Chapter 43

Chapter 43
The following morning, Baek So-cheon made his way to the specialized mechanism training facility.

A single glance was enough to see why the place bore such a designation. It stood as direct evidence of the Murim Alliance’s remarkable progress in mechanical craftsmanship.

What set this training ground apart was not merely the impeccable construction of the contraptions, but the system’s capacity for adjustable difficulty settings.

This flexibility allowed trainees ranging from the lower-ranked Jeong-su-dae or Won-ho-dae to practice here, extending up to the most formidable elites of Bi-gak and the Cheol-geum-dan, who commanded supreme martial prowess.

It served as an uncompromising simulated battlefield. There was neither pity nor restraint. The onslaughts delivered by the machines proved far more lethal than skirmishes in the field, making grave harm or death an ongoing hazard. Every year, a handful of combatants indeed lost their lives amidst these trials.

The tiers spanned five steps: low (ha), medium (jung), medium-high (jung-sang), high (sang), and extreme (geuk-sang). The middle bracket was split into two tiers simply because the greatest concentration of warriors occupied that band of capability.

Under ordinary circumstances, the members of the Cheol-geum-dan drilled at high, whereas the warriors of Bi-gak honed themselves at extreme. Standing within those summit ranks was a matter of deep individual pride.

On this particular day, five squads of the Cheol-geum-dan had assembled in full, save for the two units dispatched on external duties.

The moment Baek So-cheon stepped into view, all eyes fixed upon him.

He took his time observing the assembled crowd.

Among them stood Hwang Il-bi, commander of the First Squad, along with Third Squad Leader No Woong and numerous familiar faces.

Baek So-cheon had climbed the ranks from the Cheol-geum-dan all the way to Bi-gak before his eventual demotion returned him here. The greatest share of his career within the Murim Alliance had been spent alongside this very division.

“How is everyone holding up?”

“Splendidly, sir!”

A booming response tore through the air to greet his casual query.

The atmosphere remained pleasant. Though perspectives regarding Baek So-cheon varied, genuine hostility or rancor toward him was nonexistent.

Certain warriors looked down upon his prior erratic conduct, yet because they had once idolized him as a paragon, those conflicting sentiments had settled into a steady, composed regard.

“Your commander granted permission, which makes me your temporary teacher for the day.”

“We welcome you, sir!”

The warriors answered with another resonant shout.

“Very well, let us begin.”

The mechanical drill was divided into two distinct sections: an initial horizontal trial followed by a secondary vertical ascent.

The horizontal trial forced a fighter down a corridor besieged on all fronts—ahead, behind, and along both flanks—by concealed darts and projectiles. One had to advance while evading the persistent barrage.

The vertical trial demanded scaling upward while an unrelenting shower of missiles rained down. Though considerably harsher than the flat run, it mirrored actual combat far more closely, as ambushes routinely rained down from elevated positions.

Right then, Baek So-cheon uttered words nobody anticipated.

“I shall provide a demonstration.”

A stunned silence washed over the assembly. Not a single person had envisioned him performing the run personally. In their eyes, traversing such a gauntlet without inner power was completely out of the question.

Hwang Il-bi sprang forward without hesitation.

“You must not do this!”

He had grown weary of Chung Yang’s endless scolding regarding his loyalty to Baek So-cheon, prompting him to keep quiet unless circumstance demanded action.

Yet this was an issue of survival for Baek So-cheon. A single lapse in concentration could cost him his life.

“Why, are you afraid I will perish inside?”

Hwang Il-bi could not bring himself to confirm the thought aloud.

“Navigating this mechanism is impossible without internal energy.”

“I can manage it without any.”

Baek So-cheon pivoted toward the attendant managing the controls.

“Prepare the course.”

“At what tier shall I set it?”

“The Cheol-geum-dan operates at high, does it not?”

The operator raised the question hesitantly, well aware that Baek So-cheon had been stripped of his internal cultivation.

“Do not fret over it.”

Just as the exchange finished—

“If you are already stepping forward, why not demonstrate on extreme?”

The suggestion belonged to Cheon-su, leader of the Sixth Squad.

