Chapter 147
Chapter 147
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 147
Chapter Title: Reunion at White Tiger Hall
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It had only been two months since he'd left, but the row of buildings at White Tiger Hall felt welcoming all the same.
Still, things weren't exactly the same as before he'd departed.
As a first-year, he'd stayed in the lower-class dormitory, but now that Wi Seongcheon was a second-year, he'd been assigned to the upper-class one.
He hadn't had much personal luggage to begin with when he first enrolled, so there was nothing for him to pick up from the lower-class dorm.
The upper-class building was superior to the lower-class one in every way.
It housed the fewest students of any year, yet it was the largest building.
That meant each student got plenty of personal space in the dorms.
Beyond the walls surrounding the upper-class building were also private training grounds and sparring arenas.
The blatant differences between dorm buildings—even within the same academy—were designed to stoke the students' competitive drive.
In any world, those with ability received greater respect.
Even the Heavenly Academy, the foremost educational institution of the righteous murim, was no different.
Crunch.
As Wi Seongcheon headed toward the upper-class building—cut off from the others by its walls and gate—he sensed overt stares and hostility.
A quick glance over his shoulder brought the mid-class building into view.
The source of the savage malice was Yeong Sojin, standing by a second-floor window.
As a first-year, Yeong Sojin had been in the upper class.
But after bombing out at the Heavenly Emperor's tournament and the year-end evaluations, she'd been demoted to mid-class.
She wasn't the only one.
Five students had dropped to mid-class.
Three who hadn't even made the tournament main draw, and two who'd advanced but lost in the first round.
Yeong Sojin had drawn Paeng Yeonhwa in the prelims and been eliminated right away.
Then, in the year-end evaluations, Bang Jun had targeted her, subjecting her to a thorough thrashing with the Beggars' Sect's signature Dog-Beating Staff Technique.
Given her record, it wouldn't have been surprising if she'd been sent to the lower class instead, but extra points for the uniqueness of her Red Eye Heart Spirit Sword had barely kept her in mid-class.
Of course, the prideful Yeong Sojin refused to believe she'd clung to mid-class thanks to her martial art's peculiarities rather than her own skill.
She chalked it up to bad luck—a denial that led her to vent her pent-up rage on others rather than redoubling her efforts.
As a result, her skills hadn't improved much compared to what Wi Seongcheon had seen before vacation.
Instead, her overt hostility now brimmed with envy and fury.
Truth be told, it was Paeng Yeonhwa and Bang Jun who'd knocked her down to mid-class, not Wi Seongcheon.
Yet their sudden change—from unremarkable in academy classes to exceptional—had coincided with his arrival.
‘Weakling like her, picking a fight with me?’
Wi Seongcheon shot a glance at Yeong Sojin, who was glaring daggers, then deliberately shook his head pityingly.
“Hey!”
Yeong Sojin flung open the window and bellowed.
Wi Seongcheon ignored her and turned away.
Her master, the Wind Cloud Kirin, was a renowned playboy swordsman of the murim, so why had his sole disciple turned out like this?
‘Well, bloodlines and disciples are what they are, no matter how hard you try.’
Wi Seongcheon mulled this over as he pushed open the front gate to the upper-class dorm.
Her malice and shouts trailed him all the way inside, but he paid them no mind.
The moment he spotted Paeng Yeonhwa waiting to greet him, Yeong Sojin ceased to matter.
“Hey.”
Paeng Yeonhwa spoke first.
She gazed at him with a faint smile.
She looked... thinner.
Only two months had passed, but Paeng Yeonhwa's appearance had changed dramatically.
The black-and-white hair—like a white tiger's—showed even starker contrast than before.
Her white strands gleamed like silver threads, while the black ones were dense as ink lines.
Her golden eyes still shone beautifully, but they were deeper, more serene now.
Wi Seongcheon noted Paeng Yeonhwa's sharper facial contours and the shadows under her eyes.
