It was midnight. The darkness on the Evernight Gate training ground felt far more oppressive than the night before. The cold mountain air carried an unfamiliar scent—no longer just rotting wood and dust, but a very strong stench of blood.
The Class 2 students stood stiffly in line, but their courage instantly shrank when they saw a figure emerge from the fog. Yoe Choin, in the form of Moen Kang Yo, walked slowly, dragging his Black Iron Heavy Sword, which made a terrifying sound of metal scraping against stone.
"Look! That..."
said one of the Class 2 students in a fearful tone.
His physical condition made anyone who saw him want to look away. His black robes were soaked, not with water, but with blood that had thickened and turned dark red. Drops of blood still fell from his fingertips and the hilt of his greatsword, leaving red trails on the ground of the training ground.
"Master... Young Master..."
one of the senior students whispered in a trembling voice, his knees almost buckling at the aura of death emanating from Choin's body.
Choin stopped in the middle of the field. He swept his gaze over the students with his blue-glowing eyes. Instead of displaying explosive anger, he pulled back the corners of his lips, forming a sly smile that stood in stark contrast to his blood-stained face.
"Good evening, Class 2,"
Choin's voice was flat yet bone-chilling.
"How was it? Was dinner good today? I specially brought quality meat for your nutrition."
No one dared to answer. The silence was so heavy, it was as if the air had frozen.
"Unfortunately,"
Choin's smile suddenly vanished, replaced by a glare as cold as construction.
"I'm not in a good mood tonight. There's some junk in the warehouse that I just had to dig through."
He plunged his black sword into the ground with a loud bang that shook the entire field.
"Understand one thing: If anyone disobeys or slacks off during today's training, I won't hesitate to make you one of the trash I cleaned up. Understood?!"
"Pa... Understood, Young Master!"
they replied in unison, their voices cracking with terror.
"Foreman... our bodies are still at overload,"
Moen Kang Yo's genuine voice echoed in his inner chamber, a tone of worry he rarely showed.
"You just jumped to Internal Finishing Level 3 and slaughtered dozens of people. If you join the training now, our meridians could crack."
"Shut up, Boss. A foreman must lead from the front if these pillars are to stand tall,"
Choin muttered to himself.
"If they see me covered in blood still carrying the burden, they won't have any reason to complain."
Without wiping off the blood, Choin restrapped the giant stone weight on his back.
"Repeat the exercise! Go down to the foot of the mountain and back up again! Three times back and forth!"
Choi shouted.
"WALK!"
For the next three hours, the training field and mountain trails bore silent witness to incredible suffering. Choin ran at the front, the dried blood on his robes now mixing with fresh sweat. Each step left a steady tremor, demonstrating the dense power of Internal Finishing.
For the Class 2 students, the sight of Moen Kang Yo, looking like a demon from a bloody hell, running ahead of them was the most terrifying motivation they had ever felt. Not a single one dared to slow down. Choin's hurtful words continued to rain down on them, tearing their minds to the bone, igniting their survival instincts.
When the 3:00 a.m. bell rang, the Class 1 students arrived on the field. Young and inexperienced, they froze when they saw Class 2 crawling onto the field, nearly mangled.
However, what terrified them most was the figure of Moen Kang Yo standing in the middle of the field, his dark red robes fluttering in the morning breeze, and his aura of death still lingering.
"Class 2, dismissed! Return to your respective seats!"
Choin ordered.
The Year 1 students swallowed in unison as Choin turned his blood-stained face toward them. His blue eyes, dimly lit beneath the crust of dried blood, seemed to scan every inch of their bones and muscles.
"You guys,"
Choin said quietly but sharply.
"Don't let the blood on my body distract you from your posture. Remember the force distribution theory from yesterday. If your foundation is shaky, you'll end up like the pile of trash in that warehouse."
A small student, Ru-Chen, was trembling so hard that the wooden sword in his hand clattered against the stone floor.
"Y... Young Master... Are you hurt? This smell... this smell is like..."
"The smell of the structural failure I just dismantled,"
Choin interrupted coldly. He stepped toward Ru-Chen, leaving a trail of red dust from the dried blood.
"Take your stone weights. Put them on your shoulders. If I see your backs bend even one degree, I'll assume it's a crack in the main pillar. And do you know what the foreman does to cracked pillars?"
"D-Destroyed, Young Master!"
they replied in unison, their voices almost cracking with terror.
"Good. Now, do the basic swing ten thousand times. Begin!"
The training ground became a silent hell, filled only with the sound of heavy breathing and the grinding of the stone. Choin walked between the rows, holding the hilt of his Black Iron Heavy Sword. Whenever he saw a student begin to falter, he didn't shout, but instead applied even more mental pressure.
"Look at that left leg, Doo-Sik!"
Choin snapped, slamming the hilt of his sword into the ground right next to the student's foot. BOOM! The stone floor cracked.
"Your stance is tilted forward! You're wasting 30% of your kinetic energy on the ground for nothing. Straighten up! Think of your spine as a steel stake!"
"B-But my legs are numb, Young Master!"
Doo-Sik groaned, tears mingling with sweat.
"Numbness means your nerves are adjusting to the material!"
Chōin retorted mercilessly.
"Keep swinging! The blood on my robe belongs to those who feel they've 'practiced enough.' Do you want your blood to be the next coat of paint on my sword?!"
Hearing that, Doo-Sik immediately straightened his back as if he'd just been electrocuted. The horror of seeing Choin, who looked like a blood-soaked demon, was far more painful than the fatigue in their muscles.
As 5:00 a.m. approached, the morning fog grew thicker, but the heat from the students' overworked bodies created steam that filled the field. The dried blood on Choin's face began to peel off, falling to the ground like flakes of old paint, revealing Moen Kang Yo's pale face, but his gaze as hard as precast concrete.
"One hour left! Run up and down the main gate stairs once!" Choin commanded. "Front row, move! If anyone vomits, wipe it off with your own clothes and keep running! I don't accept liquid waste on my project site!"
"Young Master Moen has truly gone mad..."
whispered a student in the back row.
Choi's keen ears caught it. He appeared beside the student in a flash, his thick aura of death enveloping him until he nearly fainted from the Qi pressure.
"Choo'd?"
Choi whispered directly in his ear.
"No, I'm conducting quality control. And according to my inspection, you're low-grade material. Increase your rock weight, now!"
At 6:00 a.m., the sun began to rise over the eastern horizon, illuminating the now-messy training field. The Year 1 students were sprawled in various positions, but none dared to close their eyes until Choin gave the signal to dismiss them.
Choin stood before them, his breathing heavy but steady, a miracle for someone who had just been through battle and overload training.
"Tomorrow, same time,"
Choin said coldly.
"Make sure your stamina is properly 'installed.' Training is over. Dismissed!"
As the students crawled away, Choin walked to his room with heavy steps. Every inch of his muscle felt like it was being pulled by a giant pulley. The dried blood on his body began to peel off like cracked old paint.
When he reached his room, he didn't have time to shower or change clothes. He simply threw his sword to the floor with a loud thud and collapsed onto the bed. His consciousness immediately sank into pure darkness; a defense mechanism for the body to perform "emergency repairs" on meridian structures that were nearly collapsed due to overload.
In his sleep, he didn't dream about buildings. He dreamed about power structures that he immediately needed to audit down to their roots.