SWNOVELXO Chapter 58 - Mental Asylum (3)
Chapter 58: Mental Asylum (3)
Watching Chu Il-hwan’s retreating back as he sprinted ahead, Il-mok thought to himself, ‘At least he’s running at a reasonable pace.’
It was a much slower movement compared to the blinding speed Chu Ilhwan had shown at the end of the martial arts examination.
Il-mok maintained a comfortable pace, matching the instructor’s speed.
But just as they left the main compound and entered the forested area—
Whoosh!
Chu Il-hwan, who had been running at the front, suddenly increased his speed.
“Haah!”
The recruits, caught off guard, hastened their pace to keep up. The group, which had been moving as a cohesive unit, began to split into those pulling ahead and those falling behind.
In the midst of this—
“Let’s see if you can beat me this time!”
Dokgo Pae suddenly shot past Il-mok, provoking Il-mok as he did that.
Watching Dokgo Pae’s figure gradually pull ahead, Il-mok shook his head.
‘The folly of youth.’
Il-mok had no intention of competing with Dokgo Pae. In fact, he had no intention of exerting himself at all.
‘Sweating is disgusting.’
This aversion stemmed from the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword.
As his realm rose rapidly, subtle compulsive symptoms had begun to appear one after another. One of these was a heightened awareness of cleanliness.
Thankfully, the symptom is still light. He wasn’t at the point of bathing all day or washing his hands constantly after touching anything.
However, prolonged contact with objects or perspiration often triggered an incessant itch of discomfort at the back of his mind.
That was why he had washed his hands after rearranging the tables in the pavilion.
So Il-mok maintained just enough speed to avoid breaking a sweat as he executed his movement technique.
It pushed him to the back of the pack, but he didn’t care.
Although the dense foliage obscured Chu Il-hwan from view, he could still see the students ahead of him.
He didn’t know how long he had been running while staring at the back of whoever was ahead of him.
“Huff… huff…”
Those who had recklessly chased Chu Il-hwan or tried too hard to improve their rank began to slow down one by one as their internal energy or stamina depleted.
Il-mok, having started near the back, gradually overtook them one by one while still maintaining his moderate pace.
After running for about two hours, they arrived before a massive gate bearing the plaque of the Hall of the Demonic Way hanging above it.
Il-mok finished somewhere in the middle of the pack.
“Huff… huff…”
While those who had arrived before Il-mok and those who arrived after him were all gasping for breath—
“Tsk.”
Il-mok clicked his tongue as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
No matter how casually he had run, running continuously for over two hours would inevitably cause sweating.
Just then, Dokgo Pae approached Il-mok who was frowning.
“Huff… I… huff… came in first… huff…”
Seeing him trying hard to look dignified while his face was deathly pale as if about to vomit any second, Il-mok gave a dry laugh and replied, “Congratulations. Keep up the good work.”
Il-mok didn’t want to get entangled with a potential madman, so he tried to slip away after offering a casual congratulation, but—
“Huff… Are you… huff… ignoring me again?”
Il-mok’s indifferent attitude seemed to flame Dokgo Pae’s temper again. Even while still gasping for breath, he still insisted on picking a fight again.
Il-mok frowned at the alarming sight.
“You’re going to puke at this rate. Calm your breathing first.”
He was already disgusted by his own sweat; who knows what would happen if some vomit splashed on his face or clothes?
“Gah!! I’ll wipe that smug look off your face! Haah—urk!”
Dokgo Pae was about to erupt in rage when a wave of nausea cut his anger short.
“Urgh.”
Il-mok grimaced and stepped back, narrowly avoiding disaster.
“Phew.”
While the debacle between the two passed—
“Huff… huff…”
The remaining recruits began to arrive at the Hall of the Demonic Way.
Soon after—
The last recruit stumbled through the gate before collapsing to the ground with a thud and emptying their stomach.
Chu Il-hwan, who’d been waiting at the gate with a smile, ignored the grotesque scene entirely.
