Please, Just Be Normal (1)
After finishing my light morning exercise, I headed straight to the training ground. As I approached, shouts that seemed to pierce the heavens rang out. The Shaolin Temple's second- and third-generation disciples were putting the third-generation disciples through grueling training with all their fervor.
"In this Sawangjeon tournament, Shaolin must make it to the top four no matter what! You two there—your arms are going slack! You three in the back—bend your knees more!"
"Yes!"
"Yes!"
"Yes!"
"Hey! Second from the right—I told you not to let your eyes wander during training! Aren't you focusing?!"
"S-sorry. The Namgung clan's youngest young master just showed up over there..."
Mukhu turned his head toward where the disciple was pointing. Namgung Daeso and I-gwon were walking side by side this way.
At that moment, the third-generation disciples started whispering behind Mukhu's back as he turned.
"Looks like the young master won today."
"Yeah, I-gwon's shoulders are slumped. Let's avenge him!"
"You got it! We'll protect the young master!"
Here's a surprising fact: among the third-generation disciples, the youngest was none other than I-gwon. There were plenty younger than him in age, but because his early growth in martial arts, physique, and spirit had been so slow, he'd been the last to join their ranks.
Mukhu, oblivious to their chatter, wore a pleased smile. I-gwon had always been the odd one out, training silently on his own. It made him proud but also a bit pitiful. Ever since the young master arrived, though, that had vanished completely—it was a sight for sore eyes.
There was just one slight side effect...
The third-generation disciples' murmurs were starting to reach Mukhu's ears.
"But can we beat the young master?"
"No way."
"Still, last time fifty won and fifty lost."
"It's a bit unfair, but let's call it at forty today."
"Sounds good!"
The defeatist mindset ingrained in the disciples' heads. Mukhu wanted to erase it too, but those two walking over were on a whole different level from everyone here. Plus, Namgung Daeso and I-gwon had grown beyond recognition in the past year and a half.
Sigh... If only it weren't those two!
His disciples were shaping up decently otherwise.
"Quiet, all of you!"
Mukhu barked unnecessarily at the third-generation disciples before greeting Namgung Daeso.
"Here for sparring again today?"
For the third-generation disciples, sparring with Namgung Daeso—the Namgung clan's youngest young master—was incredibly useful training. Especially since he used all sorts of miscellaneous(?) martial arts. It was a huge advantage to experience every style without seeking out other sects.
"Yeah."
And it was the same for me. Strength, speed, variability, illusions—all martial arts were here. Shaolin's martial knowledge was truly the treasure trove of the world. Getting to experience it freely was something I was even more grateful for.
Normally, we'd jump straight into sparring. Knowing that, Mukhu had come out to greet me, but unlike usual, I added a comment. Mukhu looked at me with surprised eyes.
"You're serious? Even for you, this is dangerous."
"It's fine. And I'll be leaving Shaolin soon anyway. The Sawangjeon is right around the corner, and I need to head back to the clan to prepare a bunch of stuff. So before that, I want to go all out once."
"Hm..."
After a moment's thought, Mukhu continued.
"Wait a bit. This seems beyond my authority. I need to consult the others."
"Sure. Take your time."
Mukhu hurried off somewhere. The third-generation disciples watched him go with baffled expressions.
In his absence, I-gwon took over supervising their training. The mood was always lively without Mukhu. Questions flew: Did you win today? Lose? I-gwon scratched his head and chuckled, "Heh heh, lost."
That sparked cries of vengeance from the potheads.
I ignored them cleanly and sat in a nearby hall, recovering what stamina I could while waiting for Mukhu.
A short while later, I sensed multiple presences approaching. I-gwon, who had been leading the training, and the third-generation disciples suddenly dropped their stances and bowed in unison to the newcomers.
"We pay respects to the sect's elders!"
There stood Shaolin's first- and second-generation disciples. Among them, Jingak—the current interim abbot—spoke briefly.
"Enough with the greetings."
The third-generation disciples straightened up. Jingak headed straight for me.
"You want to use internal energy in the sparring?"
The proposal I'd made to Mukhu earlier.
"Yes."
Jingak's expression twisted in displeasure. Until now, our spars had forbidden internal energy, relying solely on stamina and forms.
"With the Sawangjeon so close, you know how dangerous internal energy makes things. If anyone gets injured, they might not even make it to the tournament. You do know that, right?"
"Yes. But nothing beats real combat for training. And it'll just be internal energy—no different from usual spars."
It wouldn't turn into the brutal free-for-all of the Namgung clan, with lethal strikes flying everywhere.
Jingak pondered. Namgung Daeso's words made sense. And thanks to following his bizarre training suggestions so far, the disciples' skills had improved by leaps and bounds. Well, there were some side effects...
"No. 48, what day is it today? All the elders showing up at once."
"Yeah. No. 60, you know?"
"Let's ask No. 100. He'll know."
"No. 100, you know?"
"I don't. Is it group training day?"
"Our mistake asking No. 100."
"But, Senior Brother No. 60."
"Yeah?"