She'd gone back to the Paeng family in Hebei during break, she’d said.
Something she needed was there.
Wi Seongcheon had no idea what that “something” was.
But he could plainly sense the brutal training she'd endured at the Paeng estate to stand before him like this.
“Hey.”
No need to spell it out.
Reunion was joy enough.
“How was the sea?”
“Amazing. I knew right away I'd made the right call following Jeong Mi-ju unnie.”
“I was worried you'd get dragged into some trouble in unorthodox territory, but sounds like it was smooth sailing.”
“Unorthodox folk are just people in the end. What about you? Rest well?”
“Yeah.”
Paeng Yeonhwa nodded with a smile.
“I'd sworn I'd never go back if I could help it. But same as you—once I did, I was glad.”
She had wanted to become a gu poison.
In that horrific iron cage deep underground at the Paeng estate, Paeng Yeonhwa had immersed herself in embodying the traces left by “predecessors” who'd died pursuing the same.
She never lost control.
As days without food or sleep piled up, her mind sharpened, and she began perceiving things invisible and inaudible.
Her innate essence—mingled with the resentful obsessions of the dead—guided her blade.
And so.
Paeng Yeonhwa achieved her goal.
‘Something... different.’
Paeng Yeonhwa instinctively sensed Wi Seongcheon's change.
His qi was perfectly contained, not leaking out, but she felt his immense presence through instinct rather than qi sense.
It was profoundly unfamiliar.
“Shall we head in?”
But.
Paeng Yeonhwa didn't ask about his changes.
She couldn't properly explain what she'd undergone in that underground cage or what she'd gained.
Nor did she want to.
Having been through it herself, she asked nothing of him.
“How long you been back?”
“Two days.”
“Early bird.”
“Didn't see the point in staying longer.”
Paeng Yeonhwa murmured as she casually swung her hand behind her.
Sure enough, her tail was wagging happily at the reunion.
Paeng Yeonhwa cleared her throat awkwardly and grabbed it tight.
“Everyone else in upper-class is back already, 'cept you.”
There were eight upper-class students total.
Muyeon Jun and Sang Irin had stayed at the Heavenly Academy over break.
“You're back?”
With fewer than ten students, the spacious first-floor lounge—used as a communal hall—could have fit several lower-class dorms.
Not just vast, the furnishings were all luxury pieces.
Bang Jun lounged on a plush chair atop an expensive rug, practically reclining.
His stench and grimy appearance cheapened the opulent space just by existing.
“Looking good, punk.”
“That guy's eyes must be fucked.”
Bang Jun clicked his tongue and shook his head.
If Paeng Yeonhwa had slimmed down, Bang Jun had bulked up.
In two months, he'd somehow packed on thick slabs of muscle.
“Looks like you thrived. Overflowing with that healthy glow.”
“Shut your trap before I smack you. Thought I was a goner. Bet you this was the toughest two months of my life.”
Bang Jun shuddered, face twisting like he couldn't bear to remember.
No exaggeration.
The Strange Wanderer had taken him as disciple and pushed him right to death's door.
The saving grace was Bang Jun's bones and talent exceeding the old man's expectations.
For Bang Jun himself, though, it had been hellish days.
Worst of all was the Beggars' Sect secret art, the Fighting Dog Tempering Method.
Too dangerous even for Muyeon Jun, yet the Strange Wanderer showed Bang Jun no mercy.
Fail to endure, and die.
Survive, and approach invincibility.
With stern face, the old man had pummeled Bang Jun relentlessly for three days and nights.
“Damn geezer—shoulda aged gracefully if he was gonna get old...!”
“Your master's still your master. Harsh much?”
“He ain't here. And all that big talk—what invincible bullshit?”
Bang Jun scowled as he spat it out.
In the end, Bang Jun survived the Fighting Dog Tempering Method.
But invincible? Way too grandiose.
