How quick-witted are the Lecher and the Drunk?

Looking back, it seems that bastard Lecher, who can hold his liquor just as well as I can, deliberately crawled off somewhere like a dog and fled. The Drunk, whose whereabouts are now unknown, must have quietly slipped out of the drinking session early.

“......”

It wasn’t like I ever gained anything from alcohol, but I sure feel like I’ve been ruined by it. Just as the dizziness began to subside, Cheonak spoke.

“Hey, Master, if Baek Ga and I competed in light footwork, who do you think would win?”

To be honest, Baek Ga’s light footwork isn’t easy to dismiss, but his opponent is one of the Three Calamities. So the answer came quickly.

Isn’t a tiger faster than a fox?

I glanced sideways at Cheonak and replied.

“You’re probably faster than that Baek Ga bastard.”

“I’m faster.”

“Congratulations.”

Cheonak had crept up close at some point. He tapped my head with a tiger’s paw of a hand and said,

“Why do you think that is?”

“Well, fast is fast. There’s no particular reason...”

Cheonak poked his own thigh with a finger and said,

“It’s the thighs.”

Even at a glance, they were about twice as thick as Baek Ga’s. Times like this, being quick-witted doesn’t help much. I nodded halfheartedly, resigned to life.

“Ah, the thighs, of course.”

“They hold the largest muscles in the body.”

“...Are you drunk?”

“I sobered up. Anyway, it’s not just light footwork—when a battle gets longer and more intense, this is the core of diverse movement and the source of power.”

I looked at Cheonak and nodded.

Cheonak pushed the Twin Iron Maces toward me with his foot.

“Pick them up. Rest them on the back of your neck and grip them with both hands.”

I hesitated and glanced at Eldest Brother.

As soon as our eyes met, Eldest Brother calmly closed his eyes and began regulating his breathing.

“......”

That wasn’t cultivation—it was pretending to meditate to avoid the situation. But I had no way to call him out on it now.

This was when realization struck. While I was working hard to drink alone with Cheonak, the rest of the Four Villains had predicted what was coming and had all run away.

Alcohol is terrifying.

I pointed at Cheonak with my finger.

“Fine. I’ll do it. You always come up with such fun tasks.”

I stood, loosened up a bit, then lifted the Twin Iron Maces onto my shoulders and neck. Is life always this heavy? That crushing weight strangely satisfied me.

Cheonak folded his arms and looked at me.

“Sit. Horse stance.”

“Knew it.”

I sat down with the Twin Iron Maces on my shoulders.

Cheonak corrected my posture.

“Don’t sit all the way down. Right, keep your butt slightly raised. Now from there, stand up. Good. You’ve trained light footwork and outer strength quite a bit.”

There are moments when you’re acknowledged, but you don’t feel happy about it.

Cheonak continued,

“Sit down. Stand up.”

“Of course.”

“Stand.”

“Standing.”

“You still have strength left?”

“I do.”

“Stand.”

Cheonak sat down on the bed. Apparently tired of speaking, he started motioning with his fingers instead. I kept sitting and standing as he directed—without using internal energy—and at some point, I started wondering if I could knock Cheonak down by swinging these Twin Iron Maces at him.

It was clearly impossible, so the thought didn’t last long.

The alcohol had already worn off.

After I had repeated the motion a dozen or so times, Cheonak nodded.

“Good. Put them down.”

I used internal energy to lower the maces and steadied my breath. A breeze from somewhere felt pleasantly cool. Sweating out the booze turned out to be much more effective than trying to shake it off with fingers.

Cheonak looked at me quietly and said,

“Master, outer strength is easy to categorize by levels or grades. But internal energy is harder to classify. Its uses and types vary too much. Outer strength, however, is different. Do you know why?”

I looked around at the various iron weights in the training yard and answered,

“If you can lift a hundred pounds, or two hundred pounds, you can quantify it. That means you can clearly measure progress by stages. It's quite specific.”

“Correct. At your age, that’s a high level of understanding in outer strength. Even by the standards I’ve set. For one thing, both in the past and now, my level in outer strength has always been higher than that beggar Cult Leader.”

