Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Kung-Fu Hustle
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After we stormed Baek Chan's house last Wednesday and solidified our group's bond, we kept meeting up often to continue discussing the Joint Attack Formation.
Meanwhile, time marched on relentlessly, and the exams drew ever closer. Including the midterm evaluation for Lee Soo-young's "Practical Martial Arts" class.
"Since we've got four people, how about mixing in some four-element theory? It's perfect timing too, since that's in the exam scope for 'Understanding Western Martial Arts' this time."
"Hmm. Four-element theory... Wouldn't sticking with the classic Four Symbols be better?"
Joint attack formations like the ones used in group combat were a form of martial arts themselves.
You could call a bunch of people charging in yelling "Everyone, just beat 'em down!" a joint attack, but true cooperative martial arts required true cooperative synergy.
Formations incorporating numerical or directional concepts like the Two Poles, Three Talents, Four Symbols, Six Harmonies, or Nine Palaces were obviously stronger than some haphazard brawl.
In fact, the 108 Arhat Formation deployed by 108 Shaolin monks—which encompassed all those principles as a common multiple of 2, 3, 4, 6, and 9—was renowned as the world's greatest defensive formation.
Of course, the origins of concepts like the Three Talents, Four Symbols, or Five Elements had little to do with martial artists pondering how to best gut-punch their foes.
It was commonplace for essences from Taoist and Buddhist scriptures, Confucian philosophy, and the like to morph into martial principles.
In the Western martial world, too, concepts like thesis-antithesis-synthesis, philosophies from Descartes or Nietzsche, or scientific discoveries by Newton and Lavoisier were naturally integrated into martial arts and widely employed.
Rumor had it that some corners of the martial world were even experimenting with quantum mechanics in martial arts lately, but who knew if that was true.
"Anyway, let's set the formation principles aside for now and assign positions first."
Not that our group was just "Son Ha-rin and the rest," but our balance wasn't exactly stellar either.
In a one-on-one, I might barely beat Baek Chan by twisting my body every which way, but my overall stats fell far short of true elites like Baek Chan or Veronica.
That was because my current first-rate (generous estimate: peak) internal energy and physique were augmented only by insights from my past life, making me a master(ess) in spirit alone.
Park Jong-myeong was still just at the early peak level. Even in a joint attack, we couldn't all play the same role.
"If I were the instructor, I'd eliminate me and Park Jong-myeong from the battlefield first. You all know Lanchester's laws, right? No way a former soldier like her would let the enemy maintain a numerical advantage."
Meaning we'd be targeted first since we weren't much of a threat. Their duo of B-rank elites would be fierce, sure, but from an A-rank's perspective, without variables, it'd be an easy takedown.
In the end, Baek Chan and Veronica would need to share some of the pressure coming my and Park Jong-myeong's way to create openings.
I raised a finger and pointed at my teammates one by one.
"First off... Baek Chan, you're the tank, no question. Veronica's got the reach and damage with her weapon, so main dealer. Jong-myeong as sub-dealer. Perfect."
"Hey. What about you?"
"Hm, healer?"
"You wanna die for real?"
Veronica bared her teeth and raised a fist.
But... our opponents were Peak Realm.
They seemed human enough since we called them masters, but A-ranks were monsters who could smash tanks barehanded, fly around in wingsuits, and shoot down supersonic fighters.
Biologically, they were practically a different species from Homo sapiens.
Challenging Manifestation Realm was common sense violation, but Peak Realm didn't mean you could mess around freely either.
In my past life, I'd picked fights a few times relying on my guild master's backing. Then I died screaming, but anyway...
"No, wait, now I'm pissed. Why wouldn't a kid raised in a Christian pastor's orphanage get to be a healer? Wanna taste some divine power? Huh?"
"It's Sunday, you're babbling nonsense here sprawled out, and now this crap..."
Veronica spat curses and glared daggers.
"And church talk pisses me off. Watch yourself."
"Yes, ma'am."
Her vibe was so murderous I answered on reflex.
