Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 79
Chapter Title: Master of the Treasure (4)
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The next morning.
"Hm."
Murong Bi stroked his chin.
"Better than I expected."
"...Is that so?"
Anyeong's demonstration, breaking down each and every technique from dawn, only wrapped up after the sun had risen in the east.
There had been so many pointers along the way. Most were about footwork or shifts in center of gravity, which ended up taking even longer than anticipated.
"What's the name of this martial art?"
"It's called Shadowless Kill."
"Fitting for an assassin's technique—the name alone drips with style."
Anyeong had heard it described as cool and lethal before, but "dripping with style" was a first.
Of course, he didn't get angry. He wasn't angry, and it wasn't the sort of thing to get mad at anyway.
"Still, it's pretty damn usable. True to an assassin's art, it goes for one-strike kills with minimal force. Not many assassination techniques reach this level."
"Yes."
"Once it's properly refined, you could unleash killing moves in any situation without strain."
Of course, Murong Bi had seen assassination arts that utterly dominated this one.
'The Four Kings—that bastard.'
Every move, every strike was deadly. He could overwhelm it with sheer power and experience, but one slip-up would leave him open to a counter that was that impressive.
Even after deepening his martial prowess through countless battles since then, he had no desire to face the Four Kings again.
Not because of raw strength, but because that opponent demanded constant, exhausting vigilance.
"But this isn't the original, is it? I can tell you've thrown in some of your own interpretations here and there."
Who was he trying to fool?
Anyeong answered honestly.
"I've tweaked a few parts to fit my build and strengths."
That alone showed Anyeong's talent was far from ordinary.
Even for an assassination art, modifying a technique of this caliber to suit oneself wasn't easy. It spoke to his sharp instincts and keen eye for martial arts.
"But it has its limits."
Anyeong affirmed it with silence.
Murong Bi pondered for a moment, then clapped his hands.
"Alright. We can skip the Dragon Subduing Posture or the Tiger Form basics."
"Pardon?!"
"You're flexible like an assassin, so no need to start from tearing grass roots. Your physical traits are clear-cut enough to jump straight into formal training."
Anyeong's eyes rippled like waves.
"Are you going to teach me a martial art?"
"Right now? To you?"
"...?"
"No?"
"Th-then...?"
"I do have arts I could teach, but learning from me right now wouldn't mean much."
"..."
"Sure, I could dismantle it piece by piece and reshape it to fit my framework. But that'd be a waste of everything you've built up."
Anyeong spoke earnestly.
"I don't mind discarding it all. No matter how long it takes. I want to learn from you, Young Master."
"You know a man's obsession is uglier than jealousy, right?"
"I don't care."
"I do, you pervert."
"..."
"Well, once you finish formal training, learning from me might be fine."
"Pardon?"
Murong Bi turned his head.
"Old Man Gwak."
"Yes, Young Master."
Swish.
Old Man Gwak appeared like a shadow.
Anyeong flinched involuntarily.
'What the hell?'
Even with his mind preoccupied, how had he missed the presence less than three zhang away?
'That old man?'
And he was a limping elder at that.
Gwak No, was it? From what he'd heard, he was an old servant who'd lived in the Murong household for ages.
"Pulled an all-nighter?"
"Heh heh, I got so absorbed in circulating my qi that dawn snuck up on me."
"One or two days is fine, but get some sleep when it's time to sleep. Think about your age."
"I'll be sure to."
"You'll handle that yourself, Old Man Gwak."
Murong Bi nodded toward Anyeong.
"You saw the latter half, right? What'd you think?"
Old Man Gwak turned his gaze to Anyeong.
Anyeong flinched again.
'...What is this?'
The moment their eyes met, his body suddenly grew heavy.
It was like plunging into a transparent lake—so deep and clear that the surface was visible, yet he couldn't breathe, and his limbs felt leaden.
The eerie sensation normalized in an instant, but the shock it left behind was immense.
Cold sweat beaded on Anyeong's forehead.
"Not bad."
Old Man Gwak's voice evoked the same clear, profound lake as his eyes.
"Unlike me, he's kept his body honed steadily. Regardless of else, that alone merits high praise."
"He says he's sick of assassin work and wants to become a swordsman. Think he has the talent?"
"Talent? He's overflowing with it. The key is his spirit."
"Coming from you, that even scares me."
Old Man Gwak's mental fortitude was harder than tempered steel.
Old Man Gwak approached with three or four steps, leaning on his staff.
It was an ordinary gait, but Anyeong unwittingly retreated two paces.
'Wh-what? Why am I...?'
Something was wrong with his body.
The instant he registered the old servant's presence, it felt like his body was shrinking away.
Like he was cowed? Unlike Murong Bi's ruthless killing intent, this felt like a fundamental mismatch in human compatibility from the start.
Murong Bi chuckled.
"Your senses are sharp as hell. You clocked your natural counter right away."
Old Man Gwak had been called Yonyeong's greatest retainer, a bodyguard who single-handedly protected the head of the Murong clan—then at the pinnacle of the Seven Great Houses. His skill was inevitable.
His internal energy and swordsmanship could slice the Phantom Witch in two, and against assassins, he was virtually invincible.
Back then, assassination groups from across the land dispatched killers to murder the Martial Alliance Leader's brother, but most couldn't breach Old Man Gwak alone and ended up as sword-ghosts under his blade.
