Chapter 3

It’s A Bit Small

The next day.

When he woke in the morning, Yun Heo was nowhere to be seen.

He had left at dawn.

“…He could’ve at least said something before leaving.”

Gyo-ha clicked his tongue. Yet it was just like Yun Heo.

Gyo-ha stretched, then loosened his body as usual.

There was no time to mope.

How long had it been since he’d had freedom? Even so, nothing changed.

Skipping training even for a day was dangerous. He might really have to jump off a cliff.

He took advancing steps without hesitation and thrust out his fist.

Pung!

His fist and shackles split the air.

He then followed with a kick.

Thus Gyo-ha began training alone. When he was tired of training, he would run through the mountains hunting beasts.

Day after day.

The same routine repeated.

After seven days and nights, Gyo-ha, in the midst of training, plopped down on the ground.

Drenched in sweat, he let out a sigh.

“…Boring.”

He couldn’t feel the chill of real combat.

By now even the beasts avoided the area. With the whole mountain in an uproar, how could they not?

Yet it was awkward to leave for another mountain to hunt them.

‘Even beasts aren’t fun anymore.’

It was because Gyo-ha had grown stronger.

Yun Heo’s absence felt heavy.

He even resented Yun Heo for slipping away.

“What kind of sect is this? Other sects have senior and junior brothers sparring together.”

Gyo-ha grumbled.

Kunlun had only Yun Heo and Gyo-ha.

If he had fellow brothers, he wouldn’t feel this boredom.

Gyo-ha imagined it.

Senior and junior brothers trading punches with smiles.

How happy they looked? Just imagining it made him glad.

“Maybe he’ll bring back a disciple when he returns. No, wait…”

Gyo-ha’s brows twitched as he grumbled. He rose quietly to his feet.

“…There’s no need to wait for Master.”

If he needed disciples, he could recruit them.

What was a disciple’s role?

To lighten the master’s burdens.

If Kunlun was to rise again, it needed disciples.

“Master will like that… right?”

Worry rose up, but he deliberately shook his head.

Then, the books piled in the corner caught his eye.

Martial arts texts.

Not only the Primal Heaven Art he had learned, but inner cultivation methods like Great Clarity Qi Art and Blazing Yang Art, and secret manuals of Kunlun techniques like Descending Goose Fist and the Minor Clarity Sword, were strewn about.

It was a sight that would make other sects gasp.

Some were manuals Yun Heo had originally possessed, but most he had written himself.

Even if they lay scattered like that, he couldn’t leave them behind.

‘…If even one goes missing, Master will kill me.’

But the answer was simple.

He could take them with him.

Having settled his thoughts, Gyo-ha began wrapping the books in a cloth bundle.

A hum slipped out on its own.

“Good. One who fights well…”

He paused.

A furrow deepened between his brows. He had spotted the leftover bones in the corner.

Stray dog bones.

“…It’d be nice if he could cook, too.”

He couldn’t keep eating beasts that reeked.

Honestly, he’d eaten better when he was a beggar.

There was something even the great Yun Heo couldn’t do.

Cooking. It wasn’t merely a lack of talent.

‘Master seems to have no sense of taste.’

They said that becoming a master sharpened the senses, but there were exceptions.

Since Yun Heo ate without complaint, Gyo-ha had no choice.

Gyo-ha scratched his cheek.

A disciple good at fighting and cooking would be perfect, but such talent wouldn’t be easy to find.

But the problem was easily solved.

“Right, there’s no need to find just one.”

Gyo-ha raised one finger.

“One disciple for sparring.”

Then he raised another.

“And one for cooking.”

Looking at his spread fingers, Gyo-ha hesitated, then nodded.

“Yeah. Since we’re Taoists, we also need someone to recite scriptures.”

As the eldest Senior Brother, he had to think of the sect’s future.

Gyo-ha had no intention of chanting the Taoist scriptures himself.

So one more who is smart and decent.

Seeing his three spread fingers, Gyo-ha smiled in satisfaction.

In his mind, four senior and junior brothers were trading punches with one another.

What a happy sight.

“Heheh.”

Drool trickled down.

But he wiped it away and shook his head. This was no time for that.

“If I’m to find three, there’s no time to waste.”

The two months that had felt long suddenly felt very short.

---

A small village in the mountains.

Since many with the surname Jang lived there, it was called Jang Family Village; a stranger suddenly appeared.

“Wow, there’s a village in a place like this.”

It wasn’t far from the mountain where Gyo-ha stayed.

Of course, for ordinary people it was a full day and night’s walk away.

The villagers eyed the stranger warily.

Those who took in Gyo-ha’s size darkened in expression.

But it didn’t last.

Despite his size, his eyes were gentle.

Scratching the back of his head and grinning, he looked every bit the simple country bumpkin.

His outer garment, which was a little better than rags, helped.

In the first place, the village nestled between mountains, and peddlers sometimes came.

So their guard was lower than other villages’.

For his part, Gyo-ha seemed not to notice the glances, eyes wide as he looked around.

Since meeting his master he had been alone, so it was all unfamiliar.

Then Gyo-ha stopped walking.

He sniffed—sniff, sniff—and as if bewitched, began walking somewhere.

Children huddled together in a corner of the village.

The crouching children started and scooted back at a big shadow that suddenly fell over them.

Reddish fruit was skewered on sticks.

The skins shone as if coated in honey.

This was what had drawn Gyo-ha.

Candied hawthorn skewers.

At the drool slipping from his mouth, the children recoiled in fright.

