The Undefeated Cheon Mu-ryang
Fortunately, the opponents who came to challenge him from the next day onward did not concede defeat before even crossing blades.
"You're here?"
"Yes, Young Master."
They were people like Cha Myeong-hak—those who had accumulated grudges against Cheon Mu-ryang in the past.
Most of them thought of him as arrogant and insolent, someone who acted up just because he could rely on his status.
"Shall we begin, then?"
"Yes. Please be careful."
He even offered a polite warning.
Believing that would be his last act of courtesy, he swung his sword toward Cheon Mu-ryang.
Hwoooong!
A clean, decisive strike.
Retreating backward, dodging, or collapsing onto the ground in fear—
He could already picture the outcome clearly.
"Careful?"
However, Cheon Mu-ryang neither retreated,
nor showed any sign of dodging, nor did he appear afraid.
'When did he move?'
He didn't know.
All he saw was a sword shooting up into the sky—
and then coming crashing down.
Like a bolt of lightning.
"Hng!"
He couldn't help but gasp in shock.
He had moved first, yet it felt as though Cheon Mu-ryang's sword would strike first.
Whiik!
And so, he made the worst possible choice.
He pulled back his advancing sword and tried to block Cheon Mu-ryang's strike.
Kaaang!
Sword met sword.
But the result was disastrous.
The sword that tried to stop the already accelerating Heavenly Radiance shattered on the spot.
Crack!
The Heavenly Radiance that had been falling toward his crown veered slightly aside and stopped between his shoulder and neck.
Wuuung!
Even so, the sharp edge split his skin.
Blood flowed from the small wound.
"H-how…?"
He seemed unable to believe the outcome.
Trembling all over, his eyes—denying reality—fell upon his own sword, shattered beyond recognition.
"You should've been careful. Tsk."
Cheon Mu-ryang sheathed his sword.
The match was over.
Immediately after, Wol-yeong hurried over to tend to the wound.
"What in the world was that sword…?"
"A downward strike. You saw it and still couldn't tell?"
"…!"
"Anyway, good work. If you get the chance next time, let's spar again."
Tap.
Cheon Mu-ryang patted his shoulder a few times and headed toward the corner of the training grounds.
Whiik!
He was going to swing his sword again.
At this absurd situation, the man was left speechless.
"..."
"Are you okay? I've done some basic first aid for now."
"Th-thank you."
"You're welcome."
Wol-yeong felt quietly satisfied that the medicine and bandages she had prepared in case Cheon Mu-ryang got hurt were being used like this.
"Do you… always train like this?"
"Yes. Every single day, without fail."
"..."
He clenched his fists tightly.
Just a month ago, on a rainy day—
Back when Cheon Mu-ryang had been doing nothing but running around the training grounds.
He had been one of those who joined the bet on whether the mad young lord would even come out to run that day.
'Was the foolish one… me?'
Without another word, he left the training grounds.
Suddenly, Neung Ryeo-un came to mind.
'So there was a reason he suddenly devoted himself to training.'
At some point, Neung Ryeo-un had shut himself off from everyone and focused solely on training.
He had thought it was simply because he lost to the mad young lord.
'That wasn't it.'
Cha Myeong-hwan was the same.
The two had no personal connection, yet they shared something.
'That… I think I understand it now.'
The Cheon Clan was a martial family.
As such, there were many training grounds within the clan.
Among them were some so far out on the outskirts that no one ever used them.
Neung Ryeo-un and Cha Myeong-hak—
At some point, the two began gathering at one such abandoned training ground to train together.
'He might be there.'
The man who had just lost to Cheon Mu-ryang, as if possessed, headed there as well.
Wol-yeong tilted her head.
'Somehow, everyone who gets involved with the Young Master seems to change.'
Hadn't she herself changed too?
Before she realized it, Wol-yeong noticed that she was looking at the eldest young lord with warm eyes.
"Cheer up."
She rolled her sleeves back down.
After that, Cheon Mu-ryang's daily routine remained the same.
Training. And sparring.
Amazingly, Cheon Mu-ryang did not lose even once.
Rumors even spread that the eldest young lord had been hiding his true strength all along.
Of course, Lee Seok-gi and a few others continued to slander it as impossible nonsense—but each time they did, Lee Seok-gi's reputation sank even lower.
Hwoooong!
Watching yet another trainee get knocked down today, Wol-yeong smiled.
"Come this way. I'll take a look at your wound!"
By now, Wol-yeong had become quite adept at treating injuries.
"How was it?"
When she asked this, the response was usually—
"..."
Silent treatment.
Or—
"Damn it! If I hadn't let my guard down!"
An outburst of anger.
It was always one of the two.
Today belonged to the latter.
"Ah, I see. Is that so."
Squeeze!
Whenever she encountered that type, Wol-yeong would deliberately grip the wound more tightly.
"Ack!"
"Oh my! I'm so sorry. I'm still a bit clumsy!"
"..."
If it was a mistake, what could he say?
Wol-yeong muttered irritably at the back of the man's head as he left.
"Guard down, my ass. You were completely serious. Who do you think you're fooling?"
Watching the scene, Cheon Mu-ryang couldn't help but laugh.
"Your mouth's gotten rougher, Wol-yeong."
"They lie through their teeth. Anyone can see they went all out."
"They're embarrassed, that's all."
"Even so, once you pick up a sword, you should accept the result. Acting like grown men and all. So petty—it's not like they're cheapskates or anything!"
"C-Calm down."
Wolyeong was visibly upset.
Perhaps it was because, lately, more people from the latter group had been coming than the former.
"At this point, it really feels like everyone who comes has ill intentions toward you, Young Master."
"Ah… yeah, probably."
