Flying Dragon Thirteenth Squad
"Haa… haa…"
Breath rising to his throat and his mind dulled from exhaustion, Bisa Yeong suddenly recalled the last day he left his sect.
"Senior Brother! I'll go to the frontlines! If you leave too, our Bijong Sect will truly be finished!"
"Silence! The Bijong Sect is already finished! Avenge it—that is my duty as the eldest brother!"
Those had been his master's last words before Bisa Yeong ran out of the sect and headed for the front.
Bisa Yeong, now of the Seventh Squad of the Flying Dragon Thirteenth Battalion, came from the Bijong Sect, which was in ruin.
Though one elder and a few junior disciples still remained, the sect's decline was irreversible.
With the deaths of their master and elders at the Bloody Tragedy of Muhwang Tomb, the sect's core internal manual had been lost.
The Bijong Sect had never produced a famous peak master, but its lightness arts were considered among the best in the martial world. The loss of their internal manual, however, was as good as a death sentence.
Lightness skills without inner energy were nothing more than fancy footwork.
Bisa Yeong had volunteered to go to the front because he couldn't bear to send the younger disciples to die.
Since the Bijong Sect had no future against the Demonic Sect's forces, someone had to die first—and as eldest brother, he believed it should be him.
At the same time, part of him longed not to cling to a dying sect but to at least take revenge by killing a single demon.
What he had not anticipated was that on the frontlines he would find disciples of the Celestial Spear Sect—his sect's sworn enemies—and worse, that he would be forced to serve in the same battalion, even the same squad, as them.
The first time he met Joo Taegyeong, who proudly introduced himself as a disciple of the Celestial Spear Sect with a smug smile, Bisa Yeong had declared firmly:
"I am a disciple of the Bijong Sect."
To which Joo Taegyeong had replied, expression unchanging:
"Was there such a sect?"
The insult burned his throat, but he endured it. Perhaps the man truly didn't know.
Suppressing his fury, he had explained:
"My master and elders perished in the Bloody Tragedy of Muhwang Tomb."
The Bloody Tragedy.
A horror born when martial artists from all over the land followed the map of Muhwang Tomb to Yunnan, only for the greedy Celestial Spear Sect to swoop in at the last moment to claim it. Resistance had led to a clash, which ended in the tomb's collapse, annihilating both the gathered martial artists and the Celestial Spear Sect disciples.
Weakened, the Celestial Spear Sect was then overrun by the Demonic Sect, losing its mountain stronghold and all of Yunnan to them.
It had all been a scheme of the Demonic Sect, who had counted on the Celestial Spear Sect's greed.
Yet to those who had lived through the Bloody Tragedy, the Celestial Spear Sect was no different from the Demonic Sect itself.
They had been the ones who barged in claiming the tomb was theirs, slaughtered countless martial artists, and forced the survivors inside to face the horror.
To Bisa Yeong, the Celestial Spear Sect was the true enemy of his sect, the traitors who had handed Yunnan to the Demonic Sect.
Still, he hadn't asked for much.
He knew it was unrealistic to expect an apology from a first-class swordsman of the Celestial Spear Sect.
Even so, if he could have seen even the faintest look of guilt—something, anything—it might have been some comfort.
But Joo Taegyeong had only sneered:
"So? Your elders died because they were too greedy. And what of it? Do you boast of this?"
The moment he heard that mocking laugh, Bisa Yeong lost his reason.
He had roared like a beast and charged.
"It was your fault! It was your Celestial Spear Sect that caused that massacre!"
Joo Taegyeong had smirked, almost waiting for it, and counterattacked with a lethal blow, inner energy laced into it.
For a brief moment, Bisa Yeong had felt it—this man truly meant to kill him.
And at the instant Joo Taegyeong's hand, like a sword, was about to pierce his throat, it was Captain Seolpung who intervened, blocking the strike.
That had been the moment Bisa Yeong narrowly escaped death.
Receiving Seolpung's fierce gaze, Joo Taegyeong had scoffed, gathered his followers, and departed.
"Insult the Celestial Spear Sect again, and I'll kill you for certain."
Bisa Yeong had been crushed.
He had never felt so powerless, so pathetic.
His life since then hadn't been much different.
With his second-rate skills, he couldn't even kill a single demon, let alone match Joo Taegyeong.
Even the weakest ghoul required at least first-class strength to slay.
And with only rudimentary inner training, he was doomed never to progress beyond second-rate, no matter how long he trained.
