A Disaster-Level Assassin Has Been Freed Chapter 33 : Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Godok-Style Training thod (3)

When the training first began, the 100 participants all continued the movents with the sa breath, the sa speed.

What if, in that situation, soone mistakenly perford a different movent?

It goes without saying, but it would be clearly noticeable.

Identifying and pointing this out is sothing anyone could do.

‘But as ti passes, the situation changes completely.’

This was because each individual's physical stamina level and degree of ntal fortitude varied greatly.

While soone, thanks to stronger stamina than others, was performing the movents at the initial speed, another person, due to weaker stamina, might be awkwardly struggling through movents two or three stages behind.

‘It can’t be helped. Not everyone has good stamina like Eddy or Pale. There are cases like Glen, and also frail middle-aged n who are gangsters in na only, soaked in alcohol…….’

That's right.

This place wasn't an army where everyone moved in perfect unison, but a collection of different individuals.

As a result, even after a short ti, everyone was performing different movents, and picking out individual mistakes amidst that chaos was close to impossible.

However.

‘It’s possible.’

Harang could do it.

It was thanks to his five senses, sharpened like blades due to Heightened Senses.

Through this, he was able to check and point out the completeness of the movents perford individually by over 100 gangsters, a task requiring imnse concentration comparable to identifying and analyzing each individually swaying willow tree in a forest.

‘Ugh.’

Therefore, initially, even soone like Harang couldn't help but feel pain akin to his head overheating and his eyeballs burning.

But, while he might not have started it in the first place, once he began, it was his nature to do his best.

Because of that, despite the strain on his brain and sensory organs, Harang continuously maintained his focus and concentrated his senses so that everyone could receive instruction fairly.

Then, at so point.

‘I can see.’

He suddenly felt his field of vision expand.

He felt the amount of information he received increase like a flood.

As he struggled desperately to process and analyze this in the desired direction, his cognitive abilities also rose sharply.

It turned out that he himself had achieved far greater progress than the gangsters.

‘I didn’t know. That there would be things to learn even while teaching soone…….’

Harang thought with a smile.

He felt good.

It wasn't simply joy stemming from his own level having risen.

Rather, the new experiences encountered out in the world, things he could never have gone through while confined within the village, the fact that each one was giving him new insights, was incredibly fascinating and fun.

‘It really is like that. Like the Acting Lowly learned from the old man. Like the thod of grasping others' temperants and natures learned during the beggar life and applying it to combat. Like this ti too…….’

It was fun.

All the experiences accumulated outside the village were unbearably fun.

Harang, left alone in the vacant lot, once again recalled his mories of Marzen, ruminating on them with a smile full of enjoynt.

“Perhaps, is it possible to combine the things I’ve learned?”

Musing alone like that, he muttered to himself as if he had gained so realization.

Actually, it wasn't anything particularly grand.

It was the thought that when teaching the gangsters, applying the 'thod of grasping others' emotions' learned during his beggar life would allow him to better pick out those who pretended to be struggling on purpose, those who collapsed pretending to be exhausted because their stamina ran out.

‘There must be a clear difference in the expressions, gazes, and actions between soone who truly cannot continue the movent anymore and soone who pretends to, despite having energy left. If I grasp each emotional state using the observational skills cultivated during my beggar life, it should be possible to distinguish who is genuinely struggling and who is faking it.’

In summary, he had essentially found a more precise thod to pick out slackers.

Perhaps because of that realization?

From the 3rd group training session onwards, the perceived difficulty felt by the gangsters increased even further.

“Third row, right side! Your leg angle isn’t good! Are you deliberately slacking off?”

“Heok, heok! Yes, sir!”

It wasn't just finding and pointing out, like a ghost, those who were doing things half-heartedly because their strength waned.

“Person in the center of the back row! I know you can do more!”

“Heok, keuheup, heok…… No more, I can’t……”

Step, step.

“If you don’t want to move even to the point of deceiving yourself, you can quit right here.”

“……!”

He showed an incredible knack for thoroughly picking out even the genius actors who looked to anyone like they were on the verge of collapse.

