When a person lives with constant pain, their expression becomes monotone.

If that monotony continues, even the muscles used to smile begin to atrophy. In short, they become someone who can no longer laugh freely. That’s the case with the Sword Demon.

Fortunately, as he calmly shared a brief reflection, his expression—unlike before—seemed slightly more relaxed.

Not because he was pleased with his martial arts achievements.

But because he was pleased with the change in his life. If that's the case, does that mean the Sword Demon has truly grown stronger?

That part—I wouldn’t know either.

I only thought that, since I also entered the martial world late and wasted a considerable amount of time, I couldn’t exactly compare myself to his strange life. This man has taken a long detour. The reason I think of him as the eldest isn’t because of age, but because he moves forward by choosing his own path.

Even when facing off against the Cult Leader, one of the Three Calamities.

The rest of us have all achieved something, so I feel that the Sword Demon’s words about having no accomplishment will linger in my mind for a while.

Anyway, it was time to shove food into our bellies, so I looked up at Manjang Gorge.

“......Anyway, let’s eat brunch outside. Among the five of us, the White-Robed Scholar should be the best at climbing.”

The Drunk asked me,

“What do you think about continuing our training while eating fish?”

I nodded.

“Not a bad idea. But let’s do that individually. For personal training, what matters isn’t coming down, but going up. Also, from what I can tell, if we all keep eating the same medicinal fish, its effects will keep diminishing. So next time you need to recover from internal injuries or resume training, come back down and eat the fish. Also dig up and eat some of that hasuo that should be up ahead. But today, let’s train by heading back into the outside world.”

The White-Robed Scholar looked up at the cliff.

“This is the highest place I’ve ever climbed.”

I glanced at the Four Villains.

“The eldest brother should be able to climb it just fine. The Shit-Stained One will somehow manage too. I’m worried about Yukhap. For now, you and I will climb first, White-Robed Scholar—watch closely.”

“Understood.”

The White-Robed Scholar would use Jeunjong, the elite light footwork technique. It wouldn’t «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» be easy to imitate, but just observing the simplicity of the movements and the flow would offer something to learn. So in truth, the climb itself wasn’t the important part—what mattered was that the Four Villains could directly observe the White-Robed Scholar’s Jeunjong. This was a rare form of light footwork.

“The first climber is the Scholar, the second is me. The other three should watch us and form a strategy that suits them. Third is Mongrang, fourth is Yukhap, last is the eldest brother. Especially the second—wrap the Muga Dagger around your palm before climbing and tie it tight with your clothes. If you fall, stab the blade into the cliff and hang from it. Don’t be stingy with the dagger. The blade can be sharpened again anyway.”

“Got it.”

The Drunk tore a piece of his garment and wrapped the Muga Dagger around his palm as I instructed. It had to be attached like that to keep the fingers free. You use your fingers to climb, and only grab the dagger when you're really in danger to stab it into the wall.

This place isn’t called Manjang (Ten-Thousand Zhang) for nothing. If someone slipped and fell, it wouldn’t be surprising. You can’t very well be a martial artist who dies by falling on the way to a meal.

The White-Robed Scholar walked to the cliff and placed his hands behind his back.

“I’ll go first.”

“Already?”

“I feel strangely hungry.”

He lowered his posture and shot up into the air. At the peak of his jump, he calmly placed his left foot on the cliff and paused. Watching this, it really felt worthy of being called a supreme technique in the martial world.

He soared up again and placed his right foot. The way he climbed—so serene yet dynamic—was fascinating even as I watched it happen. The inclusion of static movement made the climb even more mesmerizing. If he claimed to be the Swift Sovereign, no one would doubt it.

I added an explanation.

“......He’s going slowly because balance is more important. If the height were half this much, he’d be climbing fast. But in this case, slow and steady is the correct approach.”

The Lecher spoke in disbelief.

“How the hell is he climbing without even using his hands?”

“Don’t try to copy that. The Scholar can regulate the weight of his body—that’s why he can do it. I’m going up now. Once the Scholar and I reach the top, the rest of you can start.”

I slowly walked forward and leapt into the air, chasing after the White-Robed Scholar using Jeunjong. Even after soaring ten times, the top still looked distant, so I had to slow down too. From then on, I carefully clung to the cliff with both hands, found a spot to plant my foot, and pushed upward vertically.

Every time I climbed Manjang Gorge...

No matter how high I went, there was still more to go. Looking down always felt dizzying. I could never get used to it. A wave of self-doubt would hit me—what the hell am I doing? But thinking that life’s obstacles could be overcome through climbing made it oddly fun.

After a while, the Scholar and I reached the top around the same time and looked down.

I realized then that my light footwork had caught up to his considerably, but I didn’t bother to show my delight.

