Volume 1, Chapter 20
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While he was organizing his thoughts, he had done nothing but run, and a lot of work had piled up.
Now that he had sorted out his thoughts, he couldn't very well ignore the piled-up chores.
“Shall I start with the laundry?”
At Ihoe's words, Chaehwa tilted her head.
“Laundry?”
The cotton quilt, stained with the dead assassin's blood.
Lacking the presence of mind and the emotional space, he had left it untouched until now.
Only after clearing his mind and organizing his thoughts did the quilt finally catch his eye.
Thinking about it now, a chill ran down his spine.
To think he had just left a quilt stained with a dead man's blood lying around all this time.
“Yeah. I've been having bad dreams lately, so I have to do something.”
When he thought about it, he realized he must have been out of his mind.
No wonder he'd been having bad dreams.
“Why?”
But Chaehwa, who knew nothing of the situation, still had a face full of questions.
Ihoe smiled.
“It's a secret!”
Even if the incident had passed without major trouble, he couldn't very well talk about a quilt stained with a dead assassin's blood.
“...That's mean!”
Chaehwa pouted, her lips jutting out sullenly, but it was still something he couldn't tell her.
Ihoe smiled and rolled up his sleeves.
“Well then, shall we get to work?”
Somehow, his heart felt much lighter.
* * *
He turned away his juniors who wanted to come along and headed for the valley.
He couldn't show the blood-soaked quilt to his juniors.
Nothing good would come of it.
Some would worry, and some would be frightened. And a perceptive one might even blame themselves.
He couldn't let that happen.
“This is good exercise, too.”
The thick cotton quilt, having absorbed the blood, had become quite heavy.
Carrying it to the valley was harder than he'd expected.
It was also a sign of just how terrible his physical condition was.
That must be why he'd made such a disgraceful display of dropping his sword in front of his Master.
In his past life, he hadn't picked up a sword until two years later, so he had never dropped one.
But things were different now.
Two years during one's growth period were as valuable as five years for an adult.
After all, during one's growth years, stamina and physique change day by day.
That was why he was still lacking.
His lower body was weak, and his arms lacked the strength to hold a real sword. His hands didn't have the grip strength to wield one.
That was why he hadn't picked up a sword for the past three days.
He knew that forcing himself to wield a sword without a proper foundation would change nothing.
His Master, Yu Hyeonjun, had respected Ihoe's decision.
Instead, he taught him fundamental training methods along with fundamental theories.
They were things that any martial artist—no, anyone at all—would know.
It was the same teaching as in his past life.
But this time, his mindset in receiving it was different.
‘Because I didn't know.’
In his past life, he had considered such a Master to be indifferent.
Fundamental words, advice anyone could give.
It would be a lie to say he hadn't been disappointed by such teachings.
He had expected something a little more special.
But that was a thought born of ignorance.
Now that he knew his Master's past, it was different.
‘For my Master, that was the best he could do.’
His Master, Yu Hyeonjun, was not a martial artist who had learned his skills through conventional means. The time he had spent learning martial arts and his time in the Murim were both short.
Therefore, his sample size for training methods was bound to be extremely small.
The long histories of the prestigious sects of the Murim, the understanding and knowledge of martial arts they had accumulated, and their vast collection of experiences and lessons from trial and error in training.
His Master had none of those things.
Thus, he did not know what was the safest, most correct path, or the fastest method.
Moreover, he was a Master who wished for his disciples, at least, not to walk the same path as him.
So he had no choice but to pass on the most widely known, most common, and therefore, proven training methods and teachings.
Now that he understood this, he was neither resentful nor disappointed.
—All fundamentals begin with one's mindset. Depending on how you set your mind, labor can become training, and training can become labor.
It was the most basic of sayings.
That things change depending on one's mindset.
He had heard those words in his past life as well.
But the Ihoe of his past life had let them go in one ear and out the other.
He knew he had no talent.
Furthermore, he had no desire to succeed as a martial artist, nor any urge to become stronger.
Now, it was different.
He knew he had no talent. He still had no desire to succeed as a martial artist.
But he did have the desire to become stronger.
So he had no intention of dismissing it lightly or treating it carelessly.
If everything could become training depending on his mindset, then this, too, must be training.
The blood-soaked cotton quilt was heavy.
He was on his way to the valley, shouldering that heavy cotton quilt.
The movement of his leg muscles, the pressure on his lower back, the motion of his two arms holding the quilt. And the constant rhythm of his breathing, in and out.
He felt the taut pull of his muscles, felt them being crushed by the weight. He felt his breath falter with every step.
Had he ever been this conscious of his own body? Had he ever tried to perceive the feelings and sensations conveyed by every single movement?
Asking himself, the answer was no.
‘Never. It was just a chore.’
Ihoe smiled bitterly and shook his head.
It was just work, and he had just done it as he always had.
Gripping an object, taking a step, taking a breath.
Those things were so natural, so mundane.
He had never imagined that these mundane and natural things could feel so new.
