Taking Up the Sword (1)
The sword Cheon Mu-ryang swung was, frankly, pathetic.
"Heh heh!"
A small laugh rang out.
It wasn't blatant, but faint snickers—just quiet enough—echoed through every corner of the training grounds.
"Huff, huff!"
What's more, after only a few swings, Cheon Mu-ryang was already panting heavily.
Seeing this, most of the trainees practicing in the yard either laughed quietly or reacted with cold, unsurprised looks, as if to say of course.
Even though he clearly knew this, Cheon Mu-ryang didn't particularly react.
Because the fact that he looked ridiculous was undeniable.
My stamina really is a total mess.
It wasn't just his insides that had been ruined by excessive elixirs.
The excess fat he'd gained as a result—no matter how kindly one put it—could hardly be called prosperous.
"Tsk."
Cheon Mu-ryang clicked his tongue out of habit.
How pathetic.
He didn't even have a body capable of swinging a sword properly.
He felt like mocking himself.
"It seems… building my body comes first."
Not only did he need to regulate the elixir energy with his internal power, he also needed to build up basic stamina.
Fortunately, he'd brought a change of clothes—talk about foresight.
"Then shall I run?"
Cheon Mu-ryang set the sword down.
It wasn't time yet.
Whooong!
The sword hummed softly.
But what could he do?
Everything had its proper order.
"Hoo…."
After steadying his breathing, Cheon Mu-ryang began running around the training grounds.
To others, he looked nothing more than a pig with flabby flesh wobbling as it ran.
No one dared laugh outright, but scornful gazes poured down on him.
Still, Cheon Mu-ryang paid them no mind.
I just have to walk my own path.
If he couldn't endure even this, he wouldn't be able to accomplish anything.
As he ran, Cheon Mu-ryang controlled his breathing.
From the internal energy filling his body, he drew up only what he could control.
"Ugh…."
Even so, it felt as though his flesh were burning.
Yet Cheon Mu-ryang gritted his teeth, circulating his internal energy as he kept running.
His heart felt like it might burst, but at some point, his breathing began to stabilize.
"Huff, huff!"
Breaths came at steady intervals.
He was still slow and unsightly—but he never stopped.
"Heh heh!"
There were still those who laughed.
Before long, however, even their laughter faded.
"Huh? He's still going?"
Even after eating.
Even after training had ended.
Cheon Muryang was still running.
"Huff, huff!"
He wasn't fast.
His flesh still jiggled.
But he never stopped.
Not for a single moment.
And so, some of them began whispering.
"How long is he planning to run?"
"Hmph. It's probably just a three-day resolve. Just because he's doing that today doesn't mean he'll do it tomorrow."
"I-is that so?"
Most believed it wouldn't even last a full day.
Since one day of effort was plausible, they soon lost interest altogether.
That's actually better.
Cheon Muryang preferred indifference to excessive attention.
How long had he been running?
"Gasp, gasp!"
Exhaling roughly, Cheon Muryang collapsed flat on his back in the training yard.
The clothes that had been fresh and dry that morning were now completely soaked with sweat.
Whoosh!
The cold night air felt refreshingly cool.
"Feels good."
"Y-young master…! A-are you alright?"
Wolyoung hurried over.
She wiped his sweat-soaked face with a towel.
"I feel like I'm dying."
"You skipped your meal and pushed yourself way too hard!"
"Even if I ate, it'd just taste the same as always. Missing one meal is fine."
Saying that, Cheon Muryang forced himself to stand.
"One last lap."
"W-what? You're running again?"
"There's a goal I set for myself. I have to see it through."
"Huh?"
Wolyoung didn't know, but Cheon Muryang had decided to run exactly one hundred laps.
And now that he'd completed ninety-nine, only one remained.
"Alright, here I go."
Dragging legs that barely moved anymore, Cheon Muryang forced himself to run.
Watching him, Wolyoung's eyes trembled endlessly.
Is this really the young master I know?
She had served him closely for a long time.
In the Cheon family, there was probably no one who knew Cheon Muryang better than Wolyoung.
What on earth happened…?
Even she was confused.
Still…
Cheon Muryang staggered as he ran.
Why was it?
He looked like the Cheon Muryang of his childhood—before he became violent.
Thank goodness, young master.
Wolyoung remembered the Cheon Muryang from before he became a ruffian.
She didn't know when—or if—he might return to that state, but she wanted to believe in him.
"Hang in there."
Cheon Muryang finally completed the lap.
"Wolyoung, give me a hand."
"Yes, yes! Lean on me."
Seeing Wolyoung strangely brightened, Cheon Muryang asked,
"Something good happen?"
"Huh? N-not at all."
"Hm…."
Wolyoung was stronger than she looked.
So even when Cheon Muryang's bulky body leaned on her, she supported him easily.
"Let's go."
