Chapter 82
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Relentless Training
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The day after a heavy downpour.
In the late afternoon, as the scorching sun began to dip toward the horizon, the open plateau midway up the mountain still clung to its dampness.
Rarely had all the members of the Hyuncheon Squad—including their young leader—gathered in one place like this.
These soldiers, accustomed to grueling forced marches combined with relentless training, had been bustling in all directions.
They had performed their immediate key tasks at set intervals, repeating movements and rendezvous dozens of times.
All under the direction of Seo Mun-ha, who had taken command as division leader.
Their missions had split the squad into two teams, aiming for power growth alongside intelligence gathering. They rotated roles precisely in half, making it quite unfamiliar for the entire squad to focus solely on training like this.
Whoooosh—!
With the increased numbers, one might expect a clamor.
Swish!
Yet the twenty-one sword paths in unison showed not a hint of disorder, only the quiet whisper of air parting.
From the first form of the Falling Flower Sword to the third of the latter sequence.
Thanks to the solid instruction from Gu Chil and Yang Jeong lately, each member's familiar sword and forms sliced through the air in perfect order.
As if indifferent, Seo Mun-ha strolled among the now well-formed soldiers, correcting their stances one by one—postures ill-suited to their bodies.
“Haat!”
In the solemn atmosphere, shouts of spirit echoed sporadically.
Not only the leader, but the soldiers too showed no trace of their former delinquent ways.
Squelch.
Returning to his spot in what felt like a proper training ground, Seo Mun-ha took in his subordinates at a glance.
‘Not bad at all.’
Their growth was solid enough; it seemed time to advance to the next stage.
Time was finite, after all.
“That’s enough.”
In terms of power growth, the Hyuncheon Squad had exceeded expectations, so Seo Mun-ha called for a brief rest.
“Resume in one ke (about 15 minutes).”
“Yes!”
Their resounding voices brimmed with confidence.
Despite the harsh conditions, the soldiers absorbing the training regimen overflowed with morale, more so than usual.
Rest was part of training too, but some who had adjusted their forms continued honing their techniques.
“They seem even more spirited today.”
Seo Mun-ha tilted his head, watching them.
“……It’s inevitable. Subordinates take after their superiors, don’t they?”
Swallowing dryly, Eom Pung pointed to one side of the wide clearing.
“And seeing those two will give even the weary some strength.”
Gu Chil and Yang Jeong lay sprawled helplessly.
Through spars with Seo Mun-ha, the two squad leaders—as always—served as fine examples to the others, their pitiful states unwittingly spurring everyone on.
“Hoo……”
Eom Pung was no exception.
Unlike the two showing no signs of stirring, he propped himself up with his sword sheath and barely straightened his posture.
“We lost.”
Only after a long delay did he admit defeat.
Not out of refusal to accept it, but sheer exhaustion had sealed his lips until now.
“You alright?”
Calling it a spar was putting it kindly.
“Yes…… Honestly, I thought we could do better than that.”
Their clumsy joint attack hadn’t even grazed Seo Mun-ha’s collar.
That brief exchange was little more than a one-sided beating.
At least they’d avoided the same sorry state as the squad leaders—small mercies.
‘To think we three couldn’t even land a single exchange.’
Putting aside that slim consolation, Eom Pung let out a long sigh.
Sparring dozens of bouts without Seo Mun-ha breaking a sweat—rumors of his conduct and prowess had swirled for ages.
Eom Pung didn’t buy every tale wholesale, but truth be told, his initial impression had been negative.
“Truly impressive.”
The world was vast, full of people; unusual, yes, but exceptional? He’d wondered.
“Not my place to say, though.”
At some point, Eom Pung had revised his view, now expressing boundless awe for prowess beyond measure.
As a mere warrior, and as the squad’s leader.
The change had come swiftly over this short journey.
“No need to get too downhearted.”
Seo Mun-ha chuckled softly.
