Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 51

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

#051

Clang!
“My senses must be dulling. I never imagined you’d take your training so seriously.”
As the cloth bundle hit the ground, a heavy metallic sound rang out—sharp enough to send a spike of dread through Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s skull.
“Let’s see…… You said the same conditions as mine, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes, that’s right.”
At Do Pyeong-su’s question, Hang Ju-sa-byeon forced himself to nod.
Do Pyeong-su rummaged through the bundle and tossed something at Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s feet.
Metal struck stone with a deafening clang.
“Put them on—waist, wrists, ankles.”
The metal weights looked easily twice as heavy as before. And what was that thing meant for his waist?
“Sir, we said we wanted the same conditions as Master Geom……”
“Exactly. Until now, we’ve been keeping your training light because we didn’t want to push you too hard.”
“No, no—we meant the same as Master Geom’s conditions……”
As Go Seo-bang stammered, Se-hwa cut in smoothly.
“Come on! Master Geom doesn’t wear anything like that. You can see with your own eyes——”
“I do wear them.”
Geom U-bin rolled up his sleeve.
A thick wrist appeared, wrapped tightly in white cloth.
“If I just wrapped iron around myself, the bulk would be inconvenient, so I had these made from Black Iron instead.”
Gang Seo Samak knew well what Black Iron was.
Standard iron three or four times heavier and denser, but properly refined Black Iron could weigh ten times as much.
“Ah, I see. If it’s Black Iron of that quality……how much does it weigh?”
“Ten catties per arm, fifteen per leg, and thirty around the waist.”
Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s jaw dropped so far his chin nearly struck his chest.
“That’s—that’s eighty catties total?”
“I’m getting used to it, so I’m planning to add twenty more after three days.”
“One—one—one hundred catties!”
“Yes. As I’ve adapted, the training feels a bit easier, so I thought I’d increase the load.”
Hang Ju-sa-byeon stared at the Bloodwind Four Lions with a face drained of all color.
Now he understood perfectly what that smile on their lips meant.
‘No, weight isn’t the only thing that determines training intensity!’
Seo Seok-san urged him on.
“Well? Put them on!”
Hang Ju-sa-byeon fastened the wrist and ankle shackles around himself and bound the weights to his waist.
The difference between thirty catties and eighty felt far heavier than the numbers suggested.
‘Master Geom carried this weight without any fuss?’
For the first time, Hang Ju-sa-byeon wondered if Geom U-bin had been deceiving them.
But he held fast to his belief that Geom U-bin would never lie to them—not like the Bloodwind Four Lions might. Even so, regret began seeping into his heart over his own bold declaration to train exactly as Geom U-bin did.
Do Pyeong-su pulled something else from the bundle. A sword. The moment Hang Ju-sa-byeon saw it, his breath caught in his throat.
It was massive.
Truly, brutishly enormous.
It stretched a full two handspans longer than a normal blade, and the flat of the blade itself seemed at least a handspan wide.
“I thought you wouldn’t use this for another month, but thanks to your admirable resolve, it looks like you’ll be training with it sooner.”
When Se-hwa took the sword from Do Pyeong-su, her body lurched forward from the weight.
The practice blade from before had made her wrists throb after just a few swings; this one seemed so heavy she doubted she could even lift it.
Geom U-bin drew his own blade.
Unlike theirs, it looked roughly the size of an ordinary sword. But the blade was entirely black, which meant it was forged from Black Iron.
“Master Geom, surely that’s also Black Iron?”
“Yes. Seventy catties.”
Regret became reality.
“Well then, shall we begin training?”
Geom U-bin gripped his sword with both hands and took a middle stance. As he swung it horizontally, Hang Ju-sa-byeon realized for the first time that a person could move so slowly.
He’d thought the Bloodwind Four Lions moved boringly slow—but Geom U-bin moved three times slower than they did.
“What are you waiting for? Get started.”
Exactly a quarter hour later, Se-hwa collapsed and vomited up what little she had in her stomach. Gang Seo Samak didn’t take much longer to do the same.
Unlike Hang Ju-sa-byeon, who looked ready to die, Geom U-bin merely had beads of sweat dotting his brow as he moved ceaselessly, following the blade’s path.
A full double hour.
By the time Hang Ju-sa-byeon had vomited and collapsed and risen six times over, Geom U-bin finally stopped his blade work.
“Phew!”
Geom U-bin’s face glistened with sweat as he released a long breath.
He wiped the perspiration from his forehead and turned to Hang Ju-sa-byeon with a worried expression.
“Rough, isn’t it? Should we rest a bit?”
Hang Ju-sa-byeon had barely managed to get to his feet before collapsing again in a heap. Then they heard words from Seo Seok-san that made their ears ring with disbelief.
“Phew! As I thought, those fellows are interfering with your training, senior. Normally you wouldn’t stop for less than four double hours.”
“These are disciples for the first time. They’ll need a few days to adjust.”
Four double hours of this training, without even a break? Hang Ju-sa-byeon felt the urge to bite his own tongue.
“Senior, what about fist technique training then?”
Geom U-bin answered Yeon Geum-hong’s question without the slightest hesitation.
“The same as usual.”
“A quarter hour rest, then four double hours, correct?”
“That’s right.”
Geom U-bin spoke with a bright smile, and Go Seo-bang couldn’t help himself—his voice rose involuntarily as he cried out.
“What? Another four double hours of fist technique training?”
“Yes. I cut back a bit on the days I’m making deliveries, but normally I always do eight double hours. You didn’t know?”
They certainly didn’t know.
Observing another’s cultivation practice was taboo in Murim, so they’d made a conscious effort not to pay attention to Geom U-bin’s training routine.
“How is it… you’re still alive doing that much?”
“Hahaha! Disciple, you’ve been at Oseong Jang-won so long you’ve even learned to joke.”
‘But it’s not a joke!’
He genuinely wanted to rage at him.
Yet sensing that this was no joke at all, Hang Ju-sa-byeon didn’t dare let that frustration show on his face.
The rest period was genuinely just a “bit.”
