Chapter 425

Other than the fact that she’s as fiery as a flame, being dragged around by the persistent Wol-ryang isn’t really that much of a bother.

From the moment I wake up to the last meal of the day, I throw myself into external training.

Even after meals, it’s all about that external training.

We’ve even set up work shifts together, and when we return, it’s more external training.

When asked why I’m spending the whole day enhancing my body, Wol-ryang would say:

“I focus on internal cultivation when others are asleep, which is why I concentrate on external training all day.”

And external training is, after all, the genuine increase of my innate strength.

Those swinging swords only develop the parts they use, leading to an imbalance of the body if they fail to gain enlightenment.

However, if you comprehensively train your body through external training, even if you don’t reach a high level, your strength will increase, benefiting both your weapon and body. Understanding the body leads to understanding the universe, so how can anyone dismiss external training?

This was something Qing asked and directly heard.

And she had to pay the price for asking.

“Yeah, you should try it too. Female martial artists truly need external training, yet they shy away, whining about ruining their shape or bulking up. But what’s more important than the body for a warrior? And worrying about muscle growth is ridiculous. Do you think basic strength training will turn you into a muscular beast? Get ready.”

So, once I was dragged to the training ground, I saw Jo Hak-che, shirtless and dripping with sweat, giving Qing a desperate look.

“Young Lady Seomun? Here to save me?”

“Nope. I just came to pass the time.”

Qing’s body already surpassed the world’s greatest in pure physical ability.

“Whoa, have you been doing external training? This is no joke!”

“Of course! My master always talks about the importance of external training.”

“Indeed! The Great Master is nothing if not thorough!”

As Wol-ryang exclaimed in admiration, he kept adding more sandbags, turning Qing into a sandbag rack instead of wielding the Cheonhwa-geom, her lovely face barely peeking out.

But she showed no signs of struggle; instead, she got bored and yawned.

Wol-ryang burst into laughter.

“Truly! Wonderful! Such a strong body, you really are the inheritor of Buddha’s Physical Body! You’ve inherited the spirit of Shaolin!”

“Hehe. They say all the world’s learning came from Shaolin, right?”

“Excellent! I feel ashamed for mumbling nonsense when I already have a giant who has reached the realm through external training. How kind of the Master to treat you so heartily; truly, the world’s treasure, the pride of the orthodox sect!”

“Hehe. You’re too kind.”

Qing, receiving praises thanks to her effortless external training, seemed genuinely admired by Wol-ryang.

After all, female martial artists often despised external training.

They worry about bulking up, and while they might not turn into muscle monsters, the hard texture of their muscles would show through if they lost body fat.

They hailed her as a genius who achieved supreme mastery at a young age, but now it was clear just how much blood and sweat went into her physical training, raising her evaluation in my mind dramatically out of the blue.

Wol-ryang unfurled a black knot around his wrist and handed it to Qing.

“Here, take this. There’s a group called the Golden Strength Association where we train together in external practices. When you visit, let’s sweat it out together. The black knot is for master-level members, but I can see you’re more than qualified.”

“Oh. Sure!”

She took it, but couldn’t help glancing at Wol-ryang’s shiny bald head.

What’s up with that? Did he become a monk because he’s bald? Did he grease it or something? It sure is shiny.

The mention of the Golden Strength Association conjured up an image of muscled bald guys sweating it out, which was a bit off-putting.

Maybe sensing her impolite stare, Wol-ryang grinned and added,

“Don’t worry, there are plenty of people your age there.”

“There are people my age?”

“Of course. There’s that kid Lee Wang-chul who recently became the youngest master. And there are others…”

Rattling off names of young members in the Golden Strength Association, it became clear that smaller sects keenly felt the need for external training and the importance of connections.

So, just by pushing yourself physically, you’d gain both external training and networking; the Golden Strength Association was undoubtedly quite popular.

But of all the names, why did it have to be Lee Wang-chul at the forefront?

He might have a full set of hair, but he’s still trapped in a sweat-filled circus of muscle monsters.

Qing stared at the Golden Strength Association’s knot bracelet.

It felt a bit damp; she’d probably need to wash it.

More importantly, it symbolized belonging.

It would feel good, and maybe her team could get matching ones?

That started a session for pushing her physical limits disguised as external training, but with so few sandbags available, it ultimately failed.

“Young Lady Seomun? Could you spare a moment?”

It seemed Wol-ryang’s theory that physical exhaustion brings relief from romantic troubles worked since Jo Hak-che’s gaze shifted away from its intensity.

But Jo’s brother? No way.

No matter how much a woman was pursuing him, how could he just dash off saying, “Forget my fellow team members, I’m going to woo her!”?

Did Qing have average hearing?

The strange sounds from the floor below, like “Here it is—the rising black dragon of the Black Dragon Clan!” and other nonsense.

As the grand tale of the black dragon echoed, she couldn’t help but snicker at it.

The urgings to “bear the child of the black dragon” were particularly ridiculous.

“Pfft.”

Eventually, she busted out laughing.

