Chapter 151
Chapter 151
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 151
>Chapter Title: Field Training (1)
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While everyone was gazing at Il-mok with eyes full of admiration.
Someone stepped forward to save Il-mok from the humiliating speech right before graduation.
“Lord of Ten Thousand Demons! If I may be so bold, please grant our Aesthetic Body Club the chance to showcase what we’ve prepared all this time!”
The one who threw himself to the ground and shouted that was none other than Instructor Cheok Il-so.
Naturally, all eyes turned to him. In particular, Mak Ho-yeol and Dokgo Pae from the Aesthetic Body Club had tears of emotion welling up in their eyes.
It was because they might finally get the opportunity to show what they’d honed to a great figure.
“This wasn’t discussed beforehand, so step back, Instructor Cheok.”
Of course, the old fogey Headmaster Yeom Ga-hwi replied that way to avoid troubling the Heavenly Demon.
“Hahaha. This old man doesn’t mind, so give them the chance. After seeing the Drama Club’s play, I’m quite curious about the training other clubs have done.”
With the Heavenly Demon’s permission granted, Instructor Cheok Il-so bowed once more and called out the trainees.
“Mak Ho-yeol, Dokgo Pae, Gwak Sul—step forward!”
As if their bodies had been itching for it, Mak Ho-yeol and Dokgo Pae leaped out the moment they were called. Jeong Hyeon and Il-mok felt a strange sense of kinship at the sight of Gwak Sul waddling out behind them.
That attitude, like being dragged to the slaughterhouse, didn’t feel like someone else’s problem at all.
After spending so much time together, it was as if they could now understand each other with just a glance.
Instructor Cheok Il-so, Mak Ho-yeol, and Dokgo Pae, who had stepped forward, locked eyes with each other, nodded, and then.
Riiip.
They immediately tore off the training uniforms they were wearing with all their might.
“For perfect martial arts, external strength is just as important as internal energy! As martial artists seeking to perfect our demonic arts, we shall now showcase the bodies we’ve honed over the past six months!”
After shouting that, Cheok Il-so struck various poses to display his muscles in motion.
It wasn’t the modern bodybuilding poses familiar to Il-mok.
They were wielding their respective weapons—spear, saber, and sword.
But they executed the movements as slowly as possible, without channeling any internal energy.
Twitch. Twitch.
All that was visible was their excessively developed muscles pulsing along with the motions.
“Ugh.”
At that grotesque sight, Il-mok couldn’t help but furrow his brow.
* * *
After the tumultuous graduation ceremony came to an end.
In the Headmaster’s Hall of the Demonic Path Academy, the Heavenly Demon was meeting privately with Headmaster Yeom Ga-hwi.
“I apologize for taking up so much of Your Supremacy’s time.”
In response to the headmaster’s words, the Heavenly Demon smiled gently, like a kindly village elder.
“Hahaha. No need to worry. The trainees of the Demonic Path Academy are the future of our Divine Cult, aren’t they? Watching those children grow is a pleasure for this old man as well.”
After soothing the headmaster, the Heavenly Demon stroked his beard and brought up an intriguing idea.
“More than that, after seeing today’s graduation ceremony, a thought occurred to me. How about continuing to hold them in this manner from now on?”
“…From now on as well?”
When the headmaster asked with a puzzled expression, the Heavenly Demon elaborated.
“Indeed. Didn’t that Baek boy say as much? That through the acting he’d honed in his club, he would proclaim the greatness of our Divine Cult. Club activities are surely meaningful in their own right, so wouldn’t it be good if all trainees showcased what they’ve cultivated at the final graduation ceremony?”
Yeom Ga-hwi bowed in agreement.
“Starting next year, we shall prepare for all clubs to perform at the graduation ceremony.”
Satisfied with the headmaster’s reply, the Heavenly Demon stroked his beard contentedly.
And so, a new tradition was born at the Demonic Path Academy.
A horrific tradition called the graduation performance—one that was no different from a disaster for the introverted trainees.
