.
Stabbing pain flared with each, but he grimaced and persisted.
Yeom Si-woo didn't stop him.
Couldn't.
Woo-gang's will burned hotter than ever.
Pain fading, power built in his swings.
After warming up thoroughly, he stopped.
"Hoo..."
Deep breaths; sweat drenched him.
He stepped into the marked square.
Rumble!
The iron wall descended as if waiting.
Yeom Si-woo watched without blinking.
Woo-gang's form vanished behind it.