I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple-Chapter 130

I entered the dining room and immediately spotted a familiar face.

The red-brown hair, the distinctive monocle, and the immaculate attire unmarked by a speck of dust—it was Arjan.

"Master Luan," she greeted me.

She now called me Master Luan. Though her expression remained unchanged, her complexion had brightened slightly, a sign of her mood.

"Apologies for the delay in my return. The handover took longer than I expected," she said.

"It's fine. It's good to see you after so long."

Arjan had served as the chief butler at the mansion where I'd stayed on the frontier. It wasn't a small household, and with her meticulous nature, I was sure the handover had been thoroughly handled. Her diligence always put my mind at ease.

"How is my mother?"

"Of course, she is well," Arjan replied.

Then, with a slightly raised tone, she added, "I've been briefed on the situation. I heard you achieved excellent results at the training camp. I'm sure she will be pleased.

"Thank you." I paused for a moment, studying her.

Arjan looked slightly puzzled. "Is something the matter...?"

"Arjan, have you formed a contract with a divine beast?"

"What?" she exclaimed. "Ah, that's right."

Just as I suspected. Her explosive speed back in the Jewel Mountains was due to the power of the divine beast.

"Which one?"

"The green deer."

"What stage?"

"Ascension."

"Oho..."

Ascension—that was the third stage.

I had reached the Borrowing Power Stage quickly thanks to tricks Lise's tricks, but Arjan had already surpassed that, indicating she was far more experienced with the divine beast contract than I was.

I smiled and suggested, "It's a bit sudden, but I'm planning to head to the academy. Would you be willing to assist me?"

***

The next day, I woke up early for the first time in ages. It was probably because I had nothing to do and had gone to bed early the night before.

I glanced at the moonlight filtering dimly through the window, thinking, Must be around four.

The sun hadn't risen, and starting my internal energy circulation felt off. I also couldn't fall back asleep, having already rested deeply. Thus, I left the Small Iron Hall to get some fresh air.

I warmed up with a few simple exercises before taking a walk around the main house, reminiscing about the training camp.

Unexpectedly, someone was on the empty training ground.

For a moment, I recalled the night I'd run into Mir during the camp. But today, it wasn't her. It was Charon Woodjack.

He's still at the main house? I wondered.

It was surprising. The hero disciples still at the Badnikers' main house were the ones planning to go to the academy. No matter how I looked at it, Charon and the academy didn't fit together.

"Haap!"

By the way, what was this guy doing before dawn? Early morning exercises?

I paused to observe him. He was holding a dagger in each hand, but it didn't seem like serious training or martial arts. More like aimless flailing.

After a long stretch of waving his daggers around, Charon cursed irritably, "Shit!"

Breathing heavily, he finally seemed to notice me and snapped his head toward my direction. "You..."

"Quite the workout for this hour," I commented.

Charon looked at me, then, as if something in his mind snapped, he ground his teeth and charged straight at me.

The daggers in his hands gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

I had no idea what he was thinking, but I played along since I wasn't busy.

I waited until he got close, and when he entered range, I closed the distance instead of backing away.

Charon halted abruptly, startled by the sudden shift, but I was already in motion and struck his right wrist.

There was a loud thud as his dagger hit the ground.

His body stiffened with the pain. In other words, he had plenty of openings. I grabbed his left arm and slammed him to the ground.

He ended up face-down and groaned as I sat squarely on his back.

"Did you eat something rotten or what?" I asked.

Despite his face being pressed into the dirt, Charon said nothing.

After a moment, he pursed his lips and spoke reluctantly. "What should I do...?"

"What?"

"How can I become as strong as you?"

Now that was unexpected. No one had ever asked me this before.

I scratched my cheek, feeling oddly self-conscious. "You don't have to be in a hurry. When I was your age, I was way weaker."

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Fifteen... No, I just turned sixteen," I replied.

"I'm eighteen." Charon sounded confused.

I was also at a loss. I can't exactly tell him how pathetic the eighteen-year-old Luan Badniker used to be.

