Ch. 1
Chapter 1: The Laziest Under the Heaven (1)
His personality was a total disaster, but it was still bearable.
No, phrasing it like that might be a bit of a problem. To put it more precisely, his personality really was a total disaster, but it was overshadowed by even bigger issues.
What?
You heard that the Radiant Martial Sovereign was known for being upright and fair?
What a load of crap.
Think about it logically.
That man was the one who ended the Great Calamity and would be talked about countless times in the future.
But could you seriously tell your child, “That man was a total piece of work, but he became a great figure anyway. So you should follow in his footsteps and become a magnificent piece of work too!”?
You couldn’t, right?
Exactly.
Of course you couldn’t.
So what do people do?
They make things up.
They spin the story however they need so they can spread the idea that he was a great man!
Did Wi Yeonho just stand by quietly?
He had no choice but to.
That’s just the kind of man he is.
He doesn’t care about stuff like that.
What?
No, it’s not that he doesn’t care about just that—he doesn’t care about anything.
I’m telling you, he just doesn’t care.
Seriously, are you incapable of understanding human speech?
It’s not about reputation or anything like that. That man genuinely doesn’t care about anything.
And the reason is because that man...
* * *
All people live their lives dreaming.
There are times when the waves of the world make them forget their dreams, or when they try to hide those dreams on purpose, but deep in their hearts, everyone holds a grand dream.
Then, what kind of dream would a boy born into a martial family have?
Naturally, it would be to become the Greatest of All Time.
To act with chivalry using unmatched martial arts, to uphold justice, and to rise to fame across the world—that would be the righteous dream any heir of a martial lineage should harbor.
And there was once such a boy.
Born into a martial family, raised learning about the chivalry of a martial artist.
The boy, too, held the dream of becoming the Greatest of All Time.
And he also knew the fastest path to get there.
Unceasing effort!
No matter how gifted someone may be, without effort, they could never become the Greatest of All Time.
A diligent fool would always overcome a lazy genius.
The boy understood better than anyone that only constant daily training would elevate him to the highest position.
Of course, he also had the willpower to endure the kind of bone-grinding training that such a path demanded.
But there was a problem.
It wasn’t a big one. If you really broke it down, it was a very minor issue.
But that tiny issue ended up testing him.
‘It’s already too late today.’
The boy saw the sunset through the window.
What a shame!
Today was supposed to be the day he shed blood and sweat to lay the foundation to become the Greatest of All Time tomorrow, but the time had gotten too late.
The sun was setting.
Couldn’t he still train even at night?
Spoken like someone who didn’t understand a thing!
If he trained late into the night, he wouldn’t be able to get enough rest. And training without sufficient rest would only lower its efficiency.
In the end, getting a good night’s sleep and starting fresh early the next morning would be far more effective than forcing himself to train now.
‘I’ll sleep well today and train tomorrow.’
The boy made a firm decision.
Effort wasn’t just about pushing the body.
True effort was about understanding training perfectly and moving efficiently through precise planning!
The boy pulled the blanket over himself.
“To wake up early tomorrow, I need to sleep early today. I’ll be training at dawn.”
A firm resolve settled in the boy’s heart.
But when did anything in life ever go as planned?
The boy’s grand ambition was about to be battered by a massive disturbance.
Bang!
The door burst open violently.
The boy’s room—a space that had up until now tenderly embraced him—was suddenly invaded by a merciless intruder from the outside.
How was he to resolve this tragic and outrageous crisis?
The boy did not move.
Now was not the time to act rashly. The most important thing right now was to analyze the intruder’s information with every fiber of his being.
Step.
Step.
Footsteps echoed in.
The boy’s ears perked up.
Using the sound of the approaching steps, he began to analyze the situation.
‘These heavy and large footsteps are...’
It was definitely...
“Get up.”
It was his father.
The boy didn’t move.
‘If I pretend to be asleep, maybe he’ll leave without waking me. Even if he doesn’t, I might still get to lie down just a little longer...’
Woosh!
The blanket covering the boy flew into the air.
“Ah...”
The boy lifted his head slightly, feeling an unspeakable emptiness. A blanket he had shared countless days with—probably three hundred out of the year—was now drifting away before his very eyes.
And between the fluttering folds of the blanket, he saw the figure of a middle-aged man.
A familiar face.
Naturally, it was his father’s.
But today, that face looked slightly off.
‘Did he have a stroke?’
His father's cheeks were trembling uncontrollably.
“Get up.”
The boy sluggishly raised his upper body.
“Yeonho.”
“Yes.”
“The sun is setting.”
“I saw it.”
"But you're still lying down."
"Because the sun's setting."
The boy's father, Wi Jeonghan, gave a smile.
"Do you even know how long you've been holed up in this room?"
The boy tilted his head.
‘Was it three days ago? Or four?’
It was vague.
"Three days?"
Wi Jeonghan shouted furiously.
"Four days! Four, you rotten brat! You’ve been sprawled out in your room under the blanket for four whole days! Doesn’t your back hurt? Even a bear would roll over from the sweat after lying still for three days!"
The boy nodded.
Wasn’t it a child’s duty to respond properly when their parent said something correct?
"So I got up every now and then."
Crunch.
Wi Jeonghan’s teeth ground together with a harsh sound.
