I couldn’t go all the way with Gong Chan-ho. The instructors, having received late reports from the trainees, rushed over and asked me to step back and let them handle the situation. There was no point in holding my ground any longer, so I chose to withdraw quietly.
But Gong Chan-ho was still a problem.
Up until then, he had charged at me fiercely, but after the throw, he suddenly showed no reaction at all. Even when the instructors tried to speak to him, he didn’t respond—his eyes glazed over as he stared blankly at the sky. Looking back, lying there flat on his back, he looked almost like a dead man.
In the end, even the medic’s treatment was useless. The instructors had to support him as they led him away, bringing the situation to a close. It seemed he had suffered a severe psychological shock.
And now, some time later.
“I’m sorry… I’m truly sorry…”
Seong Ha-yan, who had rushed over after hearing the news, bowed her head deeply the moment she saw me and Jin Soo-hyun, begging for forgiveness. She clasped her hands together desperately, tears streaming down her face without end.
Watching her, I felt a twinge of pity—not because of the situation, but simply for Ha-yan herself.
She was so different from the girl I’d seen two years ago.
How to put it…
She looked like nothing more than a slave or a beggar. The faint traces of tears on her cheeks were still visible, and there were even small, dark bruises. The pure, innocent princess who used to smile without a care in the world was nowhere to be found.
“I’m sorry… I’ll do anything you ask… please, just forgive me this once…”
Despite the circumstances still unclear, Ha-yan was apologizing unconditionally.
I had a rough idea why. Having lived so closely with Gong Chan-ho, she instinctively assumed he was behind the incident. And, well, that was almost certainly true.
I watched Ha-yan’s tears fall for a while, then glanced sideways.
Jin Soo-hyun sat stiffly beside me, his expression mirroring my own sympathy for Ha-yan, but also showing uncertainty. It seemed this was his first time facing a situation like this, and he didn’t know how to act.
Since he looked inexperienced, I figured it was best to step in a little—to lay the groundwork for a stronger relationship later on.
Having made up my mind, I clasped my hands tightly and spoke.
“You’re… very different from how you were two years ago.”
I tried to keep my tone gentle. Ha-yan lifted her head sharply, wiped her reddened eyes with her clenched fists, and nodded repeatedly.
“Yes… sob You, Mercenary Lord, feel that way too… sob”
“Hmm… it must have been really hard…”
“You remember, Mercenary Lord… our clan lord… two years ago, she wasn’t like this…”
“…Huh?”
“But then… suddenly, I don’t know why… I feel like she’s always being chased by something. She laughs, then gets angry. She wakes up at night screaming…”
“I see…”
“Yes… and because of that… at some point, she just changed…”
“……”
Actually, she was talking about Gong Chan-ho, not herself.
But it wasn’t the time to correct her, so I just nodded silently.
“Of course, these are just excuses… but they’re not lies. So please… I beg you…!”
Ha-yan’s desperate plea made me look directly at Jin Soo-hyun. Catching my gaze, he blinked and met my eyes. When I silently asked what to do, he shook his head quickly and shrugged his shoulders. Was that… a complete leave-it-to-you?
…Gong Chan-ho.
I silently repeated the name of the once-invincible warrior, then turned my gaze back forward. Ha-yan waited anxiously, her face full of worry.
I took a moment to gather my thoughts, then spoke quietly.
The sky was visible. A clear, blue sky without a single cloud.
Then suddenly, it began to shake violently, as if an earthquake had struck the heavens.
But Gong Chan-ho showed no sign of panic. With a blank expression, he kept his eyes fixed on the sky.
Because he knew.
It wasn’t the sky that was shaking—it was his own body trembling from the impact with the ground. That’s why the sky only appeared to be moving.
After a moment, the sky calmed again.
“Mercenary Lord! What’s going on here?”
“Instructor Gong Chan-ho! Instructor Gong Chan-ho! What happened?!”
The instructors who had arrived after the late report gathered quickly. Some tried to assess the situation, others shook Gong Chan-ho, trying to get a response.
But he didn’t react to any of it. His glazed eyes remained fixed on the sky.
Inside Gong Chan-ho’s mind, only one thought filled him.
‘I lost.’
That’s right.
Gong Chan-ho had lost the sparring match against Kim Soo-hyun. Not by a narrow margin, but by an overwhelming difference in skill.
But to reduce the entire situation to just the word ‘defeat’ would be unfair to Gong Chan-ho.
Because he had waited for this moment, unwavering, for two whole years.
When he first obtained the Suramachang spear, Gong Chan-ho instinctively felt:
The current Suramachang is no longer an ordinary spear. It’s a demonic weapon that constantly thirsts for blood and calls for destruction.
The ominous power latent in Suramachang brings continuous hardship and trials to its wielder. Beware. The moment you think you’ve overcome its demonic nature, the spear will mercilessly consume you.
No one can truly master the Suramachang.
It only lends power, but it’s a monster that will devour its user at any time.
It was like a drug—an irresistible force that drew you in, yet warned you to stay alert.
With that in mind, Gong Chan-ho took hold of the Suramachang, but remained extremely cautious. He guarded it jealously, never letting anyone else touch it, always wary of being consumed by it.
But then.
Two years ago, someone shattered all his beliefs.
“May I try holding the Suramachang?”
Kim Soo-hyun had actually taken hold of the spear—and instead of being overwhelmed by its ominous power, he subdued it.
Not only that, he revealed the spear’s true form and, in the end, demonstrated a power that seemed to split the very sky—right before Gong Chan-ho’s eyes.