Baek So-cheon studied the man. Cheon-su strove to appear composed, yet a subtle strain twitched across his features.

No personal enmity existed between them. He was a quiet, dutiful soldier—always the earliest to carry out an assignment, yet turning flustered and clumsy at the slightest word of praise.

The motivation behind his provocation was plain: Chung Yang had commanded it.

“Very well.”

Baek So-cheon’s prompt acquiescence sent whispers rippling through the ranks. Extreme was a brutal setting that challenged even their finest. Even the elites of Bi-gak avoided it when they were not in top form.

“Sixth Squad Leader!”

Hwang Il-bi snapped at Cheon-su, who was two years his junior.

“What sort of madness is this to suggest to someone who has barely begun to mend?”

Hwang Il-bi had already opposed a run on the high setting; pushing for extreme bordered on outright manslaughter.

“It was merely an innocent proposal.”

“Then exercise some judgment before opening your mouth.”

“Had it been unattainable, the instructor would have turned it down.”

“You impudent dog—what exactly are you scheming?”

“Mind your language!”

The two men glared at each other, poised to clash.

Baek So-cheon stepped between them, his voice calm and unhurried.

“I am fine. The Sixth Squad Leader is correct. If I am unable, then so be it.”

Hwang Il-bi voiced his unease.

“Are you truly certain?”

Every warrior gathered there carried that same worry in their eyes.

“Do you understand why I accepted this duty today?”

“We do not, sir.”

“It was not to catch up with old comrades or prove to the world that I am still standing.”

“Then for what purpose?”

“To offer you genuine, tangible instruction.”

The crowd stirred with renewed astonishment. They had assumed this appearance was another political maneuver in the ongoing struggle between Baek So-cheon and Chung Yang. Nobody had expected him to treat the teaching assignment with earnest dedication.

The sincerity in his tone left no room for doubt.

“War has arrived at our doorstep, and you are the ones who will be thrown into the most violent, perilous front lines. My hope today is to increase your chances of walking away alive, even if only by a fraction. Watching how one manages extreme might also prove useful to that end.”

He turned back to the attendant at the entrance.

“Raise it to extreme.”

“Understood.”

A thick, suffocating dread settled over the chamber as the dial clicked into place.

Baek So-cheon collected a practice blade and several throwing knives from a nearby stand, positioning himself before the gateway. In years past, through his tenure in the Cheol-geum-dan and his time in Bi-gak, he had run this mechanism countless times. He could clear it with his eyes closed. His punishing physical conditioning alongside the masterful footwork of Beon-cheon Gu-gwon would compensate for his empty dantian. He possessed absolute faith in his body.

“Start.”

At the operator’s prompt, Baek So-cheon darted forward without a second’s hesitation.

Shick! Shick!

Missiles hissed through the air from both sides. There was no gentle warm-up; these sharp projectiles flew toward vital points with blinding speed and lethal intent.

The gathered spectators winced at the sight.

Baek So-cheon swept them aside, driving his momentum forward.

Soft gasps tore from the onlookers. It was not merely his ability to block that stunned them.

His technique was the absolute gold standard. Faced with simultaneous projectiles from opposing flanks, he tilted his stride slightly toward the left, forcing that projectile to arrive a split second earlier, allowing him to bat it aside before sweeping back across to parry the right.

Clang! Clang!

A trio of short blades followed immediately after, handled with an entirely different rhythm than the initial pair—demonstrating the exact variation required.

He slipped past one and struck down two. His effortless transitions made the principles of movement clear to everyone watching, flowing as seamlessly as running water.

Shick! Shick! Shick! Shick! Shick!

The weapons arriving from the walls grew diverse in shape and multiplied in number.

His movements resembled those of a warrior overflowing with internal energy: swift, impeccably placed, and breathtakingly graceful.

Beyond mere skill, he was instructing through action. Unlike other branches of the alliance, the Cheol-geum-dan rotated its own squad leaders into teaching roles.

Yet the standard Baek So-cheon demonstrated far eclipsed them all. He used his sword to deflect, relied on footwork to slip past angles, and intercepted threats prematurely by hurling his own daggers.

