Taking Up the Sword (1)
The sword Cheon Muyang swung was, quite frankly, pathetic.
"Heehee!"
Small laughs could be heard.
They weren't blatant, but faint sneers—quiet enough to pretend they weren't there—echoed throughout the training grounds.
"Huff, huff!"
After swinging it only a few times, Cheon Muyang was already breathing roughly.
Seeing this, most of the trainees practicing in the training grounds either laughed quietly or reacted with cold looks that said of course.
Cheon Muyang knew this perfectly well, yet he didn't react.
Because it was an undeniable fact—his swordplay really was laughable.
'My stamina is a complete mess.'
It wasn't only his internal body that had been ruined by excessive elixirs.
The excessive fat he'd gained as a result couldn't be generously described as "well-fed."
"Ts."
Cheon Muyang clicked his tongue out of habit.
How utterly pathetic.
This was a body that couldn't even properly swing a sword.
He almost wanted to laugh at himself.
"It seems… rebuilding the body comes first."
Before regulating the elixirs with internal energy, he needed to build basic physical strength.
Fortunately, he'd brought spare clothes—talk about foresight.
"Then shall I run?"
Cheon Muyang set the sword down.
It wasn't time yet.
Whoong!
The Cheon Gwang Sword hummed in protest.
But what could he do?
Everything had its proper order.
"Huu…."
After steadying his breath, Cheon Muyang began running around the training grounds.
To others, he looked no different than a pig with wobbling fat.
No one dared laugh openly, but eyes full of ridicule poured in.
Yet Cheon Muyang paid those gazes no mind.
'I just need to walk my own path.'
If he couldn't endure even this, he wouldn't be able to accomplish anything.
As he ran, Cheon Muyang controlled his breathing.
From the vast internal energy filling his body, he drew up only what he could control.
"Ugh…."
Even that alone made it feel as if his flesh were burning.
Still, Cheon Muyang gritted his teeth and continued running while circulating his energy.
His heart felt like it would burst, but at some point, his breathing began to stabilize.
"Huff, huff!"
Breaths came at regular intervals.
He was still slow and unsightly—but he never stopped.
"Heehee!"
Some were still laughing.
But before long, even their laughter died out.
"Huh? He's still going?"
Even after eating.
Even after their own training had ended.
Cheon Muyang was still running.
"Huff, huff!"
The speed wasn't fast.
The fat still wobbled.
But he never stopped.
Not even for a moment.
Soon, a few people began whispering.
"How long is he planning to run?"
"Hmph. Even so, it's probably just a three-day whim. Just because he's doing it today doesn't mean he'll do it tomorrow."
"I-I guess?"
Most believed it wouldn't even last a full day.
Since it could happen for one day, they quickly lost interest altogether.
'Honestly, that's better.'
Cheon Muyang preferred indifference to excessive attention.
How long had he been running?
"Huff… huff!"
Letting out ragged breaths, Cheon Muyang collapsed flat on his back in the training grounds.
The clothes that had been crisp in the morning were now soaked with sweat.
Whoo—
The cold night air felt refreshingly cool.
"Feels nice."
"Y-Young Master…! A-Are you alright?"
Wolyeong hurried over.
She wiped his sweat-soaked face with a towel.
"I feel like I'm going to die."
"You skipped your meal and pushed yourself too hard!"
"Even if I eat, it'll taste the same as always. Missing one day is fine."
Saying that, Cheon Muyang forced himself back to his feet.
"One last lap."
"…What? You're running again?"
"I set a goal. I need to see it through."
"Huh?"
Wolyeong didn't know, but Cheon Muyang had decided to run exactly one hundred laps around the training grounds.
And now, he had completed ninety-nine.
Only one lap remained.
"Here I go."
Dragging legs that barely wanted to move, Cheon Muyang forced himself to run.
Watching him, Wolyeong's eyes trembled endlessly.
'Is this really the Young Master I know?'
She had served him for a long time.
There was probably no one in the Cheon Clan who knew Cheon Muyang better than Wolyeong.
'What in the world happened…?'
Even she was confused.
'Still…'
Cheon Muyang running clumsily, wobbling along.
For some reason, he reminded her of Cheon Muyang as a child—before he became cruel.
'I'm really glad, Young Master.'
Wolyeong remembered.
The Cheon Muyang from before he became a scoundrel.
She didn't know if he might someday return to that state—but she wanted to believe in him.
"Do your best."
Cheon Muyang finally completed the last lap.
"Wolyeong, give me a hand."
"Yes, yes! Lean on me."
Seeing that Wolyeong somehow seemed brighter, Cheon Muyang asked,
"Something good happen?"
"Huh? Of course not."
