Episode 2. Desertion is punishable by death.

by God of Music · 2026-08-31

That night, Mu-hyeon couldn't sleep deeply for a single moment.

When he closed his eyes, Jin-gon's words came to mind.

Run away. Just don't come out starting tomorrow.

Those words were right. More than right, they were close to the only path to survival. If he stayed trapped in Hwa-san, repeating chores and training, he might truly lose his life. Every time he recalled Wang Cheol-san's gaze, that way of speaking that counted people as mere numbers rather than individuals, a chill ran down his spine.

But he couldn't leave.

He had never left the vicinity of Shaanxi and Hwa-san his entire life. All he had seen and grown up with since childhood were red dirt roads, barren fields, and villages at the foot of the mountains. He didn't know where to go, or what to do to make a living in an unfamiliar land. Others might have readily left since they had nothing, but Mu-hyeon was not such a person. A part of his heart screamed at him to run away immediately, but his body ultimately couldn't deviate from the familiar path.

What would his grandmother have said if she were alive?

Suddenly, thinking such thoughts, I buried my face in the blanket. You were the kind of person who would first ensure a spoonful of porridge for your grandchild, even if it meant you went hungry. After that person closed their eyes last year, all that remained for Mu-hyeon was Hwa-san's meals and Hwa-san's bed.

Tossing and turning like that, dawn broke.

He got up with bloodshot eyes. His body felt like a thousand pounds. His mouth was parched. Even after washing, his swollen face didn't subside. With heavy steps, like a prisoner walking to the execution ground, he set off for work.

When they arrived at the workplace, Jin-gon glanced back. The moment he saw Mu-hyeon's swollen face and hollow eyes, he seemed to understand everything. A fleeting smile, tinged with sorrow and a hint of resignation, crossed his face. But he said nothing. Mu-hyeon also did not open his mouth. They knew without speaking. That they hadn't been able to escape, and that it was too late now.

The atmosphere at Mount Hwa had completely changed overnight.

The guest hall was entirely closed. Disciples in groups wielded swords and ran drills in every courtyard, and shouts and commands echoed ceaselessly from all directions. The expectation that they would catch a break in the morning since the guest hall was closed was a complete misunderstanding. As more people gathered, the chores actually increased. Carrying water, moving weapons, organizing items for training, and running around following instructions from various places left no time to straighten their backs. Their bodies had not recovered from yesterday's training. There wasn't a single place that didn't ache, from their arms and shoulders to their thighs and calves. Just gripping their hands made their muscles scream.

Still, he couldn't say he was tired. If he was slow even once, the supervisors would glare, and if he answered incorrectly, curses would pour out. He gritted his teeth and moved. Just get through today safely. That was his only thought.

It was when the morning work ended, and he was called to the empty lot without a moment to catch his breath.

He instinctively looked around and felt something was off.

There were fewer people.

Thinking it was just my imagination, I counted again. It wasn't. Barely half of the people who had filled that empty lot yesterday remained. I had heard rumors that a few of the older ones couldn't endure yesterday's training and were bedridden. Even accounting for that number, it was excessively few.

That many had already fled.

The faces that had cursed together, fallen together, and groaned together until yesterday were gone. I couldn't tell if they had escaped safely or if they had been caught somewhere.

When the murmuring spread like wind, it wasn't Wang Cheol-san who stepped forward.

It was a tall, thin man. His long face had the corners of his mouth turned up in a sneer, and his eyes were like a hunter's. In his hand was a long pole. He tapped the dirt ground with the end of the pole and spoke.

"Instructor Wang has returned to training the main sect disciples starting today. I will be in charge of you now. I am Joo Myeong-su, the Outer Hall Drill Instructor."

Drill Instructor. Below the Instructor, but above people like Mu-hyeon, it was a position that held the power of life and death.

Joo Myeong-su slowly walked to the front of the line. Only the regular sound of straw sandals treading on the dirt floor could be heard.

"Many of you are whispering about the reduced number of people."

The murmuring quickly subsided.

