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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Picking Up the Sword (1)
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The sword swung by Cheon Muryang was utterly unimpressive.
"Kikik!"
A small burst of laughter rang out.
It wasn't overt, but sneers could be heard from every corner of the training ground—faint enough to pretend they hadn't been heard.
"Hooook, hooook!"
Moreover, after just a few swings, Cheon Muryang was already breathing raggedly.
Watching this, most of the trainees in the training ground either chuckled quietly or reacted with cold indifference, as if to say, Of course.
Cheon Muryang knew full well what they thought, but he didn't react.
His swings were pathetically lacking, enough to warrant sneers—that fact wouldn't change.
Yeah, my stamina's a total mess.
It wasn't just his internals that had been wrecked by the overdose of elixirs.
The excess fat he'd piled on couldn't even be charitably called "plump."
"Tch."
Cheon Muryang clicked his tongue out of habit.
How pathetic was this?
He didn't even have a body fit for swinging a sword.
He felt like mocking himself.
Guess I need to build this body first.
Not only did he have to control the elixirs with his internal energy, but he needed to work on his stamina from the ground up.
Fortunately, he'd brought a change of clothes—foresight on his part.
"Alright, time to run?"
Cheon Muryang set down his sword.
It wasn't time yet.
Whoooong!
The Heavenly Light Sword let out a resonant hum.
But what could he do?
Everything had its proper order.
"Hoo..."
Regulating his breath, Cheon Muryang began running laps around the training ground.
To onlookers, he looked like nothing more than a pig with flab jiggling everywhere.
No one mocked him openly, but gazes filled with derision poured down on him.
Cheon Muryang ignored them completely.
I'll just walk my own path.
If he couldn't endure even this, he couldn't accomplish anything.
Breathing steadily as he ran, Cheon Muryang drew up only the internal energy he could control from the vast reserves inside him.
"Ugh..."
Even that brought a burning pain, like his flesh was searing.
Still, Cheon Muryang gritted his teeth, circulated his energy, and kept running.
His heart felt like it might burst, but before long, his breathing began to stabilize.
"Hooook, hooook!"
Breaths coming at regular intervals.
His pace was still slow and unimpressive, but he never stopped.
"Kikik!"
Some still laughed.
But soon enough, even they fell silent.
"Ah, still going?"
He'd eaten before coming.
Training had even ended for the day.
Yet Cheon Muryang kept running.
"Hooook, hooook!"
His speed wasn't fast.
His flesh still jiggled.
But he never stopped.
Not for a single moment.
A few began whispering.
"Just how long is he gonna keep this up?"
"Hmph. It'll be a three-day whim at best. What guarantee is there he'll do it again tomorrow just because he did it today?"
"Y-yeah, you're right?"
Most believed he wouldn't last even a day.
They figured anyone could manage it for a day, so they lost interest entirely.
That's for the best.
Cheon Muryang preferred indifference over excessive scrutiny.
How long had he been running?
"Heok, heok!"
Gasping roughly, Cheon Muryang collapsed spread-eagled onto the training ground.
His clothes, crisp that morning, were now soaked with sweat.
Whiiiish!
The cold night air felt refreshingly cool.
"Feels nice."
"Y-Young Master...! A-are you alright?"
Wol Yeong hurried over.
She wiped the sweat-drenched face with a towel.
"Feels like I'm dying."
"You skipped meals and pushed way too hard!"
"Even if I ate, it'd just be the same old taste. One day won't kill me."
With that, Cheon Muryang forced himself up.
"One last lap to finish."
"Pardon? You're running more?"
"I set a goal of running, so I have to meet it."
"Ah?"
Wol Yeong didn't know, but Cheon Muryang had aimed for exactly a hundred laps around the training ground.
He'd done ninety-nine, leaving just one more.
"Here I go."
Cheon Muryang dragged his barely responsive legs and forced himself to run.
Wol Yeong's eyes shook as she watched.
Is this really my Young Master?
She'd served at his side for a long time.
No one in the Cheon Clan knew him as well as she did.
What in the world happened...?
Even she felt confused.
But still...
Cheon Muryang waddled along.
For some reason, it reminded her of his younger days, before he'd turned into a tyrant.
I'm so relieved, Young Master.
Wol Yeong knew.
The Cheon Muryang from before he became a wastrel.
She didn't know when—or if—he'd revert, but she wanted to believe in him.
"Keep going!"
Cheon Muryang finally completed the lap.
"Wol Yeong, help me up."
