HDCLSSRS Ch 43

Chapter 43 A Taste of Frustration (5)

 

Those words struck a nerve in Kang Ung.

At Mount Hua, when a new disciple enters the sect, they first undergo several months of basic unified training. Over time, if they catch a master’s eye, they are individually taken under their wing.

However, while the other boys were training with their masters, Kang Ung had nothing to do and spent time idling with Seong Muyeon. This meant he had yet to form a master-disciple bond.

Tsk.

Seong Muyeon sighed.

Kang Ung probably wouldn’t go on to achieve anything significant. His name was unfamiliar to Seong Muyeon. He must have been one of the background characters occasionally referred to as “disciples.” His situation was pitiable, but that didn’t mean Seong Muyeon could step in carelessly.

In the end, a scuffle broke out. Since the disciples were young and had not long been initiated, it wasn’t a serious fight. However, Kang Ung was no match against the crowd. Surrounded, he was shoved and pushed around by the others.

Thanks to that, everyone forgot about Seong Muyeon.

Kids fighting, huh…

Unsanctioned brawls were forbidden outside of official duels, but no one seemed to care about Seong Muyeon’s presence—he wasn’t considered an authority figure. Not even Kang Ung looked to him for support.

And that, to Seong Muyeon, was a blessing!

He was in no position to be involved in even the pettiest of disputes. The people of Mount Hua treated him like a rice sack dumped in the corner—useless and out of place—and for once, that worked in his favor.

“You little—! I won’t let this slide!”

The fight was a pitiful spectacle, typical of teenagers barely chest-high. They yanked at each other’s hair or flung weak punches, tripping over their own feet in the process. Having just survived Jang Hansu’s lethal sword the day before, Seong Muyeon could only view their quarrel with amused disdain.

As he thought this, Kang Ung was flung roughly to the ground.

Ah, poor kid.

He had tried, but the outcome was clear. Kang Ung was alone, and they were many. None of them had any special skills, so numbers naturally prevailed.

“The senior disciple’s not so tough after all!”

The boys burst into laughter.

Kang Ung was a mess. His hair was sticking out in all directions, his clothes were disheveled, and sweat streamed down his cheeks as he breathed heavily, unable to suppress his anger.

“Hey, Kang Dojang.”

Unable to watch any longer, Seong Muyeon approached. Thinking he was going to be held back, Kang Ung quickly sprang to his feet.

“Don’t worry! Please stand back! I’ll deal with those punks myself!”

His eyes blazed with competitive fire.

“No, it’s not that. Just come here for a moment.”

“Pardon?”

Seong Muyeon lightly tugged on his clothing and pulled him a few steps away, far enough that the others couldn’t hear. The boys, drunk on victory, continued to laugh and praise one another.

“You were amazing, Senior Brother!”

“Seniority isn’t everything, huh!”

Meanwhile, Seong Muyeon finished what he had to say and brushed the dirt off Kang Ung’s shoulder.

“Do you understand what I mean?”

“I… I think I do, but still…”

“Then go.”

Seong Muyeon gave him a gentle push toward the other boys and stood back, hands clasped behind him, observing calmly.

Kang Ung, puzzled, stepped back in front of the others. The boys scoffed at him.

“What, you want another round?”

They sneered, but Kang Ung didn’t seem to hear. His head was slightly bowed, his fists opening and closing slowly.

“Oh, is that it? The senior’s scared, huh?”

One of the boys stepped in aggressively. At that moment, Kang Ung, who hadn’t budged, suddenly threw a punch as the boy shoved his shoulder.

“Argh!”

And then something remarkable happened.

Up until now, Kang Ung’s punches had been weaker than feather taps and less accurate than a stone toss. But this time, his fist landed squarely on the boy’s cheek. There was a dull thud, and the boy was knocked off his feet, sliding across the ground for several paces.

Kang Ung, stunned, looked at his fist and then back at the fallen boy, his face brightening as he turned to Seong Muyeon in disbelief.

All he’d done was follow Seong Muyeon’s advice—how had this happened?

Seong Muyeon gave a faint nod.

To Seong Muyeon, it was clear that Kang Ung had a solid build but didn’t know how to utilize internal energy. It made sense, since he hadn’t yet received proper instruction from a master.

But watching him brawl, Seong Muyeon had noticed that his punches were fairly accurate. The problem was speed and power—by the time his punch reached its mark, the opponent had already moved.

So just moments ago, Seong Muyeon had taught him how to channel his internal energy.

“You’re right-handed, yes? Then try directing your energy from the Gyeongmun acupoint to the Geo-gol point, and from there to the Oegwan point as you strike.”

