Ch.233Side Story 2: When I Met Him (7)

# 02_When I Met Him_7

At some moment, I existed in this space.

No, is “existence” even the right word? I don’t know where this is, or if it’s even a space at all.

The moment I had that thought, my vision brightened.

A familiar place unfolded before my eyes.

“This is… Senior Sunwoo Dan’s preliminary training ground, isn’t it?”

It was that same preliminary training ground where I had trained with that brutally tough instructor from the Talmyeong Squad and sparred with Sorang, the bright-eyed captain of the Chobaek Squad.

Everything was exactly the same—the training yard paved with blue stone where not a single blade of grass grew between the cracks, the dirt floor without even a tiny pebble in sight, and even the worn-out scarecrow sitting in the corner.

Of course, it wasn’t a perfect recreation.

“There’s no sound.”

This wasn’t a desert but a training ground nestled on a green mountain, so I should be hearing birds or insects.

Not even the sound of a gentle breeze brushing past my ears could be heard, making it feel like I had entered an empty hologram training room.

But I had no idea what kind of training I was supposed to do here.

Could it be that this “mental training” just meant practicing Six Harmonies Fist by myself in the training yard?

While I was pondering this, suddenly a voice came from somewhere.

[Disciple, can you hear me?]

Huh, how should I respond? I can hear it clearly.

Senior Sunwoo Dan’s voice sounded as if he was whispering directly into my ear.

[Is this how it works? Boy, can you hear me?]

“Ack!”

While Senior Sunwoo Dan’s voice felt like a whisper, Grandpa Cheonma’s voice was like standing right in front of a concert speaker.

It felt like my eardrums might burst.

[If you could lower your voice a little…]

[A man startled so easily! Is this better?]

Grandpa Cheonma cleared his throat a few times, then continued in a somewhat lower volume.

[The art of Mantujimonng is simple. As the name Mantu—’ten thousand battles’—suggests, you just need to engage in endless combat.]

“What? Endless combat?”

[That’s right. Where are you right now?]

“At my master’s preliminary training ground.”

[Good. Then before you wake from this dream, we should start with a sparring match… Dana, do you have a suitable opponent?]

[Let’s start with something light.]

With those words, I felt a ticklish sensation on my forehead.

It felt as if someone was gently stroking it with a finger, and something slowly began to appear before my eyes.

Like a cheap hologram materializing, a human figure slowly formed from the feet up. White martial arts uniform, slender legs, curved hips… wait.

Since arriving in the Central Plains, I’d only seen one person like this.

“Sorang?”

Even though the face hadn’t fully appeared yet, I could tell.

Soon the head finished rendering, but Sorang stood at attention like a freshly manufactured android, staring straight ahead with an expressionless face.

“That’s amazing, it really looks like Sorang.”

[Of course it does. I’ve created Sorang’s image in this mental world based on your memories of her.]

“Whether it’s Cheonganjimonng or Mantujimonng, they’re both equally fascinating.”

[Enough admiration, it’s time to start fighting.]

With Senior Sunwoo Dan’s voice, Sorang clenched both fists and showed a fighting stance.

But the fake Sorang in front of me moved subtly differently from the Sorang in my memory.

Her movements were much smoother and more flexible.

The reason I know this is because Sorang had visited me a few days ago.

The problem was that it was in the middle of the night. In the Central Plains, where there’s no TV or computers, 9 PM was practically deep night.

Anyway, when I opened the front door after hearing knocking at that late hour, Sorang was standing there in her usual white martial arts uniform.

‘Deok Gongja, I’m sorry for coming when you were probably getting ready for bed.’

Even now, there was an order to avoid meeting other disciples of the Divine Sect as much as possible, since my presence as a foreigner within the sect could create discomfort.

So I usually lived in a small house near Geumji, where Grandpa Cheonma stayed.

The house was in an area difficult for others to access, and the structure allowed me to enter without trouble as long as I passed by the guard disciples stationed nearby.

Anyway, that night when I was about to go to bed after a brief call with Eliya, Sorang showed a different side of herself.

She seemed embarrassed, maybe even flustered.

Who would think of turning away someone like Sorang—always so confident during her sparring matches with the Chobaek Squad—when she came late at night, fidgeting nervously?

Naturally, I welcomed her in and continued our conversation.

‘Not at all, I was just planning to go to bed after chatting with a friend. So, what brings you here at this late hour?’

‘If it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if you might… spar with me, even though it’s late…’

‘What? Spar? At this hour?’

‘Yes, I know… requesting a match at such a late hour seems strange. I know but…’

‘But?’

‘Every time I see Deok Gongja sparring with the squad members, I feel like I might be able to grasp something…’

‘Grasp what?’

‘Something that could take me beyond my current level…’

At the time, Sorang seemed to have rushed out so urgently that she didn’t even know what she was saying.

‘Why didn’t you say something then? Why only now?’

‘Because the squad members and the Talmyeong Squad’s master were there then.’

‘Master?’

‘…The one overseeing your training.’

‘Oh, that guy.’

I remembered how Sorang’s face had shown complete disbelief when I said that.

“How embarrassing.”

[HAA! Thinking of other things with an enemy before you! Focus on the match, boy!]

With Grandpa Cheonma’s warning, Sorang began her attack.

It was a different style from the Divine Sect’s, and quite different from Sorang’s usual attacks.

More precisely, the attack method.

The fake Sorang in front of me was using techniques similar to the orthodox sects’ martial arts that Senior Sunwoo Dan had shown me.

The Divine Sect’s martial arts are swift and powerful, like a sharp knife cutting through problems. The real Sorang’s style was similar to the Divine Sect’s, but placed a bit more emphasis on flexibility.

So while blocking fake Sorang’s attacks, I couldn’t help but comment.