Everything seemed unfair, meaningless.
Captain Seolpung had once offered to train him, but he had refused outright.
Being pitied as weak was worse than death.
That was how Bisa Yeong lived.
Or rather, existed. For if life meant pursuing a goal, then he wasn't truly living—merely breathing.
Until, a month ago, a lunatic had joined their squad.
A fellow second-rate martial artist, fat and sluggish-looking, barely even resembling a warrior.
But that lunatic had clashed with Joo Taegyeong on his very first day, mocking him with the nickname "Celestial Spear Snake" and boasting he could surpass him in just a month or two.
A truly crazy man.
Yet that madness had thrilled Bisa Yeong.
Maybe that was why he had pretended to be provoked into joining the training.
But within a day, he realized what a mistake that had been.
If he hadn't agreed, he wouldn't be suffering like this now.
Panting in defeat on a tree branch, he saw Captain Seolpung—wearing a thirty-gwan iron vest, blindfolded—leaping lightly from branch to branch.
For Bisa Yeong, who prided himself on at least his lightness skill, it was utterly humiliating.
But he had no choice.
Even after a month of desperate effort, with only a ten-gwan weight, he could follow the captain for at most half a shichen (about an hour).
"Huff… huff… damn it…"
He was dying, but he refused to give up.
Giving up was worse than death.
And behind him, that lunatic was still coming.
"Hahaha! Sa-yeong! Exhausted again after just half a shichen? At this rate I'll catch up to you soon! Hahaha!"
Seonu Jin. That bastard had to be insane.
He ran and stumbled, falling from trees again and again, yet stubbornly climbed back up, his body covered in mud, even his face caked in dirt, his eyes bloodshot but still burning with determination.
How could anyone laugh like that in such a state?
Bisa Yeong couldn't understand.
But seeing him, he grit his teeth and rose again.
He could not—would not—lose to that man.
Seonu Jin's body had already changed beyond recognition in a month.
Now he had an average frame. But to make up for the lost weight, he had begun carrying iron weights in his vest—heavier than Bisa Yeong's own.
To lose against a man of the same second-rate class, carrying heavier iron than himself? Bisa Yeong would rather die.
All the more since that man was learning the Bijong Sect's inner methods from him.
Seonu Jin's Training and the Awakening of Bisa Yeong
Just three days after beginning training, Seonu Jin had come to him, asking for help.
"Brother Bi, to be honest, I've never properly learned any lightness techniques. So I honestly have no idea how to keep up with the captain's training. Could you help me?"
The fellow who already pleased him was now bowing his head and asking for help—Bisa Yeong couldn't deny it felt good.
So he asked how he could help, and the young man carefully suggested:
"Could you perhaps teach me the Bijong Sect's movement arts? Ah! Of course I'm not asking for secret techniques—just the basics. And I'm not asking for it for free, either. I know a fairly decent inner cultivation method. If I were to share that in exchange, would that be acceptable?"
Bisa Yeong had been shocked.
What he needed most was exactly an inner cultivation manual.
It was a dazzlingly tempting offer, but that was exactly why he couldn't answer right away—his pride was stung.
Seeing this, Seonu Jin had put on a downcast expression.
"I see… I guess that won't do. It is a good method, but of course it wouldn't be worth trading for something like the Bijong Sect's movement art. I understand."
Bisa Yeong had nearly smiled with satisfaction, but managed to suppress it.
Never before had anyone recognized the value of his sect's movement techniques like this.
So after clearing his throat, he told the dejected Seonu Jin:
"Our sect's art is outstanding, so I can't just pass it down lightly. But with so many of our elders gone, I'm practically the sect leader now. And we are comrades-in-arms. So… if it's only the basics, then…."
Seonu Jin had then grabbed his hand, his face alight with joy, repeating his thanks over and over.
Thus, Bisa Yeong passed down the Bijong Sect's movement method, while in return learning the "Swift Will Manual," a genuine inner cultivation method.
It was from the Swift Sect, destroyed decades ago, and that sect had also been famed for its lightness skills—making it perfectly suited to Bisa Yeong's training.
In truth, this had been arranged in advance by Seolpung and Seonu Jin, who had secretly discussed which cultivation manuals they knew and chosen one best suited for Bisa Yeong. But of course, Bisa Yeong had no way of knowing that.
Nor could he know that Seonu Jin had already learned the Bijong Sect's method from him in a previous life.
Either way, from then on, Bisa Yeong ran again with renewed determination, unwilling ever to lose to Seonu Jin.