The operator watching from the side thought to himself: *If only this could be preserved, I would make every fighter study it. This is the absolute peak of orthodox mastery.*

Then arrived the culmination: a barrage of nine deadly implements at once.

Shick-shick-shick-shick-shick-shick-shick-shick-shick!

A blinding storm that would plunge any ordinary martial artist into despair—a lethal volley where one might swat away three or four, only to absorb the remaining iron straight into flesh.

Baek So-cheon’s silhouette dissolved into a blur of motion.

He swatted strikes with his sword, snapped out secondary blades with his left hand, twisted through tight pockets of empty space, and even guided deflected iron into oncoming missiles to shatter them midair—employing every conceivable counter in a breathtaking display of defense.

*To think such a method was even possible!* A wave of profound awe washed over the crowd, swiftly igniting a fierce hunger to emulate his craft.

He shattered the final volley, emerging on the far side without a scratch.

A stunned quiet swallowed the yard, leaving mouths hanging open.

Hwang Il-bi finally managed to find his voice.

“Did you truly lose your inner power?”

“Not at all, I merely orchestrated an elaborate prank on everyone.”

He paused, then smiled thinly.

“I only wish I could claim that were true.”

Not a single person laughed; the area remained deathly silent. The quip fell flat simply because they half-suspected he truly had kept his power hidden.

“Seeing how you look at me proves my sweat was not spent in vain. You may not realize it, but throughout these past three years, I subjected myself to pure hell in training. When life felt impossible to endure, I prayed things would improve. They only grew bleaker. So I chose to remake myself instead. I had no desire to look miserable while failing before the world, so I hid away and trained through the dead of night.”

Baek So-cheon refrained from disguising his accomplishments, nor did he parade them with arrogance before the Cheol-geum-dan. He simply spoke the plain truth.

These soldiers held deep significance for him, just as he had once meant the world to them—cherished subordinates for whom he would gladly shed blood.

“None of you should allow yourselves to be broken. Crawling back from the brink was an absolute nightmare.”

The warriors understood. Reaching that level of physical precision demanded an almost insane dedication—this was not some miraculous birthright, but flesh hammered into steel.

They gazed upon him without a word. Even those who had previously harbored doubts toward Baek So-cheon could not deny the profound respect owed to such relentless resolve.

“The demonstration is complete. Now, your training begins.”

He adjusted the mechanism’s control back to the high setting. There was no childish retribution directed toward Cheon-su, nor did he cast him a single accusatory look.

He had easily guessed the instructions handed down by Chung Yang and harbored no resentment. Who would willingly seek out trouble? The man was merely following orders from above.

These battle-tested soldiers of the Cheol-geum-dan possessed their own intellect and discernment. He trusted their eyes.

“First Squad, First Platoon—step up! Keep your wits sharp, or you will pay with your lives! Begin!”

The warriors of the initial unit filed inside one after another.

Baek So-cheon barked commands with the fierce presence of a true drillmaster, driving them forward.

“Stay sharp!”

“Keep your eyes glued to the incoming trajectory!”

“Your stance is dragging—quicken your pace!”

Inevitably, as larger groups entered, mistakes surfaced.

“Watch your flank!”

A concealed bolt veered straight toward an off-balance fighter, but a dagger thrown by Baek So-cheon snapped through the air and knocked it off course.

“Regain your focus!”

With no breath left to offer thanks, the warrior blocked the following strike and pushed forward through the corridor.

Once the flat phase concluded, Baek So-cheon gathered them together.

“Well fought, everyone.”

In that brief instance, it felt as though the Baek So-cheon of his legendary zenith had returned to life.

It did not stem from boundless inner strength or an overwhelming aura, nor was it born solely from his dazzling performance.

The fiery spirit revitalizing the yard was born from transformation—the reckless drifter of the past had returned as a steadfast leader.

Chung Yang had plotted to expose Baek So-cheon as a washed-up relic on this day.

Yet that scheme had crumbled entirely.

Baek So-cheon addressed the operator once more:

“Prepare the secondary vertical trial.”

The operator pulled the necessary levers.

A heavy mechanical rumble shook the area as the perimeter walls surged skyward, reshaping the training yard for the next ordeal.