Rewards
After he killed the assassin, the rest of the inner disciple selection was almost laughably easy. It was a winner-takes-all tournament, so the difficulty should have climbed with every round—yet the Qi Condensation 9-star assassin he had faced second had been the strongest opponent of the lot. Everyone after that barely registered.
One disciple even surrendered the instant the match began. That was how overwhelming the power Han Yuhyeon had displayed in the second round had been.
And so Han Yuhyeon took first place in the inner disciple selection. The formal appointment ceremony would be handled separately by the sect master, so all he had to do was wait. Even before the ceremony, however, they already treated him as an inner disciple.
“So this is the dormitory.”
“That’s right. Not exactly luxurious, is it? Plenty of seniors and juniors who are actual inner disciples still go looking for better lodgings elsewhere.”
Ye Hyeon-gwan, now a fellow inner disciple, showed him around. True to his word, the place was nothing special—a building packed tight with single rooms of about five pyeong each. Just enough space to lie down and sleep.
“Still, there’s a formation around the outside and we’re inside the sect. At least no assassins will be jumping us here.”
“True enough.”
“That’s all I need.”
Han Yuhyeon barely spent any time at home anyway, so simply having a safe place to crash was more than enough.
Well… completely safe might have been a stretch. The bastard who had hired assassins to kill him was still walking around as an elder, after all.
“Haha! Junior Brother Han, out for a stroll, are we?”
Someone waved cheerfully from the far end of the corridor. It was Jeong Cheon-o, the same guy who had been on that mission with them.
Thinking back, their first meeting hadn’t been friendly either—yet here he was, acting all buddy-buddy. Apparently shamelessness was excellent for one’s mental health in the cultivation world.
“Don’t call him that so freely. At the rate he’s going, the days we can call Junior Brother Han ‘junior’ are numbered.”
Ye Hyeon-gwan shot back dryly. They were both Qi Condensation 7-star inner disciples. Han Yuhyeon was the same realm and had only just become an inner disciple, so technically “junior brother” was correct—but given how absurdly fast he was breaking through, the title was already getting awkward. That was what Ye Hyeon-gwan meant.
“Same goes for you, doesn’t it?”
“When that day comes, I’ll just call him senior brother and be done with it.”
Ever since that mission, Ye Hyeon-gwan and Jeong Cheon-o had never quite gotten along. From Ye Hyeon-gwan’s perspective, Jeong Cheon-o had nearly gotten him killed; from Jeong Cheon-o’s, he had done all the hard work and still walked away short on rewards. Residual resentment was only natural.
“Haha. How could I possibly force honorifics on my senior brothers? There’s such a thing as proper etiquette.”
Han Yuhyeon smiled and smoothly defused the tension.
In Yeonhwa Seonrok, realm and form of address felt a lot like military rank and service number. The principle was that the lower rank used respectful speech to the higher, but this was still a world full of people—so a certain amount of flexibility existed.
Just like a junior-number brigadier general might still show courtesy to a senior-number colonel in the army, here personal relationships mattered. If it wasn’t an official setting, there was no need to be rigid about titles. Call it the magnanimity of the higher realm.
“Haha! That’s what I like about Junior Brother Han—always so straightforward! That’s why I like you.”
“The guy who likes him tried to swindle a junior out of his spirit stones with a bet.”
Ye Hyeon-gwan immediately stuck another needle in. The needle was pure Ye Hyeon-gwan—zero exaggeration, just cold, plain fact. Jeong Cheon-o’s face turned brick red.
“There you go dredging up ancient history again. How long are you going to stay stuck in the past?”
“They say history repeats itself. Looking back often is how you avoid making the same mistakes.”
“That does it. Follow me to the training grounds.”
“I’ve been waiting.”
Jeong Cheon-o and Ye Hyeon-gwan growled at each other and headed straight for the training grounds. Han Yuhyeon gave them a half-hearted wave and wandered deeper into Baekun-pa.