“Fortunately, there seems to be no dropouts. Now, let’s begin the entrance ceremony.”
Chu Il-hwan turned around and walked past the entrance, and the recruits followed his lead.
“Huff… huff…”
Even the recruit who had thoroughly emptied their stomach staggered to follow.
Not wanting to jostle against the sweat-drenched crowd, Il-mok hung back and entered last.
‘I could tell from the walls, but this place is huge.’
The first things he saw were a sprawling training ground and rows of strange equipment that reminded him oddly of military drills from his past life.
It was impressive that such a large facility had been built in the heart of a mountain.
Chu Il-hwan led the recruits to the center of the training ground and turned to face the new recruits. “The Hall Master will address you shortly. Line up in ranks and files.”
The disciples moved in unison to form neat lines.
Standing in formation, they took advantage of the brief respite to catch their breath.
By the time the disciples had more or less caught their breath, an elderly man with a dignified aura began walking out from the pavilion beyond the training field.
Though his long hair and beard were entirely white, and the wrinkles on his face made him appear elderly, his sturdy physique, upright gait, and imposing presence radiated an aura that could hardly be called ‘old.’
The man stopped before the new recruits at a distance and spoke firmly.
“I am pleased to meet the talents who’ll shape the future of our cult.”
Several enthusiastic recruits responded with a resounding shout, “It is an honor to meet you, Hall Master!”
The Hall Master of the Hall of the Demonic Way, Yeom Ga-hwi.
It was a name Il-mok had heard numerous times while preparing to enter the Hall.
He was a man famous for his uncompromising character and principles; a man who had mastered the Shura Blood Fist and achieved Transcendence in that Demonic Art. Before taking his post as the Hall Master of the Hall of the Demonic Way, he had roamed the Central Plains and Xinjiang, slaying countless villains with his bare hands, earning him the moniker Fist Demon.
More importantly, having achieved Transcendence, he was arguably the only sane person in the entire Hall of the Demonic Way.
But Il-mok did not let his guard down.
‘Achieving Transcendence just means overcoming mental illness. It does not equate him being a benevolent person.’
Take his Master and Seol-ah’s grandfather, for example, they were the kind of people who could be called stubborn old fogeys.
Given his reputation for unwavering character, he might be an even more obstinate person than them.
‘…If he’s more of a hardass than Master, this speech might drag on forever.’
Bracing for a lecture, Il-mok stood stiffly and pretended to listen to his speech.
“…Lastly, keep in mind that your previous status before entering the Hall is completely irrelevant. All cadets are equal. Your performance here alone will determine your standing.”
Surprisingly, Yeom Ga-hwi concluded his speech in less than fifteen minutes.
‘…Maybe the biggest hardass in this cult is actually Master.’
As Il-mok mused, the Hall Master turned around and left as his speech concluded.
Chu Il-hwan bowed respectfully to the departing Hall Master, then turned to address the recruits.
“I will now lead you to the Black Dragon Pavilion where you all will stay for the next two years.”
Chu Il-hwan led the group westward.
They arrived at a manor with a plaque bearing the words Black Dragon Pavilion.
“New cadets, this will be your home. Each room has a name written on the door. Go and unpack your belongings. Also—”
He informed them about the training grounds for personal practice, meal times, and other logistics.
“Since today’s your first day, rest until dinner at the Hour of the Rooster (酉時, 5-7 PM).”
With those final words, Chu Il-hwan turned and left the Black Dragon Pavilion.
Or so it seemed.
After putting a distance, Chu Il-hwan deployed his concealment technique and turned back to the Black Dragon Pavilion.
It was one of the traditions of the Hall of the Demonic Way. Providing rest on the first day of entrance.
But the purpose wasn’t really to provide rest.
The Hall of the Demonic Way was filled with young and ambitious individuals. No matter how the instructors had graded the entrance assessment, there were bound to be some who refused to accept their ranking.
