The Price of Raising Warriors
Nicely put, it was a supreme art that pounded the whole body to unblock clogged meridians and strengthen muscles and bones. But the rumors floating around called it a method of beating someone half to death to turn them into a master.
The practitioner had to understand the human body perfectly and deliver precise strikes, requiring advanced bare-hand combat skills and profound inner energy. Naturally, it was a rare stroke of fortune not easily encountered.
Damn, no wonder he boasted so confidently that I wouldn't run away...
After receiving something like this, running off would mean he could never sleep soundly again. Even if that boy had a twisted temperament that soured at the sight of well-bred martial artists.
Besides, the hand techniques the boy had demonstrated lingered in his mind. He'd been utterly helpless, just taking the brutal pounding...
How could I not learn it? No, wait! Enough! This is greed!
His lifelong dream and pain—his inner energy issue—had been resolved. What more could he need?
Yet a sliver of expectation bloomed in his heart. There must be a reason the boy had even performed acupoint sealing on him.
To keep using him long-term, wouldn't the boy teach him various skills in return?
He didn't beat me like this just to enjoy a good punch after so long, did he?
"Can't we go a bit faster?"
The thought of the boy showing up tonight and discovering his escape made his vision spin.
"You want to become a water ghost?"
"Aigoo, no way! I've got a thousand years of happy living left!"
Suddenly, laughter bubbled up. Baek Ui-myeong started grinning. Seeing the smile, the ferryman's oar quickened.
"Oh! You can go faster! Then let's hurry~!"
* * *
Danmok Family's Qinglian Water flowed not just across Hangzhou, but to every corner of Zhejiang Province, and sometimes even beyond to other regions.
Danmok Hyeon-yo had boasted proudly about the elegant calligraphy in the letters Seok Ban-an had written and copied by hand.
Soon after, branch family relatives poured in from all directions.
After two months of applications and a week of initial screening, about twenty children remained.
Half of them—ten in total—would be the final selections.
The once-quiet estate bustled with people, aside from the pharmacy.
Though staying in the reception hall, the branch children and attendants peeked around the main house in tense excitement.
A little girl admiring a cluster of blooming osmanthus flowers spotted Ryeon, tilted her head, then abruptly straightened up.
"Ah, h-hello..."
She bowed deeply, then sidled aside, glancing nervously—waiting for Ryeon to pass.
"You're Wan, right?"
"...!"
The girl, who had been staring at the ground, jumped in surprise.
"Y-yes! Yes, I am."
"Like osmanthus? I love the scent too."
At Ryeon's words, Danmok Wan flushed red to her neck and bowed her head deeply.
"Y-yes! I like it... I really like it."
"Want me to pick one for you? Put it in a water bowl in your room."
"N-no, no! I couldn't impose like that!"
Danmok Wan waved her hands frantically, face crumpling. But Ryeon had already snipped a branch with a flower cluster.
"Oh. Already picked it... What now?"
"N-no! If you give it, I'll gratefully accept it!"
The girl's hands trembled. Her tension was palpable.
"Th-thank you!"
Any more talk might drain the color from her face entirely, so Ryeon handed over the flower branch and left.
"When did you memorize her name?"
"She has talent. So I took note."
"Ah. Were you trying to make her more nervous, or less?"
Hwaryun, following behind, asked slyly. Ryeon shot him a mock glare.
"Hoped to loosen her up, but it didn't work."
Among the branch arrivals, Danmok Wan was one of the top talents, countable on one hand.
Her shyness was a flaw, but her heart wasn't scheming, so Ryeon kept an eye on her.
Hope she relaxes for the final test.
Ryeon had told Danmok Cheon-gi she might select a few herself, but ideally, they'd earn proper recognition to stay—best for everyone.
Truth is, I'd love to take five hundred and raise them all.
Setting aside whether there were even five hundred branch relatives, with Blood Valley's parasites emerging in a decade, five hundred was nothing—she wanted a thousand.
But a thousand would raise eyebrows from the government, despite the unspoken rule against interference. Even five hundred...
Five hundred might make them twitchy too. But more than officials, we just don't have the money yet. Sigh.
The goal was warriors trained in the same arts, growing together, loyal to the family like kin. Simply put, scholarships for distant young relatives.
Of course, that meant covering food, shelter, pocket money—without it, kids sought side jobs instead of training!—plus nice swords or uniforms to inspire them.
Some branches even dangled direct lineage adoption as bait.
Do this for ten kids over ten years, and you'd have proper warriors. Limiting to ten now was due to unstable finances.
Long-term, take more when possible.
But for five hundred? Ryeon would lose sleep worrying if she could feed them next month.
Daoist sects have it easy.
Their setups differed. Seekers escaping worldly ties needed less personal funds; temples got donations from incense-burners and consistent tithes from lay disciples...
Shaolin has tons of emperor-granted fields. Martial artists only invoke non-interference when it suits them?
If emperors donated to historic temples for blessings, it made sense—but Ryeon inwardly grumbled, envious of Shaolin.
Soon, I'll reclaim all our family lands.
Revive withered orchards with spiritual energy, buy back lost fields and shops with Qinglian Water profits, raise disciples.
"Nui, what're you thinking? Your eyes are blazing."
"Making money."
"Wha... Aren't you supposed to burn like that for martial arts?"
Hwaryun grumbled.
"Martial arts..."
Ryeon trailed off, but Hwaryun caught on quick.
"Taking care of itself?"
Ryeon beamed and nodded.
"Money won't bend to my will?"
"Not won't—too many places to spend it."
"Where else?"
"Imagined raising five hundred disciples. Already can't sleep, worrying I'll fail to feed them..."
Ryeon clutched her forehead. Hwaryun burst out laughing, barely catching his breath.
"Always such wild imaginings?"
"That's what leading the family means. Got it?"
"Nope... Everyone should fend for themselves."
"No... The head must take responsibility. Then they'll trust and follow."
"They follow because you'll take responsibility?"
Hwaryun narrowed his eyes.
"That's fake loyalty."
"What? Then why follow a head?"
"Because the head's strongest. No strings."
Ryeon's eyes widened. Her throat dried; tears pricked.
"No! No, Hwaryun! Never. Listen. For people to live together, everyone has roles. Strength matters—to protect family..."
"That's just a deal, not trust."
"Exactly!"
Ryeon nearly jumped, grabbing his shoulders.
"Life's all deals. Not cold—it's give and take. One gives, one receives. Because we love each other."
"True love means giving endlessly?"
How does Machun-gyo recruit? How'd they find such a perfect young cult leader candidate?
Tears welled again in Ryeon's eyes.