Ihoe tried to focus completely on this newness.
He arrived at the valley and broke the ice on the stream.
He dropped the cotton quilt he had carried into the frigid, icy water.
The cotton absorbed the water.
And it began to slowly release the blood it had held.
He waited until the quilt was thoroughly soaked.
In the meantime, he took out the laundry bat he had fastened to his waist, opposite his sword.
The tightly gripped laundry bat fit snugly in his hand.
The laundry bat, made of paulownia wood, was something he had swung countless times in both his past and present lives.
It was more familiar than a sword.
Then again, there were many things more familiar than a sword.
It wasn't just the laundry bat. A kitchen knife was more familiar, as was an axe handle, and even the rags and brooms used to sweep and clean the Sincerity Gate were more familiar than a sword.
Soon, the sword would become familiar too.
Holding the laundry bat in his hand, he began to strike the quilt.
Depending on the material of the laundry, its thickness, how dirty it was, and what had soiled it, the strength and method of the beating were all different.
Since he had soaked the thick cotton quilt whole to remove the bloodstains that had seeped deep inside, this beating would require considerable strength.
He sat by the stream and began to beat the laundry.
—A sword must be swung a thousand times to become familiar to the hand.
His Master's words.
A chuckle escaped him.
“I think I've swung you at least ten thousand times.”
He might not know about swords, but he had surely swung this laundry bat more than ten thousand times.
As the number of his juniors grew, he had to do laundry every day to keep them properly clothed.
He hadn't counted each time, but it must have been ten thousand.
Ihoe chuckled and began the familiar beating.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The rhythmic sound of the bat striking the wet quilt filled the valley.
Slowly. Very slowly, the energy of the Myriad Liberations began to flow in and out.
As the number of strikes increased, the amount of Myriad Liberations energy flowing in and out also gradually grew.
His senses expanded. They also grew sharper.
Ihoe consciously tried to use his expanding senses to observe himself.
He focused on his own movements as he beat the laundry, on his breathing, and on the motion of his muscles.
In accordance with Ihoe's intent, the Myriad Liberations energy that had been spreading wide began to focus inward, and inward.
How much time had passed like that?
“...You idiot.”
“...!”
Ihoe, who had been completely focused on himself doing the laundry, was startled.
It was because of the voice that had suddenly spoken.
No, it was because the voice was so familiar.
“You...!”
“You snuck away like you were hiding something. You said you were doing laundry, but you did it without us knowing. It's strange, isn't it? Was it because of that? Because of the blood?”
“Chaehwa.”
It was Chaehwa.
Chaehwa, who he hadn't even noticed arriving, was standing beside him, her cheeks puffed out in displeasure.
‘Ah...!’
He had focused the range of his senses to observe his own movements, breathing, and muscular changes.
Because of that, he hadn't noticed Chaehwa's approach.
He had tried not to show the blood-soaked quilt to his juniors...
“This is...”
Even as he unconsciously continued beating the laundry, Ihoe smiled bitterly.
But Chaehwa spoke first.
“You're an idiot, Eldest Brother! Did you think I wouldn't know? It was that day, right? The day you and Master came back in the morning. I saw it that day. Before you arrived.”
Damn!
A look of dismay crossed Ihoe's face.
He had tried to hide it, but she said she had already seen it.
At this rate, he wouldn't be able to make any other excuses.
Ihoe watched Chaehwa's expression.
“It's not your blood, Eldest Brother. But you tried to hide it.”
Chaehwa narrowed her eyes, glaring at Ihoe and the cotton quilt.
A sharp deduction, unbecoming of a child.
“Is it a bad person's blood?”
“Uh... well...”
“It is. A bad person's blood.”
She asked the question but didn't even give him a chance to answer.
She asked and answered all by herself.
“Because of me.”
Chaehwa grew sullen.
“...Huh? What are you talking about?”
“There's only one reason a bad person would go into your room, Eldest Brother. The Chagon Gang. That bad guy. You fought with that bad guy because of me. The Clan Lord of the Chagon Gang was really angry, too. So they must have sent a bad person. After you.”
She laid out her deduction with a sullen expression.
Her voice, barely a whisper, was tinged with tears.
Ah.
Ihoe sighed inwardly.
This was the one person he hadn't wanted to find out.
For Chaehwa to find out. And for Chaehwa to feel guilt or remorse.
What should he say?
“...Chaehwa.”
He hesitated, then finally spoke with difficulty.
All the while, his mind raced, trying to figure out what to say.
Should he deny it first? Or should he try to comfort her?
“You know.”
But a smile played on the face of Chaehwa, who had been sullen with her head bowed.
Smiling, Chaehwa lifted her head again, and her voice was bright.
“I have to get stronger. Like, really strong!”
This was a reaction he hadn't expected.
“Huh...?”
*Clack!*
The laundry bat, which he must have swung more than ten thousand times in this life and the last combined, missed its mark.
Suddenly?
He was grateful that she wanted to become stronger, but wasn't this a bit out of the blue?
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