I waved at the three figures far below to climb up. From up here, I couldn’t make out their expressions, let alone exchange words.

Soon, the Lecher stepped far away from the cliff, spread his light footwork, and launched himself upward.

Since we had arrived first, we naturally kept watch over our surroundings. The scenery viewed from the valley and the scenery from atop a cliff were quite different.

The White-Robed Scholar asked an absurd question.

“Would it be alright to come here anytime?”

“White-Robed, this place isn’t private land. You could come here with Cheonak—it wouldn’t be bad. Just don’t wipe out all the fish and make them extinct.”

“Who the hell would do something that stupid?”

“You know. People are stupid when they’re on a mission...”

The White-Robed Scholar nodded. After a moment, as he stared absentmindedly at the approaching Lecher, he spoke.

“......I’ll be leaving after the meal.”

“Where to?”

“I’m a busy man, you know.”

I looked at the Scholar’s face. He didn’t look too pleased. Something came to mind, but I didn’t ask. I just sat on a boulder and watched the Four Villains climb. For a moment, I wondered—where was this busy man planning to disappear to?

Could a layabout like the Scholar even have something to be busy with?

To be honest, I didn’t think so. All the hard and annoying tasks are taken care of by his disciples and subordinates anyway.

Achieving a martial breakthrough and then leaving right away? I guessed, simply, that he was going to meet Cheonak. I didn’t know the reason, so I had no choice but to ask him.

“Right after achieving a breakthrough... is there a reason you're going to see Cheonak?”

The White-Robed Scholar looked at me and smiled as if it were absurd.

“Ridiculous bastard.”

From below the cliff, the Lecher shouted.

“......Don’t we have a rope?”

I replied to the Lecher, who was about halfway up.

“Nope.”

Though I was in the middle of training myself, strangely enough, I felt like I was training the Four Villains too. And not just in martial arts.

A thought struck me, and I asked the Scholar,

“Don’t tell me... you’re going to kill Cheonak?”

Honestly, this question was a trap.

The White-Robed Scholar let out a rare laugh and looked at me.

“Who the hell could kill one of the Three Calamities so easily? I’ll be lucky if I don’t die.”

With that, I was convinced—he really was going to see Cheonak.

I probed him lightly.

“What if we all went together after eating?”

“Could you handle that?”

“What is there to handle? It’s not like we’re going to fight him.”

The Scholar paused for a moment, then replied.

“Cheonak is a man without joy. Unlike me, he has no hobbies.”

“Yeah, that’s how he seems.”

“His only pleasure is fighting. But there’s no master strong enough to give him a proper duel. Since I’ve now reached a breakthrough, it’s only right I go and let him beat me up a little.”

My eyes widened.

“......Ah, so you’re going because you’ve grown strong enough to spar with him?”

I looked him up and down again. It seemed this shady bastard did, at the very least, think of Cheonak as a friend.

“In that case, isn’t it all the more reason for us to go together? We can take a few hits too.”

The White-Robed Scholar looked at me.

“Lord, I can mostly guess your intentions. But Cheonak is someone who can’t get close to others. Even if you manage to grow close, he’ll never truly be a force that can aid Baekdo or the Scholar.”

“Why not?”

“Because sometimes, he can’t even control himself. Whenever that happens, he locks himself away in the safe house I prepared for him and doesn’t come out.”

I crossed my arms and stared at him.

“We can’t force him.”

“.......”

“But don’t you go around using Cheonak like that either.”

“What?”

The Lecher had just arrived. He grabbed the cliff’s edge with pale hands and collapsed on the ground, exhausted. The first climb is always the hardest—not because of lack of internal energy, but probably because of tension.

While he panted and caught his breath, the White-Robed Scholar asked me,

“You’re saying I use Cheonak? What do you mean?”

“Hey, White-Robed.”

“Say it.”

“No matter how skilled someone is in martial arts—if they lock themselves away in a safe house you prepared, don’t go outside, don’t meet anyone, don’t talk to anyone, and have no one to spar with—it’s only natural they’d go mad. Why did you leave him in that state? And now you think you’re his only friend just because you’re the only one who talks to him and takes his beatings? If you’re a true friend, you should help him escape from his mental deviation.”

“What if people die because of that? Can you take responsibility?”

I laughed at his words.

“You seriously think Cheonak could kill all five of us? If he’s that strong that we can’t take him even with all of us together, then hell—let’s all just die there. You pathetic bastards... With that level of skill, how the hell do you expect to fight the Cult Leader later?”

After throwing those words, I looked at the Drunk. Having seen the Lecher’s embarrassing performance, he was actually climbing with better posture.

I turned back to the White-Robed Scholar and pressed him again.