He hadn’t been formally appointed yet, but he was already an inner disciple. That meant far more places inside the sect were open to him. Facilities reserved exclusively for inner disciples—places outer disciples were never allowed—now lay within reach.
The most obvious example was the Scripture Pavilion: outer disciples were limited to the first floor, while inner disciples could climb as high as the third. Naturally, the quality of the techniques rose with each floor.
Of course, the techniques Han Yuhyeon was currently cultivating already far outstripped anything on the third floor of Baekun-pa’s pavilion. Still, he figured he might as well go take a look someday.
“Ahem, ahem.”
The moment he heard the sound, Han Yuhyeon stopped. It was coming from the peak that housed the Main Hall—like an announcement over the base PA system.
White Cloud Sect Inner Disciple Han Yuhyeon is to report to the Talisman Workshop immediately upon hearing this broadcast. That is all.
He hadn’t expected his own name to be called, so he froze for a second—but if the destination was the Talisman Workshop, it was a summons from Baekri-wan.
Hearing “inner disciple” attached to his name even over the broadcast made it feel real. Not that the Main Hall would ever bother making an announcement just to find one outer disciple.
He changed direction and headed for the Talisman Workshop. Baekri-wan was already waiting out front, long hair streaming in the breeze.
“You didn’t have to come out to meet me.”
“I felt like getting some air myself. Let’s go to the Tea Garden.”
The Tea Garden was the sect’s own teahouse—a kind of welfare facility. Being a game set in the Central Plains, everyone took tea extremely seriously.
Come to think of it, outer disciples had been banned from even this place. Did they really need to restrict access to a tea shop? Then again, every organization had at least one petty bit of nonsense like that.
“Here.”
He had assumed they would simply walk, but Baekri-wan immediately produced her flying vessel—the same one that looked like a floating banquet table.
“It’s close. We could just walk.”
Han Yuhyeon said. The Tea Garden was less than a quarter-hour’s walk away. Baekri-wan tilted her head as if she had just heard something absurd.
“You still can’t ride a flying vessel?”
“No, that’s not it.”
He had ridden Jeong Cheon-o’s during the last mission, so he was used to it by now.
“Doesn’t it consume spiritual power? I heard activation costs quite a bit.”
“Just top it up with spirit stones.”
The answer was so casual that Han Yuhyeon was left speechless. Burning spirit stones just to avoid walking for a few minutes? To someone the Mongan Hyeolseo had turned into a complete miser, the idea was unimaginable.
“I’m not asking you for spirit stones, so get on.”
“Then I’ll gratefully accept the ride.”
Han Yuhyeon bowed his head and climbed on behind her. He expected her to take off immediately, but Baekri-wan twisted around to look at him, clearly displeased about something.
“……What is it?”
“Am I your attendant?”
“Pardon?”
“Even if I’m the one piloting, you should still sit in front. Did no one teach you flying-vessel etiquette?”
Wait—there was etiquette for that? Naturally, the game never distinguished between front and back seats on a flying vessel, so he had no idea such manners existed. Though, to be fair, the rear seat being the seat of honor was pretty much universal law.
“My apologies. I rode in the back last time as well…”
“That was me being considerate because it looked like your first time. You can’t keep expecting special treatment forever.”
“……I’m sorry.”
Her tone was like someone scolding a child. Han Yuhyeon lowered his head.
Baekri-wan was oddly generous in some ways and oddly rigid in others. There seemed to be an internal consistency, but he still hadn’t figured out the criteria.
He moved to stand beside her. On a longer trip he might have sat, but the flight would take less than a quarter of a quarter-hour, so standing was more comfortable. Besides, she was standing too—sitting would have felt weird.
“You can sit. I’m not that uptight about everything.”
“……Ah, right. But I’ll just stand.”
Which beat was he supposed to dance to? As long as the basic etiquette was observed, everything else was apparently fine?
