What? Red?
“Kuhk! Heuk! Huuuk!”
Shuuush— Shuu— Shuuush—
This wasn’t a sound coming from my mouth. It was the sound of the air being sliced.
Srck! Srrk! Srck!
“Uwaaaah!”
“Heh heh, I may not know much else, but your lightness skill has improved by leaps and bounds.”
Of course, there were also the sounds coming from his mouth, reeking of alcohol.
For the past fortnight, this mad old coot had been hurling killing intent at me nonstop.
“Have you lost your mind? You said you wouldn’t hurt me!”
Minsia had boasted that she was exercising precise control for the sake of training. But that massive halberd etched across Tolstoy’s chest! Whenever Minsia swung that halberd through the air with its savage whoosh, it sheared off strands of my hair here and there while cleaving the trees and rocks in front of me like tofu. I had no choice but to run for my life.
“Heh heh, you insolent pup. You hold nothing back from your master, who received your rites of apprenticeship. Still, just watching my disciple grow fills this master with pride.”
“Huuwaaak!”
“Heh heh heh heh!”
It was Tuesday, January 23—the day after I’d performed the tattoo removal on Northern Duke Tolstoy Lancaster. While Tolstoy had returned to his territory first, Minsia, the grand matriarch of the Hoblood Clan, had started teaching martial arts to me and Walter from that day on.
Damn it! If I’d known training would be like this, I never would’ve started!
After the first day of training, I’d handed all my clinic duties over to Rebecca, Hazel, and Stella. From then until today, Monday, February 5, I’d devoted myself entirely to mastering martial arts for a solid fortnight.
It wasn’t so much that I wanted it this way. If I didn’t use every spare moment to rest, my stamina—not to mention my sanity—would collapse. Each day felt like years of grueling torment.
Srck— Srrk— Srck—
“My, my hair! My hair’s getting cut off!”
“Heh heh heh heh! Didn’t I tell you? In just a fortnight, I’d make you able to fend for yourself!”
The uninhabited forest behind Gold Territory. My lungs burned at my throat as I fled toward it, but the mad old coot was chasing me with a warm smile utterly unfit for the situation—just like he had for the past fortnight.
“Even with the Hoblood Pill and my assistance, reaching a level where you can dodge my attacks so freely in a mere fortnight is no small feat. Well done, my disciple!”
“Easy my ass… Uwaaak! You lunatic!”
The first day I received martial arts instruction from Minsia. When I recited the incantation for the Yin-Yang Heart Method as the old coot instructed after swallowing the Hoblood Pill, I should’ve stopped right there. But even when I ingested that dubious mystery pill, or when she placed her hands on my back to circulate qi through my three meridians, claiming it would sweep through my body, I should’ve quit.
Damn it, by then it was too late to stop. She said if I moved while reciting the incantation, my qi and blood would twist and I’d drop dead on the spot.
Minsia, grand matriarch of the Hoblood Clan—this sly old woman should’ve warned me beforehand about how dangerous it was to form a dantian with a pill and external qi infusion.
I always explained side effects before procedures like double-eyelid surgery, Botox, or fillers. But she didn’t mention the excruciating pain that could feel like flirting with death?
Thwuck— Thwuck— Srck!
“Jeeenjaaang!”
After that hellish first day, a dantian the size of a millet seed had formed below my navel. And until the qi packed inside that tiny thing was utterly depleted, I’d been chased through the forest by the mad old coot.
For lightness skill training? No—for escaping the merciless violence disguised as training.
“St-stop! It’s all gone! No qi left… Kuhk!”
As agreed beforehand, I clearly signaled that the qi in my millet-seed dantian was exhausted. But like always over the past fortnight, the damn old coot leaped through the branches, relentlessly pursuing me as I dodged, then kicked me rolling like a ball.
As if it were just a post-workout stretch.
Thud thud thud—
“Kuh… ugh…”
“Heh heh heh heh. You’re not quite at the level to call yourself a martial artist yet, but you can dodge most dangers now, my disciple. Never forget your master’s teachings.”
The saying went: Someone who only knows how to hit is a novice; someone who hits well is skilled; and someone who hits without leaving a trace is a master. That was the wisdom from the damn old coot who’d been playing master for the past fortnight.
Hitting… he’s a true master at that one thing.
And Minsia really was. As a doctor, it felt like muscle tears, but astonishingly, for blows like beating a dog in the dog days of summer with branches, I only ended up with faint bruises—an absurd level of controlled beating.
“Heh heh heh heh, rise, my disciple. I have mountains more to teach you, but for now, you can beat a hasty retreat in emergencies. Even without me, I hope you’ll devote yourself to training.”
“……”
Hearing the old coot’s booming laughter made the fortnight of ordeal feel truly over. And inwardly, where he couldn’t hear, I murmured softly.
…Just you wait, old man.
Someday, just once, I’d repay this “favor.” I didn’t live with debts.
* * *
“Kuh… haa. Isn’t learning martial arts supposed to make your body feel refreshed? Why do I feel more drained?”