“I’m not going to meet Cheonak to use him. Last time, after we argued, I suggested we have a drink. But you dragged him away. I never got an answer. Whether it’s a refusal or not—it should come from Cheonak. You're not the one who should keep saying, ‘No, he can’t,’ or ‘This won’t work.’ If you keep trying to control him like that, he’s no different from a man locked in a prison you made.”

I pointed at him.

“You especially shouldn’t do that.”

“What do you mean?”

I glared at him and said,

“Because you knew Jinhyang was going to die with her lover and didn’t say a word. You owe Cheonak. Don’t repay that debt like this. If you ask me, you’re not the one who considers Cheonak a friend. It’s Cheonak who thinks of you as his friend.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really think someone like Cheonak didn’t figure out what happened that day? The fact that he hasn’t shattered your skull yet is proof he sees you as a friend.”

“.......”

While the White-Robed Scholar remained silent for a long while, the Drunk finished his climb. I reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Well done.”

“Damn, I nearly died.”

He took a few trembling steps and sat down.

“Unbelievable. If I hadn’t eaten that medicinal fish, I probably would’ve fallen.”

“So what? The eldest brother would’ve caught you.”

That was the reason I arranged the climbing order this way. Looking down, the eldest was climbing at a decent pace. Aside from his internal deviation involving the Bright Sword, he did everything well.

I said to the White-Robed Scholar,

“White-Robed, let’s go together and just talk to him. I’m not recklessly insisting. It’s not like I want to go there just to get beaten up. What I want is simple—one day, when Cheonak has guests visit him and offer him a drink, I want him to ask, ‘What do you think about this?’ Isn’t that something you, as his only friend, could arrange? If Cheonak says no, then we’ll leave without regrets. It’s not like we’re going there to threaten him. Stop misunderstanding. I have no intention of dying early. I want to live long and thin, train disciples, and... Anyway, you get what I’m saying?”

The collapsed Lecher raised his head stiffly and looked at me.

“Wait, who did you say we’re going to see? Did I hear wrong? Cheon... what?”

The Drunk answered for me.

“Cheonak.”

The Lecher stood up and stared at me.

“You’re insane.”

I met his eyes and gave a slight nod.

“I’ve been insane for a while now.”

The Lecher laughed in disbelief and said to the Scholar,

“Forget it, Scholar. Don’t go. Ignore him. What, there’s no one else to meet so you go see one of the Three Calamities? Might die over a drink. The booze’ll go down the wrong pipe or something. Who the hell drinks with men anyway, why are we doing this—damn it, my life... You hopeless bastards, why live like this? I don’t get it.”

The White-Robed Scholar responded,

“Let’s eat first.”

Still mumbling like someone drunk in the daytime, the Lecher continued,

“Think about it. Why not just go to the Cult and call out the Cult Leader instead? If he gets shocked and asks why you came, just say you felt like drinking. How is that any different from going to see Cheonak? Same damn thing. Let’s eat a proper meal first, and think about this calmly again, alright?”

He rambled to himself, then walked to the cliff’s edge and looked down at the eldest brother climbing. We all paused and silently watched him ascend with speed.

At one point, the Sword Demon lightly leapt and landed where we were.

He had climbed with such overwhelming skill that no one could even think of what to say.

The Lecher asked,

“Master, why are you so good at climbing?”

“I trained in places like this from the beginning.”

“I see.”

I asked the eldest brother for his opinion too.

“Eldest, looks like the Scholar is going to meet Cheonak. What do you think about us going with him?”

The Sword Demon looked at the White-Robed Scholar.

“......If he allows it, and Cheonak agrees to meet us, then there’s no reason not to go.”

I waited for the Scholar’s answer.

“So he says.”

The Scholar asked the Sword Demon,

“You want to see Cheonak too?”

The Sword Demon replied,

“Cheonak is a master stronger than us. He has no reason to fear our visit. He might find it annoying though. But I do wonder if anyone’s ever actually visited him just because of his name as one of the Three Calamities. Wouldn’t that be... rather boring?”

The White-Robed Scholar shook his head.

“What I mean is, you might all die if we go see him.”

The Sword Demon replied,

“White-Robed, you should know better than anyone. The four of us aren’t ones to die so easily. Even if the opponent is Cheonak. Even if there are other scholars there. If you permit it, going together wouldn’t be bad. But first—let’s eat.”

So, without yet hearing the White-Robed Scholar’s final answer, we began our descent from Manjang Gorge.

On the way down the mountain path, the Sword Demon spoke to the Lecher.

“Disciple.”

“Yes?”

“Are you afraid of Cheonak?”

“How could I possibly be?”

We all turned to look at the Lecher.

“.......”

No one had anything to say to that.