And though he didn't realize it himself, with the proper inner cultivation method, his stagnant realm had begun to rise once more.
Captain Seolpung's dawn training usually consisted of an hour running atop tree branches, followed by another hour of high-speed pursuit catching passing insects with hands and feet.
For the others, however, only the first hour was within reach.
After that, when Seolpung sprinted off for the second stage, the rest would meditate to regulate their breathing, then gather in the clearing to practice weapon arts.
This too was because of Seonu Jin.
At first, for about a week, they would rest after meditation. But after a week, as he slimmed down, Seonu Jin had suddenly declared that this much was nothing, and began stubbornly swinging his sword again.
Bisa Yeong, who had thought himself too exhausted to move, was forced to rise when Seonu Jin cast him and Bae Jonggwan a sympathetic glance and remarked:
"Brother Bi, Brother Bae, you're already that tired? For warriors, this is… well…."
He hadn't finished the sentence, but the disappointed look in his eyes had made his meaning clear.
Stung, Bisa Yeong had jumped to his feet.
"This? Nothing! I'm not tired at all!"
"M-me neither!"
And strangely, once he forced himself up, his body really did begin to move again.
As they trained weapons together, Captain Seolpung would return from his sprint to offer advice.
But what Bisa Yeong hated most wasn't the morning training—it was the external training in the afternoon, after meals.
Though Bae Jonggwan had always been his friend, Bisa Yeong thought his external training was pointless.
What use was toughened skin against demons who tore trees and shattered rocks with bare hands, whose hides couldn't even be scratched without sword qi?
And smearing foul-smelling herbs on one's body, then striking oneself with split bamboo rods or cudgels? To him, it was shameful and ridiculous.
So he had sworn never to let Seonu Jin's provocations drag him into this.
"I understand. For Brother Bi, such training must be too painful to endure."
"Hmph! Don't provoke me! I'll never do that, no matter what!"
Seonu Jin had only nodded, then turned to Bae Jonggwan.
"So Brother Bi thinks we're shameful. Well, it can't be helped. After all, only true friends can share in each other's shame, isn't that so?"
Bisa Yeong had been struck dumb.
Because Bae Jonggwan was looking at him with hurt eyes.
"N-no, it's not that I think it's shameful, it's just…."
But Bisa Yeong's personality wouldn't let him lie—especially not to deny something that was, in fact, true.
And maybe Seonu Jin was right. Perhaps real friends, real men, were those who could share even in shame without flinching.
In the end, Bisa Yeong had no choice but to leap up.
"Damn it! Fine! Let's do it together!"
From then on, members of the Thirteenth Squad could see three men striking each other's bare bodies with bamboo rods, screaming as they trained.
And Bae Jonggwan, smiling from ear to ear as he happily swung bamboo at his friends, looked so disturbingly pleased that the sight alone was enough to make one grimace.
"Hahahaha! See? Training together makes it so much easier! Even fun! Thank you, my friends! You truly are my real brothers! Hahahaha!"
As he was whipped with bamboo, red welts rising across his swollen skin, Bisa Yeong regretted every word he had spoken about doing it together.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Ugh! Aaagh! Guhhh!"
But he couldn't stop now.
To quit would be to admit he wasn't a true friend.
He nearly cried.
After dinner, the evening training was sparring with Captain Seolpung and their comrades.
For this, Bisa Yeong was grateful.
The chance to face a peak master personally and receive his advice was invaluable, something he could never get anywhere else.
But what surprised him was that he learned the most not from sparring with Seolpung—but from watching Seonu Jin.
Losing to Seolpung wasn't discouraging. He was a peak master; it was natural that Bisa Yeong couldn't keep up.
But watching Seonu Jin fight, Bisa Yeong realized something painfully clear.
He wasn't weak because of poor inner energy cultivation—he was weak simply because he didn't know how to fight.
With sharp judgment and the right responses, even a second-rate warrior could put up a fine fight against a peak master.
Seonu Jin proved it with his very body.
The revelation shook both Bisa Yeong and Bae Jonggwan.
And they finally understood why Seonu Jin had dared to provoke Joo Taegyeong, a first-class warrior.
He truly had confidence.
Bisa Yeong repented his excuses—that his weakness came from lacking an inner cultivation manual—and recognized that he had simply been neglecting true training.
It was like being reborn from an egg.
And now, for the first time in so long, Bisa Yeong felt alive—truly, vividly alive.