"Hm…."
Wolyeong was stronger than he had expected.
So even when Cheon Muyang's bulky body leaned on her, she supported him without trouble.
"Let's go quickly."
"Yes. But, Young Master."
"What is it?"
"Are you going to run in the training grounds again tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Okay! I'll prepare things as well!"
"I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?"
"Ah, would you like the stir-fried mushrooms you had yesterday?"
"Sure. Sounds good."
"Shall I… prepare alcohol too?"
"No. No alcohol. I won't be drinking anymore, so you don't need to prepare it from now on."
"You really mean it?"
"Yes. A man's word is worth a thousand pieces of gold. I won't take it back."
"Okay. I know."
"Let's go."
"Yes."
After the two left, the training grounds were empty.
But then, a cold gaze swept across the ground where Cheon Muyang had collapsed after his final lap.
Barely making it back to his room with Wolyeong's support, Cheon Muyang sat cross-legged on the bed.
"Hm…."
It was incredibly stiff.
Even though it was a posture he had held all his life, it felt uncomfortable.
'I have to endure it.'
The first day of anything was always the hardest.
Cheon Muyang practiced the Cheonyang Divine Art, a technique any warrior of the Cheon Clan could learn.
'I'll have to be satisfied with a basic technique for now.'
It would be ideal to learn something more advanced from the Cheonryong Library, but at present he had no other options.
He tried to dissolve the elixir energies filling his body.
'The backlash is worse than I expected….'
But since he possessed very little true internal energy, he couldn't properly control the different elixir energies.
'These are completely different types of energy.'
The elixirs were broadly divided into two categories.
Yin energy and yang energy.
The two maintained a strange balance, as if they were not intruding on each other's territory.
'This won't be easy.'
Everything had its proper timing.
After consuming elixirs, one was supposed to focus on making that energy their own.
Since he had missed that critical window, the elixir energies had settled in his body just as they were.
'Well, it's only the beginning. You can't expect to be full from the first spoonful.'
He sensed someone approaching.
It was probably Wolyeong bringing water for washing.
Cheon Muyang gathered his internal energy.
"Huu…."
Flash!
Cheon Muyang opened his eyes.
They were clearly different from the dull, unfocused eyes of the Cheon Muyang who had always been soaked in alcohol.
"Young Master, here's water for washing."
"Alright. Thank you."
But water wasn't all Wolyeong had brought.
She had also brought the stir-fried mushrooms he'd been curious about.
"Well then, shall I try it?"
"You should wash first!"
"Ah, right."
The stir-fried mushrooms tasted extremely… healthy.
A month passed.
During that time, Cheon Muyang never skipped a single day of running in the training grounds.
That wasn't all.
At some point, he added strength training to his running.
It was an almost excessive amount of training.
"Hey, he's here again today."
"Tch. It's even raining today."
"Doesn't matter. Hurry up and hand it over."
As a result, bets about Cheon Muyang's training began circulating quietly among the trainees.
Seeing Cheon Muyang show up at the training grounds even on a rainy day, several people gathered and exchanged money.
"Lost again, Neung Ryeoun."
"Damn it."
"Hurry up and pay."
"Why the hell is he doing that? It's annoying."
"Idiot, keep your voice down."
"Shh!"
When Neung Ryeoun raised his voice, the others hurriedly stopped him.
No matter what, Cheon Muyang was still the eldest young master.
If they were caught openly treating him as a betting subject, they could get into serious trouble.
"Tch! Let him hear it!"
"Cut it out. What are you going to do?"
"It's not that—he just looks ridiculous. Training now, of all times."
"That's true. If he weren't the Cheon Clan's eldest son, he'd have been kicked out long ago."
To the trainees who wanted to become warriors of the Cheon Clan, Cheon Muyang's existence itself was privilege.
A scoundrel living in luxury off a distinguished bloodline.
That was how they saw him.
So even if Cheon Muyang was destined to become the next clan head, they had not the slightest loyalty toward him.
The core of the Cheon Clan lay with the current clan head, Cheon Wigang, the Cheonryong Sword Division, the Cheonbong Sword Division led by Cheon Seonhak, and the grand elder Cheon Jungho.
In other words, the respect of most trainees was directed at those three—never at Cheon Muyang.
That was why they had no reason to look kindly upon the infamous scoundrel, Cheon Muyang.
"He can freely learn the Cheon Clan's secret techniques just because of his status. Damn unfair."
"Quiet. Someone might hear you!"
A scoundrel who could learn the clan's secret arts at any time—Cheon Muyang.
Wasn't he given this opportunity precisely because he was of the direct bloodline?
The trainees were in no position to like him.