"There are those who ran away. Yes, that can happen. It's common for little bugs to get scared and crawl into their holes."

He stopped and looked around at the assembly.

"But don't be mistaken. If you thought you could escape from Mount Hwa and survive, that's a big miscalculation."

Tense breaths spread through the air.

"As of yesterday, you were incorporated into Mount Hwa's military division. You are no longer odd-jobbers or day laborers. From now on, you are soldiers mobilized for war."

The complexions of several people visibly hardened. Joo Myeong-soo let out a cold sneer, as if amused by their reaction.

"Do you know what it's called when a soldier deserts their ranks during wartime?"

No one could answer.

"Desertion."

His voice was low but clear.

"And the crime of desertion during wartime is punishable by death. This is not a rule unique to Mount Hwa. It is a wartime military law that applies equally to all sects, families, martial arts schools, and escort agencies belonging to the Murim Alliance."

The air instantly grew heavy. This was no longer a threat on the level of "you'll be beaten if you run away."

"Lest any of you think you can survive by just getting off this mountain, I'll tell you in advance. Even if you escape this mountain tonight, it's not over. The moment the Murim Alliance's proclamation is issued, you will be recorded as deserters."

He paused for a moment, then added with a sneer.

"A deserter cannot hide in any village inn, cannot receive wages from any merchant guild, and will not be treated as a person in the territory of any sect. To live outside the eyes of the Murim Alliance means to wander in hiding with the entire Jianghu as your enemy."

The sound of someone swallowing dryly was unusually loud.

"Do you think you can survive by hiding in the mountains? Do you think it's over if you conceal your name and wander? The eyes and ears of the Murim Alliance are spread across every path in the world. How far do you think wretches like you can run? In the end, you'll either starve to death or be caught and have your heads cut off according to military law."

The corners of his mouth curled up chillingly.

"The ones who ran away yesterday will be chased down and brought back, no matter what. It doesn't matter if they're dragged back alive or half-dead. I will make sure you all witness their end. It will be too late to regret it then."

Silence.

It was a silence so profound that not even the sound of swallowing could be heard. That brief silence was even more terrifying.

"So engrave this clearly in your minds. From now on, there is no escape for you. Your only choices are to endure here until you die, or to take up a sword and die outside. If you want to survive, endure. If you collapse, you will be abandoned, and if you run away, you will be caught and beaten to death. That is all."

With those words, the training began.

Before training, the standard swords from their waists were collected. Instead, they were each given a wooden sword, worn smooth from use.

"You will only receive bladed weapons again on the battlefield. Until then, if they are in your hands, you'll only end up cutting your own feet."

No one argued with Ju Myeong-su's words. The wooden swords were much lighter than real swords, but that lightness was rather sorrowful.

That day's training was harsher than the day before.

They repeatedly squatted and stood up while maintaining a basic stance, and performed hundreds of thrusting motions with the wooden swords. If their posture faltered, curses flew, and if their movements slowed, the long pole struck their thighs or backs. The sun beat down fiercely, and sweat ran into their eyes. The inside of their throats burned with every breath.

People began to collapse one by one.

Someone lost strength in their arms and dropped their wooden sword, and someone else's legs cramped, causing them to collapse. Some vomited outright, and others turned pale and lost consciousness. The open space was filled with screams and gasping breaths.

Amidst all this, Muhyeon stubbornly endured.

It wasn't that it wasn't difficult. His arms trembled as if they no longer belonged to him, and his legs felt heavy as if rooted to the ground. Yet, he didn't collapse. He gritted his teeth and continued the movements one more time, then one more time. It wasn't because someone told him to. A vague fear that if he stopped here, it would truly be the end, was driving his body.

When a break was given, Jin-gon approached, panting.

"How are you still standing, man?"

When he raised his head, his lips were parched, and his face was covered in sweat and dust.

"You're holding up too, brother."

"I'm used to hard labor, so that's one thing, but you..."

Jin-gon had a truly bewildered expression. Next to them, several people lay groaning on the ground. Compared to that sight, Mu-hyeon still being on his feet might have seemed strange.