The last of the alcohol evaporated in my brain.

“Really?”

“But my internal energy has always been weaker than theirs. They struggled with my outer strength, and I struggled with their internal energy. But none of us were overwhelmingly beyond the others overall. What happens as time passes?”

“That’s... hard to say.”

As I gathered my thoughts, I continued with a confused expression,

“If enough time passes, won’t you end up being the weakest?”

Cheonak shook his head.

“No. That beggar is already quite old. But yes, outer strength does decline over time. That’s its limit.”

“Hmm.”

“You also have to consider when their outer strength begins to decay. On the other hand, internal energy accumulates sequentially. It doesn’t weaken with age. That’s why I can’t afford to slack off in training outer strength. I still have to face the Cult Leader with it. The three of us follow different paths. It’s impossible to say which is correct.”

I sat down on the ground and listened intently to Cheonak’s words.

“I see.”

“At the level of the Three Calamities, it’s natural for me to be behind. My internal energy was always the weakest. But the reason I could hold my own was because of superior outer strength. That’s something you should reflect on. There’s a point where internal «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» and external strength harmonize and explode together. That’s when you transcend individual levels. But only those who’ve personally elevated their outer strength can understand this—it’s meaningless to explain in words. Just remember it.”

Now I realized Cheonak had been calculating my level in outer strength using the weights. He must have seen potential for further progress and was giving advice.

That explains why I thought of a tiger when I first saw him fight. It wasn’t just martial arts movements—it was something else entirely.

What I felt reminded me of a beast. That’s why the image of a tiger came to mind. So Cheonak’s body is on a different level even from high-level martial artists. It’s so developed that the moment you see it, you instinctively feel its power and weight.

Cheonak threw a task at me like a challenge.

“You’ve grown strong enough to make your age meaningless, but right now, both your outer and inner strength are below the other Calamities. Do you have a way to win? I mean, you have to catch up in at least one. Of course, if your total surpasses both of theirs, you’ll rise above the Three Calamities. When that is, I don’t know.”

I asked Cheonak,

“Senior... that expression about ‘ripping someone apart’—was that not just a habit, but an actual technique?”

Cheonak nodded.

“You’re perceptive. No matter how well you train defensive techniques, torn skin and muscles can’t withstand misaligned pressure. So even the Beggar and the Cult Leader must’ve realized their bodies could be torn apart if caught by me. If I grab an arm, I can rip it off. If I grab a joint, I can twist and tear it out.”

He tapped his own head with a finger.

“They realized mid-fight that relying on internal energy alone would get them killed. They’re no ordinary masters. And pressure from outer strength—this was likely a first for both of them. That made the fight even harder to resolve. I had the psychological upper hand, but it was a strategy that assumed mutual destruction. So it doesn’t mean they were inferior to me.”

I nodded.

“Got it.”

Come to think of it, I’ve used the same strategy to gain the psychological edge. I understood exactly what he meant. Cheonak really is a beastly fighter.

“Are you also cultivating internal energy?”

“I am, but at my pace, I’ll never catch up to those two. I’m just trying not to fall further behind.”

I learned an incredible amount from this conversation with Cheonak.

He unfolded his arms and said,

“Anyway, today’s the first day, so that’s enough. Rest.”

First day?

If this is the first, does that mean there’s a second?

The drunken tiger stood up and returned to his den.

I blinked and looked at the Sword Demon.

“......”

Only after Cheonak left did the Sword Demon open his eyes and quietly look at me.

“...It’s all so true I don’t even know what to say.”

“Huh?”

“You said you once helped the Beggars’ Sect Leader and talked a bit about martial arts.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Then in this era, who else could say they learned martial arts from two of the Three Calamities? You should just accept it as fate.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we all learned together?”

The Sword Demon smiled faintly.

“Are you serious? With that guy’s personality?”

“Hmm.”

“Most martial arts in this world dwell on the mysterious and complex. But Cheonak’s approach is nothing more than repeated physical pain, body training. If someone else said it, you could dismiss it. But he’s one of the Three Calamities. You can’t just ignore it—and you know that.”

Eldest Brother is always right. I couldn’t deny it either.

I nodded.