“I said make training feel like combat, but it’s still just training.”
“……Thank you.”
Their bond, forged over shared miles, allowed easy banter between lord and retainer.
“Forgive me if that’s cold comfort.”
Such hands-on spars were now routine.
“Growing numb to defeat isn’t good, but pushing yourself that hard leads to burnout. I’ve seen plenty ruined by greed.”
Like the other soldiers, Seo Mun-ha occasionally guided the trio’s martial arts in spare moments.
“……I’ll keep that in mind.”
There was satisfaction in teaching the two squad leaders—who hung on his every word—and Eom Pung too.
Come to think of it, the whole squad was the same.
A unit of notorious troublemakers, yet undeniably talented.
Had their gifts not been exceptional, they’d never have crossed the Seo Mun Clan’s threshold.
“And you’re honing your skills too.”
To console the dejected Eom Pung fully, Seo Mun-ha tapped his own sword.
The outcome was entirely predictable.
Not yielding even a single exchange defied Eom Pung’s hopes, but the alternative would render supreme mastery laughable.
Clink.
Their blades, now a notch keener, slid back into their sheaths.
Excluding Eom Pung—who had long reached the first realm of universal transmission—the soldiers barely touched elite level.
Such spars yielded little tangible gain for Seo Mun-ha, but at least they kept his edge sharp.
Teaching others was teaching oneself; having opponents was a boon, letting him reflect as he did now.
‘If only I could control up to the Black Tortoise.’
As his body matured, Seo Mun-ha had recovered much of his past life’s prowess.
The Black Tortoise meridian, counterpart to the Governor Vessel.
Having tamed the Yang Linking Vessel, opening the Yin Linking Vessel was no great feat—a first step linking the body’s yin and yang meridians.
Only when the reversed yin-yang energies settled without clashing could true yin-yang unity be achieved.
Challenges remained, but the Northern Guard Divine Cavalry Art had reached the fifth star, and the Mountain Shattering Heavenly Spirit Sword barreled toward its mid-sequence finale.
‘Two days to the Yangtze; once past Jiangnan…’
Seo Mun-ha never neglected his own training.
Unraveling intricate sword forms amid limited time, he matched the squad’s frenzy.
“Young master?”
“Nothing.”
Shaking his head, Seo Mun-ha set aside his private concerns.
As their leader, such matters were no longer purely personal.
“It’s quieter than expected.”
“Hmm……”
Following suit, Eom Pung scanned the surroundings.
“You’re right. A bandit stronghold this size should have the Green Forest bandits salivating.”
The rugged terrain was a natural fortress, yet not a single bandit—or even ordinary traveler—had appeared.
“And too smooth-sailing.”
Jiangnan was peaceful, eerily so.
Despite the Yangtze barrier and the Hangzhou unrest.
Smooth was an understatement; setting aside the squad’s steady progress, he’d gleaned no worthwhile intel.
‘The Beggars’ Sect… no, if only I could reach Silver Night.’
Put simply, he’d learned only of the intel vacuum.
Contact with Ha Eun-ye could have yielded details.
Seo Mun-ha regretted her seclusion, sighing at the scant information.
“Someone covering tracks?”
At this stage, intel was severely limited; he felt only the Yangtze’s towering wall.
“We’ll see when we get there, but my gut says otherwise.”
Ahead of Hangzhou, Seo Mun-ha revisited unease factors.
Fundamentals were warriors and arts; worst case, a mad demon like before lurked.
“The Baek Ri Clan’s here in Jiangnan. Asking their aid…”
“Not enough time. Too uncertain.”
Given Baek Ri-seol and the clans’ ties, it was worth hoping.
But quality aid was dubious, and even assuming help, their position would detour the route severely.
“In the end, we press on ourselves.”
Turning, he touched the crude weighted bracelets and anklets.
“So, getting used to the weight yet?”
Eom Pung flinched, offering an awkward smile.
