You couldn't have everything. If there was something you absolutely must gain, you had to be prepared to lose something else.
This moment of choice came to all who pursued the development of a sect.
To secure the future of the sect, one must raise disciples. And the ones who could raise those disciples best, no matter what anyone said, were the strongest within the sect.
Of course, having a high level of cultivation doesn't necessarily make someone a good teacher. The so-called "why can't you do that?" moments happened all too easily.
However, generally speaking, those with a high realm tended to be better teachers. It's the same principle as those who climbed to the top of a mountain and looked down—they could easily show those climbing from below an easier path.
The problem was time. Time was limited.
Climbing to a high place demanded a certain price. Moreover, the mountain of martial arts grew steeper the higher one climbed. Maintaining one's own level alone could consume a huge amount of time and energy.
Those who scaled such steep terrain, where the air grew thin, were usually seasoned climbers. Even they could not carelessly reach out to colleagues who were falling just before the summit, knowing that if they moved, they too might fall.
"Ugh…"
Their legs shook. Their eyes dilated, mouths open, drooling uncontrollably.
But they could not fall.
"Try falling."
"…"
"I'm expecting you. Please fall. This is what I'm asking."
Namgung Dan pushed his trembling legs with all his might, but his stubborn body wouldn't obey. Even when he tried to summon strength, he swayed back and forth like a reed caught in a typhoon.
"Tsk tsk. Look at those legs shaking. That so-called swordsman can't even properly control his own body. Damn it."
That observation was accurate. A sword was held in his hand and wielded by moving his body. To use a sword accurately, you must first be able to control your body precisely.
Namgung Dan had an excuse for this.
'You insane bastard! How can you…'
"Oh? You're going to fall? You're going to fall?"
"Kuaak."
Namgung Dan desperately closed his legs.
At that moment, the boulder the size of a house on his back tilted.
"Tsk tsk."
Chung Myung looked at him sadly.
"Anyway, these days, they don't have a foundation, no foundation at all. When I was a kid, I used to roll rocks this big up the mountain path for fun!"
'Does that even make sense, you insane bastard!'
Sweat dripping down his face stung Namgung Dan's eyes.
It would have been better if he had just carried the rock. But unfortunately, his body was now dangling with large iron balls. Amid all that, he had to carry the rock and endure without using his qi—it was a terrible experience.
"What? Well?"
"…"
"Anyway, you little brats are just talking. Do you think your mental strength is like poison you put on your blade when you fight? Suddenly making people strong? Willpower is for moments like this—when you're training normally and feel like you're about to pass out, when you feel like you're going to faint! That's when you endure just a moment longer. That's what willpower is."
"Kuak…"
"So don't just talk. Show me your willpower."
Thud!
Before Chung Myung could finish speaking, one of the people holding on to the cliff next to Namgung Dan fell forward.
A boulder rolled near him, and he foamed at the mouth.
"… You're really sick, Instructor."
"Yes!"
"To the end location!"
"Yes!"
Meanwhile, Jo Gul and Yoon Jong came running, grabbed the fallen person, and dragged him away.
Physician Hall? As if. Those who couldn't endure the training were sent to special training to strengthen their will—they wouldn't sleep tonight.
"Who can say they're working hard? It isn't the mouth that works hard, it's the body, isn't it?"
Namgung Dan didn't answer. To be exact, he didn't have the energy to answer.
That didn't mean he agreed with Chung Myung's words. Rather, he seriously opposed them.
How could this kind of training help with swordsmanship?
However, after seeing someone with the same thoughts throw away the rock on his back, talk back to Chung Myung, and get kicked all the way to the Yangtze River, Namgung Dan decided to forget how to think.
"I've never seen a kid who talks about mental strength survive for long, you bastard. After fighting for three days and nights, it isn't your hands holding the sword, but your balls trembling from it. Since you're a warrior, you need stamina. The only thing that gives you strength to endure in the end is the training you've accumulated over time."
"…"
"Precise swordsmanship? Pure qi? That's something you shouldn't discuss at your level. Those who can't even jump right are trying to fly. Just shut up and be able to swing your sword one more time—that's the priority."
Namgung Dan almost nodded without realizing it.
If he hadn't experienced the Plum Blossom Island incident, he might have dismissed Chung Myung's words as nonsense. But he felt it on Plum Blossom Island. There was nothing wrong with what Chung Myung was saying now.
From the moment the battle lasted more than three days, there was no swordsmanship or formal duel. If he saw something, didn't he stab on instinct?
Maybe this training also took that into account…
"Ah, seeing the guys coughing up blood makes me feel like my blocked stomach is clearing out. Hehehe."
"…"
That couldn't be true. That demon couldn't do that.