That’s when the feeling of inferiority first took root inside Gong Chan-ho. And when he stopped fearing the spear and began to approach it.
It must have been from that moment.
From the moment he saw Kim Soo-hyun fully master the Suramachang, Gong Chan-ho deliberately exposed himself to its power.
“I will cut through the sky too.”
“I will prove myself the true master of the Suramachang.”
With that firm resolve, Gong Chan-ho clung to the spear, sacrificing everything else.
But without the rising energy called Hwajeong that Kim Soo-hyun possessed, it was impossible. No matter how hard he tried, Gong Chan-ho’s skills remained stagnant. He couldn’t even reveal the spear’s true form, let alone cut through the sky.
The more he struggled, the deeper his inferiority grew. It was only natural that the Suramachang’s ominous power continued to affect him negatively.
After a long time, this was the result.
No matter how you looked at it, it was a clean defeat.
No—a humiliating defeat. Despite begging and recklessly charging forward, Gong Chan-ho couldn’t even scratch Kim Soo-hyun.
…After all that effort.
At that thought, his eyes stung, his vision blurred, and he closed them gently. Only then did the harsh reality flood his empty mind.
Feeling as if all sensation had been cut off from his body, Gong Chan-ho squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. No thoughts came, and even the little strength he had left seemed to drain away.
All he could do now was hold back the tears that threatened to fall.
“……”
How much time passed after that?
How many endless moments slipped by?
When he finally opened his eyes again, Gong Chan-ho saw not the sky, but an ivory-colored ceiling.
After about three seconds, he opened his eyes wide and instinctively tried to sit up. But before he could even get halfway up, he collapsed back down. His body was weak, and a sudden burning sensation scorched his throat.
Despite the dizzying vertigo, Gong Chan-ho instinctively reached out his hand. As if someone had placed it there, his fingers closed around something cold. Without hesitation, he brought it to his lips.
Gulp… gulp… gulp… gulp…
The cold liquid flooded down his throat, soothing the burning thirst in his chest. Only then did Gong Chan-ho regain a bit of composure.
And at that moment, he felt something strange—something different from usual.
“This is…”
For nearly two years, Gong Chan-ho hadn’t spent a single day fully lucid. Yet today, strangely enough, his mind felt clear. Not clouded by malice, but warm and light, as if he’d just stepped out of a hot spring.
He calmly looked around. Only now did the surroundings begin to settle into focus.
The lodging was far from intact. Not a single corner was spared—everything was broken or shattered.
Staring blankly at a crystal that was half in pieces, Gong Chan-ho was suddenly jolted by how unfamiliar the reflection was. It used to be a face people described as pleasant, with a straightforward, open-hearted charm typical of someone from Honam. But now, that face was nowhere to be found—only a gaunt, worn-out visage stared back at him.
“Is this… really me?”
He murmured softly, running a hand over his face.
“Feeling a bit more with it now?”
A gentle voice stirred him further awake. Gong Chan-ho turned his gaze and spotted Seong Ha-yan standing quietly in a corner.
Next to her, a well-polished Suramachang sword stood upright. Nearby, several water bottles were neatly lined up, as if prepared in advance.
His eyes fell on the water bottle in his hand, and with a voice tinged with heat, he finally spoke.
“What happened? How long have I been out?”
“…”
“Can’t you hear me?”
“…Three days.”
Seong Ha-yan’s answer made Gong Chan-ho hold his breath, instinctively frowning.
Just a blink of an eye, and three whole days had passed?
As that thought sank in, another question arose.
“Three days… so what happened to me during that time?”
Seong Ha-yan hesitated, then fixed him with a steady gaze. Slowly, she stepped forward and handed him a document about the size of an A4 sheet.
The moment Gong Chan-ho read the first line, his eyebrows twitched.
“‘Central Administrative Body Disciplinary Meeting Results.’”
The contents were straightforward. It detailed his recent behavior: openly slandering fellow instructors, verbally abusing trainees, and excessive sparring under the guise of training.
In short, it concluded with the revocation of his instructor qualifications. He’d been dismissed.
“What is this…?”
“Exactly what it says. You have to leave within a week at most.”
“Who’s asking? I know that! But why me?”
“…Still, Mercenary Lord has been trying to look out for you as much as possible…”
Seong Ha-yan trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. Gong Chan-ho tore the paper in half with a grim expression and pushed himself up.
“Hey! What did you just say?!”
“Eek! I-I’m sorry! I was wrong! Please, don’t hit me!”
Seong Ha-yan quickly bowed her head, covering her face with both hands, as if instinctively bracing for a beating.
And then—
Bang! Bang, bang, bang…
The neatly arranged water bottles crashed to the floor.
“…!”
Gong Chan-ho, arm raised, stopped himself reflexively. His eyes locked once more on the reflection in the broken crystal.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… sob…”
A pitiful sob broke through the silence.
After a long moment of quiet weeping, Gong Chan-ho let his arm fall, utterly drained.
---------------------------= Author’s Note =---------------------------
Hmm. I know many of you are curious about the foreshadowing, but I can’t reveal anything just yet. ;ㅇ;
Based on what’s been shown so far, it’s clear that Kim Soo-hyun and Gong Chan-ho are connected…
Ah, well. That’s the end of Gong Chan-ho’s part for now.
In the next chapter, we’ll cover the rest of the aftermath and get a glimpse into Soo-hyun’s true intentions, before diving straight into a brand-new storyline. :)