Swings in the Whirlpool Depths
“Thrusting demands precision, but swinging is different. Agility matters more than accuracy here, so focus on that.”
With those final words, Si-woo fell silent.
After finishing his thrusting drills, Woo-gang brimmed with confidence.
He'd figured swinging would be tough too, just like the grueling thrusts—but he wasn't worried.
It would hurt, sure, but he could push through anything now.
That illusion shattered on the first day in the second pool.
For starters, the water was cooler than the first pool.
And it was roughly four times wider.
Especially underwater—it looked even more spacious from outside, plenty of room to swing the staff.
But the depth... it was absurdly deep.
Woo-gang panicked hard.
His head went under, and his feet still hadn't touched bottom.
From the surface, it just seemed choppier, but inside was chaos.
Fierce, inexplicable whirlpools tossed his body like a leaf.
The depth was bad enough, but the swirling currents from every direction threw him into total disarray.
Flailing against the deep water and eddies, Woo-gang finally surfaced, pale as a ghost, and looked to Si-woo.
But Si-woo just stared back with an impassive face and eyes.
As if nothing mattered, win or lose.
To Woo-gang, this Si-woo felt utterly alien.
But he shook it off, steeled himself, and eyed the pool again.
It'll be fine.
No way Si-woo would let him drown in a pinch—he'd saved him from certain death before, promised him a reason to live.
That trust gave him a sliver of faith: dangerous, maybe, but not fatal.
“Hoo...”
Deep breath in, Woo-gang dove back in—staffless this time.
Adaptation first, swinging second.
He still floundered, but less frantically than before.
Si-woo watched him plunge in, gaze lingering, then turned away.
Splash!
Woo-gang hit the water.
Days later, and the brutal whirlpools still wrecked his balance.
He kicked down toward the bottom.
But the more he struggled, the more the currents swept him up.
Movement burned his breath faster too—no staying down long.
Minutes in, he bailed.
“Pha!”
Gasping out held air, Woo-gang draped over the edge, catching his breath.
Once steady, back in he went.
Down. Get down, no matter what.
Teeth gritted.
“Kuh!”
Whirlpools rattled him again.
But he focused, tensed his body—shaking, yes, but sinking slowly.
Progress, but glacial.
At this rate, he'd surface before bottom—or right after.
And sure enough, breath running short.
Tensing against the swirl gassed him quick.
Dizzy, battered, mind fraying—still, he clung to one thought: down.
Do something.
Teeth clenched—and then his qi moved on its own.
Whoosh!
First to his chest, soothing his burning lungs.
Pain eased; he could last. So he guided it downward—simple, to his feet.
And then—
Sink!
Pulled like a magnet, straight down.
Sand underfoot—Woo-gang blinked, stunned.
The bottom... grabbed me?
Replaying the sensation.
Accidental, but pure Thousand-Jin Drop essence.
Master it fully, and he'd stick even in this maelstrom. Not quite yet.
Lucky hit—needed reps to own it.
Joy short-lived.
“Ugh!”
Too slow a descent; breath gone. He kicked up fast.
Surfacing, panting—but smiling.
Touchdown was step one. Sticking next. Progress.
And solo—no help. Pride swelled.
Breath caught, back in—with glee.
Slash! Slash!
Woo-gang's staff cleaved water fiercely.
Resistance blunted speed despite his power.
Feet planted firm on sand—half-buried, qi anchoring.
Toes clamped a protruding rock below; qi locked him tight.
Early cramps, now adapted.
Slash!
Full swing—abs tightening, chest bulging, arms rippling.
Then—
Plop! Plop!
Something dropped from above.
Stones?
Whirlpool haze at first, then clear: rocks whizzing past.
Whoosh!
One rock, swirling nearby, rocketed at him.
Reflex swing—too slow, drag.
Dodged by twisting head, heart pounding.
Waiting for this?
Si-woo, obviously. No rocks before.
Patience till adapted, then toss 'em in.
Swinging focuses on agility.
Whoosh!
Splash-crack!
Thwack!
Another rock incoming—staff missed again.
Dodge failed; grazed shoulder.
Teeth grind.
Head hit? Dead in here.
Stay sharp.
But breath maxed—rocks or not, time's up.
Too risky now, stones flying wild.
Gurgle!
Bubble burst from mouth—limit.
Kick off—up!
Thwack! Thwack!
Stones clipped ribs, legs mid-ascent.
“Pha!”
Head out, scrambled to edge.
“Kuhhh!”
Collapsed, groaning.
Body bruised everywhere, short session.
Muscle aches and blisters from thrusts? Nothing compared.
Lay still, eyes squeezed, grit through waves of pain.
Clatter!
Even groaning, pool echoed with clashing stones.
Finally stirred, wincing—too sore to stand, crawled to first pool.
Training tomorrow—recover fast.
Nothing beat that pool for healing.
Slid in, limbs screaming, crossed legs—meditation.
Days of agony.
Out of water? Black-and-blue, sometimes torn and bleeding.
Si-woo's golden salve and qi healing helped, but daily dives stalled recovery.
Normal folk? Rest days. Not Woo-gang.
Pain chased every plunge—he kept going.
Splash!
Qi surged fast, speeding sink with leg focus—balanced distribution.
Water drag meant fast swings to block stones.
Whoosh!
Rock from the side, on cue.
Splash-slash!
Clang!
Dead-on hit—rock ricocheted opposite.
Twist, big backswing—
Whoosh!
Late—dodged barely.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Missed shots? Rocks swarmed vengefully.
Clang! Clang!
Swings faster, reactions chaining quicker.
Not enough for all directions.
Thwack! Thwack!
Thigh, forearm stung—power drained, pain flared.
Splash-slash!
Ignored—eyes locked on rocks and staff.
Gurgle!
Breath failing.
Focus held—no thought of surfacing.
Splash-slash!
Clang!
Last rock deflected—blackout.
Body limp, swirled into stones.
Thwack!
Temple grazed.
Then—
Sink—whoosh up!
Splash!
Si-woo hauled him out.
Laid him down, qi cleared airway water.
“Kuhk!”
Water spewed; breath returned.
Still out, Si-woo carried him from the pool.