Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 61
>Chapter Title: Sloth (2)
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After the spar between Il-mok and the instructor came to an end.
Those who had watched it wore a variety of expressions.
‘When he subdued Dugopa, I felt it then too, but the level really is different.’
‘Still… that much means with just a bit more effort, he could catch up!’
Il-mok had lost to the instructor, but to the cadets watching, it had seemed plenty impressive.
As a result, not a single one of them realized that Il-mok had deliberately lost quickly to hide his true skills.
Except for one person.
‘Heh heh heh. What an entertaining young master.’
Chui Il-hwan, who had sparred with Il-mok during the entrance exam, had vaguely sensed Il-mok’s real power.
That was precisely why he had put Il-mok up against the instructor. He knew none of the cadets could draw out Il-mok’s true abilities.
And yet, even in his spar with the instructor, he hid his skills. And by deliberately losing, no less.
For a follower of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, which reveres the martial way, it was a method that would be hard to even imagine.
But even after noticing this, Chui Il-hwan made no mention of it.
‘I just want to crack open his skull and take a peek inside to figure out his scheme.’
There was no need to share something that had piqued his interest with everyone else.
In front of the cadets, Chui Il-hwan nearly licked his lips without realizing it.
It was a bad habit that surfaced whenever his murderous impulses stirred.
‘Phew. Good thing I left it to Instructor Jang.’
Had Chui Il-hwan sparred with him himself, he might not have been able to hold back and ended up putting a hole in the boy’s head.
Having more or less calmed his impulses, Chui Il-hwan flashed a broad smile toward Il-mok and spoke.
“Hahaha. As expected of Cadet Il-mok. To hold out like that against an instructor!”
At Chui Il-hwan’s first words of praise, the other cadets undergoing training alongside him looked at Il-mok with eyes mixed with envy, admiration, jealousy, and the like.
On the other hand, Il-mok breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Phew. At least he’s just praising me, so maybe he didn’t notice? Then he won’t touch me?’
But defying Il-mok’s hopes, Chui Il-hwan grinned and approached him.
“However, your sword movements still aren’t fully fluid. First off, with the wrist…”
Il-mok’s body shuddered as he stared at Chui Il-hwan’s hand drawing near his own wrist.
* * *
After an hour of Chui Il-hwan’s martial arts instruction came another hour of external training led by a different instructor.
Once the two hours of training concluded, the cadets were granted half an hour for lunch and rest.
And right on cue during that lunch hour, Il-mok’s fellow Gap Class cadets tried to approach him.
Unlike Dugopa, they weren’t looking to challenge him to a spar.
After all, they were now fellow disciples of the Heavenly Demon and classmates at the Demonic Path Academy, so there were more than a few who simply wanted to build some camaraderie.
But by the time they drew near to strike up a conversation, Il-mok was for some reason hurrying off somewhere other than the cafeteria.
“Eighth Young Master. How about joining us for a meal?”
“We’re classmates at the Demonic Path Academy now too, so why not chat a little?”
But Il-mok replied in a rush without even pausing his steps before quickly taking his leave.
“Sorry. I’ve got business at Black Dragon Hall, so go ahead and eat without me!”
Il-mok’s curt rejection and swift departure left a few with slightly offended looks on their faces, while others simply shrugged and headed for the cafeteria.
Among them, three followed after Il-mok with curious expressions toward Black Dragon Hall.
What could possibly have the Heavenly Demon’s disciple rushing back to Black Dragon Hall in such a hurry?
And upon arriving at Black Dragon Hall in pursuit of Il-mok, what they saw was his back as he grabbed a bundle of clothes from his room and bolted toward the baths at tremendous speed.
“…Why’s he going to the baths?”
“To wash up, obviously?”
“That’s what’s weird. There’s training again this afternoon anyway—why bother washing right now?”
As they puzzled over it, one of them muttered as if struck by a sudden realization.
“…No way he pissed himself, right?”
“Pissed himself? What?”
“A bit ago. When the instructor’s sword touched his neck.”