* * *
After the graduation ceremony, the class that included Baek Cheon and Mak Ho-yeol had departed, restoring the Demonic Path Academy to its usual tranquil atmosphere.
But that was only from the trainees’ perspective. For the instructors of the Demonic Path Academy, this was the busiest time of year.
Instructor Cha Eun-young and the others who had handled the upper class were preparing for the entrance exam to select new trainees, while the instructors teaching Il-mok’s class had to prepare for the upcoming field training schedule.
During the usual morning martial arts lesson.
“Finally, it’s our turn for field training?”
“We’re already second-years. The newbies will be coming in soon.”
“Heh. We’ll have to show them something impressive.”
The trio from the Meditation Club surrounding Il-mok felt the same.
“Uwahaha! Field training at last! Finally, a chance to leave the academy and unleash my martial arts to my heart’s content!”
“Dokgo President, it’s field training. We have to follow the orders of the Combat Unit seniors.”
Dokgo Pae, brimming with thoughts of cutting loose as always, and Gwak Sul trying to rein him in.
“Ohohoho. I’m worried the Combat Unit seniors might fall head over heels for my beauty and flail about.”
“Hehehe. Then they’ll keep chasing after Mihwa? After graduation, they’ll beg her to join their Combat Unit.”
Bang Mi-hwa, exuding baseless confidence, and her best friend Ha Yeong.
“J-Joo Seo-yeon, aren’t you n-nervous? M-Meeting new people again…”
“I’m nervous! With only a year left until we graduate from the academy, I have to catch Young Master Il-mok’s eye within that time!”
Even Joo Seo-yeon and Jeong Hyeon, who had grown somewhat close after spending so long together.
All the trainees in Class A were buzzing with more excitement than usual.
Everyone except one. Il-mok.
“Tsk tsk.”
Il-mok scanned his classmates with pitiful eyes and clicked his tongue.
At Il-mok’s attitude, Instructor Chu Il-hwan, in charge of martial arts training, approached with interest.
“Trainee Il-mok. It seems you’re not looking forward to the field training coming up soon.”
Naturally, the eyes of Class A turned to Il-mok.
But to Il-mok, who had endured even the horrific performances at graduation, this level of attention was nothing.
Il-mok opened his mouth in a bored tone.
“Of course not. Once you leave home, it’s all hardship. It’ll be way tougher than training here at the academy—why would I look forward to it when I should be worrying?”
They apparently found the restricted sparring among classmates stifling while training inside the academy, but Il-mok felt none of that.
He didn’t even need to recall the experiences he’d endured with his eyes wide open in this godforsaken world.
‘Going out for training—how horrific is that?’
He’d already experienced plenty of it back in his days as Seo Ji-hoon, in the Republic of Korea army.
Military life sucked. It sucked hard, but the absolute worst part, no matter what, was training. Especially operational training conducted outside.
‘Can’t even eat properly, doing all sorts of pointless crap, no toilets. Can’t even wash.’
Above all, the last two bothered Il-mok the most. It was hard enough to handle basic bodily functions properly, but not being able to wash?
“Urk.”
For someone with hygiene OCD like him, it was enough to make him dry-heave and break out in cold sweat.
“I need to find a way…”
To Il-mok, this was a matter directly tied to his survival. If he couldn’t find a solution, he might really faint or have a meltdown.
Muttering “solution, solution” to himself with a tense, urgent expression, Il-mok drew a “Hoo” from Chu Il-hwan.
“Hehehe. Everyone, take Trainee Il-mok as an example!”
He suddenly shouted something odd, drawing all the trainees’ attention.
“As Trainee Il-mok says, realize that the field training you second-year trainees are about to undertake is no game! This is training, and it will be far more grueling than life at the academy!”
No matter what was said, the speaker mattered most.
If the academy’s lowest scorer had said it like Il-mok, they’d be seen as a coward fearing training.
“You must ponder, like Trainee Il-mok, how to learn even more during your field training!”
But because it came from Il-mok, the overwhelming top student, it came across not as fear, but as proactive preparation.
