RDK 12

Chapter 12

“Are you trying to die, Confucian?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s odd. If you weren’t trying to die, there’s no way you’d push your body this far.”

At the elder physician’s angry tone, Cheon Mujin smiled quietly.

“There are times in life when you have to overdo it a little.”

“This is far beyond ‘a little.’ If it weren’t for your family’s unique recovery abilities, you’d be crippled by now—and that wouldn’t even be surprising.”

Muscle tears weren’t the issue.

It was the wear on his joints and tendons.

There’s a limit to what the human body can endure. But Cheon Mujin had driven himself right to that limit, like it was nothing.

Most people couldn’t even attempt such a thing, nor would they dare.

And for good reason.

‘…The pain must be immense.’

The agony of forcing tendons and joints beyond their limits must be unfathomable.

It’s not a method you’d use in a fight where split-second movements could mean life or death.

“Sigh… Absolute rest, just like before. I’ll prescribe some medicine, so be sure to take it.”

He’s walking a path of suffering that I can’t even imagine.

Knowing that no one can truly understand the burden another person carries, the old physician swallowed back the nagging words that wanted to come out.

As a doctor, he had plenty to say—but there’s a time and place for everything.

After rising and leaving the tent, the elder left Cheon Mujin alone, eyes now closed.

He was no stranger to pain.

He could go about daily life like this, and while recovery might be slow, it wouldn’t be a problem.

But—

‘This isn’t bad at all.’

His muscles were completely torn. That meant, with dedicated recovery, he could reach even greater heights.

He wasn’t yet in a phase focused solely on physical growth, but there was no need to throw away an opportunity when it came.

As he focused on purifying the demonic energy within him, Cheon Mujin allowed himself proper rest.

—

Meanwhile, the members of Unit 13 had gathered at the training grounds.

Baekwoo and Yoo Hyunhwa’s sword and spear clashed under the watchful eye of Do Woojin.

Shocked by Cheon Mujin’s strength, Unit 13 had given up their break and poured themselves into training.

Baekwoo maintained the upper hand throughout the match.

Though his techniques hadn’t worked on Cheon Mujin at all, the insights he gained from that loss had deepened his understanding of opponents, vastly improving his skill.

Yoo Hyunhwa had no move that could beat Baekwoo, whose level and techniques surpassed hers.

Still, her past experiences gave her the resolve to hang on—barely—with a dogged defense.

“Huff! Huff!”

Breathing heavily, her body already pushed to its limits, Yoo Hyunhwa twisted her spear.

One chance.

In this desperate moment—one decisive strike was all she could manage.

She was exhausted, but so was Baekwoo. There had to be an opening.

“Hup!”

Holding her breath, she wrung every bit of strength from her muscles and unleashed a sharp, focused strike.

But as if he’d expected it all along, Baekwoo stepped inward instead.

Dodging the spear cleanly, he brought the tip of his sword right to Yoo Hyunhwa’s throat, ending the match.

“You’re still amazing.”

“Not really.”

“‘Not really’? You’ve already—huh?”

Yoo Hyunhwa was about to compliment him again when she noticed Baekwoo staring at the ground.

Why?

The duel was over.

“…That line.”

“Hm? Oh, the one the squad leader used to draw during spars?”

“Have we ever crossed it while dueling?”

“Hmm… uhhh… I don’t think we ever did?”

“Right. We didn’t. Not once. Ha…”

At Yoo Hyunhwa’s reply, Baekwoo let out a hollow laugh.

“Even while fighting three of us alone, the squad leader never let himself or us cross that line.”

“…Huh? You’re right…”

Slowly looking around, Baekwoo bit his lip.

The space wasn’t even large.

Far smaller than the usual arena size for martial duels.

“…We were in the Buddha’s palm all along.”
—

“The interrogation didn’t go well, I take it.”

“With only three days, we did what we could. Still… it’s impressive.”

“Haha. After collapsing from just moving around, at least I recover quickly.”

Three days after collapsing, Cheon Mujin was already up and heading toward Woochung with Mupung, the division leader.

“I hear Unit 13 has been training intensely lately.”

“Well, that’s only natural for martial artists, isn’t it?”

Even during training with Cheon Mujin, they’d worked hard.

Everyone was eager to improve—especially since survival here depended on it.

The recent peace had gone on a bit too long, and the next storm was approaching.

“I heard it’s been brutal. Like they’re different people. Especially Baekwoo—his intensity is off the charts.”

“Hmm, is that so? That’s good to hear.”

Training is supposed to be brutal.

Only through such extreme, relentless effort could one hope to survive even in hell.

“Heh.”

Amid casual conversation, they arrived at Woochung’s location.

He smiled faintly as he looked up, but his condition was grim.

His left hand was gone, and his body was covered in dried blood.

On top of that—

“You completely destroyed his dantian.”

“Had to be thorough.”

“Wise decision.”

“Still, we didn’t get anything useful.”

“Well, he can’t talk with his jaw smashed.”

Sure, you could have him write with his hands, but that’s easier said than done.

His missing left hand probably resulted from trying to make him write with the right.

They hadn’t gotten much, but—

Cheon Mujin removed the brush and paper next to Woochung and stood before him, reaching out a hand.

Gently, he placed his hand atop Woochung’s head.

And then—

“GrrrrAAAAAARGHHHH!!”

Woochung let out a monstrous cry and began convulsing violently.

Seeing the seizure-like fit, Mupung frowned but didn’t stop Cheon Mujin.

This was his prisoner, after all, and he surely had his reasons.

‘…For some reason, I just trust him. Even when I don’t understand what he’s doing.’