"Yes. But, young master."
"What?"
"Are you going to run in the training grounds again tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Yes! I'll prepare everything!"
"I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?"
"Ah, would you like the stir-fried mushrooms from yesterday?"
"Sure. Sounds good."
"And alcohol… should I prepare that too?"
"No. No alcohol. I'm not drinking anymore, so you don't need to prepare it from now on."
"You really mean it?"
"Of course. A man's word weighs a thousand pieces of gold! I won't say two things with one mouth."
"Yes, yes. I know."
"Let's go."
"Yes."
After the two left, the training ground was empty.
Yet something—something cold—swept its gaze across the ground where Cheon Muryang had collapsed after his final lap.
Supported by Wolyoung, Cheon Muryang barely made it back to his room and sat cross-legged on the bed.
"Hm…."
It felt unbelievably stiff.
Even though it was a posture he'd held all his life, it felt uncomfortable.
I have to endure it.
Isn't the first day always the hardest?
Cheon Muryang practiced the Cheon Yang Divine Art, a basic technique any warrior of the Cheon family could learn.
I'll have to make do with the basics.
It would be nice to learn higher-level martial arts from the Heavenly Dragon Archive, but for now, there was no quick solution.
He tried to dissolve the elixir energy filling his body.
The resistance is stronger than I expected.
However, since he lacked sufficient internal power, he couldn't properly handle the various elixir energies.
These are completely different kinds of energy.
Broadly speaking, the elixirs were divided into two types.
Yin energy and Yang energy.
They formed a strange balance, as if they didn't encroach upon each other's domains.
This won't be easy.
Everything had its proper timing.
After consuming elixirs, one should immediately focus on assimilating their energy.
Having missed that window, the elixir energies had settled into Cheon Muryang's body as they were.
Well, this is just the beginning. You can't expect to be full after the first spoonful.
He sensed someone approaching.
It was probably Wolyoung, bringing water for washing.
Cheon Muryang gathered his internal energy.
"Hoo…."
Flash!
Cheon Muryang opened his eyes.
They were clearly different from the dull, bleary eyes he'd always had while soaked in alcohol.
"Young master, here's the water to wash with."
"Alright. Thank you."
What Wolyoung brought wasn't just water.
She'd also brought the stir-fried mushrooms he'd been so curious about.
"Well then, shall I try it?"
"You should wash up first!"
"Ah, right."
The stir-fried mushrooms had a very wholesome, healthy taste.
A month passed.
During that time, Cheon Muryang didn't skip a single day of running in the training grounds.
That wasn't all.
At some point, he added strength training to his runs.
It was an almost brutal amount of training.
"Hey, he showed up again today."
"Tch. It's even raining."
"Whatever. Hurry up and pay."
As a result, quiet betting began among the trainees about Cheon Muryang's training.
Seeing him show up even on a rainy day, some gathered and exchanged money.
"Lost again, Neung Ryeoun."
"Damn it."
"Pay up."
"What's his problem, anyway?"
"Idiot, keep it down."
"Shh!"
When Neungryun raised his voice, the others hurried to stop him.
No matter what, Cheon Muryang was the eldest son of the family head.
If they openly treated him as a betting subject, they could get into serious trouble.
"Tch! Let him hear!"
"Stop it. What are you going to do?"
"I'm not saying I'll do anything—it's just embarrassing. Pretending to train now, of all times."
"That's true. If he weren't the Cheon family's eldest son, he'd have been kicked out long ago."
To trainees who aspired to become warriors of the Cheon family, Cheon Muryang's very existence was a privilege.
"A ruffian living in luxury off his superior bloodline."
That was how they looked at Cheon Mu-ryang.
So even if Cheon Mu-ryang was destined to become the future head of the family, there was no chance they would feel even a shred of loyalty toward him.
The center of the Cheon Clan lay with the current head, Cheon Wi-gang, and with Cheon Seon-hak—the leader of both the Cheon Mu-ryang Sword Division and the Cheonbong Sword Division—as well as the elder Cheon Jung-ho.
In other words, the respect of most trainees was directed toward those three figures, never toward Cheon Mu-ryang.
Naturally, there was no reason for them to look kindly upon Cheon Mu-ryang, the infamous wastrel of the age.
"Even so, that guy gets to learn the Cheon Clan's secret techniques whenever he wants. Damn unfair."
"Keep it down. Someone might hear you."
A wastrel who could learn the Cheon Clan's techniques at any time—Cheon Mu-ryang.
Wasn't it only because he was of the direct bloodline that he had even been given this opportunity?
The trainees were in no position to like Cheon Mu-ryang.
"Well, so what? Whether the eldest young master comes to his senses or not, all we have to do is train in martial arts and get paid, right?"
"That's true, but still…"
It was a thoroughly transactional relationship.