“Ah!!”
The mood was still one of disbelief, but then the guy on the right remembered something and shouted.
“Come to think of it, didn’t the Eighth Young Master’s body tremble right after the spar ended?”
“Hahaha! That’s why he rushed straight here!”
“The Supreme One’s youngest disciple is a piss-your-pants type. These are the end times, I tell you. Heh heh heh.”
It was a grievous misunderstanding that even a bit of sweat was hard for him to endure, let alone piss—if Il-mok heard it, he’d be foaming at the mouth.
* * *
On his way out of Black Dragon Hall after a thorough bath, a refreshed mood had him humming unconsciously.
“Hehe~”
With the sweat washed away, his mind felt much calmer.
Sure, there was training scheduled for the afternoon too, but the thought of eating while still sweaty was horrifying enough on its own.
On top of that, it was the wrist that Chui Il-hwan had groped, so he’d wanted to scrub it off right away.
And furthermore.
‘Eating surrounded by stinky, sweaty guys? Horrific. Absolutely.’
By the time he finished bathing, the others would have eaten already, letting him enjoy his meal in a far cleaner environment all alone.
Truly killing two birds with one stone.
And the moment he arrived at the cafeteria, his prediction proved spot on.
The cadets had apparently already finished eating and left, leaving the place utterly deserted.
‘Hmm. There’s still a faint whiff of sweat lingering, but it’s bearable.’
If it was this bad after they’d all cleared out, he might’ve hurled on the spot if he’d come to eat with them.
Feeling like he’d rented out the whole cafeteria, he grabbed his food, set it on a table, and for a brief moment savored his peaceful meal.
He’d just gotten a few spoonfuls into his mouth when three men entered the cafeteria and headed straight for his table.
“Urp.”
Mid-bite, a thick wave of male body odor hit him, and he dry-heaved on reflex.
‘Damn it. Was my body reeking like that until just now?’
His stomach churning, he scowled at the trio and said.
“I’d like to eat alone, so could you kindly leave?”
Perhaps taking his words as some kind of dismissal, the faces of the three, who had been approaching with smiles, twisted harshly.
But with his gut in knots, he paid no mind to their crumpled expressions.
The problem was that they kept hanging around him, stinking up the place. And the bizarre things coming out of their mouths.
“No matter that you’re the Supreme One’s disciple, aren’t you looking down on us a bit too much?”
“Hmph. If word got out that the Supreme One’s disciple pissed his pants, it’d cause an uproar. Keh heh heh.”
“…What the hell are you babbling about?”
Frowning in sheer absurdity, he demanded an answer, and they continued with smirks like they had him by the balls.
“Heh heh heh. Think we didn’t see you trembling after that spar?”
“And didn’t you rush straight back to Black Dragon Hall to bathe right after training ended?”
“We know all about it. You pissed yourself, tried to pass it off as sweat, and hurried off for a bath.”
Could anyone possibly misunderstand things this badly?
A hollow laugh escaped him amid the absurdity as they kept blabbering on.
“So don’t go ignoring us like that.”
“We just wanted to get friendly as fellow Demonic Path Academy classmates, but if you keep dismissing us, even we have our limits.”
“Hahaha. It’d be pretty hilarious if rumors spread that the Supreme One’s disciple was a bedwetter.”
With their threats of spreading weird rumors if he kept ignoring them, a sigh slipped out of him automatically.
It wasn’t that their threats scared him. It just reminded him of his days as a civil servant.
‘No point trying to explain myself—they’d never buy it.’
Dealing with chronic complainers, talk never worked no matter how hard you tried.
Those types needed a good beating as medicine, but in the modern world, lay a hand on someone and you’d be the one in cuffs.
But this place was different.
Thud.
His appetite was ruined by their stench anyway, so he gladly rose to his feet and said.
“Follow me. Time to have that ‘conversation’ you wanted.”
* * *
Arriving at a secluded spot behind the cafeteria, Il-mok crooked a bored finger at them and said.