Shaking his head at his own irrational trust, Mupung waited patiently for the fit to end.

“…Phew.”

After sweeping through Woochung’s inner energy, Cheon Mujin chuckled wryly.

‘As I thought—tainted qi. But… it’s different. Strange. It feels unfinished, somehow.’

He was able to tell for sure because Woochung held even more tainted energy than the previous ones.

His power was clearly different.

And—

‘It’s not reacting well.’

Cheon Mujin possessed the demonic authority engraved into his soul—an absolute command over demonic energy.

But this power wasn’t responding to that authority.

Something else was mixed in.

He didn’t know what that “something” was yet…

But figuring it out would be the key to wiping these people from the martial world.

“They’re from the cult again, right?”

“Yes. Seems like it this time, too…”

Again?

At that curious remark, Cheon Mujin turned.

“You sure you should be moving around, patient?”

A deep voice rang out.

A massive man filled his vision.

Cheon Mujin slowly bowed his head.

“Greetings, Changma-nim.”

“You seem more at ease than last time.”

“I failed to greet you first again, though.”

“Hmph.”

At Cheon Mujin’s easy reply, Changma looked down at him with an unreadable expression.

His eyes didn’t waver in the slightest.

It wasn’t that he was resisting through willpower—he was simply unaffected.

Though Cheon Mujin’s body was weak, there was something inexplicably solid within him.

Changma, still puzzled by this inexplicable strength, didn’t forget his purpose.

“This is the one?”

“Yes.”

“Dantian’s destroyed. He won’t last long. I’ll head back tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

Cheon Mujin’s eyes lit up at that.

“Then… that means you’ll be staying here today?”

“Yes. There are preparations I need to make.”

“In that case, may I make a small request?”

“…A request?”

Changma’s brow twitched at the word.

“I don’t believe I owe you any favors.”

“Of course. But I think you’ll find this request worthwhile.”

Confident words.

Already intrigued by Cheon Mujin, Changma paused, then gave a slight nod.

“Very well. Speak.”
—

“Squad leader!”

“Taking a break?”

“Yes. Feels like I’m gonna die.”

Yoo Hyunhwa’s limbs trembled slightly as she joked about dying.

She probably didn’t even realize it—her muscles were likely spasming from fatigue.

“You’re working hard.”

“I’m still miles behind you, Captain.”

“Well, you always were.”

“That’s true, but…”

Seeing her bite her lip uncertainly, Cheon Mujin gently patted her shoulder.

“Start by recovering with breathing meditation. You’ve got one quarter-hour.”

“Huh?”

“Just recover enough to move. A quarter-hour will do. Start.”

Puzzled by the sudden command, Yoo Hyunhwa nonetheless began focused breathing.

Why would he have her meditate mid-training, something usually avoided?

Her confusion only lasted a moment.

After a quarter-hour passed, her body felt significantly lighter.

And that’s when she saw the massive shadow looming over her.

“Wh-Who are you…”

“Youngster.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Block this.”

Without further warning, the giant moved.

He wasn’t fast.

But from who-knows-where, he drew a spear and thrust it.

If she couldn’t block it, she’d be skewered.

Sensing that, Yoo Hyunhwa made a surprising choice—she didn’t dodge.

A thrust aiming at one point is usually easier to avoid than defend.

But she didn’t dodge.

Not just because he told her to block.

‘If I dodge—I’ll die!’

An instinctual certainty.

The moment she thought of retreating to dodge, she was convinced it would be fatal.

When that realization struck—

Clang!!

Almost reflexively, her raised spear deflected Changma’s spear shaft.

With a dull thud of wood against metal, her weapon shuddered as if it might snap.

“…Indeed.”

Seeing his thrust veer completely off course, Changma nodded.

“You win, Confucian.”

With a slightly twisted smile, Cheon Mujin grinned back.

“Then I’ll leave her in your hands.”

“As promised, I’ll teach this child a thing or two.”

“…Excuse me?”

Teach? What?

As Yoo Hyunhwa blinked in confusion, Cheon Mujin beamed.

“Have a good trip.”

“…What?”

Trip? What trip?

“Youngster. Spear in hand. Follow me.”

“Y-Yes!”

Realizing she had no choice, Yoo Hyunhwa followed Changma off the training grounds.

“…Captain, what just happened?”

“Oh, nothing big. A spear expert happened to visit, so I asked if he could teach our Yoo here a thing or two.”

“Oh… a spear expert, huh?”

Wiping his sweat, Do Woojin tilted his head.

There were plenty of spear masters in the cult, but very few with that physique…

“Ghk!”

Suddenly, a name flashed through his mind, and he coughed in shock.

“W-Wait. Was that… Changma-nim?!”

“Oh? How’d you know? You’ve met him before?”

“…There’s only one spear master who looks like that and speaks informally to you.”

“Ohh! Sharp eyes.”

Grinning, Cheon Mujin wiggled his fingers at Baekwoo, who was glaring at him.

“Later. I’m still a patient. If we spar today, the physician will have my head.”

“…Tch.”

Clicking his tongue, Baekwoo withdrew his fighting spirit.

“But… what do you mean she won? Was there some kind of bet?”

“Oh, nothing much. I just said Changma-nim would like her if he saw her.”

“…That’s it?”

“If he liked her, that would’ve been the end of it. But since we had a bet, he decided to teach her, in good spirits.”

There’s no way he wouldn’t like her.

Yoo Hyunhwa.

Right now, her youth and Baekwoo’s presence keep her overshadowed.

But by her early twenties, she’ll reach Hwakyung—the flame realm.

A genius, through and through.