“You must’ve been through a lot catching up on backed-up work, Director.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I’ve been so swamped with it.”
Today was Monday, February 19 on the Ailene calendar. Two more weeks had passed since Minsia, grand matriarch of the Hoblood Clan, returned to her territory.
And a week ago, on Thursday, February 15, I’d received word that Minsia’s elite Hoblood Clan warriors and Northern Duke Tolstoy had set off for the Southern Continent—each for their own purposes—to rescue Minsia’s granddaughter, Minsoso, kidnapped by black mages.
Haa… Even in this isekai world, I’ve got the Monday blues. My body’s tired, so tired.
Those two lumps of trouble had vanished from my sight two weeks ago, but during the fortnight I’d spent learning martial arts from Minsia, patients wanting treatment had piled up enormously.
That’s why I’d worked nonstop, even surrendering weekends, over the past two weeks. Only today, this Monday, had I finally caught up on the breathless schedule.
“Maieeeener~ This is yummy! Try someee!”
“No thanks, put it away.”
“Piih, I gave it to you ‘cause it’s tasty!”
“I’m fine. You eat plenty, Res.”
Before starting full clinic rounds, the Beauty Tower staff had gathered for breakfast.
Res, now six by earthly years, scooped pudding with her filthy spoon—still in her mouth moments ago—and offered it to me. But even without Res’s slobbery spoon, I had zero appetite right now.
It wasn’t just the weekend-sacrificing workload over the past two weeks. It was that incessant crystal orb spammer.
Tap—
“What’s the message, Director?”
“Spam… just an ad. Nothing to worry about.”
This old coot from the Hoblood Clan had no friends, or maybe he missed the feel of pounding me during those fortnights—he messaged me constantly. And his “constantly” meant at least five or six times a day. It was maddening.
I should ask Kellogg if he can set up some kind of do-not-disturb for crystal orb messages.
As that thought crossed my mind, something else struck me.
“That’s weird, though…”
“What’s wrong?”
Walter, who’d been ravenously tearing into meat Ravi had grilled in the staff kitchen, turned at my murmur. The wolf boy Ravi looked up timidly.
“No, I suggested to that old Minsia coot to bring the Duke because not only is His Grace powerful, but other northerners would help too. But instead of forming a subjugation force, only the Duke went alone from the north.”
The power balance of isekai martial artists, as I knew it: Walter and the Northern Duke were evenly matched, while the Hoblood Clan’s old coot outclassed Walter.
So it was baffling that Minsia—who’d been trounced by a black mage—had headed to the Southern Continent’s Land of Darkness with only her clan elites and the Duke.
Yet the old coot’s orb messages implied he felt secure with Tolstoy there. It made no sense.
“Hmm… Do you think the Director believes my skills are comparable to Tolstoy’s?”
“Yes? Well, obviously… no?”
Walter’s sheepish follow-up left me even more baffled.
“That’s exactly why I hate that bastard Tolstoy. He’s got that pretty-boy parasite vibe, mocking me by saying my face is handsome. And that’s not all—once he unleashes his hidden power, someone like me can’t even compare.”
“Hidden power?”
I’d always thought Walter and Tolstoy were neck-and-neck, so I couldn’t help but look shocked. Urged by my gaze, Walter frowned slightly and continued.
“Swordsmen who reach sword master level, like me, can wrap aura around their bodies for protection or their blades for offense. But Tolstoy isn’t just any sword master. He uses demonic qi.”
“……?”
“All northerners have blood-red hair, but their king, Tolstoy, has black. Remember?”
“Yes… you said it’s because he’s slain so many monsters that demonic qi has permeated even his hair roots…?”
Walter nodded lightly at my words.
“Exactly. Northern kings like Tolstoy have long known how to mix that demonic qi with their aura. And like those narrow-minded, insular East Continent folk hoarding their manuals, it’s a secret technique passed only to the Lancaster family heads.”
“Ah… so that’s it?”
“Yes. Tolstoy’s a master at toying with and humiliating foes. Once I refine the Yin-Yang Heart Method that old Minsia taught a bit more, I’ll take his head in one stroke and bring it to you, Director.”
“No… no need for that.”
I didn’t think highly of Tolstoy’s character either, but his micro-expressions told me he wasn’t a simple man. He’d envied the “PoDoSongi” mercenary look out of jealousy over Walter’s refined features, and his admiration for Walter’s superior skills was probably genuine.
Northern Duke Tolstoy Lancaster would scorn a technique like wrapping demonic qi in aura as cowardly—something only he could use.
A guy with a delicate, fragile appearance but a total macho personality. Well, can’t help if Walter hates him.
Either way, Walter was my man. And bent arms don’t hit outward, so I didn’t bother correcting him.
Just then, as we finished Ravi’s hearty morning spread and prepared for work, the crystal orb on the table glowed red and vibrated.
“What? Red?”
A crystal orb glowing red only happened in emergencies.