Taking Up the Sword (1)
The sword swung by Cheon Muyang was, frankly speaking, pitiful.
"Keheh!"
A small laugh was heard.
It wasn't overt, but faint scoffs—quiet enough to almost miss—rippled through every corner of the training grounds.
"Huff, huff!"
After only a few swings, Cheon Muyang was already gasping for breath.
Watching him, most of the trainees training in the yard either laughed quietly or reacted with cold, unsurprised expressions.
Even though he knew this perfectly well, Cheon Muyang showed no particular reaction.
After all, the fact that he looked ridiculous was undeniable.
My stamina really is a mess.
It wasn't only his internal organs that had been ruined by excessive elixirs.
The excessive weight he'd gained because of them couldn't be described as "plump" even if one tried to be kind.
"Tsk."
Cheon Muyang clicked his tongue out of habit.
How pathetic.
He didn't even possess a body capable of properly swinging a sword.
He felt like mocking himself more than anyone else did.
"It seems… rebuilding my body comes first."
Not only did he need to regulate the elixirs with internal energy—he had to build up his stamina first.
Thankfully, he'd brought a change of clothes. Truly a stroke of foresight.
"Then… shall I start running?"
Cheon Muyang set the sword down.
It wasn't time yet.
Whoooong!
The sword let out a faint hum.
But what could be done?
Everything had its proper order.
"Huu…."
After steadying his breath, Cheon Muyang began to run around the training grounds.
To others, he looked nothing more than a pig with flabby flesh jiggling as it moved.
No one mocked him openly, but sneering gazes poured toward him.
Still, Cheon Muyang paid them no mind.
I just need to walk my own path.
If he couldn't endure even this much, he wouldn't accomplish anything.
As he ran, Cheon Muyang controlled his breathing.
From the internal energy filling his body, he drew out only the portion he could manage.
"Ugh…."
Even that alone made him feel as if his flesh were burning.
Despite that, he clenched his teeth and continued running while circulating his internal energy.
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 didn't stop.
"Keheh!"
Some people were still laughing.
But after some time passed, even their laughter faded.
"Huh? He's still running?"
Even after everyone had eaten.
Even after training had ended.
Cheon Muyang was still running.
"Huff, huff!"
He wasn't fast.
His flesh still jiggled.
But he never stopped.
Not even for a single moment.
Before long, some people began whispering.
"How long is he planning to run?"
"Hmph. So what? It's probably just a burst of motivation. Who says he'll do the same tomorrow?"
"I-is that so?"
Most believed it wouldn't even last a full day.
Since it was possible to act like that for one day, they quickly lost interest altogether.
That's better, actually.
Cheon Muyang found indifference more comfortable than excessive attention.
How long had he been running?
"Huff—huff!"
Letting out rough breaths, Cheon Muyang collapsed onto the ground of the training yard, limbs spread wide.
The clothes that had been crisp and dry in the morning were now soaked with sweat.
Whoooosh!
The cold night air felt refreshingly cool.
"Feels nice."
"Y-young Master…! A-are you alright?!"
Wolyeong hurried over and wiped his sweat-soaked face with a towel.
"I feel like I'm going to die."
"You skipped meals and pushed yourself too hard!"
"Even if I eat, it's all familiar food anyway. Skipping one day is fine."
Saying that, Cheon Muyang forced himself to stand.
"One last lap."
"What? You're running again?"
"I set a goal. I have to finish it."
"Huh?"
Wolyeong didn't know, but Cheon Muyang had decided to run exactly one hundred laps around the training grounds.
And now, having completed ninety-nine, only one remained.
"Here I go."
Dragging legs that barely moved anymore, 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 many years.
No one in the Cheon clan knew Cheon Muyang better than Wolyeong.
What on earth happened…?
Even she was confused.
Still…
Cheon Muyang's clumsy, staggering run—
For some reason, it reminded her of the Cheon Muyang from before he became cruel.
I'm really glad, Young Master.
Wolyeong remembered him.
The Cheon Muyang from before he became a brute.
She didn't know when he might revert, but she wanted to believe in him.
"Hang in there."
At last, Cheon Muyang completed the final lap.
"Wolyeong, help me out."
"Yes! Lean on me."
Seeing Wolyeong oddly cheerful, Cheon Muyang asked,
"Something good happen?"
"Huh? Of course not."
"Hmm…."
Wolyeong was stronger than he expected.
So even when Cheon Muyang's heavy body leaned against her, she held firm.
"Let's go."