What was more surprising was that he didn’t show such behavior towards those who had truly poured out all their strength and lacked the energy to even lift a finger.

Typical examples were Glen, Iron Fist Kennedy, and Bloody Fist Thomas.

To such individuals, Harang only offered words of encouragent for their hard work or corrected their posture, never forcing them into unreasonable, excessive training.

‘How on earth does he know?’

‘Is he looking into our minds or sothing? He finds us like a ghost every ti we try to slack off!’

How on earth was that possible?

How could his already good eyes beco even more precise and sharp as ti went by?

The gangsters couldn't help but wonder, but they hadn't the slightest inkling that Harang was honing his own skills while teaching them.

Just like discerning feints and real moves in combat, he identified the actors among the gangsters, thereby sharpening the discernnt needed for battle.

‘Learning while teaching. And the progress is visibly fast!’

How could he not be happy!

As a result, Harang’s critiques beca sharp to the point of near perfection, and no gangster could deceive him any longer.

Consequently, all 100 gangsters participating in the training had no choice but to expend their stamina to the absolute limit, and after 2 hours, everyone ended up collapsed on the vacant lot, groaning.

Truly a hellish landscape!

However, for Harang, it was an extrely satisfying sight.

“Today, the density of the training was high, which is good. Let’s keep it at this level from now on. About…… three months. If we continue basic physical training for about three months, I think it should be fine to move on to the next stage.”

“…….”

“…….”

After that day, the number of gangsters participating in the training drastically decreased.

On the day of the 4th training session, looking at the strapping n, numbering only about 30, Harang smacked his lips with a 'Tsk'.

‘A pity. I felt like my training results improved more when there were more people.’

It couldn't be helped.

There was a huge difference between perceiving and analyzing 200 gangsters one by one and taking in only 30, not even 1/6th of that number.

However, Harang soon adopted an expression indicating it was fine.

Because he had found another thod.

‘If the number of people has decreased, then I just need to observe the remaining ones more closely.’

Adding one more thing to that, he thought there might be no need to rely solely on sight.

Perhaps grasping people's voices, breathing, the sound of their footfalls through hearing.

Or perhaps indirectly perceiving movent by feeling the texture of the wind through touch.

Nodding his head, he said with a smile.

“Well now, since the number of people has decreased, I can watch you more closely. Shall we work hard again today?”

“…….”

“…….”

At his bright and cheerful appearance, most of the gangsters who had barely mustered the courage to co out regretted their choice.

* * *

Three months had passed since the group training, initiated at the request of Eddy and Pale, began.

During that ti, the number of gangsters continuously decreased, until now, only five remained participating in the training.

Eddy, the boss of the Eddy Family.

Pale, his right-hand man and Underboss.

The Iron Fist and Bloody Fist brothers, not smart but with unmatched grit.

Finally, the fifth protagonist was Glen, a figure no one had expected.

‘I didn’t expect Glen to follow through to the end, though.’

Of course, Glen’s stamina still lagged significantly behind the other four.

Given his boyish fra and lack of proper nutrition during his beggar life, it was unavoidable that his progress was slower than the others.

In fact, just participating in training every day and moving his body until fainting was already remarkable.

It ant his ntal strength was second to none compared to the other four.

Compared to him, all the other gangsters had dropped out midway.

This too was unavoidable.

What kind of existence is a gangster?

A loafer who knows how to throw a punch.

Individuals who show imnse passion for sothing from the start and strive their best towards a goal wouldn't fall onto the path of a gangster.

They would rather have knocked on the doors of a swordsmanship school or chosen the path of a rcenary.

‘Probably right about now…… most of them are likely drowning themselves in alcohol, aren’t they?’

Of course, I don’t think that’s wrong.

Everyone has their own way of living.

However, comparing the sparkling eyes the gangsters showed on that first day when told they'd be taught how to beco stronger, with their eyes now…… it was an unavoidable fact that a slight sense of regret remained.

“Still, I’ve achieved my own results.”

That’s right.

Just as the five gangsters who followed the training to the end had laid the foundation to beco stronger, Harang too had made considerable achievents.

Currently, his senses had beco sharp as a razor, and his vision as wide as an eagle’s.