"Oh my. He's falling over again. Push harder."
"Kuaak."
He wanted to cry, but no tears came from his completely dry eyes.
"…"
Namgung Myung sweated as he watched the young swordsmen of the Namgung family groaning while carrying rocks as big as houses.
"I…"
Even Namgung Do-Wei, who was at the front, staggered back and forth while carrying a rock twice as big as the others.
"What is…"
As Namgung Myung looked at the scene as if it were absurd, a voice mixed with laughter reached his ears.
"You look flustered."
"T-that's right. That…"
Un Geom, standing next to Namgung Myung, quietly shook his head.
"It might seem like he's messing around, but that's a process even the disciples of Mount Hua have gone through."
"…That?"
"Yes."
Un Geom added with a bitter smile.
"So just watch over them from now on. Since that kid is the one doing it himself, the effect will surely come."
"No…"
Namgung Myung looked at the training process with a face that seemed to not understand at all. Un Geom smiled softly instead of saying more.
'You'll find out soon.'
And he'd regret it—about the fact that he was old.
Among those who survived Plum Blossom Island now, the older ones are not included. In the first place, Chung Myung had already removed those who were older.
It wasn't simply because they were difficult to handle or inconvenient to have around. Those whose thoughts and muscles were already stiff had limitations in their development. It would only be torture for both parties to take them along, and it wouldn't be very effective.
So he judged it would be better for Namgung's future to focus on teaching those whose bodies and minds were still flexible.
'Well, it isn't just this person's regret.'
If Un Geom had been born a little later, if he had at least become a Baek disciple, he might have become stronger than he was now.
'It's really unfortunate…'
"No. This bastard!"
Kwang!
At that moment, Chung Myung kicked Namgung Dan without mercy.
"I said, straighten up! Straighten up! Don't you get what I'm saying? Are you trying to pick a fight with me? This damned bastard, now even the Namgung brats are sick of you! Get up, you moron! You did it twice today!"
"…"
No. It seemed like it's good for people to age properly.
At least if you wanted to communicate with that guy.
The same went for martial arts.
If one didn't constantly work hard and polish themselves, they rusted instantly. If they went in the wrong direction, they could end up in trouble. That was the world of the absolute beings.
That was why almost all sects treated their strong people with care. They didn't ask for anything else and just focused on martial arts so they could shine the name of their sect.
As a result, those called the sect's best only passed on their martial arts to a few disciples, and rarely even met disciples far below them.
Because that was the way of a sect and the way for their own growth.
Most famous sects were composed of a small number of absolute warriors and excellent disciples who supported them, rising to the top of the murim world.
But…
"That lucky bastard."
Here, there was a human completely excluded from such a path.
Chung Myung clenched his teeth.
Uncharted… no, it's a bit embarrassing to say uncharted because there was a Heavenly Demon. In any case, a human who had reached a level almost as high as the sky and yet had regained an absurd amount of time—that was Chung Myung.
An unfortunate human who not only cultivated his own martial arts but also had the time to personally wipe the snot from young disciples' noses and teach them everything from beginning to end…
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint of the past didn't pay much attention to his subordinates. In his eyes, where he even harassed his sahyung and sajaes for being lacking, there was no way the Myung disciples, far behind in martial arts, would be noticed. Ranks below him? Don't bother bringing them up.
To put it bluntly, the Mount Hua Chung Myung saw was a sect filled with people who were nothing more than rolling stones, except for the extremely great Sect Leader, Chung Jin, who was a fool with a great mind on his body, and a few Chung disciples who were of use to him.
Leaving aside how much he later regretted that thought…
In any case, how would Chung Myung have felt when he woke up a hundred years later and saw Mount Hua for the first time?
All he could do was somehow raise the little ones he wouldn't have paid attention to in the past into swordsmen who wouldn't fall behind anywhere.
So what that meant was…
The training Mount Hua disciples had been doing until then was a system that Chung Myung, once the best swordsman in Mount Hua and the world before the war, had completely rebuilt from the ground up through countless actual battles against the Demonic Cult, created solely to raise his disciples to be useful.
What could be said about efficiency?
When other great warriors of a similar realm created new martial arts for the future of their sect, Chung Myung pondered how to draw out and extract even a little more of the tiny talent from those idiots.
When other warriors showed off their strength to the world, Chung Myung spent his days pondering how to explain to idiots who didn't even understand how to use a sword what he knew with his senses.
That was why the training pattern he created boasted ridiculous efficiency—it could be endured. It's enough to raise Mount Hua's disciples, who weren't even third-rate warriors, into skilled swordsmen in just a few years.
Right, if they could endure.
Only if they could endure all that.