Episode 98

Episode 98

I had never seen the full extent of Spirit Mountain, but I knew its general shape: a precariously thin, elongated ridge of rock. Naturally, the descent was nothing short of a sheer cliff.

I let out a sigh. As of today, seven days, a full week, had passed.

What had I accomplished in that time?

FAD informed me, “Current progress: 1.44%.”

“I feel like I’ve messed up,” I grumbled.

At this rate, I wouldn’t reach the ground even if I ran nonstop. I needed a new approach. The question was how.

“Hmm.”

There was one thing I wanted to try. I stepped to the edge of the cliff and peered down. Through the fog, I could just make out a path below. If Spirit Mountain’s trail spiraled up its surface like a whirlwind, then jumping would be far quicker than walking.

“Is it possible without internal energy?”

The drop was deeper than the Badnikers’ main house roof. No matter how well-trained my body was, the height was dangerous.

When had I ever let caution stop me, though? As such, I leapt without hesitation.

The wind resistance made it hard to keep my eyes open, but I forced myself to look down. Of course, the landing spot mattered more than the jump itself—a narrow, unstable ledge. If I made a mistake, it wouldn’t end with just, “Oh gods! I made a mistake!”

Thankfully, I stuck the landing. Pain shot from my soles to my skull, but I only sighed.

FAD informed me, “Current progress: 1.51%.”

Then, it commented, “A cowardly shortcut! You are really good at scheming!”

“Shut up.”

I let FAD’s voice drift in one ear and out the other.

***

The method was crude, but it worked.

FAD informed me, “Current progress: 9.84%.”

In an instant, I was one-tenth of the way through—just five days after adopting this reckless approach, twelve since the descent began.

I feel like my legs are getting stronger.

FAD called it a shortcut, but wasn’t it just the obvious strategy?

I realized my mistake the next morning.

FAD informed me, “Current progress: 10%.”

It was a memorable 10% milestone until a crushing pressure slammed me face-first into the ground like a flattened frog.

“Ugh! Again?! What the heck?!”

It wasn’t that I was in bad condition. My body simply felt ten times heavier, and every movement was a struggle. It was hard to even take a step, let alone run.

“Ha, haha…” I couldn’t help laughing and cursing, “Shiiit! Spirit Mountain, you’ve changed a lot since the last time I was here!”

I forced myself forward, lumbering like a giant.

The physical burden was no joke. One thing was certain: I could no longer use the shortcut of leaping off the cliff. In my current state, I’d either be crushed on impact or lose my footing and plummet.

So what now? Was I doomed to crawl along the cliff path like this? With this heavy, sluggish body?

I gave it a try.

“Ughhh!”

Saliva dripped from my mouth as my body twisted in unnatural ways, struggling to move. Despite the improvements in my physical strength from the Jewel Mountains and the training camp, my fifteen-year-old body remained weak. After just twenty steps, I collapsed flat on my back, gasping.

Sweat drenched me as if I’d sprinted twenty kilometers. My legs, especially my thighs, burned with exertion. “Damn…”

I snapped my head to the side and looked down the cliff. Still, there was nothing but fog. I couldn’t even imagine seeing the ground yet. If I had to go through this every twenty steps, even 1,000 days wouldn’t be enough, let alone 100.

One hundred days… No, eighty-seven. Will I really reach the ground in time? Impossible.

As the word crossed my mind, FAD asked, “Do you want to call RAN-4700 Type-A? Y/N?”

I snapped my gaze up, momentarily dazed by the screen FAD projected in front of me.

“Hey, FAD.”

“Yes.”

“You said I could call Fourth Senior Brother, didn’t you?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then, by any chance, is Fourth Senior Brother watching me right now?” FAD fell silent for the first time before answering, “That’s correct.”

A jolt of clarity hit me like ice water. I slapped my cheeks, cutting off any further doubt, and took a sharp breath. I couldn’t let Senior Brother Arang—or anyone—see me like this.

To me, Senior Brother Arang was both family and rival. All four of my seniors stood leagues ahead, trees I couldn’t yet climb. But someday, I’d surpass them. That resolve had burned in me even before Eldest Senior Brother strayed, though I’d never voiced it.

FAD asked again, “Do you want to call RAN-4700 Type-A? Y/N?”

What if this prompt wasn’t from FAD but Senior Brother Arang’s judgment? Had he predicted I’d fail here? Was this another one of his damn simulations?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I grew.

I had a twisted personality. Nothing drove me more than being underestimated. My defiant spirit was one of my defining traits.

I lay down on the cliff. My body felt like lead, but sprawling out made the weight a little more bearable.

Let’s cool down my mind first.

I began listing the disadvantages: a 50-day limit, an endless-seeming destination, and unrecoverable internal energy. On the upside, I didn’t need food or sleep, and my physical recovery was unnaturally fast.

A flicker of realization struck me.

I tried to stand… but couldn’t. So I hauled myself up like a slug and sat cross-legged. It was easier than standing, but still a struggle.

My spine is rigid.