Internal energy allows one to exceed physical limits and unleash explosive strength. It compensates for shortcomings and amplifies strengths.

Since he hadn’t participated in the fight himself, he hadn’t violated Ma Jincheon’s warning.

The boy who had been struck was now clutching his jaw and crying out.

“Argh! My jaw! My jaw!”

“Senior Brother! Are you okay?!”

“Do I look okay?! I think my jaw’s broken!”

Seong Muyeon snorted softly at the commotion.

Broken? Hardly. At most, he’s bruised. What a drama queen.

For all his attitude, the boy didn’t seem to have much resilience. Kang Ung had only just started accumulating internal energy—how strong could his punch possibly be?

“Let’s go! We’ll take him to the Medical Hall!”

“Y-you’ll pay for this!”

The boys quickly hoisted the fallen one up and dashed away in a frenzy.

Seong Muyeon walked over and patted Kang Ung on the shoulder.

“Well done. Kids like that need a good lesson to come to their senses.”

“……”

Kang Ung was still in a daze.

He couldn’t believe that punch had actually come from him.

Though he had been lucky enough to be selected as the first disciple, he had never truly felt a sense of capability or value in himself.

The juniors who joined later seemed to have received early training somewhere. They wielded real swords with flair and constantly looked down on him. Feeling far behind his peers and with no master yet, Kang Ung had been struggling deeply.

But now…

He clenched his calloused and slightly bloodied fist.

“Thank you. Because of you…”

“What did I do? You’re the one who did it.”

Kang Ung looked at Seong Muyeon’s relaxed smile with new eyes. Though he hadn’t yet learned any proper techniques due to not having a master, it was Seong Muyeon who had taught him how to fight—his first teacher, in a way.

“Gongja Seong really is an incredible person…”

To offer such effective instruction so easily…

“Oh dear, we’ll have to postpone that tea. You’ve been injured.”

“I-it’s fine. Just a scratch.”

“What nonsense! Even small wounds heal faster when treated quickly. You’ll get hurt a lot more in the future—if you neglect your body now, what’ll you do then? Go straight to the Medical Hall.”

“…Understood.”

Relenting to Seong Muyeon’s insistence, Kang Ung finally turned to go. Even as he walked away, he kept glancing back, dragging his feet slowly.

…He’s a good person.

Though their meeting was by chance, Kang Ung felt a deep sense of kinship with the Seven Young Lords of the Demonic Cult.

Seeing him reminded him of his first days at Mount Hua.

A strange place. An unfamiliar atmosphere.

In those early days, unable to adapt, he was constantly tormented by the feeling that he didn’t belong.

Everyone else seemed destined to become masters of the Mount Hua sword.

He alone felt like a short-legged bird pretending to be a stork, forced into a fate that wasn’t his.

Things had improved somewhat as he made close friends among his peers, but the inferiority and alienation still lingered—at least until he met Seong Muyeon.

Seong Muyeon had it even worse. He was like a single drop of oil floating in water—utterly incompatible with everything around him. From his clothes to his speech, his expressions, and even his origin—everything about him was drastically different from the norm here.

Yet Seong Muyeon never once cowered, and that alone gave Kang Ung considerable comfort.

He still had no master. He still hadn’t put down roots at Mount Hua. He had no protector.

If he was lucky, perhaps one of the elders would take pity on him and reluctantly accept him.

But if no one ever did?

…I’ll be okay.

Trying to reassure himself, Kang Ung trudged along—when he suddenly felt a presence and looked up. An unexpected figure was seated on the roof of the hall, looking down at him. Their eyes met.

“S-Senior Brother Baek …”

Baek Ryeoil leapt down from the roof lightly. Despite the height, his landing made not a single sound.

Kang Ung’s face turned pale.

This was bad.

According to Mount Hua’s rules, fights between disciples were strictly forbidden outside of formal duels. Judging from his position earlier, this fearsome fourth senior had likely witnessed the entire brawl from start to finish.

As Baek Ryeoil strode over with long, deliberate steps, Kang Ung lowered his head, bracing for a storm.

“I-I’m sorry, Senior Brother… I’ll accept any punishment…”

“Well done.”

“…Pardon? I did well… Huh?”

Contrary to his expectations, Baek Ryeoil patted him firmly on the shoulder.

“But your lower body seems a bit weak. You’ll need to work on leg training to improve your balance.”

He tousled Kang Ung’s hair before strolling off toward Chwijeongjae.

“……”

Kang Ung stood there, stunned, watching his figure disappear in the distance.