Chapter 20
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 20
After leaving the Martial Training Courtyard, the Crown Prince led Lee Hyun toward a canal running near the Bureau of Heavenly Service.
Lined along the waterway flowing through the inner city were detached estates of various sizes. These served as guest residences for foreign envoys and invited rogue cultivators.
The lodgings the Crown Prince had arranged for Lee Hyun was one of these very compounds: Cool Clarity Villa.
A towering white wall enclosed the estate. Above the grand front gate hung a lacquered blue plaque inscribed with shimmering gold characters reading Cool Clarity Villa (淸涼別院), beneath which stood two sentries in blue martial robes keeping watchful guard.
Stopping before the entrance, the Crown Prince turned to him. “Retainer Jeong and I must return to the Bureau of Heavenly Service to attend to official business. Should you find yourself in need of anything at all, do not hesitate to summon the villa’s head steward.”
“Is it truly appropriate for me to stay in such an extravagant place? I haven’t even officially registered as a retainer yet.”
Lee Hyun peered past the open gates. Even in his past life in modern Korea, he had never set foot in such a breathtakingly luxurious establishment.
This looks obscenely expensive…
The Crown Prince chuckled. “The Untaek Kingdom is neither so shameless nor so destitute as to force someone into service simply because we extended basic hospitality. Put your mind at ease.”
Beside him, Jeong Won-baek cleared his throat dryly. “At least… not yet.”
“Retainer Jeong, you possess a truly marvelous talent for making every situation sound ominous the moment you open your mouth.”
After trading a few more lighthearted remarks, the two took their leave.
Inside the gate, the villa’s staff stood assembled in a crisp, orderly line, waiting to receive their new master.
At the front stood a slender man in his fifties, an iron ring of keys and a neat ledger dangling from his belt sash.
“Choe Dal, head manager of Cool Clarity Villa, pays his respects to the Immortal Master.”
He bent low at the waist.
Behind him, a scribe, four maidservants, a head chef, a sous chef, two martial guards, coachmen, and assorted servants offered greetings in turn. All told, the staff numbered well over a dozen.
The four maidservants caught Lee Hyun’s eye—every one of them was striking and impeccably poised. Two of them were so breathtaking they easily surpassed the illustrations of peerless beauties in the popular romance serials he used to read.
Did they recruit these maids purely on looks?
As if moved by a single mind, the four maidservants stepped back in synchronized harmony, smoothly parting to clear a path.
Not only were their footsteps in perfect lockstep, but even the precise angle at which they held their hands clasped before them was identical.
Their etiquette training is ridiculously thorough, too.
Choe Dal gestured respectfully, leading Lee Hyun inward.
Beyond the main gate stretched a vast, meticulously kept garden.
At its center lay an ornamental pond, spanned by an arched jade bridge. Beneath the shimmering ripples, carp splashed with flecks of gold and crimson darted lazily through the reeds.
Flanking the stone path were beds of low flowering shrubs and fragrant pest-warding grass.
Dominating the far end of the courtyard rose a magnificent two-story pavilion.
Its roof, laid with lustrous blue-glazed tiles, shone brilliant in the afternoon sun.
Curiously, a thin, continuous sheet of water cascaded over the tiles.
“What is that?”
When Lee Hyun paused to look, Choe Dal offered an explanation with practiced ease, as if anticipating the query. “A large waterwheel behind the residence draws water up directly from the canal.”
Circling around the pavilion, Lee Hyun saw a colossal wooden wheel rising higher than the building’s ridgepole, revolving in a slow, hypnotic churn.
Mounted at slanted, regular intervals along its outer rim were deep wooden buckets.
The buckets scooped canal water from the channel below and hoisted it skyward. As each bucket crested the summit, it tipped forward, spilling its contents into an elevated wooden flume that funneled the stream into a massive reservoir perched behind the second floor.
From this high tank, the collected water traveled through a network of bamboo conduits straight to the pavilion’s rooftop crest.
The surfaces of the blue-glazed tiles were carved with thousands of hairline grooves.
Water coursed through these intricate channels across the entire slope of the roof, pooling at the eaves to drape downward like a translucent bead curtain.
Under the harsh sun, a portion of the runoff evaporated into steam, and with every passing breeze, a wave of cool, crisp air billowed into the veranda below.
“A rooftop cooling mechanism?”
