Chapter 216: Let's Hold a Spar

The tensile strength per unit area of steel, even considering the primitive forging processes of the Central Plains, ranged from about twenty to sixty jin. (12 kg to 36 kg, 26.4 lbs to 79.2 lbs)

However, steel approaching sixty jin in tensile strength was something even master blacksmiths rarely produced, and even then, they often didn't know how it happened, simply thanking heavenly fortune.

Generally, good quality steel possessed a strength of around forty jin(24 kg, 52.8 lbs). Calculating backward from the unit area of the steel restraints fastened around a single joint of Qing's finger, it would require approximately ninety jin (54 kg, 119 lbs) of force to break.

However, the device was designed to bend joints backward, the wrong way, and such restraints were clamped above and below every single joint.

On her arms alone, they were attached to each finger joint, clamped over the back of her hand and palm, one above the wrist, one in the middle of the forearm, below and above the elbow, the middle of the upper arm, and finally, wrapped around her shoulder just below the joint and circling it like backpack straps.

Qing had lifted an iron ball weighing two hundred and fifty jin (150 kg, 330 lbs) with one hand without any rebound momentum. While that was monstrous strength beyond human capability, it was still woefully insufficient to break these restraints.

Moreover, her body was pressed so tightly against the apparatus that her bulging flesh ached from the pressure, preventing her from even assuming a posture to exert her full strength.

Ah. Brute force won’t work.

Qing deeply regretted her carelessness.

This was the direct result of complacently allowing herself to be strapped in, thinking she could just break free if things went south.

It was a moment of realization: some things were impossible with strength alone, and she needed to be more careful in the future.

Though, are there really other full-body steel restraints like this anywhere else in the Central Plains?

Nevertheless, the ominous creaking and screeching sounds coming from the device were alarming.

Even setting aside the full-body shackles, the mechanism itself, precisely engineered to bend limbs outward, was under immense strain.

At this rate, she might end up like some man of steel from her homeland, a monster encased in iron restraints.

Cheon Yuhak, startled, stopped Qing.

“Aigo, child. I was just teasing you a little. What kind of wench possesses the strength to slap Xiang Yu silly and knock all his teeth out?”

At Cheon Yuhak’s words, Qing stopped struggling and blinked.

Cheon Yuhak removed Qing’s gag again, grimacing with disgust as he flicked away the thick, stringy saliva that had pooled from her foaming and thrashing.

“Uh, doesn’t it hurt?” Qing asked.

“It hurts. Truly, enough to kill me. I’ve passed out and woken up multiple times during it.”

“Hmm. Do we really have to do this?”

“Haaah. Listen here,” Cheon Yuhak said. “The Divine Thief lineage ain’t exactly some martial arts sect where we spend all day training, laughing ‘haha, hoho’ on the path to perfection, now is it?”

Single succession sounded fancy, but in reality, it meant they were an endangered species constantly facing the crisis of their line being severed.

Normal martial sects accept numerous talented disciples. As they achieve mastery, they refine existing techniques, create new ones (or steal them), and gradually elevate the sect’s overall martial standard.

But what about single succession?

If a proper successor isn't found, far from progressing, the lineage is doomed to continuous decline.

“Besides, we Divine Thieves moonlight as guardians of world peace. We have our day jobs, you know? There’s hardly enough time to keep the peace, let alone spare any for advancing our martial arts.”

“So?” Qing prompted.

“So, our training methods are like this. Shortcuts, you could call them. Using knives instead of hands, absorbing molten gold medicine baths to bend joints, and besides the Purgatory Bath, there’s another hellish brew for the Awakening Divine Art. I’m even assembling special shoes for your Phantom Step training.”

The proper path inherently takes time.

But lacking time, they had to take shortcuts. To tread a benevolent path quickly, one must endure the pain themselves.

To tread an evil path quickly, conversely, others endure the pain. That’s what they call Demonic Arts or wicked crafts.