I ignored the stabbing pain and started the internal energy circulation of the First Fire Technique.

Ignoring the stabbing pain, I initiated the First Fire Technique’s energy circulation. As I’d noted before, its greatest secondary effect was recovery. If the effect coincided with the effect of Spirit Mountain—

“Ah!”

Just as I’d expected. My shredded muscles were healing at an alarming rate.

“What is this, a troll’s physique?”

The recovery was disturbing. At this rate, even if I lost a few fingers, they would likely grow back instantly. Not that I had any intention of testing it.

Regardless, I forced myself up and took another step. Fatigue clawed at me with every movement, my body screaming in protest.

Not yet…

I kept walking until my legs nearly gave out, then collapsed and resumed internal energy circulation.

I repeated the process for an entire day.

By the next day, my steps had steadied. Although I still moved like a man with a sprained spine, it was a far cry from yesterday’s stumbling.

“It’s leg strength,” I muttered and pounded my tense thighs with a fist.

It was annoyingly hard, but I could see the direction for now.

***

One would call it unexpected. Even in Spirit Mountain, where night and day blurred together, I could still mark the passage of time.

Once a day, a strange cry echoed from beyond the fog.

A crow? An eagle? I couldn’t tell. I assumed it was some kind of monster I’d never seen before.

Still, I was grateful for its presence. FAD let me track time, but that cry felt like the true start of the day. It was Spirit Mountain’s rooster.

I rose from where I sat.

Thirty days had passed—exactly one month.

What changes had occurred during this time?

For one, my body had become much more disciplined. I could now sprint for ten minutes straight. Of course, I would collapse afterward and have to circulate internal energy in a rush, but repeating this cycle had taught me something.

Running was important, but the true focus lay in the internal energy circulation. Perhaps because the 100-day limit loomed over me, I’d recently been searching for ways to accelerate this process.

FAD informed me, “Current progress: 17.6%.”

The progress hadn’t even reached 20%, but it felt like I was sparking a fire. I was getting faster, yet time pressed down on me.

What unexpected trials await below? What if I suddenly gained weight?

“Internal energy circulation.”

The primary goal of circulating internal energy was to enhance one’s energy reserves. Naturally, the core structure of the technique was designed for that purpose. As a result, the excellent physical resilience and recovery afforded by the First Fire Technique could be considered secondary benefits.

However, that felt misaligned now. I needed maximum resilience rather than improving my internal energy.

I hesitated one last time before starting my run. This had been on my mind all day, lingering even as I sprinted, circulated my energy, and took breaks.

Yet there was no alternative.

“I have to tweak it a bit.”

I put it lightly, but in reality, I was risking my life. I knew how dangerous altering the method’s structure could be.

Internal energy flowed through the human body, repeatedly passing through vital points. If the revised method failed to account for that—or if something went wrong in an unexpected area—it could be fatal.

This martial art wasn’t a flawed mind method. The art, which I called the First Fire Technique for convenience, was originally known as the Supreme Art of All Time. It was based on the Fire attribute.

Unlike the White Sun Eclipse, which had been modified over time, the First Fire Technique was entirely created by my master. I knew how reckless and arrogant it was for someone like me to modify it, but I did it anyway.

At my level, shouldn’t I be able to make a few small adjustments? No chance.

The moment I circulated my internal energy using my makeshift modifications, my body twisted in agony, and I coughed up blood from the backlash.

Normally, such an injury would have left me bedridden for weeks. Yet, my damaged veins quickly regenerated, and the internal organ damage healed just as fast. It was as if any wound could be healed here, as long as I didn’t die. This place allowed for reckless experimentation.

“I wonder if any other martial art in the world has been altered so ignorantly.”

I wasn’t some mad alchemist conducting experiments on myself, but the changes I made, though intuitive, were undeniably reckless. I quickly corrected any errors and adjusted my approach.

As I continued running, I pondered, Why is the First Fire Technique so effective in promoting physical recovery? The internal energy produced by this method embodies the essence of fire.

Fire symbolized warmth, life, and rebirth, yet it was also called plundering fire for its indiscriminate destruction. To me, that made it the most contradictory of the five elements.

Undoubtedly, my master’s First Fire Technique was formidable. Its greatest strength lay in amplifying my techniques’ power, which was why the White Sun Eclipse—inextricably linked to it—was so devastating.

But why did it have to be that way? If the First Fire Technique was rooted in fire, why not focus on its gentler side? This wouldn’t stray too far from its essence.

Wait!

Suddenly, an idea flashed through my mind.

The White Sun Eclipse’s second half had always been a point of frustration for me. The Martial God had advised that the techniques in the second half should surpass those in the first. Was it necessary for it to be this way, though?

In a fight, the most freeing aspect was the seamless transition between offense and defense.

What if I focused the second half on defense or evasion rather than pure attack? If the transition was faster and more fluid than ever, wouldn’t that create the perfect form of the White Sun Eclipse?

I burst into laughter. They said inspiration struck when one least expected it, and that was exactly what had just happened.

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