This was going nowhere. In times like this, the best move was to change the subject.

"What happened?" I asked.

Charon pressed his lips together again, speaking in a resigned tone. "After the training camp, I've sparred with Hector Badniker forty-five times."

Charon's expression darkened. "And I lost every single one."

I had no response to that.

"Today, he refused my request for another spar. I asked him if he didn't want to fight anymore now that he was beating me. Then..."

***

"That's not it, Charon Woodjack," Hector growled. "You don't get frustrated by defeat, and I admire your persistence. But after so many spars, I haven't seen any progress."

Charon remained silent.

Hector continued, "Most of the hero disciples who participated in the training camp are still weaker than you. As you said before, I may be inferior to you in areas beyond one-on-one combat and swordsmanship. But we've all grown stronger. Even someone like Hans Vander has experienced explosive growth compared to before the training camp."

Hector's glare hardened. "Before or after the camp, you're the only one who hasn't changed, Charon Woodjack. In fact, I should be asking you—what did the Badnikers' training camp do for you?"

For the first time in a long while, Charon had no answer.

***

I inwardly admired Hector. His words rang true.

I glanced at the disheartened Charon and asked, "Do you want to beat Hector?"

"Yes."

"And you are asking me, a fellow Badniker, how to do that?" I pressed.

"That's right."

"Hmm." I couldn't help but laugh before adding, "I like it."

Charon didn't respond.

"You're more talented than Hector, but he's grown far more explosively than you during this training camp. What's the reason?"

"I don't know," he answered.

"Neither do I."

I noticed Charon exhale as if my answer were absurd.

"You lost because you don't know," I said.

"What does that mean?"

"If I asked Hector the same thing, he'd give a clear answer. My brother knows how to get stronger. He might still be clumsy, but he's built his own martial framework," I said.

Charon fell silent for a moment, then spoke with slight urgency, "Then teach me that martial framework."

"What a stupid thing to ask," I mocked. "You can't just be taught that. Everyone has different values."

Charon looked confused. He wasn't stupid, but sometimes, he was out of touch with basic logic.

I stared down at the back of his head, feeling that odd sensation I had experienced a few times before.

"Was it your father who trained you?" I probed.

He didn't answer.

"Not a very good teacher, then," I commented.

Charon twitched. "My father's an excellent teacher!"

"Go on."

"He always taught me the best way—how to be strong, how to survive, even the purpose of life! I'm standing here alive because of him!"

"So, basically, he never gave you room to think. He just handed you the answers. How is that a good teacher, you idiot?" I rebuked. "I don't know about anything else, but he should have let you discover those answers on your own."

"What...?"

"I've never met Hyde Woodjack, but I can already see what he taught you. You aren't a disciple. You're a substitute," I said, tapping the back of his head.

Charon ground his teeth and twisted his feet to stand, but it was no use. I scoffed and shifted more of my weight onto him until he groaned.

Then I realized that I was angrier than I thought.

Everyone had different triggers. Some people burned with anger at parents who failed to act like parents, others at children who exploited their aging parents.

The same applied to martial arts. Every individual led a different life, so what got under their skin varied too.

The sight of a so-called teacher unworthy of the title made my blood boil. Cases like this always got to me.

"If a teacher forces you to go somewhere you don't want to, that's not teaching. It's indoctrination. You've learned many things incorrectly," I noted. "Even worrying about not knowing the answer is part of the process. But look at you now. It's the first time in your life you're lost, and you can't do anything. You're like a lost child."

I sighed deeply. "If all you're given are the right answers, what's the difference between a teacher and an answer sheet?"

A person who had lived their entire life without a map would wander aimlessly, never knowing where they were or where they were headed. On the other hand, this was what it looked like when someone who always knew the way lost their map. They'd sit there, crying, because their vision was too narrow.

On the other hand, if someone had a broad view, they could read the time by the rising sun and navigate by the stars. Every sight would become part of their map.