Cheon Seonhak was likely selecting them deliberately.
Or perhaps there was no need to select at all.
There were probably more than enough volunteers.
"They must've volunteered eagerly."
"Why's that?"
"I defeated the top trainee. And I'm still undefeated. If they beat someone like me?"
"Oh! That makes sense."
Wolyeong nodded.
Come to think of it, Cheon Muryang hadn't lost a single match so far.
"He probably picked those who have the biggest grievances against me."
"You're really okay with this?"
"Of course. Honestly, this is much better."
Cheon Muryang smiled.
He preferred it this way.
Those who wielded swords should speak with swords.
That was the simplest, cleanest way.
The real problem lay with those who didn't.
"And the thing I asked you to do…"
"Ah. I'm still organizing it."
"Alright. I'm counting on you."
He had asked Wolyeong for one thing.
A record of all the wrongdoings he had committed in the past.
This is something I have to bear.
There was a reason Wolyeong was the only personal maid assigned to the Eldest Young Master.
The others had either fled the clan or been reassigned, unable to endure Cheon Muryang's tyranny.
After that, no one wanted the position.
That's why, aside from Wolyeong—who stubbornly stayed—they never assigned another maid.
Cheon Muryang had left them with wounds and humiliations that could never be washed away.
Unless he resolved those debts, he would never be able to move forward.
"Wolyeong."
"Yes?"
"If there's anything I did to you as well… don't hide it."
"..."
"Tell me everything."
"Understood, Young Master."
Wolyeong's complexion darkened.
Cheon Muryang continued his training despite it.
Today, concentration came especially hard.
The boundary between dawn and morning.
From Cheon Muryang's room, the rising sun could be seen through the window.
This was how he began his day—circulating his inner energy while watching the eastern sky.
The medicinal energy inside him, still heavy like massive stones, clogged the main pathway—Im, Du, and Yang meridians—that led into the dantian.
Normally, circulation should already be happening…
Yang energy should rise from the perineum to the crown.
Yin energy should descend from the crown back to the perineum.
That cycle needed to be complete.
But Cheon Muryang's body failed to achieve that circulation properly.
At least my meridians are wide.
Medicinal energy required constant effort—from ingestion until it was fully assimilated into one's body.
But because he'd missed the optimal window,
What should've taken ten parts effort now required a hundred—and still might not be enough.
Everything has its timing. I missed it, and now I'm paying for it. Damn it.
Cheon Muryang felt regret.
If only he could either absorb the massive medicinal energy filling his dantian—or push it outside—
He might have been able to ride that momentum and force open the Im-Du-Yang meridians.
Such a shame.
But it was impossible.
The energy had rooted itself too deeply.
He either needed to slowly dissolve it with his cultivation technique,
Or obtain something powerful enough to dominate that enormous medicinal force.
Maybe refined Azure Stone Milk, a Grand Reversion Pill, or a Supreme Clear Pill…
Anything else would only poison him.
Cheon Muryang refused to cling to impossibilities.
Entering the Cheonryong Archive and learning an advanced cultivation method is the top priority.
Through relentless practice, he had advanced the Cheonyang Divine Art to the Seventh Star.
It's definitely a good technique—but that's all it is.
There were glaring shortcomings.
It felt as though a crucial core was missing.
That missing piece must be what the Ascension Method provides.
That was why he believed everything would become much easier once he entered the Cheonryong Archive.
Flash.
Cheon Muryang finished circulating his energy and stood up.
"Whew."
His body felt refreshingly light.
Likely due to impurities expelled during cultivation.
"Man, the stench is no joke."
"Young Master, you're awake?"
Right on schedule.
Wolyeong entered as if she'd been waiting.
"Ah, yeah."
"Oh my! Young Master, you've lost weight again!"
She made a fuss.
"Hmm. I guess I have."
He could feel the difference himself.
Well, it wasn't that I was ugly—just had the temperament of a lunatic.
Honestly, his looks weren't bad at all.
If he'd had even a shred of common sense, he might've been called a refined young master.
Ugh.
Though imagining himself reciting poetry by a lakeside was still impossible.
"You're heading straight to the training grounds, right?"
"I need to wash first."
"Yes! Oh—and you need to eat breakfast too."
Under the excuse of losing weight,
Cheon Muryang strictly followed Wolyeong's diet plan.
"Vegetables again today?"
"Nope! Today's a special meal! But only for lunch!"
Twitch.
His eyebrow jumped.
"A special meal?"
"Yes! You can look forward to it!"
"Really?"
"Of course! But you have to come back to your room on time. Eating at the training grounds would draw too many stares…"
"Ah, right. Got it."
"Oh—right. Young Master."
"Hm? What is it?"
"The Clan Head is returning today."
"Really?"
"Yes. Everyone else is probably running around in a panic."
That was how formal receptions worked.
Superiors might not care much, but subordinates lost their minds over them.
"Must be chaos."
"Yes! So I'm sneaking in a special meal while everyone's distracted!"
"I see. I'm looking forward to it."
"So I won't be able to come to the training grounds this morning, okay?"
"Alright. I'm not a child."
Cheon Muryang undressed and washed.
In the meantime, Wolyeong changed the bedding, left behind the breakfast she had prepared, and exited.
"Well then. Let's go again."
The Clan Head was returning today.
To Cheon Muryang, he was his father.
And to Mu-myeong, he was the benefactor who had taken in someone with nowhere else to go.
Calling the Clan Head 'Father'… I once dreamed of that.
Who would've thought that dream would come true like this?
He wanted to see him as soon as possible.
"I hope he comes back soon."
Cheon Muryang headed toward the training grounds,
Filled with anticipation for the imminent reunion.