Daily Instructor (1)
The next day, Baek So-cheon arrived at the special apparatus training ground.
One could understand why it was called 'special' the moment they saw it. It was also a direct showcase of how far the Murim Alliance's apparatus engineering had advanced.
The training ground's uniqueness lay not just in the flawless craftsmanship of the mechanisms themselves, but above all in the ability to adjust the difficulty level.
That meant warriors from the relatively low-skill Jeong-su-dae or Won-ho-dae could train here, all the way up to the elite fighters of Bi-gak and the Cheol-geum-dan who boasted the highest prowess.
This was a live combat training ground. No mercy, no holding back. The attacks here were deadlier than real battles, and injuries—or even death—were real possibilities. Indeed, a few warriors died here every year during training.
Difficulties ranged from low (ha), medium (jung), medium-high (jung-sang), high (sang), to extreme (geuk-sang)—five levels in total. Medium was split into two because it housed the largest number of warriors in that skill bracket.
Typically, Cheol-geum-dan warriors trained at high, while Bi-gak's at extreme. They took pride in training at those upper tiers.
Today, all five squads of the Cheol-geum-dan had gathered here, excluding the two out on missions.
As Baek So-cheon appeared, every eye locked onto him.
He scanned them slowly.
There was First Squad Leader Hwang Il-bi, Third Squad Leader No Woong, and most of the others he knew well.
Baek So-cheon had risen through the Cheol-geum-dan to Bi-gak, then been demoted back. This unit had consumed the bulk of his time in the Murim Alliance.
"You all doing well?"
"Yes, sir!"
A thunderous reply echoed back at his casual question.
The mood wasn't bad. Opinions on Baek So-cheon varied, but no one harbored deep grudges or resentment.
He'd caused plenty of incidents, sure—defying orders, venting at superiors—but he'd never tormented his subordinates, not once.
Some disapproved of his wayward phase, of course. But once they'd revered him as a hero, those feelings balanced out into something measured.
"The squad leader approved it, so I'm your daily instructor today."
"Welcome, sir!"
Another booming response.
"Alright, let's get started."
The apparatus training consisted of two phases: first-stage horizontal training and second-stage vertical training.
The horizontal phase involved navigating a passage pelted with hidden projectiles from all sides—front, back, left, right. Advance while dodging the barrage.
The vertical phase required climbing upward amid a rain of projectiles. Tougher than the first, but more common in real combat, where enemies often ambushed from high ground.
Then Baek So-cheon said something unexpected.
"I'll demonstrate."
Everyone froze in shock. No one had imagined he'd demo it himself. They figured no one without inner power could pass this place.
Hwang Il-bi stepped forward immediately.
"No, you can't!"
He was tired of Chung Yang nagging him about siding with Baek So-cheon. He avoided volunteering unless absolutely necessary.
But this was life-or-death for Baek So-cheon. Even he could die if careless.
"What, scared I'll die here?"
Hwang Il-bi couldn't bring himself to say yes.
"You can't pass without inner power."
"I can without it."
Baek So-cheon turned to the mechanism operator.
"Get it ready."
"What difficulty?"
"Normal for you guys."
"Cheol-geum-dan trains at high—is that okay?"
The operator asked worriedly. He knew Baek So-cheon had lost his inner power.
"It's fine."
Right then—
"Since you're here, how about demonstrating at extreme?"
The speaker was Sixth Squad Leader Cheon-su.
Baek So-cheon eyed him. He was trying for calm, but tension cracked his face.
No bad blood between them. Stoic guy, but loyal—first to act on orders, grinning awkwardly at a single compliment.
Simple reason, then: Chung Yang had ordered it.
"Sure."
Baek So-cheon's ready agreement sent ripples through the group. Extreme was a level even they struggled with. Bi-gak warriors skipped it on off days.
"Sixth Squad Leader!"
Hwang Il-bi barked at Cheon-su, his junior by two years.
"What nonsense is this to someone still recovering?"
He'd tried blocking even a high demo; extreme was basically attempted murder.
"I just made a suggestion."
"Then think before suggesting."
"If it was impossible, the instructor would've said no."
"You bastard—what the hell are you doing?"
"Watch your mouth!"
They squared off.
Baek So-cheon intervened softly.
"I'm fine. Sixth Squad Leader's right. If I can't, I say no."
Hwang Il-bi asked anxiously.
"You sure?"
All eyes mirrored the worry.
"You know why I took this instructor gig today?"
"No, sir."
"Not to see friendly faces or show off that I'm still kicking."
"Then why?"
"To actually help you as your instructor."