"Well, who cares? Whether the eldest young master gets his act together or not, as long as we train and get paid, that's all that matters."
"That's true, but still…"
It was a strictly transactional relationship.
The Cheon Clan provided money and martial arts; the trainees offered their affiliation in return.
"Even if that scoundrel becomes clan head, he won't have any real authority anyway."
"What?"
"Come on. There's the council of elders, and more importantly, do you really think Lord Cheon Seonhak would follow the eldest young master's orders?"
"Ah… yeah, that's true."
Just as they said.
The structure of the Cheon Clan was highly unusual, and as a result, the clan head's authority was not particularly absolute.
Everyone respected the current clan head, Cheon Wigang, but that did not mean Cheon Wigang held unquestioned power.
Because of this atypical structure, even the trainees of the Cheon Clan were divided into two factions.
One could either join the combat forces led by Cheon Seonhak, or enter the Elder Council's sphere of influence.
"And frankly speaking, even if the eldest young master becomes clan head, how could he just cast us aside?"
"Hey, Neung Ryeoun. 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 had once been counted among the Ten Great Clans of the world.
But that, too, was nothing more than past glory.
Amid fierce competition from countless rising clans and sects springing up like bamboo shoots after rain, the Cheon Clan was gradually losing its edge.
"He can't get rid of us. Not a chance."
"That's enough. Just because you lost the bet doesn't mean you should throw a tantrum, Neung Ryeoun."
"Tch."
"The bet's over. Let's go."
The bet was finished.
Those who had won money left the training grounds laughing and chatting.
Left alone, Neung Ryeoun kicked at a stone on the ground, venting his frustration.
"Damn it. This is annoying."
He always lost the bets, but today, seeing Cheon Muyang running in the training grounds was especially irritating.
Watching Cheon Muyang silently running through the rain, Neung Ryeoun wanted to mock that effort—whether Cheon Muyang even knew he was the subject of wagers or not.
"Tch. What's going to change just because a pig runs like that?"
So he spoke loudly, deliberately making sure his words would be heard.
He almost hoped Cheon Muyang would hear and cause a scene.
"Huff, huff!"
Even though he must have heard, Cheon Muyang showed no reaction at all.
Seeing him continue running in silence, Neung Ryeoun felt strangely irritated and spat harshly to the side.
"Ptooey!"
Just as he was about to leave the training grounds—
Someone stepped in front of him.
It was a woman with cold eyes.
"Hm?"
"Take back what you just said."
"What did you say?"
"Apologize for insulting the Young Master."
Neung Ryeoun was dumbfounded.
How dare a mere maid talk about apologies?
"Hey, Neung Ryeoun. Aren't you coming?"
"Just leave it. She looks busy enough as it is. Heh heh."
Seeing him standing with a maid, the others teased Neung Ryeoun oddly.
Perhaps because of those looks—
Flush!
Neung Ryeoun's face burned hot.
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 taking a life.
"What did you say just now? Say it again."
But Wolyeong did not flinch.
Instead, she raised her eyes and answered clearly,
"I said not to insult the Young Master, who is working so hard."
"Y-You little—!"
Enraged, Neung Ryeoun swung his sword.
He had no intention of killing her.
He only meant to scare her.
Just bringing the blade close to her neck would make her tremble in fear—or so he thought.
But things did not go as he expected.
Kaaang!
A sharp clang rang out.
"Huh?!"
Neung Ryeoun's sword was knocked back.
Clang!
Clatter.
No—he had dropped it altogether from the shock.
Neung Ryeoun couldn't understand what had just happened.
'What…?'
Before the question could even settle—
A chilling presence wrapped around him.
"So. What do you think you're doing?"
A cold voice.
Its owner was Cheon Muyang—the very man who had been running laps moments ago.
"I—I wasn't…."
Soaked through by the rain, water still dripping from him.
Step.
Neung Ryeoun unconsciously retreated.
"Pick up your sword."
"…?"
"If you have something to say to Wolyeong, say it to me—with your sword."
"Are you… challenging me to a spar?"
"A spar…?"
Cheon Muyang sneered.
"What if I said it were a fight to the death?"
"…!"
"Pick up your sword."
"If I win, then this incident—"
"If you win, I won't pursue this matter. I also won't set foot in this training ground again. Is that enough for you?"
"Y-Young Master!"
Wolyeong cried out in alarm, trying to stop him.
For nearly a month, he had run the training grounds and done strength training—but she knew he hadn't held a sword even once.
But Wolyeong realized something 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 the man who had once been Mumyeong,
and who had been reborn as Cheon Muyang, the eldest young master of the Cheon Clan.
"Draw your sword, Neung Ryeoun."
"…!"