“As expected of an Immortal Master! Your discernment in seeing through its design at a single glance is truly awe-inspiring. It was engineered to maintain a spring-like chill even amidst the fiercest summer heat. The runoff gathering along the eaves is caught in a drainage trough and returned to the garden pond.”
“Remarkable engineering.”
“It was designed entirely by mortal artisans, my lord.”
Lee Hyun lingered, his eyes tracing the rhythmic turning of the wheel and the cascading runoff.
I have to admit… this makes the irrigation system in my Tunnel No. 1 look like a child’s toy.
Stepping into the pavilion, an undeniably fresh, cool breeze washed over him.
Though every window and lattice door stood open to the courtyard, not a single mosquito or fly could be seen.
“Fascinating. There isn’t a single insect in here.”
Choe Dal bowed and pointed toward the fine silk gauze fitted over the window frames. “This gauzy silk keeps all flying pests outdoors. Furthermore, we burn pest-warding incense and cultivate insect-repelling grass across the grounds. We have also stocked the pond with surface-feeding fish to consume mosquito larvae before they hatch.”
“Exhaustive precautions.”
“For an esteemed Immortal Master, nothing less than perfection will suffice.”
The first-floor reception hall was furnished with heavy tables and high-backed chairs carved from polished redwood.
Classical landscapes and refined calligraphy adorned the papered walls, while the delicate aroma of calming herbs drifted from a bronze brazier in the corner.
Further back lay the private quarters: a master bedchamber, a quiet study, and a stone bathing room.
The bedchamber contained a massive four-poster bed wide enough to sleep three grown men side by side with plenty of room to spare. Atop it lay a plush goose-feather mattress and a folded quilt of pale, cool silk.
Resting on a side table was a jug of iced tea clinking with chipped ice, beside a porcelain dish of diced, chilled melon.
After walking Lee Hyun through the villa’s daily amenities and dining hours, Choe Dal bowed politely and withdrew.
The maidservants served the fresh brew, arranged the fruit, and quietly retreated, closing the doors behind them with barely a whisper.
Now completely alone, Lee Hyun did not immediately relax. Instead, he channeled his Qi-Observation Technique, scanning the rafters, floorboards, and stone foundations for spiritual signatures.
Nothing. Not a sliver of foreign power.
Next, he activated the Enhanced Hearing Technique, expanding his senses outwards.
Faint sounds drifted in from across the estate: the muffled, cheerful chatter of maidservants washing linen, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a cleaver striking a cutting board in the distant kitchen. Beyond that, nothing hostile lingered nearby.
Finally, he cast the Earth-Sensing Technique.
Beneath the villa, a web of mortal drainage ditches and ceramic conduits interlaced the soil, but there were no hollow voids, hidden rooms, or lurking subterranean figures.
No hidden traps, no covert arrays…
Letting out a breath, he gingerly lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress.
The sheer softness yielded beneath him like a cloud.
He couldn’t help himself. He leaned back and collapsed across the bed.
Outside, the gentle, rhythmic hum of water sliding over tiles filled the air, paired with the crisp mountain-like breeze gliding through the silk screens.
Reaching over, he picked up a slice of peeled melon with a bamboo pick and slipped it into his mouth.
It was sweet, crisp, and wonderfully chilled.
So this is how the rich and powerful live…
To lie completely idle, fed iced fruit in midsummer while cool mountain air washed over you—it was sheer indulgence.
I’m starting to understand why mortals and rogue cultivators lose their minds trying to climb the ladder of power.
After a few minutes of quiet luxury, Lee Hyun hauled himself upright.
No point lying around all day. Let’s see what they have here.
Crossing into the study, he found shelves crammed with hundreds of leather-bound and silk-stitched volumes.
Given that this pavilion housed royal guests and retainers of the Bureau of Heavenly Service, the bulk of the texts covered the history, geography, law, and courtly customs of the Untaek Kingdom.
Lee Hyun reached out and slid Biographies of Heavenly Service Retainers from the shelf.
It was a grand historical register detailing the most famous retainers since the bureau’s establishment.
There were entries on combat retainers who had slaughtered demonic beast swarms to rescue besieged border outposts, and records of an artisan retainer who spent three grueling years cataloging riverweed to purge a plague of parasitic water spirits. Another chronicle told of an expert who clashed with a Profound Realm cultivator from the rival Heavenly Yang Kingdom, both combatants tumbling into an abyss, never to be seen again.
Setting that aside, Lee Hyun picked up Records of Untaek Water Transport.