"Yes. But, Young Master."
"What is it?"
"Will you run in the training grounds again tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. I'll prepare everything!"
"I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?"
"Ah, would you like the stir-fried mushrooms you had yesterday?"
"Sure. Sounds good."
"Should I prepare alcohol too…?"
"No. No alcohol. I won't be drinking anymore, so don't prepare it from now on."
"You really mean it?"
"Yes. A man's word weighs a thousand pieces of gold. I don't go back on what I say."
"Yes, yes. I know."
"Let's go."
"Yes."
After the two left, the training grounds stood empty.
But then—
A cold, silent gaze swept across the ground where Cheon Muyang had collapsed after finishing his final lap.
With Wolyeong's support, Cheon Muyang barely made it back to his room and sat cross-legged on the bed.
"Mm…."
His body was unbelievably stiff.
Despite having maintained this posture his entire life, it felt uncomfortable.
Endure it.
Wasn't the first day always the hardest?
Cheon Muyang began cultivating the Cheon Yang Divine Art, a basic technique any warrior of the Cheon clan could learn.
I'll have to be satisfied with a foundational art.
It would be ideal to learn higher-level martial arts from the Cheon Dragon Archive, but for now, there was no viable option.
He focused on melting and regulating the elixir energy filling his body.
The resistance is stronger than I thought…
However, with so little internal energy of his own, he couldn't properly control the different elixir energies.
These energies are completely different in nature.
The elixir energies were divided into two major currents.
Yin energy and Yang energy.
The two maintained a strange balance, seemingly avoiding intrusion into each other's domains.
This won't be easy.
Everything had its proper timing.
After consuming elixirs, one needed to immediately focus on assimilating them.
Because he'd missed that window, the raw elixir energies had settled directly inside his body.
Well, it's only the beginning. You can't expect to be full after the first bite.
He sensed someone's presence.
It must have been Wolyeong, bringing water for washing.
Cheon Muryang gathered his inner energy.
"Hoo…"
Flash!
Cheon Muryang opened his eyes.
They were unmistakably different from the dull, bleary eyes of Cheon Muryang who had always been soaked in alcohol.
"Young Master, here is the water for washing."
"Yes. Thank you."
But water wasn't all Wolyeong had brought.
She had also brought the stir-fried mushrooms—the dish he had been so curious about.
"Well then, shall I try it?"
"You should wash up first!"
"Ah, right."
The stir-fried mushrooms had a very… healthy taste.
A month passed.
During that time, Cheon Muryang did not miss the training grounds for a single day.
That wasn't all.
At some point, he even added running and strength training to his routine.
It was an almost excessive amount of training.
"Hey, he showed up again today."
"Tsk. It's even raining."
"Enough talk—pay up."
Because of that, bets began circulating quietly among the trainees about Cheon Muryang's training.
Seeing him arrive at the training grounds even on a rainy day, several people gathered and exchanged money.
"You lost again, Neung Ryeoun."
"Damn it."
"Hurry up and hand it over."
"What's his problem anyway?"
"Idiot, keep your voice down."
"Shh!"
When Neung Ryeoun raised his voice, the others hurriedly stopped him.
No matter what, Cheon Muryang was still the eldest young master.
Making him an obvious betting target could lead to serious trouble.
"Tch! Let him hear it!"
"Enough. What are you going to do even if he does?"
"I'm not saying I'll do anything—it's just pathetic. Training now, of all times?"
"Well, that's true. If he weren't the Cheon Clan's eldest son, he would've been kicked out long ago."
To the trainees who wished to become warriors of the Cheon Clan, Cheon Muryang's existence itself was a privilege.
A tyrant who lives in luxury thanks to his noble bloodline.
That was how they saw him.
So even though Cheon Muryang was destined to become the next clan head, they felt not even a shred of loyalty toward him.
The true pillars of the Cheon Clan were the current clan head, Cheon Wigang, the Cheonryong Sword Corps, the Cheonbong Sword Corps led by Cheon Seonhak, and the Grand Elder Cheon Jungho.
In other words, the trainees' respect was directed toward those three—
never toward Cheon Muryang.
Naturally, they had no reason to look kindly upon the infamous tyrant.
"He can freely learn the Cheon Clan's secret techniques no matter what. It's disgustingly unfair."
"Be quiet. Someone might hear you."
A tyrant who could learn the clan's ultimate techniques at any time.
Because he was of the direct bloodline, such opportunities were granted to him.
There was no way the trainees could like him.