After resting barely a quarter hour, Geom U-bin picked up his blade again, and Hang Ju-sa-byeon had to force his leaden limbs into motion once more.
It’s a lie that there’s nothing in the world you can’t do with sheer willpower.
In the resumed training, Se-hwa couldn’t even last a quarter hour before collapsing.
Her glazed eyes and ragged gasping breaths were so pitiful that even Hyeolpung Saja couldn’t bring himself to tell her to get up.
Gang Seo Samak managed to last two quarter hours longer than she did, nothing more.
Their dulled minds returned to clarity only after Geom U-bin had finished all his training.
“You’ve rested enough, haven’t you? Shall we start the fist technique training now?”
At Do Pyeong-su’s words, Hang Ju-sa-byeon and the others threw themselves to their knees in haste.
“Master, as the old saying goes, habit is second nature, doesn’t it? It seems our previous training methods really are what suit us best.”
“Tsk, tsk! Can’t even last a single day, you worthless disciples!”
Mercifully, Hyeolpung Saja forgave Hang Ju-sa-byeon his misunderstanding.
“Senior, why don’t we put off the fist technique training for tomorrow and have a sparring match instead? It’s been a while.”
Geom U-bin’s eyes lit up at Do Pyeong-su’s suggestion.
“Shall we? I’ve been wanting to spar with you and the Dao as well!”
The other three immediately rushed to stop him.
“Senior! Such dangerous talk! How could you trust that fool Pyeong-su with a blade? What if he gets hurt?”
“That’s right. I trust Kkot-nim-i, but not Pyeong-su! Everything he touches turns into a disaster!”
Jang Man-dok shook his head vigorously to express his opposition to the sparring.
“As for martial arts, at least, he’s trustworthy.”
“Indeed! As far as other things go, I…”
Do Pyeong-su trailed off and tilted his head uncertainly, but Geom U-bin quickly drew his blade.
“Let’s begin!”
As the two took their positions with a room’s length between them, the three members of Hyeolpung Saja positioned themselves around the perimeter, ready to spring forward at any moment.
No matter how it might be called a sparring match, the presence of a blade in hand meant danger was always a possibility.
Even Hang Ju-sa-byeon, who could have lost consciousness without anyone being surprised, forced his drooping eyes open and watched the match intently.
They were curious about the martial arts of Hyeolpung Saja, who was recognized as one of the highest masters in Murim, but what they truly wanted to see was Geom U-bin.
Until now, they had never once witnessed Geom U-bin display his gongfu.
‘How strong can he be?’
Given that he was studying under Hyeolpung Saja, he had to be formidable.
But that strength was measured against his age of thirteen; by absolute standards, he was clearly still short of stepping into the ranks of first-rate masters.
No matter how much of a prodigy Geom U-bin was, they’d never heard of a martial artist in Murim who’d reached the level of a first-rate master at thirteen.
“I’ll be using only the Sam Seong Gongryeok technique.”
With the Bloodwind Saja’s Sam Seong Gongryeok, even if two of the Gang Seo Samak joined forces, they would struggle to contend with it.
“I’ll take the first move!”
With those words, Geom U-bin launched himself forward.
It was just a single motion, yet Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s jaw fell open. The speed at which Geom U-bin closed the distance between himself and Do Pyeong-su was nothing short of dazzling.
Not one of them could claim to move as fast as Geom U-bin.
Clang!
Geom U-bin’s blade, swung horizontally, crashed against Do Pyeong-su’s sword.
Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s hair whipped wildly, and dust forced his eyes shut.
Whoosh!
The sound of blades cutting through air rang out deafeningly.
‘What is this? Is this really sparring?’
Though his eyes had closed in that instant and he couldn’t see, the sounds he heard and the shock waves he felt resembled actual combat.
Geom U-bin and Do Pyeong-su moved so frantically that the eye could barely follow them.
Geom U-bin launched most of the attacks while Do Pyeong-su focused on defense.
Yet the occasional counterattacks Do Pyeong-su slipped in were sharp enough to raise one’s hair on end.
‘If it were me… I couldn’t have blocked that.’
Hang Ju-sa-byeon had that thought more than once while watching the sparring.
Their earlier belief that thirteen-year-old Geom U-bin was far from becoming a first-rate master had already vanished.
Before even a quarter hour had passed, the Gang Seo Samak had acknowledged that Geom U-bin was a superior master to them.
The subtlety of his techniques went without saying, and his speed and strength already surpassed theirs.
If he could display such martial prowess in a sparring match after completing four double hours of exhausting training, then Geom U-bin had clearly transcended them in every regard.
Clang!
The moment the two blades collided, Geom U-bin’s sword suddenly shattered into fragments.
It wasn’t merely cut—it burst apart like pottery, the state of destruction revealing the martial force of both fighters.
“Danger!”
Though the Bloodwind Saja had been ready to spring forward at any moment, she could not protect Geom U-bin amid the iron shards spreading like light.
One of the unexpected blade fragments grazed across Geom U-bin’s shoulder.
“Brother!”
The most startled was Do Pyeong-su, who had been sparring with him.
He hurled down his blade and rushed over, his face going white the moment he saw blood flowing from Geom U-bin’s shoulder.
“It’s fine. It’s just a light cut.”
The Bloodwind Saja would search for all manner of rare medicines even if Geom U-bin were merely pricked by a needle—her fuss over a blade wound was beyond measure.
Jang Man-dok rushed forward like wind to fetch the medicine kit, and Yeon Geum-hong pressed a pressure point to stop the bleeding.
The treatment was complete in the blink of an eye.
“You reckless fool! What were you thinking, injuring your brother like that!”
“H-how was I to know the blade would shatter?”
“You should’ve felt it! How many years have you been eating rice in Murim and not know that!”
Three of them grabbed Do Pyeong-su by the collar or throat while Geom U-bin broke into a cold sweat trying to restrain them.
During the commotion, Hang Ju-sa-byeon quietly slipped away.
They all knew there was nothing good to be gained from lingering near the Bloodwind Saja in such an agitated state.

