Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Do You Eat Properly? - 1
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When the moon, having scaled the heavens and savored the peak, descended to linger midway, and the new climber had yet to begin its ascent.
Even as the merchants opening the dawn market rubbed their eyes and began to stir, the Crimson Star Sect's morning had already begun.
The mornings under the Sword Saint's rule were fair to all.
At the command of Hongryeon—the sect's first disciple, already renowned across the land as the Falling Sun Sword—twenty Crimson Star Sect disciples commenced their dawn training.
Yet this training was far from the picturesque ideal imagined by the outside world.
The Sword Saint's swordsmanship was the very embodiment of beauty. The greatsword in her hand birthed a crimson star—beautiful and red, just like its technique's name—but one that concealed none of its savage ferocity.
That beauty and ferocity rested upon the unshakeable foundation of "fundamentals."
And so, the disciples gathered in the training yard squatted on their lithe, resilient legs, not even bothering to wipe away the faint sleep from their lovely eyes after a night undisturbed.
It always began with the horse stance.
Legs bent as if astride a horse, backs ramrod straight, tempering the lower body.
The Crimson Star Sect was the faction led by the famed Sword Saint Nayerin.
Most disciples who joined had already undergone basic training before entry.
Thus, even for newcomers barely a day in, an hour of horse stance posed no real hardship.
Still, they voiced no complaints. The lower body was vital in martial arts, after all.
And the Falling Sun Sword Hongryeon, who oversaw the morning drills, was doing it right alongside them.
But if there was one minor grievance among the disciples...
"Haha! Hold steady! Hold it! A woman's lower body is everything! You gotta train it for the sake of your future husbands too! Tighten those pelvic muscles, and later you'll have top-tier—"
"S-Senior Sister, please... just stop..."
It was simply that Hongryeon—ever hearty in her laughter, the one who capably led the sect in their master's stead, immersed solely in cultivation—would spout such vulgarities at these girls who hadn't even held a man's hand.
Of course, those close to her knew the truth: she hadn't held a man's hand either, and her "knowledge" came solely from erotic novels. Outside these walls, she never uttered such crude talk.
She was, in essence, no different from a lady of the house—and her wild antics stemmed from how much she cherished the sect, treating it like family.
Thus, enduring the mental strain of Hongryeon's bawdy jests, they completed their hour of horse stance just as the new sun stretched its arms. The disciples began loosening up.
As heat rose from their well-honed, elastic bodies, they stole glances at one another.
It was only natural.
The five slowest in this drill would handle cleanup after breakfast.
With the sect's grueling schedule offering scant sweet respite, none wanted to squander it on chores. That desire alone fueled their drive.
Though Hongryeon's shouts halved their enthusiasm, as usual.
"You know what they say? A training woman's legs are like the thighs of a bounding deer—springy and...
"Uwaaaah! Go! Go!"
Appalled by the thickening vulgarity, the other disciples cried out in panic, and the blooming maidens dashed off, long hair whipping behind them.
As if fleeing Hongryeon herself.
Perhaps from familiarity? Their movements were remarkably nimble.
Without inner energy, no lightness skill—but their long-trained bodies outpaced even mountain beasts.
Run. Run. Run.
Those who can't run have no right to wield a blade.
So they ran.
Even as breath scorched their throats, hearts thundering to burst.
They didn't stop.
And in those moments...
Sayoon, the Crimson Star Sect's youngest, brought in by the Sword Saint years ago, could forget her lonely place in the world.
Reaching Crimson Star Mountain's summit first was, predictably, the Falling Sun Sword Hongryeon.
Wiping summit-cooled sweat with a towel as she awaited her juniors, she beamed at each arrival.
Some twisted in stretches, others sprawled on rocks, still others gulped from the water barrel she'd hauled.
As they caught their breath, footsteps rustled from the woods, deepening her smile.
"Haa... haa... haa..."
It was a girl with damp gray hair.
Her delicate, pretty face flushed and slick with sweat from the frantic climb. Her worn training robes clung, outlining the budding curves of her youthful form.
A vision pure and flower-like, enough to captivate anyone—the Crimson Star Sect disciples smiled warmly, thinking:
Surely, once that child grows, the world will buzz with clamor.
But Hongryeon saw differently from the others.
Exhausted.
On the verge of collapse.
Sweat-soaked, exuding a decadent allure that drew eyes to her beauty.
Yet Hongryeon knew her true charm lay elsewhere.
The greatest allure of that grubby girl their master had brought years ago wasn't the beauty now blossoming.
"...Arrived... haaak...!"
It was those eyes she'd possessed from the start.
Those pale violet irises, holding the pride to conquer all worldly blizzards and hardships.
That, Hongryeon believed, was the Crimson Star Sect's youngest's greatest allure.
"Last place again today, little sis."
"Ugh..."
Sayoon plopped down, crestfallen despite her best effort.
