Opportunity for Yi Gajang's Supervisor, Gang Ryong
Yi Gajang's Supervisor, Gang Ryong, knelt politely in the remote annex hall. His new lord, Yi Jinpyeong, pulled out an elixir from a wooden box and held it out to him. Though he'd fetched it himself, Gang Ryong couldn't believe such an expensive and precious item was coming his way.
But as he reached to take the elixir, one nagging concern held him back. Reading his expression, Yi Jinpyeong furrowed his brow.
"What? That look on your face."
"Young master. Taking an elixir is thrilling. I'm just grateful! However..."
"Oh? And here comes the 'however'? If you don't need it, forget it."
"No! Absolutely not! It's just..."
"Just what?"
"What if there's a way to take the elixir and not give up the sword...?"
That was it. For Gang Ryong, who'd swung a sword his whole life, abandoning the blade he'd diligently trained in for fist and leg techniques still felt like a reckless gamble.
Why not use the boosted inner energy from the elixir to unleash sword arts instead? He could probably crush that Cheok An-ho from the Chwi Hwa Bang in one go, right?
"You're doubting me."
Gang Ryong jolted to attention. He waved his hands frantically in denial.
"Me? Doubt you? This man Gang Ryong feels the heavy responsibility of his position as Yi Gajang's Supervisor..."
Yi Jinpyeong burst into loud laughter.
"What's a puny title like that mean to you? Supervisor—what's so special about it?"
"Puny? It means everything to me!"
"You're no kid—I shouldn't have to coax you with candy like this elixir. Ridiculous."
The hairy, burly Gang Ryong (28) bowed his head guiltily to Yi Jinpyeong (15).
"Fine. I won't force you to ditch the sword. As I said before, the choice is yours alone."
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Even if you stick to the sword, with my guidance, you could reach first-rate martial artist without issue."
"First-rate!"
Gang Ryong's chest puffed up a little.
"Yes, first-rate. That's impressive enough. But that's your limit. You're already pushing late twenties. Following the same path as others? You'll never catch up, let alone surpass them. Face a peak or transcendent expert, and you won't even draw your sword before you're dead. End of story."
"......"
"But in your fight against that Chwi Hwa Bang swordsman, I saw potential. Ignoring the threat and fear right in front of you, seizing the enemy's throat at the crossroads of life and death—that gambler's spirit. Gang Ryong, dropping the sword for fists is the same principle. You have to abandon the familiar and safe, take that extra step. This is your only chance to reach the peak realm."
"Peak realm!"
Gang Ryong's chest swelled even more.
"Once you start building your inner energy, I'll teach you Yi Gajang's heart method and fist-leg arts properly. Called Cheonggi Simbeop and Gu Hwan Nan Gyeok—unique techniques. Finish training them, and you'll be reborn as Fist Master Gang Ryong. You'll shake the entire martial world, so think up a flashy nickname ahead of time."
Yi Jinpyeong slowly extended the elixir, whispering softly. He looked just like a cult leader spreading heretical doctrine.
"Unique... techniques! A nickname!"
Gang Ryong's eyes glazed over dreamily. He took the elixir reverently with both hands and swallowed it down.
Yi Jinpyeong watched Gang Ryong gulp down the elixir. Controlling this guy was almost too easy. Building a useful subordinate with real martial prowess was this damn hard.
The elixir had passed his throat; its effects should kick in soon.
"Oh. I forgot to mention something."
"What is it?"
"It's gonna hurt. A lot."
"How... how much?"
"An ordinary person might die from it."
"Die?!"
"Yeah."
"Isn't that normal for elixirs? From what I know..."
"It's restructuring a body clogged with impurities. The proper way takes months or years to clear the channels. But for real results, blasting them all open at once is better. Don't worry—I'll help."
"Uh... uh oh..."
Gang Ryong panicked at the unexpected turn. Yi Jinpyeong swiftly moved behind him, pressing his palms to Gang Ryong's back. His energy flowed in, guiding and whipping the elixir's power into a frenzy.
Gang Ryong was nothing like Yi Jinpyeong or his brothers. He'd superficially built inner energy over a few years, but it was practically nonexistent. Instead of proper meditation, he'd used crude street breathing methods, piling up junk energy like unburned grease clogging his channels everywhere.
No point dumping elixir power on that mess. With a rotten foundation, anything built on top would crumble. For pure inner energy cultivation, his blocked channels were even worse than Yi Jinpyeong's had been.
So it had to be cleaned one by one. Burn it out, empty it, refill it.