***

So Gi-cheon’s short staff sliced through the air in a dizzying blur.
The eighth form of the Ta Gu Bong Law, a unique martial art of the Sect, was a rare technique that possessed both speed and transformation.
After a bounding leap and a spin, the colorful cord hanging from his waist danced in the air.
The six knots tied to that cord were proof that he had formally become a disciple of the Sect’s patriarch.
―If you achieve that much, no one would dare object to me taking you as a formal disciple.
Six months ago, with those single words from Noh Dae-sul who appeared out of nowhere, So Gi-cheon became the twenty-second disciple.
And he still did not know who the twenty-one seniors ranked above him were.
So Gi-cheon, lost in his training, suddenly froze. He had sensed someone watching him from behind the pillar.
Though the figure remained unseen, the stretched shadow betrayed the intruder’s presence.
“Stop lurking like a rat and come out.”
Without needing to be told twice, a man emerged from behind the pillar.
For someone who saw countless people on the streets, it was rare for So Gi-cheon to be startled by mere appearance alone.
The man had hair as tangled as a magpie’s nest, and three scars marked his face—one on his forehead and two on his cheeks.
Of course, So Gi-cheon was not astonished by such things.
What made So Gi-cheon’s eyes widen was the man’s physique. His broad, squared shoulders, narrow waist, thighs that seemed ready to split his trousers, and calves as thick as an ordinary woman’s waist were the kind of build you’d only see in a Murim martial artist who had trained obsessively in external techniques.
Only his limbs were exposed beyond his clothing, yet the firmness of his skin was evident enough.
“Who are you?”
“Gong Seong-tak.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————