The following day, Wooyun made sure to get up bright and early even before the sun was up and made his way to the grounds where he found Eun-woo already sitting there meditating.
He had to wait an hour before he was done, and Eun-woo didn't look surprised to see him there. So he asked him if he was ready, to which Wooyun responded by puffing his chest. He accomplished the test given to him and quickly told Eun-woo to keep his word. Eun-woo shook his head and told him he would keep his word, but not to blame him for being harsh in his training.
Eun-woo stood before Wooyun, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His voice was even, yet firm. "You've managed to stand on that bamboo poll for seven seconds, a feat you shouldn't be this happy to have completed."
Wooyun frowned. "That took a lot of effort to complete, you know?" He retorted.
"That's the problem. It shouldn't have required you that much effort. If you think something as small as this is difficult, you will crumble once the real training begins." He said sternly.
Wooyun pursed his lips, suddenly feeling dejected, which made Eun-woo sigh. He realized he might've been harsher than he had intended, but it was important for him to realize the gravity of what he was going to be undertaking.
His face softened a fraction as he gestured for Wooyun to sit before him, the crisp morning air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. "Before we begin, you need to understand what qi training truly is."
Wooyun adjusted his posture, waiting.
"Qi," Eun-woo began, "is life force, the breath of the world flowing through all living things. Cultivators refine this force, drawing it into themselves and tempering it like steel on fire. Inner qi strengthens the body, sharpens the mind, and allows us to perform techniques beyond mortal limits. Without it, you are no more than a common man swinging a sword."
Wooyun nodded. He had read about this in the novel, but hearing it from Eun-woo himself made it feel weightier—real.
"There are many ways to refine inner qi," Eun-woo continued. "Meditation, breath control, physical conditioning—every technique serves a purpose. But right now, your foundation is weak. So we will build it the hard way."
The hard way, as it turned out, meant suffering.
Wooyun found himself in a deep horse stance, legs burning as if set aflame. His arms were outstretched, each hand gripping a wooden bucket brimming with water. The rule was simple: spill a drop, and he started over.
Seconds dragged into minutes, his shoulders shaking under the strain. He clenched his teeth, sweat dripping from his chin, but the weight never lessened.
"Your mind will always give in before your body does," Eun-woo said, pacing around him. "Ignore the shaking. Control your breath. Endurance is the key to channeling qi efficiently."
Wooyun wanted to curse at him, but all his energy was spent keeping still.
And when his arms finally buckled—when water splashed onto the ground—Eun-woo merely handed him the refilled buckets and said, "Again."
But that wasn't all.
His knuckles ached as they met the wooden post repeatedly, the repeated impact making his skin raw. Each strike had to follow a rhythm—precise, controlled. If he rushed, Eun-woo corrected him with a sharp tap of a wooden stick.
"Power means nothing without control," Eun-woo warned. "You are not just swinging wildly. You are honing your strength."
Wooyun exhaled through gritted teeth, adjusting his stance and trying again.
And just when he thought he was done, Eun-woo had one last torment in store: the hill.
It stretched before him, steep and unforgiving, the path winding through thick foliage. Eun-woo set a timer. "Down and back in ten minutes," he ordered. "Madam Kang still expects you to do your chores, doesn't she? Then don't waste time."
Wooyun let out a groan. He was beginning to suspect that Eun-woo enjoyed torturing him like this.
Who knew such a pretty man could be this cruel and sadistic?
~*~
This was Wooyun's routine for the next five days. He would wake up, go up the training grounds, stay in the same position for twenty minutes and then do his strikes. Once he was done, he would go back down the hill making sure not to arrive a second later to start breakfast, clean the stables and sweep up the rooms Kang Choon-hee would order him to clean before accompanying Yu-jun around for his own training. It was jam-packed day, but Wooyun grew more determined with each passing day as he felt himself get stronger.
The minute he got used to the routine, Eun-woo would increase his training. Wooyun would be blindfolded and forced to dodge incoming attacks. Pebbles or wooden branches would be thrown at him left and right. If even one of them touched him, he would be forced to go up and down the hill ten times and do it again.
The time training would bruise and cover his whole body in scratches was done, but unbeknownst to Wooyun, Eun-woo would come over at night and apply medicinal herbs to his bruised hands without saying a word. It was the sole reason he was able to get up the following day train and do all the chores.
Another week had gone by and Eun-woo had implemented a new program for Wooyun to complete.
There were rare times in his day where Kang Choon-hee would leave the estate with her two sons and they wouldn't come back until the following day. Eun-woo took advantage of her absence and would bring Wooyun to deep in the forest where he would be forced to run up the mountain with a pebble in his mouth, forcing him to only breathe through his nose.
Wooyun wasn't sure what this would accomplish—finding it pointless, but agreed. He didn't think Eun-woo was doing all of this to mess with him, so he did as he was told. But running up the mountains wasn't easy. In fact, running up and down the hills was a cakewalk compared to this.