"Yes, yes! Lean on me."
Seeing Wol Yeong somehow brighter, Cheon Muryang asked,
"Something good happen?"
"Pardon? Why would it?"
"Hm..."
Wol Yeong was stronger than she looked.
She easily supported his hefty frame.
"Let's hurry."
"Yes. But Young Master."
"Yeah?"
"Will you run the training ground again tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Understood! I'll prepare everything!"
"I'm hungry. Got anything?"
"Ah, how about yesterday's stir-fried mushrooms?"
"Sure, sounds good."
"Shall I prepare some liquor too...?"
"No. No more liquor. I won't drink anymore, so don't bother from now on."
"Really?"
"Yeah. A man's word is gold! No take-backs."
"Yes, yes. I know."
"Let's go."
"Yes."
The training ground was empty once they left.
Yet a chilling gaze swept over the spot where Cheon Muryang had collapsed after his final lap.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Supported by Wol Yeong, Cheon Muryang barely made it back to his room and sat cross-legged on his bed.
"Mm..."
His body was so stiff.
A posture he'd maintained his whole life felt uncomfortable now.
I have to endure.
Wasn't the first day always the hardest?
Cheon Muryang began cultivating the Heavenly Sun Divine Art, a basic technique any Cheon Clan warrior could learn.
Have to make do with the fundamentals.
He'd love to learn superior arts from the Heavenly Dragon Library, but he had no better options right now.
He aimed to assimilate the elixir energies filling his body.
Stronger resistance than I thought.
But with so little internal energy of his own, he couldn't handle the conflicting elixir forces.
These are completely different natures.
Elixirs fell into two broad categories.
Yin energy and yang energy.
They maintained a delicate balance, neither encroaching on the other's domain.
This won't be easy.
Everything had its right timing.
He should've focused on converting the elixir energies into his own right after consuming them.
Missing that window meant the raw energies had simply settled into his body.
Well, it's just the start—no filling up on the first bite.
He sensed footsteps.
Probably Wol Yeong with water for washing.
Cheon Muryang gathered his energy.
"Hoo..."
Flick!
He opened his eyes.
Clearly different from the perpetually drunken, hazy gaze of the old Cheon Muryang.
"Young Master, water for washing."
"Thanks."
Wol Yeong hadn't just brought water.
She'd also brought the stir-fried mushrooms he'd been curious about.
"Let's see how it tastes."
"Wash up first!"
"Right, right."
The stir-fried mushrooms had a remarkably healthy flavor.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A month passed.
In that time, Cheon Muryang ran the training ground without fail, every single day.
Not just that.
Before long, he added strength training to his jogs.
It was brutally intense.
"Hey, he's here again today."
"Tch. It's raining, though?"
"Whatever, pay up."
As such, bets on Cheon Muryang's training quietly circulated among the trainees.
Even in the rain, seeing him arrive, a few gathered to exchange money.
"Lost again, Neung Ryeo-un."
"Damn it."
"Hurry up and pay."
"Why's he gotta be like that? It's annoying."
"Shut up, you lunatic."
"Shh!"
When Neung Ryeo-un raised his voice, the others hurriedly silenced him.
No matter what, Cheon Muryang was the Eldest Young Master.
Making him the subject of open bets could lead to serious trouble.
"Tch! Let him hear!"
"Cool it. What're you gonna do about it?"
"No, it's not about doing anything—it's just pathetic. Pretending to train now, of all times."
"True. If he weren't the Cheon Clan's Eldest Young Master, he'd have been kicked out ages ago."
To the trainees aspiring to become Cheon Clan warriors, Cheon Muryang embodied privilege itself.
A wastrel living luxuriously off his noble bloodline.
That was how they saw him.
So even if he was destined to become Patriarch someday, they felt no loyalty toward him.
The Cheon Clan's core revolved around Patriarch Cheon Wi-gang, Total Commander Cheon Seon-hak of the Heavenly Dragon and Heavenly Peak Sword Squads, and Supreme Elder Cheon Jung-ho.
In other words, the trainees' respect went to those three, never to Cheon Muryang.
They had no reason to view the notorious wastrel favorably.
"He gets to learn the clan's ultimate techniques whenever he wants. So damn unfair."
"Quiet! He'll hear!"
The wastrel Cheon Muryang, who could access the Cheon Clan's secret arts anytime.
His direct lineage granted him these opportunities.
The trainees could never like him.