"I see. So while I was away from home for four days, you just rolled around in here, shoveling in food that your sister brought?"
The boy felt wronged.
"Honestly, I really was going to train."
"And then?"
"But every time I opened my eyes, the sun was already setting."
"And so?"
The boy scratched the back of his head.
"When the sun sets, you sleep. That way, you can get up early and train tomorrow..."
"Aaaargh!"
Wi Jeonghan grabbed the bed and lifted it.
As the bed tilted high into the air, the poor boy, unable to keep his balance, rolled off and hit the floor with a thud.
"Oww!"
Wi Jeonghan seized the back of the boy’s neck and hoisted him up in one smooth motion.
Now the boy was dangling helplessly in midair.
"Today, I’m going to fix that damn laziness of yours once and for all! And that attitude while I’m at it!"
The boy’s face twisted into a cry.
The intruder who stormed into his room clearly had no intention of letting him go peacefully.
It seemed like today just wasn’t his lucky day.
"Can’t you even hold that properly?"
"Ugh..."
Wi Yeonho was in a horse stance, struggling as he balanced a water carrier on his shoulders.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and stung his eyes, while his legs trembled uncontrollably.
"Panting after barely one hour of horse stance? And you call yourself a son of a martial family?!"
Wi Yeonho pouted.
"Is a child from a martial family not human? Anyone would struggle if they’re holding something heavy."
"You damn mouth of yours!"
Wi Yeonho quickly pulled his lips back in.
What an obedient and well-behaved son—at least in appearance. But contrary to Wi Yeonho’s hopes, Wi Jeonghan didn’t seem the least bit pleased with him.
With a furious expression, Wi Jeonghan shouted,
"Martial strength comes from effort! No matter how much heaven-blessed talent one possesses, if they don’t train and advance day by day, they’ll never reach any true level! Do you truly not understand that?"
"I do."
"Then why!"
Wi Yeonho paused for a moment, as if considering something, then opened his mouth.
"Well, there are already plenty of people in the world who work hard, so is there really a need for me to become an expert too?"
Twitch.
Wi Jeonghan’s eyelids began to tremble.
"Not everyone has to be a master. If everyone were striving toward the same goal with relentless effort, wouldn’t the world be unbearably harsh and suffocating? Masters need lesser-skilled people beneath them to support their position. If everyone’s a master, then what’s the point of even having the term?"
Snap.
The switch in Wi Jeonghan’s hand broke from the pressure of his grip.
"You see, society needs to respect diversity..."
In the middle of his impassioned speech, Wi Yeonho tilted his head.
"Are you feeling alright?"
Clenching his fist and trembling with fury, Wi Jeonghan came to his senses at Yeonho’s words and let out a deep sigh.
"Right, diversity... It’s a good word."
"Hehe, right?"
Wi Yeonho smiled brightly.
Finally, they seemed to be on the same wavelength?
"In that spirit, let’s see you roll around in a variety of ways today."
Wi Yeonho pulled a face like he was dying.
"That’s not what I meant..."
"Silence! Don’t even think about resting until midnight tonight!"
Wi Jeonghan tossed a wooden sword he had placed beside him toward Wi Yeonho.
"Catch."
"Like this?"
"Put that down first!"
Wi Yeonho quietly set down the water carrier and caught the wooden sword.
"Heavenward slash!"
Wi Yeonho stuck out his lip and raised the wooden sword high above his head.
"A thousand downward strikes."
"That number seems a bit off, don’t you think?"
"A. Thou. Sand."
Wi Jeonghan had no intention of compromising.
"I’ll say it again—one thousand strikes. If you don’t finish all one thousand today, don’t expect food or even water!"
"Even water?"
"Even water!"
Wi Yeonho’s lips jutted out a full length like a duck’s beak.
"Begin!"
This was child abuse!
And an unfair punishment!
A thousand downward strikes just for saying the wrong thing? And not even middle slashes—heavenward slashes! Lifting the wooden sword overhead alone took a ton of effort, and now he had to do it a thousand times?
This was tyranny!
But what power did he have to resist?
Poor Wi Yeonho let out a long sigh and began the downward strikes.
After a few repetitions of raising and lowering the sword, Wi Jeonghan, who was watching, finally spoke.
"Stop."
Wi Yeonho brightened and looked at him.
Honestly, a thousand really was too much.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
"Excuse me?"
"I asked you—what are you doing right now?"
"I’m doing downward strikes."
"That?"
"Is something wrong with it?"
"What do you think a downward strike is?"
"It’s, well... swinging the sword from above to below. Literally."
"Then what exactly are you doing?"
Wi Yeonho gave a cheeky grin.
"Downward strikes!"
"Aaaaaargh!"
Wi Jeonghan threw the switch in his hand at Wi Yeonho.
In a motion far too swift for someone who had been moving sluggishly just moments ago, Wi Yeonho dodged the flying switch and shouted,
"Why are you doing this!"
"An old man on his deathbed swatting a mosquito would strike with more strength and precision than your wooden sword!"
"But I did exactly what you told me!"
Wi Jeonghan’s face turned red.
It was the moment when his long-held resolve to never resort to violence in raising his child was shredded like a piece of paper.
He marched toward Wi Yeonho with heavy steps.
And just then—
"What are you doing?"