Shock rippled again. They'd pegged this as Baek So-cheon vs. Chung Yang politics. No one expected him to take the role seriously.
His earnest tone rang true.
"You've seen war break out—you'll be in the thickest, riskiest fights. I want today's training to boost your survival odds, even a little. Yeah, seeing how to handle extreme could help too."
To the gate instructor:
"Set it to extreme."
"Understood."
Tension thickened as the difficulty locked in.
Baek So-cheon grabbed a training sword and a few daggers from the rack, stepping to the entrance. He'd trained here endlessly from Cheol-geum-dan days through Bi-gak. He could pass blindfolded. His grueling physical regimen and the exquisite footwork of Beon-cheon Gu-gwon would fill the inner power void. He was confident.
"Begin."
At the gate instructor's call, Baek So-cheon plunged in without hesitation.
Shick! Shick!
Projectiles whistled from both sides. No light opener—these targeted vitals with lethal speed and menace.
Onlookers flinched.
Clang! Clang!
Baek So-cheon deflected them, stepping forward.
Short gasps escaped the watchers. Not just the deflection.
It was textbook—identical projectiles from both sides. He shifted left, making the left one hit first, then parried left-to-right in sequence.
Clang! Clang!
Three daggers followed, handled differently from pairs—showing the variance.
Dodge one, parry two. His fluid motions revealed what to evade and why, like flowing water.
Shick! Shick! Shick! Shick! Shick!
Projectile types diversified, numbers swelled.
His movements mimicked one with inner power: swift, precise, elegant.
Above all, he taught masterfully. Unlike other units, Cheol-geum-dan rotated squad leaders as instructors.
But Baek So-cheon outshone them. Parry with sword, evade with footwork, pre-block with thrown daggers.
The operator thought: If I could record this, I'd show every warrior. 'This is the orthodox way through.'
The finale: nine projectiles.
Shick-shick-shick-shick-shick-shick-shick-shick-shick!
A downpour, evoking despair—you parry three or four, then take the rest on the body.
Baek So-cheon's form blurred with speed.
Sword parries, dagger throws from off-hand, dodges for the rest, even using deflected projectiles to knock others—every technique in a masterful defense.
'Oh, so that's possible!' Admiration hit first, then burning desire to match it.
He cleared the nine, passing unscathed.
Stunned silence gripped them, jaws slack.
Hwang Il-bi broke it.
"You really lost your inner power?"
"Nah, just fooling you all."
They swallowed hard at that.
"Wish I could say that."
No laughs—just quiet. The joke fell flat; they half-believed he was hiding power.
"Your reactions tell me my training wasn't wasted. You might not know, but these three years? I trained like hell. When things got unbearable, I hoped they'd change. But they just got worse. So I changed myself. Didn't want to look pathetic failing publicly, so I trained alone at night."
Baek So-cheon didn't hide his skill or boast before the Cheol-geum-dan. He spoke plain truth.
They meant something to him, as he once had to them—precious subordinates worth his life.
"Don't get hurt, any of you. Recovery was pure hell."
They knew. That prowess demanded insane effort—not innate genius, but honed flesh.
They stared wordlessly. Even Baek So-cheon skeptics felt respect now, at least for his grind.
"Demo's done. Training starts."
He dialed it back to high. No petty revenge on Cheon-su—no special glares.
He guessed Chung Yang's orders, understood. Who'd want this? Just following commands.
Battle-hardened Cheol-geum-dan—they had their own minds, judgments. He trusted that.
"First Squad, First Platoon—go! Heads up, or you die! Begin!"
First squad's warriors entered one by one.
Baek So-cheon roared like a true instructor, urging them on.
"Focus!"
"Eyes on the projectiles!"
"Feet lagging—move faster!"
Crowds meant mistakes.
"Watch out!"
A projectile veered toward a warrior—Baek So-cheon's thrown dagger flicked it away.
"Concentrate!"
No time for thanks; the warrior parried the rest, pressing on.
All cleared the first apparatus. Close calls abounded; Baek So-cheon intervened on the dire ones, preventing wounds.
Horizontal phase done, he stood before them.
"Good work, all."
For a moment, it felt like peak-era Baek So-cheon reborn.
Not from inner power or aura. Not just the demo.
The heat enveloping the ground stemmed from change—from reckless wanderer to earnest leader.
Chung Yang had aimed to prove Baek So-cheon obsolete today.
But it backfired spectacularly.
Baek So-cheon to the operator:
"On to the second vertical training."
The operator activated it.
Rumble...
Surrounding walls surged upward, transforming the training ground.