Whether the women were humoring Jo’s self-absorption or genuinely captivated by whatever they were calling the black dragon was anyone’s guess.

How could anyone tell if it was a black dragon or a black worm?

“Young Lady Seomun?”

Qing forced herself to compose and replied,

“No, no. With Jo asking, I just have this strong feeling everything’s about to get super busy. What’s going on?”

“It’s about Hahoo Pyo-mae.”

“Lang-lang?”

Jo’s expression darkened.

“Please do me the favor. Her family has faced calamity, so how severe do you think her mental wounds must be? Imagine the shock she’s received to cause such a twisted way of speaking.”

“Huh? Was she speaking strangely before?”

“Of course! Is that not obvious? Something must have hit her hard on the head, hmm. That’s probably it.”

He meant she might’ve gone nuts.

Qing kind of felt that way too.

“But she’s such a kind girl, Pyo-mae. I’ve never met anyone as good-hearted as her. She can’t stand seeing others in pain; it’s said that no one in Jilin has escaped her kindness. She wasted half her family fortune on charitable works.”

It sounded like she lived to give.

They say there’s hardly a loan shark in Jilin because she was so generous.

Loan sharks are typically the last resort when ordinary people are struggling and can’t catch a break.

People didn’t turn to loan sharks since they were foolish enough to get suckered into high interest—they did it because life was too hard.

After witnessing orphans, she built homes and took care of the kids. When seeing sick people, she brought in doctors; she provided everything from house calls to prescriptions and herbs.

They were lucky the harvests were decent; otherwise, the Hahoo clan would be bankrupted from feeding everyone.

“Right now, she seems like she’s totally lost her mind, though.”

“Hmm. I see…”

Qing’s agreement lacked enthusiasm.

Given how little her good deeds seemed to amount to?

Just hearing that one good deed made it sound like she could’ve done at least three times as many.

Jo didn’t seem to be lying, but being family talk, the people from the Central Plain are the types who freak out at every little thing.

Hmm. Black dragon. Black dragon-worm. Black worm. Whatever.

“Hey, Jo! Dinner time!”

Jo’s expression turned desperate.

“Young Lady Seomun. Could you possibly treat me to dinner?”

“Oh come on, if the Great Master calls, what can I do but leave? Ah, the Master must be waiting.”

Qing said that and immediately turned her back.

“Young Lady! Seomun!”

Jo called out to Qing in a desperate voice, but in the end, he was just reaping what he sowed.

—

The fight at Jinhaeru wasn’t exactly right.

Ambushing and killing the head of a sect, especially in such a sneaky and cruel manner, led to loss of both physical life and honor.

Still, if I’m honest, Jin Gaju’s actions were somewhat admirable.

Just how deeply was he indebted to that child, the one with the Cheonhwa-geom? He would be recognized as a benefactor for generations to come.

Anyway, Jin Gaju was planning to uproot the Sapa in Gwangju altogether.

Of course, the orthodox sect can’t just go around swinging their swords recklessly, like the Sapa (plus, Seomun Qing).

The orthodox must show proper conduct.

So, he planned to wait patiently until the sect leader’s funeral ceremony was done.

Once the funeral was over, the Saldal Sect would receive an ultimatum.

Those who don’t leave will be forced to comply with the laws of the martial world.

Hmm. A week to leave sounds too long, doesn’t it?

If he interjected in the Sapa-yuan affairs, he’d just barely meet the timeline.

But three days is too short.

Whether it’s four days or five, that’s the question.

While Jin Gaju was contemplating the deadline of the ultimatum, Wang Woo, the new elder of the Saldal Sect, was similarly lost in thought about the same issue.

How much time would Jin’s crew be willing to extend?

Though they’re from the orthodox sect, they’d surely give a week, right?

If that fool from Ilmeong made enough noise, maybe support would arrive within a week?

Or should they pack up and beg forgiveness right now?

The orthodox sect won’t completely wipe out a faction for publicly bending their knee in front of a crowd.

It’s not because they lack the heart to do so.

They’re bound by the restraints of expectation, morality, and face—it’s a self-imposed prison they’ve crafted.

But to beg for forgiveness usually costs lives—either the leader or several high-ranking members, not to mention brutal penalties like broken dantian or amputated limbs, demanding retirements as a “cost.”

If I’m dead or disabled, the Saldal Sect is of no use.

So, Wang Woo could do nothing but continue his deliberation.

Three days after the former Saldal Sect leader Lee Wang-chul’s death, as the second night of mourning deepened…

…

In the Saldal Sect’s manor, the last sleeping quarters for the new disciples—fancy pads for the youngest in their own unique way.

By the mercy of the Sado Sect, they’d recently taken elixirs to level up their skills significantly.

However, they couldn’t sleep due to an inexplicable thirst.

The last elixir was supposed to carry them through today, but it ended up going to the sect’s higher-ups.

My throat is parched.

It’s an insatiable thirst.

No matter how much water, alcohol, or liquid I drink, it’s a wretched thirst that won’t quench.

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