"Well, who cares? Whether the eldest young master gets his act together or not, we just train and get paid, right?"
"That's true, but still…"
It was a purely transactional relationship.
The Cheon Clan provided money and martial arts; the trainees gave their allegiance in return.
"Honestly, even if that tyrant becomes clan head, he won't have any real authority."
"What?"
"Think about it. There's the council of elders, and more importantly—do you think Lord Cheon Seonhak would ever follow the eldest young master's orders?"
"Ah… yeah, that's true."
They weren't wrong.
The Cheon Clan's structure was unusual, and the clan head's authority wasn't absolute.
Everyone respected Cheon Wigang, but his power was not unchecked.
Because of that peculiar structure, the trainees were divided into two paths—
joining the martial forces led by Cheon Seonhak, or entering the council faction.
"And even if the eldest young master becomes clan head, what can he really do to us?"
"Hey, Neung Ryeoun. You're going a bit too far."
"Let's be honest. Does the Cheon Clan today really look like the Cheon Clan of the past?"
Once counted among the Ten Great Clans under heaven, the Cheon Clan's glory was now only a memory.
Amid the fierce competition from rising clans and sects, the Cheon Clan was steadily losing its edge.
"He can't ever kick us out."
"That's enough. You lost the bet—stop being sore about it, Neung Ryeoun."
"Tch."
"The betting's over. Let's go."
The bet was finished.
Those who won left the training grounds laughing.
Left alone, Neung Ryeoun kicked a stone on the ground in frustration.
"Damn it…"
He always lost these bets, but today, Cheon Muryang running in the rain felt especially irritating.
Seeing Cheon Muryang pushing himself while people bet on him—
Neung Ryeoun wanted to mock that effort.
"Tch. That fat pig running like that—what's it going to change?"
So he spoke loudly on purpose.
He hoped Cheon Muryang would hear and cause a scene.
"Huff… huff…"
Despite surely hearing him, Cheon Muryang showed no reaction at all.
Watching him continue to run silently, Neung Ryeoun felt oddly irritated and spat on the ground.
"Ptui!"
Just as he was about to leave—
someone stepped in front of him.
A woman with cold eyes.
"…Huh?"
"Take back what you just said."
"What did you say?"
"Take back the insult you directed at the Young Master."
Neung Ryeoun was dumbfounded.
How dare a mere maid talk about apologies?
"Hey, Neung Ryeoun! Aren't you coming?"
"Let's just go. Looks like he's busy anyway. Hahaha."
Seeing him standing with a maid, the others mocked him subtly.
Perhaps because of that—
Flush!
Neung Ryeoun's face burned red.
Without thinking, he drew his sword.
Shing!
Even trainees of the Cheon Clan were issued real blades.
Neung Ryeoun's sword gleamed with lethal sharpness.
"What did you just say? Say it again."
But Wolyeong did not flinch.
Instead, she raised her eyes—
and spoke clearly.
"I said—don't insult the Young Master who's working that hard."
"Y–You little—!"
Enraged, Neung Ryeoun swung his sword.
He didn't intend to kill her.
He only meant to scare her.
Just pressing the blade to her neck would make her tremble in fear.
But things did not go as he expected.
Clang!
A sharp sound rang out.
"Gah!"
Neung Ryeoun's sword was knocked back.
Clatter!
Scrape.
No—he had actually dropped it.
Neung Ryeoun couldn't comprehend what had happened.
What…?
His confusion lasted only a moment.
Chill.
Something terrifyingly cold wrapped around him.
"What do you think you're doing?"
A cold voice.
Its owner—
was Cheon Muryang, who had been running moments ago.
"I–I didn't…"
Soaked by rain, water still dripping from his body—
Cheon Muryang stood there.
Neung Ryeoun unconsciously stepped back.
"Pick up your sword."
"…What?"
"If you have something to say to Wolyeong, say it to me—with your blade."
"Are you… challenging me to a spar?"
"A spar…?"
Cheon Muryang sneered.
"What if I said it was a fight to the death?"
"…!"
"Pick up your sword."
"If I win, then this matter—"
"If you win, I won't pursue this incident. And I won't show my face at this training ground again. Is that enough?"
"Y-Young Master!"
Wolyeong cried out in alarm.
For nearly a month, he had only run and trained his body—he had not held a sword even once.
But she realized then—
she couldn't stop him.
"I'll 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 Nameless,
and was now reborn as Cheon Muryang, eldest young master of the Cheon Clan.
"Draw your sword, Neung Ryeoun."
"…!"