“This isn’t Sorang’s usual attack style.”

[Rather than reflecting the real Sorang’s skills, it has martial prowess set by Dana.]

“Martial prowess, set?”

[Since you already know something about this, I’ll tell you—you’ve seen the Chobaek Squad captain’s fighting before, and she incorporates the principle of ‘yu’ (softness).]

The principle of softness. It was an abstract statement, but that made it more relatable.

“That’s right. Rather than fierce or sharp attacks, she tends to use moves that seem to wrap around you.”

[That is the principle of softness. So I’ve incorporated martial arts that best match this principle.]

“What is it?”

[The Wudang Sect’s fundamental sword technique, Taiji Huijian.]

“…Is that impressive?”

Blood Phoenix Grandmother answered my question.

[Dana, are you trying to kill this child? Taiji Huijian? Using a martial art that even the Wudang Sect leader hasn’t mastered to ten stars in a sparring match?]

[Elder, please calm down. I said I incorporated its principles, not that I’m fully deploying it. Besides, Sorang, the Chobaek Squad captain, primarily uses fist techniques. So just the principles… oof.]

There was a sound like Senior Sunwoo Dan getting smacked on the back by Blood Phoenix Grandmother.

[Take it easy! Not everyone is a genius like you!]

Blood Phoenix Grandmother had reason to worry. Indeed, the principles of Taiji Huijian were troublesome.

I might not know what Taiji Huijian was, but facing it was certainly challenging. Every time I threw a punch, fake Sorang’s hand would stick to my wrist and redirect it somewhere else.

The still expressionless fake Sorang reminded me of that night when I sparred with the real Sorang.

Unlike my clumsy, awkward attacks, every one of her punches was powerful and she attempted many unpredictable techniques.

Charitably speaking, she was a sparring partner; less charitably, I was just a punching bag for her.

Well, there’s no comparison between me, who’s been properly fighting for less than five years, and Sorang, who’s been learning martial arts since she could walk.

Still, I wanted to show everything I could, and I poured out everything I had learned then. That remains true now.

[Hmm, this boy’s muscles keep growing. Is that normal?]

[It is normal. That’s why we’re using the art of Mantujimonng.]

I caught snippets of conversation between Grandpa Cheonma and Senior Sunwoo Dan.

They seemed to be periodically checking my physical condition.

Whoosh!

“Whoa, shit.”

Fake Sorang’s fist passed right in front of my face. Judging by the familiar technique, it was the Divine Sect’s Myeongbu Fist.

It’s the most basic fist technique of the Divine Sect, showing straightforward attack paths. Conversely, this means anything can be mixed with this basic form, potentially making it complex.

As I feared, fake Sorang was mixing in variations while dodging every punch I threw.

This is getting frustrating. Without realizing it, I gritted my teeth, created a bit of distance, and threw a punch at fake Sorang.

“……”

Fake Sorang caught my extended fist with one hand and shook her head expressionlessly.

What? Is she saying this level of punch isn’t good enough?

If it were the real Sorang, I might understand, but seeing this virtual opponent—moving only according to Senior Sunwoo Dan’s thoughts—act this way was infuriating.

From now on, I needed to get serious, no holds barred.

Even in my dream, physical laws still apply, and what’s impossible in the Central Plains or on another planet isn’t suddenly possible in a dream.

Fake Sorang couldn’t escape these physical laws either.

So how could I defeat Sorang?

“Weight class.”

At my sudden words, fake Sorang tilted her head. To exaggerate a bit, whether real or fake, Sorang probably weighed half as much as me.

In boxing terms, it’s like flyweight versus heavyweight.

Normally, the heavyweight would inevitably win, but the Central Plains operate differently due to the presence of “qi.”

I needed to put my weight into my attacks and figure out how to counter the Myeongbu Fist mixed with Taiji Huijian principles.

After breaking free from the hand holding my fist, Sorang attacked again. As soon as I saw her lowering her upper body and raising her lower body, I crossed my arms in a defensive posture.

Thud, thwack, THUD!

It was a fierce attack with punches and kicks seemingly intertwined. I blocked Sorang’s attacks with both arms, but a tingling pain shot through my forearms.

Wait, something’s odd here.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a dream?”

[Yes, it’s a dream.]

“Then why does my arm hurt?”

Senior Sunwoo Dan explained with a light chuckle.

[This is the art of Mantujimonng. Pain and impact are transmitted directly to the disciple. But don’t worry too much—you’ll only feel pain in this mental world. When you return to reality, you’ll be fine.]

“But why implement that feature at all?”

[Because there needs to be satisfaction in landing hits, even in dreams?]

“You really are the Divine Sect’s young lord, aren’t you?”

Adding pain just for the satisfaction of hitting—what kind of logic is that?

As I grumbled and continued sparring with fake Sorang, trying to figure out how to handle her, Senior Sunwoo Dan’s voice came through.

[Well, seeing how you can still talk during combat, it must not be challenging enough. Let’s increase the difficulty.]

“What?”

Just when I was starting to figure out how to deal with her, what did he say?

A moment later, I felt that ticklish sensation on my forehead again, and with it, fake Sorang’s attack speed gradually increased.

Additionally, the previously expressionless fake Sorang now had a facial expression.

“…!”

Wrinkles formed between her eyebrows, and she exhaled sharply through her nose—clearly angry.

I’m the one who should be angry, but regardless of why she was upset, I couldn’t just stand there.

Bam-bam-bam!

Whereas before there had been only one kick, suddenly there were three. The heavier attacks proportional to the increased speed also took their toll.

Each time I blocked an attack, the tingling sensation intensified, now progressing to a burning pain.

I couldn’t keep defending forever, but what should I do?