Spring Flow
Beyond the outer courtyard of Yi Gajang lay a vast open field tucked deeper within. It was the new training ground where the recently joined warriors honed their skills.
Originally, Yi Gajang had plenty of serene spots perfect for martial practice, but with everyone now focused on group endurance drills—running and tumbling in all directions—none suited the purpose quite like this one.
"What's the holdup? Faster! Harder! No slacking!"
"Fourth row, don't land on your left heel first. You're wasting power!"
"You idiot! Why brace your fall with your palms? You'll snap your wrist. Roll with your shoulder!"
"Yes, sir!"
Yi Jinpyeong's voice cut through like a blade. Groans that could have been responses or screams echoed without cease.
Jinpyeong wasn't just barking orders and supervising. At this crucial stage of bulking up their frail bodies, he threw himself into the mix, running, rolling, and shouting alongside his men. Spot a slacker? Immediate punishment. Falling behind? Sharp reprimand.
No matter their martial prowess, to him, they were all adults. He was still just a scrawny fifteen-year-old boy. He couldn't tolerate anyone lagging behind him physically.
After a long session of sweating and rolling, Jinpyeong ordered a break for his subordinates. He settled under the shade, crossing his legs in meditation.
Having burned through stamina and muscle without mercy, now was the time to recover his body and fill his mind.
A long exhalation. A thin stream of energy bubbled up through his meridians.
His eyes sparkled, shoulders broadened. His back straightened, pale flesh blooming on his gaunt face. In a few months, he'd be an entirely different person from the old Yi Jinpyeong.
Savoring this life force after so long, he sensed a presence fidgeting nearby. Crude still, but far more refined than before.
Gang Ryong, that guy.
The man once called a Dodu. But now, per his advice, he'd ditched the blade.
Gang Ryong paced as if he had something to say, but couldn't bring himself to interrupt the meditation. He plopped down a short distance away, mimicking Jinpyeong's lotus position and diving deep into his own energy circulation.
Unlike his scattered past, he sank into his world swiftly. Impressive focus—unthinkable before. A faint smile tugged at Jinpyeong's lips.
Can't lose to my subordinate.
He plunged back into his inner realm.
Jinpyeong wasn't the only one making huge strides these past few days.
Gang Ryong had succeeded in sorting his turbid internals—with Jinpyeong's help, or rather forceful intervention. Though intense pain brought dizzying crises, the man's innate toughness and endurance were no joke.
Had Jinpyeong not witnessed that grit firsthand, he'd never have dared such extremes.
Once finished, Gang Ryong forgot his brushes with death and bounced around like a kid.
He realized it immediately: even without the hard-earned inner energy of years past, the gains more than compensated.
His body brimmed with pure, crystal-clear energy beyond compare.
"This overflowing power! This overflowing inner energy!"
Tears streaming, he kowtowed dramatically dozens of times. But no time for sentiment.
Jinpyeong hauled him up and began transmitting the new heart method and fist techniques. The sooner he grew strong, the more use to Yi Gajang.
Gang Ryong's old method was a bottom-tier energy circulation anyone could buy for a few nyang on the streets. Jinpyeong scrapped it, teaching instead the Cheonggi Simbeop (Pure Qi Heart Method)—a refined version focused solely on accumulation and projection from Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong's secrets. Closer to the orthodox path, highly efficient in qi storage.
Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong tied closely to heaven-earth energies, too complex and unsuitable for non-bloodline outsiders.
But Cheonggi Simbeop suited Yi Gajang's warriors perfectly—not too advanced, not lacking.
Alongside it, he taught Gu Hwan Nan Gyeok (Nine Rings Chaos Strike). It would be Gang Ryong's new weapon, replacing the staff.
This art unleashed infinite variations using every body part from head to toe. Fist and kick technique, striking and grappling, all in one. Based on nine feints and truths, it dragged foes into chaos and melee. At higher realms, it wielded wind strikes and illusory bodies— a supreme martial art.
Gang Ryong wasn't the sharpest or quickest, but his instincts and durability were top-notch. With effort, he'd become a reliable fighter.
And brothers Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun took elixirs for the first time. Not smoothly, of course.
Yi Jingang blinked at the pill, pushing it back.
"Jinpyeong. How can we casually swallow something so precious? Inner energy builds steadily through practice, right?"
"If you build it that steadily, you'll match peak experts by the time you're a hunched old man. People want to see vibrant twenty-somethings shine—not balding, arthritic geezers."
"Still... with that money, how many starving folks around here..."
"Brother, I've told you: strength first. Only then can you protect others."
"One who can't give in poverty won't care for others with power. Those eyes look higher, those hands grasp more."
Debates like this dragged on forever. He'd think they got it, then mercy and mule-headedness reared up again.
"Fine. If brothers won't take it, I will."
"Little brother, I mean—mmph! No, wait!"
Catching him off-guard, Jinpyeong flicked the pill into Jingang's mouth. It melted instantly; he startled, trying to spit.
"Brother, it's over half gone. Can't waste something so rare on the dirt, can you?"
"......"
Jingang gave up futile resistance, absorbing it.
With the eldest convinced, second brother followed naturally. Jinpyeong aided their absorption in turn.
With solid foundations plus Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong secrets and elixir power, their inner energy soared swiftly.
Soon, they'd reach first stage—Geunlip (Firm Stand). Then, faintly wield Pungsin Jigyeol (Wind God Secret Art), its derived steps and lightness skills.
One issue remained, though...
Finishing light circulation, Jinpyeong opened his eyes. Chief Steward Gwak Yeonyong stood before him, face troubled.
Hearing the report, Jinpyeong's temple throbbed.
"So, the vanishing grain wasn't rats?"
"Yes..."
Scant assets, but Gwak managed meticulously. He'd noticed warehouse grain dwindling—not rat levels. Must be thieves.
Judging it intolerable, he staked out overnight.
And caught... Eldest Young Master Yi Jingang sneaking in, smuggling grain.
Jinpyeong stared skyward, barking hollow laughs.
"Thought he was all training—even skimping sleep?!"
Not Jinun, but Jingang. Why steal from his own house? Obviously giving it away uselessly.
"Couldn't reveal I saw or stop him. Should I have intervened?"
Jinpyeong shook his head. Real power or not, Yi Jingang was Yi Gajang's eldest, acting patriarch. Subordinates couldn't casually boss brothers.
Wise not to startle or halt him.
"What now, then?"
"Hm..."
"Locks on the granary, to stop thieves?"
Solid idea. Protected pride, secured stores.
But he hesitated. Thoughts stretched long.
Finally:
"...Leave it be. Always."
"Yes."
Gwak bowed patiently, no argument—unlike usual.
Jinpyeong mused: Since brothers started serious training, pressure must be immense. Learning from "inferior" youngest bruised pride, especially eldest.
He'd pushed too hard too. Jingang needed an outlet. Couldn't change innate nature.
Fine. I'll earn more.
Gwak smiled faintly.
Gang Ryong stirred from deep meditation. Jinpyeong asked:
"Gang Ryong. What'd you want? Stuck on Gu Hwan Nan Gyeok?"
"Ah! Well..."
As he recalled his business, a guard burst in:
"Visitors! From Chwi Hwa Bang!"
Jinpyeong, Gang Ryong, and Gwak exchanged glances.
"Here it comes."
Gang Ryong clenched his fist.
Jinpyeong rose. Gwak, tense:
"How many? Fifty? Hundred?"
The subordinate replied:
"One."
"...One?"
"Yes. Chwi Hwa Bangju came alone, wants to see Third Young Master."