Four days and nights of staff beatings had left him yawning at ordinary pain, plus sudden muscle growth and minor gains.
Impressive progress, sure—but for a “grand ultimate art” hyped as nearing invincibility, it rang hollow.
“Straight up—if getting staff-beaten four days straight makes you invincible, the world's a joke.”
“It's approaching invincible, not becoming it. Words matter.”
“Same diff, you lunatic.”
Bang Jun kept grumbling.
Still, his growth was undeniable compared to two months ago.
“No need to freak, come out.”
Wi Seongcheon tilted his head and said.
Bang Jun and Paeng Yeonhwa tilted theirs in confusion at the abrupt words.
Ignoring them, Wi Seongcheon stared at the sun's shadow on the windowsill.
“How'd you know?”
“Told you before—I've got good instincts.”
Her voice came before her form appeared.
The dark shadow twitched, and Dang Heeran stepped out.
No one but Wi Seongcheon had detected her stealth.
Bang Jun—who'd been in the lounge from the start—was especially shocked.
“Wh- when'd you get there?”
“'Round when you ripped three farts in a row and scratched your crotch.”
“Right before this guy showed!”
“No wonder it reeks. Three farts in a row? Just hit the john and shit already.”
Wi Seongcheon snarked, but Bang Jun gaped, tongue lolling in awe.
Dang Heeran's own shock from breaking stealth topped it, though.
The Heavenly Killer was an assassin.
The Killing God Dark Stream he'd passed to her was martial art, yes—but also the pinnacle of the Ten Heroes Heavenly Killer's assassin craft.
The Killing God Dark Stream's Seven Night Silent Chant.
Murim's pinnacle stealth technique.
Though Dang Heeran hadn't mastered it fully, she'd never dreamed it'd be pierced so quickly.
“...You really spotted me on instinct alone?”
“Yeah.”
Wi Seongcheon answered honestly.
Absorbing the Dragon Jade had massively amplified his innate essence.
It had vaulted his body's “limits” sky-high, and through the training cave and sea, he'd learned to wield his “self.”
‘Different from qi sense.’
Not vague, though.
Call it the five senses... or pure intuition.
That unknown sense had detected Dang Heeran's stealth.
‘...Spotted Seven Night Silent Chant on instinct?’
‘His internal energy's up. Nah, more than that. This guy's... weird now.’
Bang Jun and Dang Heeran gauged his changes amid shock, but Paeng Yeonhwa just wagged her tail lightly, staring at his face.
‘Skin's so smooth. Scars gone too.’
Sea winds were supposed to be harsh and stinging.
Yet after all that exposure, Wi Seongcheon's skin gleamed like white jade, untanned by the sun.
Paeng Yeonhwa absently touched her own cheek.
Hers felt rougher.
“Body Reformation.”
A voice cut in abruptly.
No one startled.
These four weren't the only ones assigned to upper-class dorms.
Halfway up the stairs to the second floor.
Muyeon Jun stood there.
He continued, eyes calmly fixed on Wi Seongcheon.
“What happened in Guangxi?”
“You just said it.”
“Body... Reformation? For real?”
Bang Jun blurted, face paling.
Wi Seongcheon grinned and nodded.
“Dunno if what I went through counts as true Body Reformation.”
“It does.”
Muyeon Jun's Heavenly Eye saw qi flows.
Through it, he watched vast qi coursing flawlessly through Wi Seongcheon's body.
Not a speck of stagnation anywhere.
“...Not just Body Reformation, either.”
Muyeon Jun murmured in astonishment.
His Heavenly Eye wasn't just reading internal energy. Spotting Wi Seongcheon's surging innate essence—like roaring flames—he smiled faintly.
Then he turned and headed back upstairs.
“...What a weirdo.”
Sudden drop-in, mutter, satisfied smirk—and gone.
“Hey, you good?”
Wi Seongcheon called to the vanished Muyeon Jun.
No reply came.