Suddenly, a similar thought crossed his mind.

Could he possibly have a talent for martial arts?

Even though it was his first time training, he didn't fall out weakly like others. His movements might have been messy, but his body didn't seem entirely unable to follow. A small, absurd hope, that perhaps he too had something, briefly sprouted in his chest.

The hope didn't last long.

Shortly after the training resumed, Ju Myeong-su strode over. He looked at Mu-hyeon's posture and frowned.

"Is this a stance?"

He tried to correct it, but it was too late. A kick struck his calf, and Mu-hyeon stumbled, bending his knee.

"Your waist is dead, your shoulders are tense, your wrist is crooked, and your thrust is slow. Were you proud of yourself for holding a sword in such a state?"

The small hope that had just bloomed instantly extinguished.

He closed his mouth and corrected his posture again. He was resentful, but he couldn't refute it. Even he thought his movements were terrible. He wasn't enduring because he was better than others. Perhaps he was just stubbornly holding on because he didn't know how to give up.

When the training ended, most of those who remained were practically corpses.

The sun was slowly setting, casting long shadows over the empty lot. People sat down silently or staggered, leaning against the wall. Some had palms scraped and bleeding, others clutched their calves, gritting their teeth. On every face, there was a mix of exhaustion, fear, and the bleakness of an unseen future.

Mu-hyeon sat down in a corner of the empty lot with Jin-gon, drinking water. A few men from the same group gathered one by one. They were too drained to even go home.

The first to speak was a middle-aged man with a bruise on his left cheek.

"Someone's going to die like this."

No one laughed. It was such an obvious statement that they didn't even have the energy to respond.

"The guys who skipped today, they really ran away, didn't they?"

"They must have."

"What if they get caught?"

"If they don't get caught, they live. If they get caught, they die."

Self-pity was evident in every word. Another man shook his head.

"Until yesterday, I thought it would get better if I endured a few more days. But it's only getting worse day by day."

"If only we knew what they're raising us for."

"Why would they do this for anything good? They just treat people like us as consumables."

Silence fell. Words of survival, or that things would get better someday, sounded hollow here.

One man glanced at Mu-hyeon and spoke.

"Still, you've held up quite well."

"Rather than holding up, I just don't have time to collapse."

"That's impressive. I felt dizzy twice today."

Jin-gon gave a bitter smile.

"That friend is inherently stubborn. For better or worse."

Mu-hyeon said nothing. He himself didn't know if "stubborn" was a compliment or meant he was frustrating. One thing was clear: he didn't even know if that stubbornness was saving him now or pushing him into a deeper abyss.

And several weeks passed.

When he was first dragged here, each day felt like endless torment, but the human body, strangely enough, quickly adapted. When he opened his eyes in the morning, his whole body ached, and his arms, shoulders, and thighs always carried a dull pain, but even that pain became part of daily life as time passed. At first, he couldn't even properly grip a wooden sword with his blistered hands, but now he managed to endure even when he was breathless. Hard labor, afternoon training, curses, beatings, and threats continued, but Mu-hyeon was gradually learning how to withstand them.

He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

What was truly frightening was precisely that. Was what he should truly fear Joo Myeong-su's staff, Hwa-san's oppression, or himself gradually becoming numb to this kind of life?

That day, too, everything ended around sunset.

Soaked in sweat and dust, I left the mountain gate with Jin-gon. My body was heavy, but the moment we descended to the market outside Mount Hwa, I always felt a little relief. Merchants hawking their wares at the top of their lungs, children running around, and the scent of people emanating from inns and teahouses. It was a different world from inside Mount Hwa.

But that day was different.

It was unusually noisy, almost strangely so.

Normally, the market would have been bustling with the shouts of merchants, the sound of carts, and the laughter of customers. Now, a different sound was mixed in.

Screams. Startled shouts. The sound of footsteps scattering in a rush.

And the chilling clang of metal striking metal.

Jin-gon stopped walking.

"That sound."

Mu-hyeon also looked up.

In the middle of the market, within a circle where people had retreated, some people were fighting.