That was what Yi Jinpyeong was doing to Gang Ryong now. Just as he'd made him abandon a lifetime of swordsmanship, now he was toppling years of shoddy inner energy and rebuilding from the ground up, differently.
Yi Gajang's root art, Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong, couldn't be taught or even accepted by him—but paving a new path for him was doable. Even if it came with excruciating pain.
"Guh... grrr..."
The pain began. Gang Ryong ground his teeth audibly. Veins bulged on his neck, his whole body flushed red. Yi Jinpyeong kept pouring in his energy to the trembling man.
"Gang Ryong. Trust me. You can endure this."
Yi Jinpyeong opened the warehouse door. A sharp voice cut through the thick darkness beyond.
"You came quick."
"You're a busy woman."
"Locking a lady away alone like this—didn't it occur to you something might be wrong?"
"That's what I came to talk about. I forgot to prepare one thing."
Yi Jinpyeong rolled something he'd brought under his arm. A round, flat jar-like object tumbled across the floor with a rumble, stopping precisely at the woman's feet.
A chamber pot. Crudely carved from wood.
"......"
"Our family's still strapped for cash, so no porcelain yet. Be grateful for that much."
"That's not the issue! And I can control bodily functions just fine."
"Sure, for a few days. Lock yourself away a month or two, and you'll need it eventually."
The silent woman let out a long sigh.
"...You're definitely holding all the cards."
"Took you this long to figure it out?"
Yi Jinpyeong chuckled. The woman, who seemed unbreakable by any threat, crumbled over something as simple as a potty break. He set down the chair he'd brought and pushed it forward. It wobbled, losing balance, then spun gracefully on a sudden breeze, stopping neatly before her.
Yi Jinpyeong strolled over and sat comfortably. The woman, bound tight in the dark corner, looked up at him. Moonlight through the window lit their faces.
Examining Yi Jinpyeong, a glint entered her eyes.
"Impressive. Your aura's changed again already."
"Ate a good elixir."
"I know you fed them to your men—I overheard. But weren't they just mid-grade like Growth Pills or Pure Qi Pills? No elixir that basic changes your entire presence like this. Otherwise, elixirs would be worthless everywhere."
"Didn't I tell you? I'm different."
"...Why do you have to be such bad luck?"
She looked annoyed, but it was true. His elixir absorption efficiency was on another level, and his emanating aura had transformed unrecognizably. In just days, he'd finally reached the second stage of Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong: Cheonryu—Spring Flow.
The stage where invisible energies between heaven and earth began to flow and mingle. Where inner energy rode the pulse of growth, extending and multiplying on its own...
"Enough chit-chat. Let's get started."
The woman, who'd been watching him quietly, spoke.
"Thanks to you stirring things up everywhere lately, forces are starting to eye Yi Gajang. Not just one or two—all heavy hitters. Dongbeonhoe, where I work, is cautious and conservative, but Jang Gapae? Total opposite. And the family secretly backing them? Impatient as they come in the Central Plains. They'll strike your family soon, one way or another."
"Boring. Predictable."
"Not curious who's behind Jang Gapae? A mega-clan anyone would know."
"Don't throw around 'mega-clan' lightly. Only Yi Gajang qualifies."
"...Then what's the point of talking?"
"That's my line. Why yap about unasked stuff? First, who taught you Ma An Seop Hon Gong? What's your group's link to the Demonic Cult?"
"Didn't I say? You first—"
"Enough."
Yi Jinpyeong cut her off sharply, his voice laced with irresistible force.
"This isn't negotiable. I'm giving you one last chance."
Her pupils trembled wildly. Yi Jinpyeong kept repeating it: this was her last chance.
She asked quietly.
"What do you mean by 'chance'?"
"You know."
"......"
"The demonic qi rooted in you. I can remove it."
The woman fell silent. A long pause. Moonlight pushed back long shadows. Her strained voice grated like metal.
"Don't lie."
"Believe me or not—that's your call. But how'd I spot Ma An Seop Hon Gong at a glance? Why didn't it work on me? Want me to describe your condition? Nightly nightmares, but skip circulating the art one day and you go mad? Cursing yourself yet clinging to it endlessly?"
"......"
Yi Jinpyeong stood.
"Last night, I heard your voice. Begging to live, to escape this hell. Be honest. Denying it is just that ugly mask you're wearing."
He turned from her and opened the warehouse door, pausing to say,
"Take more time to think. But not much left. Die, or live. No other path."
The door shut. In the darkness, the woman hugged her knees tight.