He was so feared in assassin circles they called him the Impenetrable Citadel.
A fortress permitting no intrusion—human bulwark, in other words.
"Bodyguards and assassins are two sides of the sword. Opposites, yet sharing much in common."
"You're right, Young Master."
"To get back into the game proper, don't you need a whiff of that old blood-and-iron scent? Teach this kid and sharpen your edge. Might even stir up some nostalgia."
"Understood."
Murong Bi looked at Anyeong.
"You followed my orders well."
"Y-yes?"
"I told you to guard the main house while I was gone."
"Ah..."
"I read your traces from the top of the Patriarch's Hall. Last night, your clothes were ice-cold. You must've stood vigil without ever leaving your post, scanning every direction."
Anyeong was stunned. He hadn't expected the Young Master to notice that.
"I like that stubbornness. You're starting at first layer now, but it's quality stone, so you've earned your reward for the hardship."
"Y-Young Master."
"Don't get too moved. Even you won't keep up with Old Man Gwak's teachings easily."
Murong Bi turned to leave.
"Don't even think about learning from me until he says you're good enough."
"Thank you!"
With that, Murong Bi departed.
"..."
An awkward wind blew between the two men.
Old Man Gwak broke the silence.
"Heh heh, an ex-assassin, eh?"
"Pardon? Ah... yes."
"I see, I see."
Why ask if he already knew?
But hearing it reconfirmed doubled the terror. Cold sweat poured down his back amid the chills.
Old Man Gwak gazed at Anyeong steadily, then asked in a calm voice.
"How was it?"
"What... do you mean?"
"Guarding the clan all night without anyone knowing—how did it feel? I'd like to hear your thoughts."
Anyeong was bewildered. He'd expected training, not chit-chat.
"Well..."
"Speak freely, no pressure. I just want to understand you better."
That only terrified him more, though he couldn't say why.
Anyeong stammered.
"Honestly... I didn't really think much of it."
"You guarded it without a single thought?"
"I tried my best not to have stray thoughts."
"..."
"Once it was over, I just thought, 'It's done.'"
Even as he said it, his face burned. It sounded so bland even to him.
Unexpectedly, Old Man Gwak nodded with a smile.
"Good."
"Pardon?"
"When bodyguarding, stray thoughts are the enemy. Forget everything unnecessary and focus solely on protection."
"Ah..."
"It's similar when assassinating, isn't it? Nothing matters but eliminating the target. Right?"
"Y-yes."
"Not sure if it's occupational habit, but that focus is solid. And surprisingly pure for an assassin."
"..."
"I see why the Young Master called you stubborn."
He seemed somewhat pleased, after all. Amid his fluster, Anyeong felt relieved.
Then, Old Man Gwak's eyes changed.
"By the way, you targeted the eldest young lady?"
Anyeong's throat bobbed violently.
"I-I'm sorry."
"...Hm."
No excuses, at least.
His eyes darted frantically, sweat streaming, but he didn't seem inherently bad despite the unease.
Old Man Gwak chuckled.
"The Young Master said to forget it and start fresh, so I'll overlook your insolent past too."
"Th-thank you."
"Mind if we drop the formalities?"
"Pardon?"
"You're the Young Master's slave, right? I'm just a servant of the main house."
"..."
"What? Should I not?"
"No!"
Old Man Gwak burst into laughter.
"I'm no master worthy of 'teacher,' so just call me 'senior.' That'll do."
"Looking forward to it, Senior!"
"Good."
Anyeong bowed at a perfect right angle, his face flushing crimson.
A rigid, intense salute. The moment he said "Senior," he was fully a slave.
But Anyeong didn't realize he'd just spat, pissed, and stamped his slave contract.
Even if he had, he wouldn't dare complain in front of Old Man Gwak.
"Let's start with your swordwork."
"Yes!"
"Wooden sword—it's dangerous."
"...Yes."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Having handed Anyeong over to Old Man Gwak, Murong Bi headed straight to the dining hall.
A few Flower Sword Squad members were eating.
"Young Master!"
"You're here!"
Exhaustion etched their faces, but their voices brimmed with energy.
Murong Bi waved.
"On night watch till morning?"
"Yes!"
"You must be beat. Eat up and crash."
"No way! We're training!"
"With those black bags under your eyes? Training like that?"
The squad members grumbled inwardly.
'You told us to push to our limits.'
They got the point, though.
"Don't stuff yourself before bed. Sleep full, then eat big."
"Got it! Enjoy your meal!"
"Yeah."
The head cook greeted him.
"Good morning, Young Master! Same as usual?"
"Three squares, all the same for me."
"Haha, one moment. Right up."
Murong Bi sat, propping his chin on interlaced hands.
'Peaceful.'
He slowly closed his eyes.
Forcing calm. Otherwise, his talk with Old Man Gwak would replay, and the surging rage and killing intent would make daily life impossible.
'Self-cultivation starts with me.'
How much time passed?
Thud!
"Hm?"
Murong Bi's eyes snapped open at the table shake. Murong Suhyang sat across from him now.
"What? When'd you get here?"
"Eat your damn food, pig. The cook's calling, and you're dozing."
"Oh, yeah?"
He yelled an apology to the cook and picked up his spoon.
"You haven't eaten? Join me."
"Hurry up and finish."
"Why? Got something to say?"
Murong Suhyang scowled.
"It's about the Junior Disciples Tournament."