In a nutshell, this rest time wasn’t for rest. It was a time for establishing hierarchy.
It’s not just Chu Il-hwan who had secretly infiltrated the Black Dragon Pavilion; the other instructors, too, had joined in the fray.
One of the reasons was to prevent anyone from dying; the other was to properly assess these youngsters’ ability.
And the target Chu Il-hwan chose to observe was none other than Il-mok.
***
“Urgh.”
A sudden chill wracked Il-mok’s body as he was unpacking his belongings.
“A cold?”
Now he wondered if it wasn’t a crisis of his chastity but simply a cold.
Just then—
Bang!
“I challenge you to a duel!”
Il-mok sighed as Dokgo Pae had violently flung the door open to challenge him.
‘I figured as much.’
He’d heard about this sorting tradition from Jin Hayeon and Ouyang Mun.
But for Il-mok, bathing his sweat-drenched body was more important than a trivial hierarchy. He had no particular interest in duels right now.
“Congratulations, you’ve won.”
Even after Il-mok conceded the duel, Dokgo’s face flushed crimson as he drew his sword.
“Grrr! If that’s how you’ll be, I won’t hold back! Fight me here or step outside!”
Il-mok realized he had no choice.
Fighting here would ruin his precious resting space. Since he couldn’t tolerate a messy room, he had no choice but to go outside.
News of the impending duel between the top two recruits spread like wildfire.
Il-mok and Dokgo Pae faced each other in a small training area at the center of the Black Dragon Pavilion. Some recruits gathered in the courtyard, while others observed from inside their rooms, peering through the windows.
Unbothered by being a spectacle, Dokgo Pae drew his sword and charged straight at Il-mok.
“Raaah!”
Trained in his family’s Demonic Art, the Nine Swords of Dokgo, Dokgo Pae unleashed a relentless barrage of powerful attacks with no regard for defense.
(TL Note: Dokgo = Dugu. The Nine Swords of Dokgo is a fictional sword art created by Dugu Qiubai, one of the legendary characters created by the OG of Wuxia genre, Jin Yong.)
Many of the onlookers were awed or intimidated by Dokgo Pae’s ferocious aura and overwhelming offensive.
‘As expected of the Dokgo Family’s eldest grandson.’
‘How’s someone this strong only second place?’
‘…Judging by the earlier lightness skill test, the Eighth Young Master might actually lose.’
While the spectators had their own thoughts…
Il-mok, caught in the eye of the storm, barely managed to block or evade the onslaught.
Or so it seemed.
In reality, his thoughts were quite different.
‘Huh? This is it?’
In truth, Il-mok was on the verge of a nervous breakdown just thinking about duels or life-or-death battles.
Months of relentless training under his master had taken their toll. To be precise, it wasn’t the duels he feared, but the enlightenment that came after them.
Each sparring session with his Master had resulted in a significant increase in his skill and in turn, worsened the side effects of his Demonic Art.
But the situation was different now.
‘Enlightenment or not, there needs to be at least some genuine threat for me to gain anything.’
Il-mok, who had been passively deflecting and evading Dokgo Pae’s attacks, breathed a sigh of relief.
Since this guy was ranked second after him, there shouldn’t be anyone stronger than him in this place.
Which meant—
‘Even if I duel with other guys, the chance of enlightenment is low!’
It meant there was no reason to avoid duels anymore.
“!?”
Sensing a sudden shift in Il-mok’s demeanor, Dokgo Pae’s eyes widened in alarm.
But Dokgo Pae realized the change too late.
Clang!
Dokgo Pae’s sword, upon clashing with Il-mok’s, was abruptly twisted aside as if caught by a phantom hand.
Whoosh!
Before anyone could follow it with their eyes, Il-mok’s swift sword was already at Dokgo Pae’s throat.
Having subdued Dokgo Pae with a single counterattack, Il-mok smiled.
“Your realm is better than I expected!”
Though his words were meant as genuine praise, Dokgo Pae’s face turned beet red, as if about to explode.