“……Ah, yes. Manageable now.”
Frankly, it had been hell until recently.
Even now, without channeling inner energy, he matched the squad’s level.
He’d wrestled inwardly accepting these crude restraints, shedding doubts only after experiencing gains firsthand.
“Good.”
Doubts about Seo Mun-ha too, naturally.
“You said finer energy control is key to the second realm.”
Eom Pung mulled his teachings.
No easy paths to power, per Seo Mun-ha.
Grueling meant progress: not just building base strength and stamina, but mastering inner energy flow, allocation, control.
“Normally, it comes naturally with growing inner power.”
Seo Mun-ha elaborated.
“This is a shortcut. Can’t wait idly for power to accumulate.”
“I see.”
“You’ll feel it more in real combat. Clan arts lean too heavily on inner power anyway.”
The realm of true insight Eom Pung craved.
“To be honest, I half-get it, half-don’t.”
Aiming for that distant second realm, Eom Pung retraced Seo Mun-ha’s power-scarce past.
Difference: no elixirs for him, alas.
“Enlightenment varies per person.”
In their stead, Seo Mun-ha offered direction.
“The rest is up to you, Deputy Leader Eom.”
Easier said than done; not for everyone.
Suited Eom Pung, with his decade-plus of solid basics.
“One thing’s clear, at least.”
“One?”
“If ambushed now, we’re all dead meat.”
Grinning wryly, Eom Pung eyed the squad resuming postures.
“Maybe.”
The allotted ke had passed.
Even without ambush, the Hyuncheon Squad lagged behind mere ronin.
No real combat experience, currently.
Thus, Seo Mun-ha never relaxed vigilance, often shouldering perimeter watch amid their duties.
Wishing their talents bloomed swiftly.
“Take it back. Don’t want to jinx it.”
Eom Pung’s barbed jest highlighted Seo Mun-ha’s “considerate” neglect, venting pent-up frustration unwittingly.
For Eom Pung, the trek from Shandong to Jiangnan felt like reversed roles throughout.
“Hmm.”
Failing his duties, unable to support properly—that anxiety and self-loathing stemmed from there.
“One more time: don’t mind me overly.”
Seo Mun-ha patted his shoulder lightly.
“Saving you for the right moment; this is nothing.”
Called out, Eom Pung looked sheepish.
“Ghostly perceptive, as rumored.”
No excusing defeat by foe’s strength.
Of course, Seo Mun-ha was strong, exceptional.
But Eom Pung was weak, inadequate too.
Surprisingly sensitive, easy to handle—yet ideal as deputy for this delinquent squad.
“I’ll remember.”
Eom Pung clasped fists, bowing.
Then turned toward the still-unconscious squad leaders.
His steps lighter, burdens eased.
‘Virtue or flaw, that trait.’
Watching the overly diligent deputy, Seo Mun-ha resumed leading training.
Next: sword formation based on Falling Flower Sword—a unique array he’d devised, absent from the clan.
“Sword formation and joint assault share principles.”
Nothing groundbreaking.
“Share intervals basically; mind your footing.”
The squad, quieter under his lead, moved in unison.
“Formation transcends individual limits collectively, amplifying through numbers.”
The sun dipped slowly.
“Forms vary by participant count.”
“In other words…… switching offense-defense, linking forms seamlessly……”
Seo Mun-ha taught with fervor; only after the exhausted squad stamped countless tracks into the mud did the session end.
Squelch!
That night, as it concluded.
Squelch! Squelch!
The hard-won footprints swiftly overwritten by intruders.
“……”
In the cramped camp, Seo Mun-ha quietly sought his adjutant.
Flutter.
Gripping the raised tent flap, he peered into the pitch-black beyond the camp.
“Eom Pung.”
“……What is it, young master?”
“Enemy raid.”
“Pardon?”
“Looks like I jinxed it.”
The night brimmed with killing intent.