Chapter 7 Upon Reaching 50 Consecutive Push-Ups
Shards of the liquor bottle scattered in all directions. Beom-yun, still unsatisfied, overturned the table with a furious shout. He roared while kicking chairs and tables, driving frightened patrons to retreat downstairs.
But not all recoiled.
A muscular giant seated by the wall rose.
"Hey, punk! If you want to drink, do it quietly! Who gave you the right to cause trouble?"
The brute reached from behind with a coarse, massive hand. As he seized Beom-yun's shoulder to spin him for a punch—
"Who the hell are you?!"
Beom-yun twisted backward, driving his elbow into the giant's jaw. Before the dazed man could recover, Beom-yun slammed a fist into his solar plexus.
Thwack!
"Guh—!"
The giant crumpled to his knees, clutching his stomach.
Thud.
A swift, clean takedown. Only after the hulking body hit the floor did the crowd process what happened. The commotion died instantly, leaving murmurs of shock in its wake.
Among the onlookers were the two brothers' guards from downstairs.
The guards showed no particular concern.
This was routine.
No crisis to sense.
A few thugs stood no chance against Second Young Master Beom-yun. The guards' duty lay solely in aftermath cleanup.
Yet Beom-yun's face contorted with rage.
Despite the shattered table and chaos, his younger brother remained seated, vacant-eyed.
As Beom-yun's fury peaked, Bumong lifted his head.
"How long will you keep running, Brother?"
"What?"
"You're terrified! Terrified of our eldest brother! Too scared to face him, yet you posture. You survive each day through liquor and gambling!"
"You little—!"
Beom-yun seized Bumong's collar, fist raised.
Bumong stared unblinking.
"Damn it all!" Releasing the collar, Beom-yun hurled curses and smashed a chair against the floor. "You think I fear him? That bastard? Fine! I'll show you! I'll rip off his damned mask myself!"
**
Returning to Cheonhwaseogo, Beom-yun bypassed his quarters, storming through night winds toward unknown purpose.
Meanwhile, Hou Gong trained vigorously in the rear courtyard. His stamina had surged—50 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, 50 squuts without pause, now holding horse stances for half-hour intervals. Where he once struggled to walk after his soul transmigration, his body now obeyed effortlessly.
Still unsatisfied with his strength, he attempted a new challenge: high jumps.
Songhwa, recently transformed into an eager assistant, flourished a long stick. "Higher, Young Master?"
"Proceed."
She swept the stick horizontally. Hou Gong leaped—first ankle-height, then knee-level—as she counted:
"Seven... eight... nine...!"
Her laughter bloomed when he cleared each height effortlessly. "Young Master! How do you jump so well? Let's try ten more sets!"
"One set of ten."
"Should we practice splits too?"
"Yes. Then handstands."
Progress in splits had been remarkable. His stubborn legs now bent at sharper angles, nearing full ground contact. After splits, he inverted into a handstand, arms trembling as Songhwa steadied his ankles.
"Young Master, rest if—"
"Someone's coming."
Hou Gong's upside-down vision caught a figure sprinting through the night.
Hup!
He dismounted the handstand, swaying briefly. Songhwa caught him.
"Careful!"
"Thanks."
Beom-yun arrived, panting. He gaped at the scene.
"You—you're doing handstands now?! What fresh madness is this, you lunatic?!"
So this is Beom-yun.
Hou Gong recognized him instantly—the only youth bold enough to curse Cheonhwaseogo's heir and escape consequences. Bumong hovered worriedly in the distance.
Perfect.
Songhwa whispered, "Young Master, it's Second Young Master—"
"My brother?" Hou Gong feigned shock. "Why would my kin drunkenly hurl insults like some thug?!"
"Thug?!" Beom-yun bristled.
Hou Gong tsked. "Look at yourself. What else but a thug would behave so? Pitiful."
"I'm pitiful?!" Beom-yun barked a laugh. "You—the one who's tried dying so often you're on first-name terms with death gods—dare call me pitiful? Is this how you fooled Bumong?"
"......"
"How long will you play amnesiac? Save the act. Everyone knows you've just found new ways to court death."
"......"
"Know what they truly want? For you to drop dead. Quietly. Alone. Got it, you psycho?!"
"......"
"Didn't you hear?" Hou Gong's voice turned glacial.
"Hear what?!"
"Who I am."
"Who?!"
"Songhwa. Fetch me a stick."
"Pardon?"
When she hesitated, Hou Gong's glare sent her scrambling. He test-swung the wooden rod—once ordinary, now lethal in his trained grip. Fifty push-ups' worth of strength flowed through arms that once faltered at walking.
"You'll beat me with that?!" Beom-yun sneered, cracking his knuckles.
Their eyes clashed—two geniuses of a prestigious house, pride igniting the air. A night gust whipped Hou Gong's hair and robes dramatically...
Ah-CHOO!
The sneeze ruined the moment. Hou Gong staggered.
"Young Master, stop!" Songhwa pleaded. "Second Young Master isn't just a scholar—"
"Stand down." Hou Gong barked toward the shadows: "Guards lurking on my right—interfere, and you'll regret—"
"Left side, Young Master," Songhwa whispered.
He jerked toward the left. "Regardless—stay out!"
Beom-yun gaped. "You've lost it. Fine! Land one hit with that stick, and I'll call you 'Brother.' But first—I'll smash your face to pulp!"
One beat later—
Whack! Thud! Crack!
The stick rained blows. Beom-yun rolled shrieking across the ground, clutching his head.
"Young Master, you'll kill him!" Songhwa hopped anxiously.
"Release me! This brat dies tonight!"
Smack! Crack! Thwack!
"Brother! Mercy! I yield!" Beom-yun finally howled.
Hou Gong paused. "You dare disrespect me?!"
"I know! I know who you are!"
"Who?!"
"You—you're the Greatest Under Heaven!"
Hou Gong laughed coldly. "Delusional. More strikes will cure you."
Post-beating, a bruised Beom-yun knelt obediently.
"Who am I?"
"My elder brother. The family's First Young Master."
"Your plans?"
"I'll reform."
"Alcohol?"
"Quit."
"Difficult."
"I'll manage. Trust me."
"Starting today?"
"Yes, Brother."
The spectacle drew every resident—family head, physicians, scholars, maids—all rubbing their eyes in disbelief. The suicidal First Young Master now disciplining his brother? Unthinkable.
"Good. Assume the position."
"Eh?"
"Prone. Seven strikes to remember."
Swish—CRACK!
The rod struck Beom-yun's rear.
"GYAAAAAAAAAH!"
His scream echoed through Cheonhwaseogo. The crowd stood speechless.
This night, the heir who once craved death now commanded life.
Tears welled in the family head's eyes.