"I wanna twist your arm a bit."
"...Take that back."
The disciples calling each other by weird numbers instead of their dharma names. It was all because of Namgung Daeso, but even Jingak found it more convenient now.
No. 60! Scared of a junior brother... Tsk tsk.
One thing was clear: real combat like this would make the disciples grow even more. Nothing beat actual fighting for training. But Jingak worried about potential accidents. It would be inconvenient for Shaolin, and if Namgung Daeso got hurt, the current temple lacked the capacity to handle the fallout.
"If you're worried about injuries during the spar, just have observers. Like referees."
"That work? If we put Shaolin people in charge, they might rule against you."
"Psh, why worry? It's not like I don't trust Shaolin. After all the time we've spent together!"
"It's only been a little over a year..."
"And there's the perfect guy right here!"
"Who?"
I pointed to an old man in the corner who'd been pretending to sweep the courtyard with a broom since earlier.
"Right there—the defrocked monk grandpa."
Everyone looked his way. Jinheo, former abbot and current courtyard sweeper, quickly resumed his fake sweeping as eyes turned to him.
"Not even a Shaolin member, trusted by all, fair-minded, and with the skills to intervene in emergencies."
Jingak nodded.
"If it's my senior brother..."
"So, it's decided?"
Still, Jingak hesitated to commit fully. Then two figures popped up. I'd half-expected them around now. I'd mentioned yesterday that today might be my last day at Shaolin before leaving.
"Amitabha. If you're that worried, I'll observe too."
"Infinite Blessings Buddha. Might as well join in."
Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja appeared out of nowhere, after being absent for whatever plotting they'd been up to.
Slippery old foxes!
At this point, Jingak felt his worries were pointless. Three Hwagyeong experts, no less.
"Very well. Internal energy permitted. I'll observe too."
Now four Hwagyeong experts. The safest spar in the world was set.
And I eyed the two old foxes—last seen yesterday after a long time.
Suspicious~
The old foxes avoided my gaze, staring off at distant mountains.
Whatever. I know what you've been up to.
I smirked and sent them a transmission.
-I set the table. 200 nyang silver per side.
-Ahem, got it.
-Ahem, that guy's stingy! Where's Je-cheon anyway? Haven't seen him.
-...... Uh...... Forgot.
Before starting, some prep was needed. Once wrapped up, Jingak stepped before the third-generation disciples and explained briefly.
"Be more cautious than ever in today's spar. Because we'll allow internal energy."
Murmurs rippled through.
As expected, the third-generation disciples buzzed. Jingak continued.
"I know it's sudden and confusing. And with internal energy, danger follows. But as your interim abbot and senior of the Nahansung, I have words for you. You've put in more than twice the effort of others. You're strong! Don't fear in advance. Clash with all you've got. If you lose, train harder with all you've got! That's the Shaolin way."
The murmurs vanished instantly. Silence fell. But the third-generation disciples' eyes burned with fiery resolve as they gazed at Jingak.
I looked at him.
Definitely that guy...
He usually wandered around grinning foolishly, causing trouble for everyone, but he knew how to stir hearts at key moments. In some ways, he seemed more suited for abbot than the defrocked monk grandpa shyly stirring up dust with his broom over there.
You've gotta guard your own rice bowl. Another huge lesson learned today as the sparring began.
My first opponent: Pothead No. 1.
A moment later.
Everyone's jaws dropped.
"Next."
Pothead No. 10 shuffled out listlessly. He seemed unable to process the situation. No wonder—it was all happening too fast to keep up.
Hm...
I was the one who'd created this mess. But even I was at a loss in the suddenly chilly atmosphere.
Because...
What the—!
I hadn't expected this at all.
For the past year and a half, I'd deliberately avoided using internal energy, pouring everything into physical conditioning. This was my first time unleashing it.
Pothead No. 10's attack looked slooooow. No exaggeration—a caterpillar could've crawled faster.
Crack!
I lightly smacked Pothead No. 10's daegari.
The same scene repeated.
Uh...
But this time, Pothead No. 10 flew farther than expected. If Jingak hadn't swiftly caught him midair, he might've crashed and gotten seriously hurt.
The mood was icy. Everyone glared at me suspiciously.
Did I expect this?!
Full power? Hell no—I had to hold back now. This was insane. Power surged through my body. My dantian whined like it was mad I'd ignored it so long. I tried reining it in, but it bucked like an angry bull.
With shaky eyes, I addressed the crowd.
"Uh... I... didn't mean to."
The suspicious stares lingered.
"You can't seriously not trust me now?"
A few nodded. Why! I'd been such a good boy at Shaolin! A few daegari smacks and this?! I'd taken thousands of hits during spars!
Seemed best to pause the sparring. Then, a massive bear of a man rose.
"I believe you! The young master's gotten strong. But he doesn't realize how strong yet. Sorry, seniors—gonna cut in line. I'll be your opponent. Full power."
I-gwon grinned brightly, sun at his back.
At that moment, Namgung Je-cheon arrived.
"Why's that lunatic grinning like an idiot?"