“Alright. As long as it doesn’t kill me.”

The Sword Demon nodded.

“When the sun rises, I’ll take the disciple and Second Brother to Baek Eung-ji. I need to tidy up the place and its assets anyway. It’s better if we leave for now. Even if all you’re doing here is learning how to handle heavy weights, we shouldn’t spy on it. Baek Eung-ji’s close enough, so learn what you can here and join us later.”

We exchanged several thoughtful glances. Naturally, the Sword Demon, having heard everything too, must’ve felt the same.

Sure enough, after some thought, he said,

“Strangely enough...”

“Yeah?”

“...Cheonak has mastered a martial art that stands at the perfect opposite of demonic techniques. It feels like witnessing the very first martial art. If other arts developed by refining techniques like swordsmanship or hand-to-hand based on similar strength levels, Cheonak simply elevated the standard of power itself. At least in terms of outer strength, he’s number one in the world right now, isn’t he?”

I looked down at my arm, now covered in goosebumps.

“You’re right. This really is the first martial art.”

The first martial art must’ve been body training. Probably because before swords were even forged, people had to face beasts barehanded. In a way, some martial techniques seem like tricks that developed without ever testing physical limits. I never would’ve come to these thoughts if I hadn’t come to this Steel Forge.

Strangely enough, Cheonak never made any show of teaching me.

He just said it was the first day. And hinted there would be more.

He’s a man entirely without pretense.

To be honest, I don’t even know why Cheonak suddenly decided to teach me his martial arts. It could’ve just been drunken impulse.

It all happened so naturally.

I couldn’t even tell if this was just something that happened while drinking, or if it was what martial artists call a fated encounter.

Suddenly, the Lecher appeared from somewhere, bent over, and collapsed beside the Sword Demon.

“Master.”

“What?”

Clutching his head as if it were splitting, the Lecher muttered,

“I just remembered... there’s a memorial service coming up... I need to visit Baek Eung-ji.”

Eldest Brother and I looked at him with pity. The Lecher looked back at us with bleary eyes.

“......”

The Sword Demon asked,

“Did you drink a lot?”

“Yes. I figured I couldn’t get away with any tricks, so I drank it all.”

“Memorial service?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’d better go.”

This time, the Drunk walked over looking perfectly fine and sat beside me.

“Third Brother, have fun.”

“Sure.”

The Lecher, face looking slightly sobered, glanced around at us. From the looks of it, he must’ve gone off to puke somewhere and missed the entire conversation. The Drunk, on the other hand, probably listened in nearby.

Eldest Brother summarized the situation in a low voice.

“Seems like one of the Three Calamities has something to teach the Master, but since we can’t peek at another’s martial arts, let’s stay in Baek Eung-ji for a while.”

The Lecher replied in his usual tone.

“Ah, understood.”

The Sword Demon gave me a word of advice.

“Don’t expect to grow strong in outer strength in a short time. I think this is more about sharing a perspective on martial arts itself. That might be more important than any sword art or cultivation technique. So you’d better show Cheonak proper respect. Neither teacher nor student is exactly known for being polite, but you’re the one learning. It’s different.”

The Sword Demon, the Lecher, and the Drunk all looked at me. It was one of those times when you don’t even know how all this happened—and clearly, I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.

The Lecher whispered in a low tone,

“How did this happen so suddenly? This isn’t just some random event.”

The Drunk muttered,

“Could it be because of the drawing?”

I chimed in,

“I have no idea why it’s going this way either.”

We all looked at Eldest Brother as if asking for answers. Then the Sword Demon calmly spoke.

“Strangely enough, you might be the first one in recent years to have such a long conversation with Cheonak. Excluding the Unrivaled, of course. Honestly, being able to talk to anyone is your strength. You can chatter with the jomsois all day, and also hold your own with a Calamity. That’s a talent in itself.”

The Sword Demon turned to the Lecher.

“No matter what happens here or in Baek Eung-ji, go there and hire some people who can respond quickly to either side. We need to be prepared.”

The Lecher nodded.

“Understood.”

The Sword Demon looked at me.

“You, Third Brother—focus on your training.”

I gave a silent nod.