Once Wooyun was done, he spit the pebble out of his mouth and slumped to the ground, letting out a loud and laboured sigh. "A bottle of soju would be so good right now," Wooyun wailed as he laid there.
Eun-woo who was watching him, intently tilted his head to the side with a frown. "What's soju?" He asked.
Wooyun's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Soju? You don't know what soju is?!" Eun-woo shook his head. "Ya! What is wrong with this place? How can you not know what soju is?! Do you guys not drink any alcohol? Are you one of those ascetic monks or something?" He exclaimed.
Eun-woo regarded him as if he were a fool. "I don't know what nonsense you're spouting over there but get back to swinging." He said in a dismissive tone.
"Haa, have mercy on me hyung-nim. This is too difficult."
Eun-woo nearly choked on his own saliva when he heard this. "You—" he bellowed and Wooyun took this as his sign to shut his mouth and go back to his training.
As they walked back to the estate, Wooyun couldn't help asking Eun-woo. "If you don't like to be called by your name or by hyung-nim, then what do you want to be called?"
Eun-woo paused, his face deep in thought as if contemplating his words but said nothing in response.
"Master, perhaps?" He offered, but just saying that word made him want to cringe. From what he could tell, Eun-woo wasn't that much older than him, yet he was incredibly talented despite his age. So calling him by name didn't seem right, but hyung-nim felt too formal. Wooyun was stumped.
Sensing his distress, Eun-woo's lips lifted and his eyes twinkled with amusement. "The choice is yours," he finally said, surprising Wooyun.
"Really? I can choose? How unexpected." He said.
"How so?"
Wooyun shrugged. "You strike me as the serious type. Refusing to be called casually by those you aren't close to." He honestly said.
Eun-woo digested his words and couldn't really find any fault in them, since they held some truth. Eun-woo had grown up in a strict family where manners and respect were important.
One couldn't be called carelessly, especially when seniority was paramount. So this way of thinking had been ingrained in Eun-woo and he didn't take it too kindly when people referred to him by name. As someone who kept to himself, he didn't like the familiarity that came with it. That's how he's always been, but something had changed within him since training with Wooyun. Perhaps it was how warm and carefree Wooyun was, but he didn't mind being called so personally by the young man. So whatever name he would decide for him, he would accept.
"I guess I'll need to think long and hard about it, then." Wooyun concluded.
Meanwhile, further away from the forest, Kang Choon-hee arrived at a secluded teahouse, her eyes darting around nervously as she approached a lone man seated at the far end.
His presence alone sent a chill down her spine.
"I have searched everywhere," she said, her voice trembling. "There are no signs of the cultivation tomes or relics you speak of. Are you certain they still exist? Han Beom-seok wasn't even aware of them."
The older man lifted his gaze, his piercing eyes locking onto her with an intensity that made her blood run cold. "Are you saying my master was wrong?" he asked, his voice like steel wrapped in silk.
Choon-hee immediately shook her head, her body trembling. "N-No, of course not, Master Jaegal! I-I will keep looking. We all will." She gestured to her sons, who stood behind her, visibly uncomfortable.
The man studied her for a long moment before nodding. "Good. That's what I like to hear. The relics must be hidden within the estate. You are simply not looking in the right places."
Choon-hee swallowed hard. "I understand. I will redouble my efforts."
The man leaned back slightly, as if satisfied. "Now, onto other matters. The Heavenly Summit Tournament will take place in three months' time. The strongest cultivators and sects will be there. If you wish for Yo-jun to build a name for himself, you should enter him. I will arrange for an invitation. He must sign up three days before the event begins."
Choon-hee's face lit up with excitement. "That is an incredible opportunity! Thank you, Master. Yo-jun will not disappoint you."
The man merely waved a hand in dismissal, signaling the end of their meeting. Choon-hee bowed deeply before leaving with her sons.
As they walked back, Yo-jun frowned. "What happens if we can't find what he wants?"
Choon-hee's expression darkened. "We don't want to find out. That's why we must find that tome and those relics. I will personally make sure of it."
Her sons exchanged uneasy glances. Even after a year of searching, they had found nothing. Time was running out—only eleven months remained before the deadline. Frustration burned within Choon-hee, and her children could see it.
"Why don't we just ask Seo-yoon?" Yo-jun suggested hesitantly. "He's lived in the estate the longest. If they're really there, wouldn't he know?"
His words made Choon-hee freeze. Then, with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel, she hissed, "His father didn't even know. What makes you think that useless boy would?"
Yo-jun clenched his jaw. "I don't know, Mother! But have you ever considered that maybe that old man lied to you?"
Her eyes blazed with fury. "That 'old man' was your father! You will refer to him as such!"
Yo-jun rolled his eyes but said nothing else as they continued home. Yet his words gnawed at Choon-hee. Could Han Beom-seok have truly deceived her? No, she quickly dismissed the thought. He had loved her—idolized her. There was nothing he wouldn't have told her.
Still, if the relics were truly within the estate, then she needed to change her approach. The clock was ticking, and failure was not an option.