Veronica, slouched on the training ground floor, used her sword as a prop to stand up.
Whoosh! The tip of her greatsword swung straight at me out of nowhere.
Quite the aggressive point. With her free hand, she pointed at Baek Chan.
"We've got tank, main deal, sub-deal, so sub-tank's open. You dodged and parried that punk's punches last time, right? If Baek Chan looks like he's about to get pummeled to death by the instructor, you pull aggro from the side."
"Ugh... Like I said, asking a fragile scrub like me to pull A-rank aggro is a bit..."
"Fuck off, then die right here."
Just testing the waters with a joke, and she's prickly.
Still, it was a relief to see Veronica so invested in our group project.
She must really want to beat Son Ha-rin that badly.
They'd seemed on better terms lately, but maybe this martial arts goal was keeping Veronica focused.
Negative emotions like jealousy or inferiority complexes tend to fester more when you're holed up alone at home.
Even I hadn't had time to dwell on such things since ditching unemployment for the vagabond life of back-to-back commissions. My asshole boss—personality rotten but power overwhelming—had worked me to the bone, after all.
Thanks to that, even sitting next to Son Ha-rin felt oddly pleasant lately. She was still expressionless as ever, but after weeks together, I was starting to read the subtle differences.
"Alright. Gotta live up to expectations."
Once I took a commission, I completed it no matter what.
It was a principle from my past life: the Decalogue for Vagabonds.
And at least for now, I had no intention of changing my way of life.
I smirked, standing from my seat. To flawlessly complete the commission of getting Son Ha-rin the win.
Time flew by, and midterms were upon us.
The first-year midterms spanned three days total. Days one and two were mostly theory subjects.
Day three's exams were all practicals except for first period's Secret Manual Philology.
As soon as first period ended, students clustered in groups, comparing answers.
"Why was Secret Manual Philology so brutal this time...? Yong-won, you get all the Buddhist sutra martial principles passages?"
"The sutra stuff was still manageable, no? The Protestant New Testament section was pure hell."
"That's 'cause you're from Bulguksa Temple, you bald-headed bastard."
A crash echoed from behind, but I was too busy checking answers with Son Ha-rin next to me.
"No way number 12 is option 3? You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Welp, that's wrong then..."
I'd entered via affirmative action and already had my tuition fully waived, but good grades meant extra scholarships, so I'd hustled hard on studies (Kung Fu) since my past life.
But talent in martial arts often meant talent in studies too. Son Ha-rin's Sword Telekinesis required exceptional development in the Upper Dantian, where the spirit resides among the warrior's Three Cores.
Of course, martial IQ and academic IQ weren't perfectly aligned, but anyone with her level of Brain Core development couldn't possibly suck at studying.
Still, studies had way more room for hard work than martial arts. Especially since I wasn't some scientist chasing cosmic truths—just a student gunning for top exam scores.
Sure enough, Son Ha-rin's and my answer sheets matched almost perfectly. Pretty satisfying by my standards.
I grinned at her.
"Let's do great today. Even if we're in different groups."
"...Yeah."
The next period was Lee Soo-young's "Practical Martial Arts" midterm eval. Time to test our polished Joint Attack Formation in action.
The exam started, I bubble-sheeted the OMR in a straight line, then shook awake Veronica, who was still facedown on her desk snoring.
Half-asleep, she grumbled irritably.
"Ugh, what? Which fuck..."
"Get up! Exam's been over forever, and you're still out of it. Time to head out."
"Head out? Where..."
"Where else? The indoor training hall. Remember we're doing Practical Martial Arts midterms there?"
The indoor training hall.
Coincidentally—or ironically—it was the building that collapsed in a terrorist attack in my past life.
Where Class 1's homeroom teacher, Lee Soo-young, met her end.
'But that's not till the end of this semester. Once midterms wrap, I need to start countermeasures. Commission the guild, or drop an anonymous tip to the principal's office...'
Important, sure, but not for a day like today.
With that thought, I hurried toward the indoor training hall.
Unaware that the time to devise those countermeasures was less than a moment away.