Book 2 Chapter 10

Cilantro Becomes a Child's Disciple

"Disciple!

"What is a disciple?

"That's the opposite of Master!

"That might be the right answer.

"A person who learns something under someone is called a disciple.

"A disciple is not complete without a master.

"There are disciples because there are masters.

A master must be great. An insignificant being can never be a master. You are no longer a student. You are fully qualified to be someone else's master. Everyone else recognizes this. You are strong. You ask, beg, and plead for someone to teach you some of the secrets of that strength, to be your teacher, to give you a piece of the action. But you've turned them all down. You've been bothered.

Of course, he himself had once been a disciple. Of course he had been a student, so of course there was a master for him to be a student. The master was strong. You liked that strength, so you respected it. And he learned, so he learned. He wanted his master's strength; he wanted to be like him, so he learned.

A master is an absolute for a student.

The Master gets up. The disciple scoops up the water.

Master goes to market. The apprentice cooks.

Master wants a drink.

The disciple runs down the mountain to get some alcohol.

The master's room is messy. The disciple cleans it.

The master calls. The disciple runs.

The master does it. The disciple does.

The master does it. The disciple does.

Do, do, do, do whatever.

Master told me to. The disciple must do it. ought to do.

A man has a dream. He had a master. A master of his own martial arts. His own dream, his own longing. A master who was endlessly strong. No one could surpass his position and place. He was strong. He was still far, far away from his master.

He had a friend who was also an alumnus. He's not a friend anymore. Let's call him him or him, that's much better. Don't even think about that guy anymore. He's an asshole.

The Master was absolute. Master was great. I was half the master. The other half of the Master was him. Half is not enough. It is not complete. I can't be perfect. But I can't help it. Me and him could not be more than that.

"Taekwondo Blue Crimson Spirit Ice Salting Technique!

The name of a master's highest and most extreme divinity. It was the extreme righteousness of the extreme righteousness of the martial arts. The red flame burns everything, and the blue flame freezes everything. They are both yin and yang energies. When the two merged into one, there was nothing to fear and nothing to stop them. But it was impossible to have both in one body. He could have them both in one body, but he and I couldn't have them both in one body. He had an unusual constitution, and we did not. He chose to take on the color red. The master gave him a Shinto red sword. His friend chose the blue sword. His master gave him the Divine Sword Blue Spirit.

So far, so good. Nothing was wrong, but I had a daughter. The master's daughter. I loved her. I loved her very much. But, then, I gave her to him. This is offensive. No, I can't stand it. I can't stand it. What good is that ice-cold bastard? I'm angry. So I fought. I fought and fought and fought. I couldn't win. But I have to. The loser gives up everything.

It's not even close, and she chooses him. I say the master made her choose, she says she chose. I'm angry. I keep getting angry. I can't stand it anymore. I tried to argue with my master, but he died. The master who never seemed to die, who seemed to be able to conquer even death, is dead. I left the room. I ran out. I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I ran. I wandered the River Lake, ruthlessly eliminating any obstacles that stood in my way. I will never go back. To…….

He looks at his mourning in his right hand. An unusual shindo, redder than the evening twilight. It was his alter ego, who had never failed him or disappointed his expectations. A sword that has since come to be known by another name, Crimson Flame, instead of his true name. He stares in disbelief. His own mourning sword, flaming red as blood!

There is a hand. It was definitely not his own hand, clutching his own reddened mourning. No one had ever dared to challenge him in this position. All of them were worthless, except for that hand floating there.

There was nothing rough about the hand that moved playfully in the distance. The hand moved swiftly toward the man, and without warning, the red-haired man wielded his mourning. And from his mourning, colorful, beautiful, and wild sparks rose, forming a wall around him, protecting him. The man was satisfied. He was convinced.

'Nothing can penetrate this wall of flame to reach me. Therefore, I am safe. Therefore, I am strong.'

But the man's confidence crumbled and scattered like a handful of dust in an instant. With almost unbelievable ease, the hand broke through the defensive wall of flame he had created and reached out to touch him. Suddenly, the pure white hand began to grow larger and larger. It doubled, it tripled, it grew larger and larger, until it could reach out and crush the man. The hand was so menacing, rendering all of his attacks useless. And finally, the hand closed in on him. He couldn't stop it. Darkness fell around him.

After a while, when the trance-like man regained consciousness and became aware of his surroundings, he realized that he was standing on a large, white palm. Like Goku on the Buddha's palm in Journey to the West……. And then, with the lightest of motions, the palm flipped upside down. The man flipped with it. The whole world is upside down, he thought.

With this one flip of the palm, the man realized that everything about him had been turned upside down and changed. When he was on the palm, he was strong. So strong, in fact, that people didn't even want to approach him. So powerful, in fact, that many had begged and pleaded with him to teach them a trick. He was strong, and he was recognized as such, and he was very pleased with the way he was treated and judged. No one in power would deny it. He was full of confidence and conceit.

Honor shone bright and clear, and fame rang across the land. It did. He was unflappable, but then his palm flipped. Suddenly he was insignificant. That's how he felt. In the world above his palm, he had been worthy to be a master, to teach others. But in the world below, he was not. He had become shabby, dwarfed, and shrunken. Now he was once again a disciple, a body that needed to serve a master. It was an enormous change.

He was up there just a moment ago, and now he was down there. Honor had lost its luster, and fame had plummeted to earth. It was shameful and unjust. The man could not tolerate such a reality, so he cried out.

"Ugh, I can't admit it, I can't admit it, I can't admit it, this is just a momentary bad dream, a momentary bad dream that will go away when I wake up.

He cried out, and the world began to vibrate, whether because of his cry of anger or not. Finally, the man realized that he was standing upside down in an upside down world. The world around him slowly disintegrated into pieces and began to fall. The man fell with it, and soon a world of complete nothingness swallowed him whole. The man had completely lost his existence.

Roll, roll, roll. Two eyes rolled relentlessly, each one focused on a single person, staring as if they were trying to see right through him.

"Why am I breaking out in a cold sweat?

My clothes were soaked and damp from all the sweating I had done.

The figure was slumped over and twitching incoherently, looking as if it had been pressed very tightly by a pair of scissors. Looking at the unusual-looking redhead who hadn't suffered any major internal injuries, but was still breaking out in a cold sweat and unable to get up, Bi Ryuyeon made an amused face.

"Wiggle!"

Suddenly, the object of his observation began to wriggle and move wildly. Like a bouncing ball on the floor, the object's eyes widened as it moved violently. Along with a strange scream…….

"Ouch!"

The Yeomdo felt very bad. It was bad, but it was dirty bad. It was bad enough that he had just woken up from a very nasty, horrible, scary scissor cut, but the sight of a strange face right in front of him, staring curiously at him like he was some kind of toy, hurt his mood terribly.

It took him a moment to recognize and acknowledge the hopeless fact that he had seen that face many times before, and that what had been done and accomplished with him was no dream. His mind was in considerable turmoil, and he needed time to think clearly.

Finally, Yeomdo recognized it, and immediately sank into deep despair.

'I would rather not have woken up……. Why did I wake up?'

But he had to admit that it was too late. This was a turning point in his life. In the worst possible way and direction for him……. On that day, he became Bi Ryuyeon's disciple. A martial arts master became a child's disciple. And so began their journey.