“Come at me.”
With Il-mok cutting off any paths forward or back, the trio’s faces crumpled.
“Cocky bastard.”
“No matter that you topped the entrance exam, we’re in the same Gap Class as you.”
“You really think you can take all three of us alone?”
It stemmed from the confidence they’d gained watching him spar with the instructor and Dugopa. He was stronger than any of them individually, but it hadn’t felt ‘overwhelmingly’ so.
Of course, from Il-mok’s perspective, it was utterly ridiculous.
“Got some long tongues on you. Am I that frightening?”
“Hmph. It’s not you we’re afraid of.”
“You forgetting what Instructor Chui Il-hwan said? Private spars earn penalty points.”
At their words, a deep smirk curled on Il-mok’s lips.
“Cult warriors like you, trembling over a mere penalty point?”
“!!”
The moment their faces twisted at his taunt.
“If it scares you that much, I’ll go first.”
Il-mok launched himself at them in a sudden blitz.
He crossed the distance in an instant and, having already drawn his sword from its side sheath, swung it scabbard and all while shouting.
“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you!”
The reason instructors and assistants cracked down on private spars? Accidents where someone ended up crippled or dead.
But Il-mok was confident.
He could subdue them anytime without killing or crippling.
Thwack!
Moving far faster than he had in his spar with the instructor moments ago, Il-mok’s scabbard slammed straight into the face of the frontmost one.
The other two belatedly drew their weapons to resist Il-mok’s ambush, but.
Thwack!
Thwack!
They too lasted only moments before Il-mok’s scabbard sent them rolling across the ground.
But Il-mok had no intention of stopping at just that.
“You don’t flap your traps recklessly.”
Thwack!
Thwack!
Like beating mangy dogs on the hottest day of summer, Il-mok began thrashing the sprawled-out trio.
‘As long as I don’t kill them or cripple them, it’s fine, right?’
Il-mok knew all too well how to make it hurt like hell without leaving them crippled.
Thanks to his master, the Heavenly Demon.
Having noticed Il-mok’s unique constitution—that he grew stronger rapidly when his life was in danger—the Heavenly Demon had always forced near-real-combat spars on him.
But that only worked once or twice; eventually, Il-mok adapted to the Heavenly Demon’s terrifying killing intent and pressure.
From then on, the Heavenly Demon’s method shifted to striking real painful spots—ones that hurt like mad but wouldn’t kill.
In other words, Il-mok was flawlessly reenacting the techniques he’d learned the hard way from his master.
“Consider it an honor!”
You’re personally experiencing the techniques of the Heavenly Demon you worship like a god!
And so he thrashed the trio with his scabbard for quite some time.
“Phew. Feels refreshing.”
With the frustrations piled up from his OCD and various issues washed away, Il-mok felt much better and naturally wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
Then, upon seeing the sweat smeared there, his expression crumpled again.
“Tsk. Beating you lot made me sweat again.”
Irritated, Il-mok gave the three a few more whacks with the scabbard before abruptly tossing it aside.
“Bring me a new scabbard.”
“!?”
The trio, beaten black and blue all over in their enthusiastic thrashing, looked up at Il-mok with bewildered faces.
“I’ve got severe germaphobia—I can’t stand touching or getting dirty stuff on me. That’s why I bathed first to wash off the sweat before eating. Not because of any piss. Got it?”
At Il-mok’s belated explanation, the three nodded vigorously.
Seeing them finally willing to listen, Il-mok nodded in satisfaction.
As expected, when dealing with types like them, you had to have a ‘physical conversation’ first before words could get through.
“This scabbard got filthy bumping into you sweat-rags, so bring a new one. I’ll be eating, so have it here before I finish.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
Pleased with how much snappier they’d become, Il-mok smiled and added.
“Oh, and what happened today? It’s our little secret.”
Even now, Il-mok had no intention of abandoning his strategy of hiding the youngest young master’s strength.
Il-mok grinned and put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, and the three gulped hard before nodding like madmen.