After that whole song and dance, the vessel finally rose. Jeong Cheon-o’s words floated back to him: you had to ride a good vessel for it to be worth it. Baekri-wan’s was indeed far more luxurious than Jeong Cheon-o’s, and the ride was noticeably smoother.
“I haven’t ridden many, but the movement is incredibly smooth.”
“You’ve developed an eye for it already.”
Han Yuhyeon glanced sideways at her. There was a faintly excited lilt in her voice and a slight upward curl at the corner of her mouth.
“It’s a rather fine vessel. Not many people notice. I’m surprised you did.”
She didn’t want to brag, yet being recognized made her happy—that sort of thing? He almost laughed at how cute it was, but if she demanded to know why he was smiling he would have no good answer, so he bit his lip and held it in.
“You seem to be thinking something rude.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m joking.”
Han Yuhyeon nearly jumped, thinking she had read his mind, but it really did seem to be just a joke. Her face didn’t look like she was joking at all, though.
As expected, the ride was over in an instant. By Han Yuhyeon’s reckoning, maybe three minutes. Baekri-wan stepped down in front of the Tea Garden and pulled out a spirit stone to absorb its energy.
“Let’s go in.”
Han Yuhyeon, who had been staring blankly while she recharged, snapped out of it and followed.
“Ah, Elder. You’ve arrived.”
“Mm. Show us to a room.”
“Understood.”
Since the Tea Garden was a Baekun-pa building, its staff were naturally disciples as well. The attendant was a male disciple who looked past thirty. Judging by his robes, he was an inner disciple.
The man kept sneaking glances at Baekri-wan the entire way to the room—enough that even Han Yuhyeon, a fellow man, found it distracting. Baekri-wan paid no attention whatsoever and simply looked ahead. Then again, a beauty of her caliber was probably long used to that kind of staring.
“What shall I prepare for you?”
Once they were inside, the attendant asked. Baekri-wan rolled her eyes upward thoughtfully for a moment, then spoke.
“Two Huangshan Maofeng.”
“Yes. I’ll prepare the highest grade.”
“As you should.”
The order placed, the attendant closed the door behind him. Baekri-wan, busy sitting down, didn’t see it—but Han Yuhyeon caught the jealous glare the man shot him as he left.
“Sit.”
“Yes.”
Han Yuhyeon took the seat opposite her. As a facility restricted to inner disciples, the building was noticeably cleaner and more refined.
He was still looking around the room when the same attendant returned with the tea. The moment the two cups entered, the distinctive fresh fragrance of Huangshan Maofeng filled the air.
“Please enjoy your time.”
The attendant set the tea down and left at once. Han Yuhyeon gazed at the transparent golden liquid.
Suddenly he remembered the day he had first fallen into this world—when someone had spat right in his face. When he wiped it off, it had been a thick, yellowish gob of phlegm. The color was vaguely similar, yet the meaning contained within could not have been more different.
“A fine fragrance, isn’t it?”
While he was staring blankly at the tea, lost in its aroma, Baekri-wan’s soft voice drifted into his ear.
“Yes. It really is.”
A scent that bore absolutely no comparison to that yellowish phlegm. How could anyone even put top-grade Huangshan Maofeng and spit in the same sentence? It was amazing how completely his life had changed in just a few months.
“I have something for you first.”
“Pardon? For me?”
“Mm.”
Baekri-wan took a high-quality leather pouch from a classically elegant storage pouch. Han Yuhyeon accepted it on reflex.
“Open it.”
Following her instruction, he loosened the drawstring. Inside, to his astonishment, was an enormous quantity of spirit stones.
Even a rough count put the number well over a hundred low-grade spirit stones.
“……?”
Unable to process the situation, Han Yuhyeon simply stared at Baekri-wan. She didn’t look at him. She merely closed her eyes with elegant composure and sipped her Huangshan Maofeng.