Processing the information pouring in several tis more than before, piece by piece, and responding accordingly, the flow of his thoughts had also beco incredibly fast.

Whether the number of people being taught was large or small wasn't important.

If the number of trees making up the forest decreased, he just needed to focus more on each individual tree.

It was a matter of observing and grasping every single leaf composing the tree, down to every single vein on the leaf.

Thanks to this, Harang was now in a state where he had broken through a period of stagnation and achieved noticeable growth.

If he had remained only in the village, he would likely never have beco stronger at such a rapid pace.

‘So, I’d like to treat them to a al or sothing to express this gratitude…….’

Harang looked around the vacant lot.

It was empty.

None of them—Eddy, Pale, the Fist brothers, or Glen—who never missed a training day even if their expressions soured, had shown up.

What could have happened?

The thought that they had suddenly lost their will and given up on training didn’t occur to him.

Their ntal strength was already beyond the level of gangsters.

While not comparable to the 28 Godok peers who escaped with him, they had reached a level that absolutely didn't fall behind his peers ranked around 200th.

That also ant they possessed minds firm enough to be counted among the few strongest he had seen in the outside world.

Sure enough, after waiting a little longer, one person appeared.

It was Glen.

The boy, who had run so fast he was out of breath, tried to say sothing as soon as he t Harang, but ended up coughing, gagging.

“Ha, Harang, Brother, cough, kuheok! Haa, Harang, haa, Brother!”

“Calm down, rest a bit before you speak. And I told you to call Brother, why keep calling Brother.”

Harang cald the boy down.

His social intelligence having significantly improved compared to before, he knew well enough not to rush him at tis like this.

After a short ti passed like that.

Hearing the story that ca from Glen’s mouth, Harang frowned and asked back.

“Portville Sword Family?”

“……Yes. That’s right.”

Portville Sword Family.

A family ranked within the top two in the Comrcial City Marzen, their manor was in the Inner District, so encounters were infrequent.

Of course, just because they were Portville swordsn didn't an they only operated in the Inner District; they occasionally ca out to the Outer District and drank, but this was the first ti a dispute had occurred with the side managed by the Eddy Family.

And in that process.

“Razor Gideon Brother was badly injured…….”

Of course, a mber getting injured wasn't such a strange occurrence.

Most of those who picked fights with rchants were neighborhood delinquents or drunkards, but sotis fights broke out with skilled individuals like Silver Plate rcenaries.

In such cases, real experts like Eddy and Pale would be dispatched, and against opponents difficult to defeat, like the Portville Sword Family, they would sotis handle matters with the backing of the guards, i.e., public authority.

“The guards move at the request of gangsters?”

“I also find it a bit strange, but considering how corrupt those fellows are, I think it’s possible. Ah, but that’s not what’s important……”

Glen continued speaking.

Anyway, justice was on the side of the gangsters (?).

It was a clear fact that the Portville Sword Family had erred first, and the family also didn't particularly want to escalate matters with local residents.

Therefore, the incident concluded with the direct family mber who caused the disturbance receiving a separate reprimand within the family.

That's right. It really wasn't a big deal.

If not for the single remark casually tossed out by the Portville swordsman who caused the commotion towards the gangsters, it was insignificant enough that today probably would have started similarly.

“Worthless trash-like fellows who lack the skill or capability to receive protection fees……”

“…….”

Harang repeated the exact words the Portville swordsman had said, and Glen looked at him with a frustrated expression.

Of course, he hadn't thought that Harang, the de facto boss of the Eddy Family, could actually do anything.

He had only brought it up because he felt Harang should know the reason why Eddy and the others hadn't co to training—that they had drunk all night due to the miserable reality of being unable to do anything despite the insult.

He thought that no matter how capable Harang was, he wouldn't pick a fight with a noble swordsmanship family.

Of course, that was Glen’s misconception.

“It’s fine.”

“Pardon? What is……”

“I needed so suitable motivation for the next training session, and this seems just right.”

“Wh-what does that……”

Paat.

Before the words even finished.

Watching Harang suddenly vanish, Glen wore a bewildered expression.