"Whatever. Whether the Eldest Young Master shapes up or not doesn't matter—we just train, get paid, and join the clan. That's it, right?"
"Sure, but..."
It was a purely transactional relationship.
The Cheon Clan provided money and martial arts; the trainees became members in exchange.
"Even if that wastrel becomes Patriarch, he won't hold any real power anyway."
"What?"
"Think about it. There's the Elder Council, and no way Total Commander Cheon Seon-hak would obey the Eldest Young Master's orders."
"Ah, yeah, true."
They were right.
The Cheon Clan's structure was peculiar, limiting the Patriarch's authority.
Everyone respected current Patriarch Cheon Wi-gang, but his power wasn't absolute.
This unique setup divided the trainees into two camps: joining the martial forces under Cheon Seon-hak, or entering the Elder Council.
"And worst case, even if he becomes Patriarch, he can't just boot us on a whim."
"Hey, Neung Ryeo-un, aren't you going too far?"
"Call it like it is. Does this Cheon Clan look like the old powerhouse it used to be?"
The Cheon Clan was one of the Ten Great Clans, but that glory was in the past.
Amid rising clans and sects, it was slowly losing its edge.
"He absolutely can't kick us out."
"Enough. You lost the bet, so quit whining, Neung Ryeo-un."
"Tch."
"Bet's over. Let's go."
The bets concluded.
Winners left the training ground grinning.
Left alone, Neung Ryeo-un kicked a stray stone in frustration.
"Argh, so annoying."
He always lost the bets, but today, Cheon Muryang's pathetic laps grated especially.
Did he even know they were betting on him? Neung Ryeo-un wanted to mock his silent efforts through the rain.
"Tch. Like running like a pig changes anything."
He said it loud enough to be heard.
He half-hoped Cheon Muryang would throw a tantrum.
"Heok, heok!"
He must have heard, but Cheon Muryang showed no reaction.
Neung Ryeo-un felt oddly irritated watching him run silently, and spat roughly on the ground.
"Ptoo!"
As he turned to leave.
Someone blocked Neung Ryeo-un's path.
A woman with cold eyes.
"Huh?"
"Take back what you just said."
"What?"
"Cancel your insult toward the Young Master."
Neung Ryeo-un was dumbfounded.
A mere servant girl demanding an apology?
"Hey, Neung Ryeo-un, you coming or not?"
"Just leave her. She looks busy anyway. Heh heh heh."
Seeing her with the group, they teased Neung Ryeo-un subtly.
Was it their gazes?
Whoosh!
Neung Ryeo-un's face flushed hot.
On impulse, he drew his sword.
Shing!
Even as a trainee, the Cheon Clan issued real blades.
Neung Ryeo-un's sword gleamed with lethal sharpness in all directions.
"What did you say? Say it again."
But Wol Yeong didn't flinch.
She glared right back.
Calmly retorting,
"I said don't insult the Young Master who's working so hard."
"Y-you...!"
Furious, Neung Ryeo-un swung his sword.
He had no intent to kill.
Just scare her a bit.
Even holding it to her throat would make her tremble in fear.
But it didn't go as planned.
Claaang!
A sharp clang rang out.
"Gasp!"
Neung Ryeo-un's sword bounced back.
Clang!
Grind.
No—the impact nearly made him drop it.
Neung Ryeo-un couldn't comprehend.
What the...?
The confusion was brief.
Chill!
A bone-chilling cold enveloped him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
A cold voice.
Its owner was Cheon Muryang, who'd been running the training ground until moments ago.
"N-no..."
Drenched in rain, water still dripping from him.
Neung Ryeo-un instinctively stepped back.
"Grip your sword."
"...?"
"If you have words for Wol Yeong, say them to me—with your sword."
"Are you challenging me to a duel right now?"
"A duel..."
Cheon Muryang sneered at Neung Ryeo-un.
"What if I call it a deathmatch?"
"...!"
"Grip your sword."
"Depending on the outcome of this..."
"If you win, I won't pursue this matter. And I won't show up at this training ground again. That enough for you?"
"Y-Young Master!"
Wol Yeong panicked, trying to stop him.
Over the past month, he'd run and done strength training, but never once touched a sword.
But Wol Yeong realized.
She couldn't stop him.
"I'll endure insults aimed at me."
But.
"I won't tolerate insults to those who serve me."
That was.
The creed of Nameless in his past life, and now the Eldest Young Master of the Cheon Clan, Cheon Muryang.
"Draw your sword, Neung Ryeo-un."
"...!"