“...But that much pain is a bit much,” Qing murmured.

“Really now? From what I saw, you looked pretty damn eager to get stronger fast. Am I wrong?”

“Well, that’s true, but.”

Indeed, wasn’t Qing’s recent frantic rushing about born from impatience?

From the feeling that at any moment—whether it was the nth crisis, a twist of fate, or the cycle of the game world—she would be caught in some inevitable development.

“Besides, you think you’re the only one hurting?” Cheon Yuhak demanded. “Do you know how hard this is? You think just applying force willy-nilly until you’re crying and sniveling is all there is to it?”

He’d jokingly called it the inheritance of hatred.

But in truth, it was a delicate process requiring precise senses to bend the joints, tendons, and muscles to their absolute limit by an exact measure.

Too little force, and it would just hurt with minimal effect. Too much force, and it wouldn't be training but injury, requiring a long recovery.

It was a task demanding the utmost concentration and dedication, leveraging the transcendent senses of the Divine Thief.

“I’m already drained from performing Qi Guidance for you, and here you are complaining like a spoiled brat. If you don’t want to do it, just say so. That whole three-gwan gold medicine bath was a waste, then. Tsk, tsk.”

Cheon Yuhak, clearly offended, grumbled as he began to unfasten the restraints with loud clanks.

Qing watched him with an apologetic expression, gauging his mood.

“Um, I’m sorry. I’m just… really scared of pain…”

“Is there anyone who isn’t scared of pain?” Cheon Yuhak retorted. “Others endure pain steadily for twenty years while practicing external arts. You’re trying to condense that into just over a year, so of course, the pain comes all at once. If you really can’t handle it, you can just apply medicine and stretch your joints for twenty years or so. What else can be done?”

“No! Then I’ll do it the fast way,” Qing insisted.

“Hmph. You think it’s all about you going fast? It’s easier for me to just teach you cultivation breathing and go play. What a joy it must be for a master to hear his disciple screaming bloody murder. Ain’t it?”

Qing’s expression became even more apologetic.

“Th-that is, I’m sorry…”

“Enough. The medicinal properties are good for the body anyway. The swelling will go down in about a week. Until then, you should practice your lightness skill.”

“Hehe, Master. Your disciple spoke without knowing. Now that I understand you’re doing this all for me, please proceed as you originally intended, okay?”

“Only flashes those smiling eyes when it suits her. Quite the convenient aegyo, isn’t it? Tsk, tsk.”

Cheon Yuhak grumbled but started refastening the shackles with metallic clanks.

Seeing this, Qing felt relieved.

And inwardly, Cheon Yuhak smirked.

Honestly. How can she be so naive?

The Divine Thief was the greatest thief under heaven, and thieves were naturally adept at swindling others.

“Alright. Open up, ah.”

“Ah.”

The gag was placed back in Qing’s mouth.

Cheon Yuhak put on a contrived serious expression.

“Keep your eyes shut tight, put force into it. Of course, you don’t have to if it’s uncomfortable, but if you don’t, the blood vessels in your eyes might burst, and you’ll be crying bloody tears.”

At that, Qing squeezed her eyes shut.

Seriously, even when you explain, do you have to say such terrifying things? Of course, I’m scar—AAAAHH!!

“Ughb!!!! Ubbbbbuu!!!!!!”

A scream tore out involuntarily as her elbow was suddenly forced to bend outward.

It was truly a pain unlike any other she had ever experienced.

My arm, arm! My arm’s breaking! My arm!

Indeed, under the pressure forcing it outward, she eventually heard a snap from within her body, as if something had torn—

At that moment, the force vanished as if by magic.

Qing, who had unknowingly lifted her head high, let it drop limply onto the headrest.

Three shichen (6 hours) later.

Qing’s body retained its original shape, only her waist, arms, and legs looked significantly thinner. The rest of her proportions were already well above the average for the Central Plains—no, above the average for any race under heaven.

