Hatred seemed to have surged out of the man. Moonjoong struck the bag with a bestial roar, the bag of rice was torn apart a little more with each strike from the hammer. After spitting out many horrific, nigh unspeakable words, he finally collapsed to the floor exhausted. Maru approached Moonjoong out of worry. Despite it still being winter, Moonjoong was sweating furiously.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

Moonjoong spat out a breath of air as he fell back. He was healthy, but he was still in his seventies. Maru was worried. Who knows if something goes wrong here?

“Have some water, sir.”

Maru put a bottle of water next to the old man before turning to look at the rice bag. The rice was spilling out from the tears. To Maru, the rice seemed like blood.

“What do punches full of hatred and evil look like? What do punches of despair look like? I can only imagine it so much. At some point, I need to take it into my hands and put it into action.”

Maru helped the man get up, who stood with a groan.

“A foolish method indeed, but there’s nothing better than this. I’d have to talk about the actual movements with the stunt coordinator, but it’s all up to...