The Cheon Clan provided money and martial arts, and in return the trainees merely became affiliated with the clan.
"Besides, even if that wastrel eldest young master becomes the family head, he won't have any real power."
"What?"
"Think about it. There's the council of elders, and above all, do you really think Lord Cheon Seon-hak would follow the eldest young master's orders?"
"Ah… yeah, that's true."
They were right.
The structure of the Cheon Clan was highly unusual, and the authority of the family head was not particularly absolute.
Everyone respected the current head, Cheon Wi-gang, but that did not mean his power was unquestionable.
Because of this peculiar structure, the trainees themselves were divided into two groups.
They either became members of the martial force led by Cheon Seon-hak, or they joined the Elders' Council.
"And frankly, even if the eldest young master becomes the family head, how could he just throw us out?"
"Hey, Neungryeoun. Aren't you going too far?"
"Let's be honest. Does the current Cheon Clan really look like the Cheon Clan of the old days?"
The Cheon Clan was once counted among the Ten Great Clans of the martial world, but even that was nothing more than past glory.
Amid fierce competition from countless rising clans and sects, the Cheon Clan was gradually losing its edge.
"He absolutely won't be able to cast us aside."
"That's enough. Even if you lost the bet, stop whining, Neung Ryeoun."
"Tch."
"The bet's over, so let's go."
The bet was over.
Those who had won money left the training grounds laughing and chatting.
Left alone, Neung Ryeoun kicked at the innocent stones on the ground, venting his frustration.
"Ah, damn it."
He always lost his bets, but today, seeing Cheon Mu-ryang running across the training grounds irritated him more than usual.
He wanted to sneer at the effort of Cheon Mu-ryang, who pushed through the rain and ran in silence, as if he had no idea people were betting on him.
"Tch. What's going to change just because that pig runs like that?"
So he said it openly, loud enough to be heard.
He almost hoped Cheon Mu-ryang would hear it and cause a scene.
"Huff, huff!"
Even though he must have heard it, Cheon Mu-ryang showed no reaction at all.
Watching him continue to run silently, Neung Ryeoun felt strangely irritated and spat harshly onto the ground.
"Ptooey!"
Just as he was about to leave the training grounds—
Someone stepped in front of Neung Ryeoun.
It was a woman with cold eyes.
"Hm?"
"Take back what you just said."
"What did you say?"
"Retract your insult toward the young master."
Neung Ryeoun was dumbfounded.
How dare a mere servant talk about apologies?
"Hey, Neung Ryeoun. Aren't you coming?"
"Just leave him. He looks busy anyway. Hahaha."
Seeing him with a servant, they mocked Neung Ryeoun in a strange way.
Perhaps because of those looks—
Whoosh!
Neung Ryeoun's face flushed hot.
And without thinking, he drew his sword.
Shrring!
Even trainees of the Cheon Clan were issued real blades.
Neung Ryeoun's sword gleamed sharply, more than capable of killing a person.
"What nonsense did you spout? Say it again."
But Wol-young was not afraid.
Instead, she raised her eyes and replied clearly,
"I told you not to insult a young master who's working that hard."
"Y-you bitch!"
Enraged, Neung Ryeoun swung his sword.
He had no intention of killing her.
He only meant to scare her.
Just bringing the blade to her neck would be enough to make her tremble in fear.
However, things did not go as he expected.
Kaaang!
A sharp sound rang out.
"Hngh!"
Neung Ryeoun's sword was knocked backward.
Clang!
Clatter.
No—he was struck so hard that he dropped the sword altogether.
Neung Ryeoun couldn't understand what had just happened.
"What…?"
Before the question could even settle—
A chilling sensation wrapped around him.
"What do you think you're doing right now?"
A cold voice.
Its owner was Cheon Mu-ryang, who had been running across the training grounds just moments ago.
"I…"
Soaked through by the rain, droplets were still falling from him.
Step.
Without realizing it, Neung Ryeoun backed away.
"Pick up your sword."
"…?"
"If you have something to say to Wol-young, say it to me—with a blade."
"Are you… challenging me to a duel?"
"A duel…"
Cheon Mu-ryang sneered.
"What if I called it a fight to the death?"
"…!"
"Pick up your sword."
"If the outcome decides this matter—"
"If you win, I won't take issue with what happened today. I also won't appear at this training ground again. Is that enough?"
"Y-young master!"
Wol-young cried out in alarm, trying to stop him.
She knew that for nearly a month, he had only been running and doing strength training—and had not held a sword even once.
But Wol-young realized then—
There was no stopping him.
"I can endure insults directed at me."
But—
"I will not endure insults directed at those who stand by my side."
That was the conviction of Cheon Mu-ryang—
Once nameless in his previous life, now reborn as the eldest son of the Cheon Clan.
"Draw your sword, Neung Ryeoun."
"…!"