Only then did Gyo-ha suck in a breath and wipe his mouth.

But his eyes wouldn’t leave the candied fruit.

He had seen candied fruit back when he was a beggar. He had even picked up fallen pieces to eat.

But had it ever smelled this sweet?

It pressed on him like an irresistible temptation.

“Don’t just look—try one.”

Just then, the old woman selling them spoke curtly.

Gyo-ha almost nodded without thinking, and then stopped.

He had no money.

Regaining his senses, he slowly shook his head.

Seeing the regret dripping from his eyes, the old woman frowned.

Despite his words, his feet wouldn’t leave the stall.

Massive as he was, his behavior was no different from the village kids’.

The old woman picked up one of the skewers set aside.

“Tsk. Don’t get in the way—take this and go.”

“Ah, n-no. I’m fine!”

When Gyo-ha waved his hands in a panic, she clicked her tongue.

“It’s old anyway, so I have to throw it out. No more talk—take it.”

As she said, it was darker than the others.

After a moment’s hesitation, Gyo-ha took it.

“Thank you, granny.”

At his form of address, the old woman flinched, then walked off, clicking her tongue.

Gyo-ha carefully brought the skewer to his mouth.

At once he felt the hardened honey shell.

Soon the shell cracked, and the fruit within oozed out.

Gyo-ha trembled.

Sweetness coursed through his body.

The taste was so intense it was almost violent. Tears began welling up in his eyes.

To think that there was a taste like this in the world.

He chewed the candied fruit slowly.

At the sight of him eating so happily, the children who had fled came back one by one.

Then they even offered him the candied fruits in their own hands.

After politely declining, Gyo-ha gave in and helped himself to one of the children’s candies.

One piece was not enough to fill his hunger.

Gyo-ha began eating without thinking.

Before he knew it, besides the candied fruit, his hands held dried meat and a broth boiled with grains.

Seeing him eat, the adults had each brought food from home.

“Whose boy is that? He eats so heartily.”

“Tell me about it. Just watching makes me full.”

The villagers looked at him with pleased faces.

Gyo-ha hesitated under their gaze, then focused on the food.

Only after a long while did he pat his stomach.

Then, looking at the people watching him, he spoke awkwardly.

“…Th-thank you. I hope I haven’t received too much.”

“It’s fine. We enjoyed it thanks to you.”

At an elder’s words, the others nodded.

What had they enjoyed?

Gyo-ha didn’t know, but he only blinked at their satisfied faces.

Just then, a shadow suddenly fell.

“Put this on, at least. People will talk if you go around like that.”

It was the old woman who sold the skewers. She moved off as if her task was done.

When he turned his head, the stall was already packed up.

Gyo-ha checked what she had handed him.

It was a set of worn but well-kept clothes.

They were clothes a man would wear, so it was clearly not hers.

When he looked back, the old woman had sunk down on the village’s highest hill.

She simply stared beyond the mountains.

Endlessly.

For some reason, Gyo-ha couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Tsk, poor thing.”

“Tell me about it. All her children died but one.”

Gyo-ha, wiping sauce from his fingers, turned his head.

“Did something happen?”

At his question, the villagers looked at one another.

A middle-aged man, exchanging glances, spoke.

“Not long ago one of her children died in an accident. Still, it seems he’d saved up a fair bit in his life.”

Gyo-ha nodded.

It wasn’t something to tell an outsider, but for some reason he didn’t feel like a stranger.

“They sent the money per the son’s will. But it seems bandits heard the news.”

“No way.”

Gyo-ha’s brow creased.

“Yeah. The bandits took the lot on the way.”

At the villager’s words, Gyo-ha sighed. But it wasn’t rare.

Wealth had a way of calling calamity.

Gyo-ha looked at the old woman again.

She had lost her son, and the fruits he had gathered in life had vanished.

How it must burn her up.

“That’s not the end of it.”

“…There’s more?”

“Yeah.”

The villagers nodded with gloomy faces.

“She had one youngest child left, and on hearing it, he rushed off to get the money back.”

“He was a bright lad. How could he be so reckless?”

“He was different since he was little. Tsk, tsk.”

Regret shone in their eyes. It was clear how loved the youth had been.

Hearing this, Gyo-ha wiped his saliva-stained hands on his clothes.

The stains were so heavy it didn’t show.

“When did the son leave?”

“Ten days ago now.”

“Is the bandit stronghold far from here?”

“Not far… You aren’t thinking of going, are you?”

“Don’t. Do you know what place that is?”

“Go and it’ll only be a dog’s death…”

The old man speaking swallowed his breath.

Because Gyo-ha had taken off the clothes he wore.

With it, his raging muscles were revealed.

The scars raised on the muscle seemed to writhe like living things.

But most of all, the iron shackles on both arms drew the eye.

They were the huge shackles used when escorting criminals.

It was strange they hadn’t noticed them until now, given their menacing air.

Gyo-ha put on the clothes the old woman had given him.

“It’s a bit small.”

In truth, far too small.

As Gyo-ha grunted trying to get it on, the frozen old man stepped forward.

“Here, give it here.”

As he moved, the others, watching, joined one by one.

Thanks to them, he managed to wear it.

‘Though the sleeve did tear.’

There was no helping it.

Gyo-ha moved his body this way and that, then looked back at the villagers.

“So, where are those bandits now?”

Gyo-ha was still hungry.

And it wasn’t a hunger food could fill.

The villagers, seeing his flashing eyes, swallowed dryly.