Her seniors were already settled at the peak.
It was inevitable. A mere beggar orphan, she'd only begun proper training years ago.
Her seniors had trained from noble clans before full immersion here—overtaking them was near impossible.
She was trying.
But they tried too; their foundations couldn't be dismissed.
To catch up, dogged training was her only path.
"Take care of me today."
"Yeah..."
Fiddling with her roughly braided gray hair—its ends brushing her budding chest—Sayoon nodded slightly.
Still unwashed, sweat-damp strands tangled under rough strokes, but to her, that touch was...
One of her few joys.
The Crimson Star Sect wasn't wealthy.
Sword Saint Nayerin had saved countless from bandits and beasts, a true paragon—yet she cared little for riches.
To her, the strong aiding the weak was natural; compensation mattered not for peace's sake.
This stance elevated the sect's fame but did nothing for upkeep costs.
Thus, maintenance relied on occasional commissions.
Slaying beasts.
Exterminating bandits.
Exploring secret realms.
Funds brought back by advanced disciples versed in Crimson Star Divine Art.
Families or the martial alliance sent donations, but per the Sword Saint's policy, they were politely refused.
Naturally, meals stayed frugal.
Frugal, but not meager.
Fresh mountain herbs from Crimson Star Mountain, meat from Hongryeon or others' hunts—three solid meals daily.
Yet some grumbled at the austerity.
Most disciples hailed from great houses, doted on at home.
They'd eaten heartily, at least; homesick memories made the sect's fare disheartening.
But to Sayoon, even this was bliss.
Compared to her beggar-orphan days adrift in a harsh world, it was filling and warm.
So she scrubbed bowls happily.
As she upended the wooden ones to drip dry, she asked the girl beside her.
"Senior Sister Yuhee, you barely ate today."
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Lunch'll be outside."
"Ah."
Right—today was supply run day to Island Flower Village.
Realizing this, Sayoon flushed. Yuhee smiled softly at her.
"Nothing you need?"
Sayoon knew she meant personal items, not sect supplies.
Yet she couldn't voice desires.
"I... don't need anything."
"Don't hold back."
"But I..."
Sayoon knew.
Twice monthly, descending to Island Flower Village for supplies, seniors bought personal needs or sweets with pocket money—family "personal sponsorships."
Women needed much; sect provisions fell short.
That allowance was essential.
Sayoon envied it but wouldn't freeload.
One must have shame.
Rescued from countless orphans to become a disciple.
No more starving, no more mortal peril.
Already blessed beyond measure—she wouldn't waste her seniors' chances.
"Hmmm..."
No need to feel burdened.
But seeing Sayoon demur, Yuhee sighed wryly.
This cute little sis was all too aware of her orphan roots.
Years in, yet still no spoiling. A pity.
Time to treat us like big sisters.
She recalled once force-feeding her candy.
Gulping despite claiming dislike, then fleeing to train—but that bashful smile proved Sayoon adored the sweetness.
Wanting that glimpse again, but if she refused... couldn't force it.
Especially after last time; she'd grown warier. Hard to offer now.
"Eat now, buy for us later."
"Later? Um... if I get sponsorship too."
Yuhee laughed.
Next home visit, slip her some funds secretly?
"Yuhee, Sayoon. Postal Gate delivery's here. Sort it after dishes."
"Ah, yes, Senior Sister."
Other three seniors were laundering. Their turn to help.
They hurried out, following Hongryeon.
Before her room: many boxes and letters.
"Oh, from home."
Yuhee spotted her name on a small box, murmuring. Some sponsorships among them.
Meanwhile, Hongryeon sorted letters, face grave.
Work remained; they organized boxes.
"...Huh?"
Sayoon's hand froze.
Yuhee blinked at the oddity; Sayoon lifted a small box.
"M-Mine...?"
"...Huh? What? What?"
Sayoon rarely left since joining. Connections outside? Wealthy enough for Postal Gate?
"Oho, our little sis got a lover already? Outrageous! But if it's true love... Fine! Today, I'll educate her with my secret erotic tomes—"
Mouth shut, she'd be a beauty and famed expert.
Reliable senior sister—why must words crumble spirits?
As boisterous Hongryeon reached for "tomes," Yuhee swiftly deflected.
"S-Sender?"
"Not listed."
Unprecedented; even Hongryeon took interest.
Normally, take it privately—but curses? Pranks to hurt her?
Rarely, her face hardened.
"Open it here."
"Uh... okay."
Swallowing nervously, Sayoon carefully opened.
Inside: one letter, one silver tael.
"...Silver?"
Sayoon peeked at the letter, face complex.
"......"
"What’s it say?"
Curious Yuhee read, face turning serious.
Hongryeon too—snatched and read aloud.
"Do you eat properly?"
The cryptic words left the three baffled.
But one thought united them.
...Who the hell sent this?