Qing was a complete mess.

Her hair was wildly disheveled, her eyes were glazed and unfocused, the area around them swollen and streaked with tear tracks. Snot dripped continuously from her nose, occasionally forming bubbles.

As soon as the gag was removed, a puddle of watery saliva dripped out. Even her usually moist lips were dry and cracked, the skin peeling white.

“Y-you said one shichen… hic.”

Qing sobbed, her voice thick with resentment.

Cheon Yuhak replied, looking exhausted.

“Didn’t you gulp down the entire Purgatory Bath’s potency? With that much medicinal energy left in your body, how could I stop midway? Still, you got three sessions done at once, so it’s actually better this way. Aigo. I can barely stand anymore.”

Saying so, Cheon Yuhak collapsed onto the floor of the bath area.

Indeed, Cheon Yuhak’s own clothes were soaked through with sweat, making him look like he’d just emerged from water.

“Normally, it’s once every five days for ten months, so about sixty sessions would do it. But since you absorbed all the medicine like that, doing it three times as intensely means twenty sessions. Even accounting for longer rests, we should finish the refinement stage of Lithe Grace Refinement in half a year.”

“Nineteen more times of this…?” Qing whispered in horror.

“You choose. Reduce the medicinal potency and do it for one shichen sixty times—well, fifty-seven now. Or do it like this for three shichen, nineteen more times.”

“Then can we increase the medicine more and do it ten times…”

“We’ve pushed all the joints that can be pushed. Increasing the medicine won’t help; you’ll just have to rest anyway. Normally, we work on the extremities, lower body, then upper body in sequence. But at triple intensity, we hit everything at once.”

“Stop saying ‘pushed’…” Qing retorted weakly.

If it hadn’t been for the Great Tranquil Zen Art, things could have gone disastrously wrong. Each time the urge to kill surged from the pain, the supreme divine art of Buddhism soothed her, allowing her to barely cling to her sanity.

She could only endure it because, after the first shichen, Cheon Yuhak himself had visibly aged, clearly exhausted.

Seeing the tormentor himself struggling and tired, and knowing it was supposedly all for her sake, she couldn’t bring herself to get angry.

With no one specific to blame for the indescribable agony, she simply felt wronged and hurt, sobbing her heart out.

She also remembered Cheon Yuhak mentioning that even he couldn’t help but cry during his own training, which made her feel there was no need to hold back her tears.

Thinking back on it, Qing felt horrified and murmured words she had heard previously from Zhuge Ihyeon.

“Even Fengen Zhuogu wouldn’t hurt this much…”

“What are you saying? What does Fengen Zhuogu mean?” Cheon Yuhak asked.

“Isn’t it a torture method where they flay your muscles and squeeze your bones…? Said to be the most horrific and painful thing in the world…”

“And what did you just go through?”

“Having muscles stretched and torn, and joints bent outwards. Ah… Dammit…”

So, what I just endured was that supposedly most horrific and painful torture method in the world.

Tears streamed down Qing’s face again.

Even crying required energy, and being completely drained, she could only manage silent tears that flowed freely.

“Aigo. I’m really gonna die. Concentrating for three shichen straight after Qi Guidance this morning… Aigo, aigoo…”

Cheon Yuhak, too, was completely discharged. His groans soon turned into loud, rattling snores.

The volume of one’s snores is often proportional to their fatigue, and the way his echoed through the bath chamber made it clear he was deeply asleep.

“Master…? If you’re going to sleep, could you undo these first…”

Qing tried to call out louder, but her voice was so hoarse it barely registered, completely swallowed by the sound of his snoring.

“Ah…”

Giving up, Qing let her head droop again.

(T/N This chapter was a struggle — the unit conversions were a pain. Why can't everyone just use metric? 😔

• 1 jin ≈ 0.6 kg
• 1 jin ≈ 1.32 lbs
• 1 shichen = 2 hours)