As everyone gazed at Il-mok with “As expected!” expressions of admiration at Chu Il-hwan’s shout.
‘Damn. Should I ask Physician Seo to bring a whole jar of disinfectant alcohol?’
Il-mok was lost in thoughts of hygiene, regardless of how others saw him.
* * *
While everyone at the Demonic Path Academy was either excited or anxious about the field training.
In a massive compound on one side of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult’s main headquarters, where a plaque reading [Baek Family] hung, angry shouts were echoing.
“What did you just say?!”
In response to the bellow from Baek Un-hak, patriarch of the Baek Family, his second son Baek Cheon replied.
“I said I’ll apply to one of the Divine Cult’s branches in the Central Plains, Father.”
“You, the second son of our Baek Family—called the demonic path’s prestigious house!! Not even the Combat Unit, but you think it makes sense to become a mere branch warrior?!”
Baek Un-hak’s face flushed red, utterly unlike his name, as he roared.
No matter that Baek Cheon had been called the “Baek Family’s wastrel” before entering the academy, he had believed in his son’s talent.
No, he’d gone around cursing those who called him a wastrel as ignorant fools.
The Baek Family’s signature art, White Flower Demonic Art, inherently carried the side effect of craving attention from others.
Those who cultivated such a demonic art—second sons born into the Baek Family—often acted like wastrels to draw that attention.
‘I was so proud of how quickly he progressed in the White Flower Demonic Art…’
That was why Baek Un-hak hadn’t been disappointed by Baek Cheon’s wastrel antics; he’d actually held high hopes.
‘I’ll make sure to question Headmaster Yeom about this!’
Convinced something had gone wrong at the academy, Baek Un-hak barely suppressed his anger and spoke.
“Think it over carefully, Cheon. If you become a branch warrior, you’ll no longer receive any attention. Even I will cut ties with you, and from the Supremacy on down, everyone in the Cult’s upper echelons will forget you exist.”
It was phrased like advice or persuasion, but the content was pure threat.
He was telling someone suffering from the attention-craving side effect that they would lose all interest.
But Baek Cheon’s reaction defied his father’s expectations.
“Hehehe. Even if you cut off your attention toward me, Father, I don’t mind.”
Baek Un-hak nearly went pale with shock.
‘O-Our Baek Family’s child saying he doesn’t need attention?!’
Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
“W-Wait, did you perhaps damage your dantian at the academy? Or… your head?”
He wondered if he’d lost the White Flower Demonic Art due to injury to his dantian or head.
At Baek Un-hak’s concern, Baek Cheon boldly snapped open his fan.
“The Baek Family is simply too small a vessel for me—that’s all I realized. Thanks to Young Master Il-mok.”
After replying thus, Baek Cheon spun dramatically as if performing, gazing wistfully in a certain direction.
Toward where the Demonic Path Academy was located.
“Young Master Il-mok? Did you say Young Master Il-mok?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Is the Young Master Il-mok you’re talking about the same one I know?”
Silent and steadfast, they say. Baek Un-hak was asking who this damned friend was that had led his once-promising attention-seeker astray.
Of course, Baek Un-hak had heard the name Il-mok before. For the past year or so, it cropped up repeatedly around the headquarters whenever he was about to forget it.
But to hear it from his own son’s mouth.
And as the culprit who led his son astray, no less.
Oblivious to his father’s inner turmoil, Baek Cheon replied with a face full of pride, for some reason.
“If the Young Master Il-mok you mean is the Supremacy’s eighth disciple, the heaven-sent genius Young Master Il-mok, then yes. Thanks to his advice, my eyes were opened, and I realized how narrowly I’d been living. Hahaha.”
At that answer, Baek Un-hak’s gaze unwittingly followed Baek Cheon’s toward the academy.
‘…The eighth disciple entered the academy a year ago, so he’ll graduate next year.’
Patriarch of the Baek Family, one of the five great demonic houses. Baek Un-hak thought to himself.
One year from now. He absolutely had to meet that Young Master Il-mok.