Charon probably knew this better than anyone. Yet, he was a tragic figure. An expert in hunting and survival, but he didn't know how to apply these skills to life. That's why he rushed to the training ground before dawn, while everyone else slept, rolling around in aimless, ignorant activity.

He would lose his mind if he didn't do something.

"You planning to keep living like this?" I didn't wait for his answer. "At every moment of your life, during every period of wandering, will you run to your father and beg for answers? No matter how early or late, there will come a time when you have to stand alone."

"Then what should I do?" Charon exclaimed, his voice rough yet tinged with bitterness. "I don't know how to live like this...!"

I sighed again.

During the training camp, there had been times when Charon was especially aggressive toward Evan.

What was it he'd said? Something like he'd never make it into the top three if he kept relying on Raven?

It was surprising that someone so indifferent to others would say that to Evan, especially considering he wasn't very skilled back then.

Now that I understood Charon better, I saw the reason. He was jealous of Evan. The latter used to mention how much he admired his father when he ate, rested, and even before going to bed.

What should I do?

I could simply ignore Charon and leave. After all, he hadn't been someone I liked during the training camp. But after this brief exchange, I realized he was just as pitiful as I once was.

One thing was clear, though: Hyde, Charon's father, didn't see him as a son.

I stood up, and Charon scrambled to his feet, eyeing me warily like a nervous stray dog.

"Charon."

"What is it?"

"You are curious about how to grow stronger."

"That's right."

"Then I'll teach you how to get stronger." I clenched my fists as I moved toward him.

Charon flinched and stepped back. "I-if you're going to slap me again, forget it—"

"No," I interrupted. "In fact, my master rarely slapped me."

Fire Qi flickered around my fists.

"You have nothing to do for the next two days, right? So, I'll treat you like a new disciple who has come under my care and help you get stronger," I declared.

Charon turned pale.

***

Two days passed in the blink of an eye—well, maybe not for everyone, but definitely for me.

On Monday morning, shortly after sunrise, the hero disciples finally climbed aboard the carriage bound for the capital.

"This is a carriage...?"

"It looks like a mansion."

Evan and Charis, the country bumpkins, stared in awe at the absurdly large carriage.

I was surprised as well. It wasn't quite the size of a mansion, but it could easily pass for a small house. The horse pulling it stood twice as tall as the average person.

"With this, we'll reach the capital in no time."

"It'll still take about a week, won't it?"

Long-distance travel always had its uncertainties, with weather being the biggest factor. Heavy rain could delay us by three or four days.

"I think I could live in this carriage for the rest of my life," one of them joked.

"I agree," another chimed in.

We all climbed into the spacious carriage. Though it could seat ten to twenty people, only the hero disciples were aboard, which made for a lively atmosphere.

Naturally, those who liked to act noble, like Hector and Seren, were in a separate partition.

"When we get to the capital, there are so many places I want to visit," Charis said excitedly. "The swordsmanship halls, the magic towers, the history museum of the seven races and the twenty-one heroes, various art museums, and even exclusive performances held only in the capital!"

"There is even the largest publisher in the empire! My dream, the Empire Journal! There is also a train in the capital. It only takes an hour to cross the whole city, north to south!" Pam added eagerly.

Charis and Pam seemed especially eager about the capital. Of all the hero disciples, they appeared to have the strongest desire to explore it.

"By the way, Luan, why aren't you sitting with your brother and fiancee?" Charis asked.

"She isn't my fiancee," I corrected him. "Besides, it is so boring over there."

Hector was a poor conversationalist. On the way to the training camp, we had shared a carriage, and I had ended up falling asleep from sheer boredom. Seren was a bit better, but she didn't like to be teased and was always careful with her words and actions around others.

"Yes, Brother Luan prefers sitting here," came a deep voice in my defense.

Suddenly, everyone—including Charis, who'd asked the question—stared in my direction with strange expressions. And receiving all those stares was Charon Woodjack.

"What are you staring at? Got a problem with my brother?" he asked bluntly.