This exhaustive treatise cataloged the kingdom’s waterways: its major rivers, irrigation canals, ferries, sluices, and waterwheel structures.
To his surprise, he found it thoroughly absorbing.
The text contained detailed surveys of flood basins, swamps, and dykes, including diagrams of an immense subterranean floodgate network built beneath Cloud Capital designed to siphon floodwaters away during the monsoon seasons.
There were even technical blueprints of water-lifting contraptions similar to the villa’s rooftop cooling wheel.
Flipping through the pages, Lee Hyun’s gaze stopped on a sketch of a small step-wheel lifting irrigation water into hillside terraced plots.
Wait a moment… could I link the separate water tanks in my tunnels into a centralized system like this?
Up until now, he had simply erected separate small cisterns in each underground field to collect Spiritual Rain Water.
While his underground cavern lacked natural river currents to power a traditional waterwheel, the core idea remained brilliant—consolidating several disconnected plots into a single, high-capacity reservoir with branching sluices.
If I ever have to abandon my current hideout and excavate Tunnel No. 2… designing a centralized hydraulic grid right from the foundation phase would save an immense amount of manual labor.
After committing the schematics to memory, Lee Hyun pulled down another text.
Baeksu City for Eleven Days.
It was a grim, firsthand diary kept by an imperial scribe detailing the final eleven agonizing days before the fortress of Baeksu fell to enemy forces. Glancing over the stark descriptions of starvation, mass slaughter, and broken defensive arrays, his expression darkened. He slid the heavy chronicle back into its slot.
He needed something lighter to pass the time.
At the lowest shelf, he discovered a haphazard stack of popular woodblock-printed pulp novels. Their spines were visibly fraying, their corners dog-eared from being devoured by dozens of previous guests.
My Youngest Daughter Turned Out to Be the World’s Strongest
After Ten Years of Seclusion, My Junior Martial Sister Became the Sect Leader
I Picked Him Up Thinking He Was a Demonic Beast, but He Was the Prince of Heavenly Yang
Amused by the absurd titles, he picked one up and began reading. Before he realized it, dusk had quietly swallowed the sky.
A timid knock sounded at the sliding partition. “Immortal Master, dinner is prepared.”
“Enter.”
Two maidservants entered with downcast eyes, carrying a wide, low dining table between them.
Arranged across the porcelain plates were a clear river-perch broth, fragrant roast duck with crispy skin, steamed sweet rice parcels wrapped in fragrant lotus leaves, tangy preserved shoots, and seasonal plums.
It was mortal food, but the ingredients were premium and the culinary finesse undeniable.
For the first time in years, Lee Hyun enjoyed a lavish, hot meal while lazily flipping through novel pages without having to look over his shoulder.
The novelty felt strange at first, but by the third day, he had settled into the rhythm of being attended to.
He strictly forbade the maids from kneeling to remove his boots or dressing him, but he saw no reason to reject hot herbal tea or prepared meals.
Freshly pressed robes were placed on his stand each dawn, and steaming bathwater adjusted to the ideal temperature was drawn without him having to utter a single syllable.
This place is truly corrosive…!
Lee Hyun thought with a wry smile as he sipped his sweet plum tea on the third evening.
If I get too comfortable living like an emperor, how am I supposed to go back to crouching in a damp, muddy hole in the earth?
* * *
On the morning of the fourth day, Jeong Won-baek arrived at Cool Clarity Villa.
“The resident retainers tasked with conducting your entry evaluation have arrived.”
“Is that so?”
Lee Hyun calmly slipped his current diversion—I Became a Prisoner of Heavenly Yang, but I’m Popular—under a thick pile of historical registries so only the dignified titles were visible.
“Give me a moment to gather my things.”
“Take all the time you require.”
Jeong Won-baek’s eyes swept over the stack of books on the desk. Right at the summit sat Biographies of Heavenly Service Retainers.
“You have been studying our history with admirable diligence.”
“I merely thought it prudent to understand the bureau’s heritage before stepping through its doors.”
“A commendable attitude.”
Within the jade-bricked walls of the Bureau of Heavenly Service lay an expansive sea of tile-roofed compounds, looking every bit like an enormous imperial ministry.
A massive lacquered plaque hung over the primary gate, emblazoned with sweeping gold script: Bureau of Heavenly Service.
Flanking the entrance stood two towering granite statues—one depicting a stoic swordsman with a broad blade across his back, the other an ethereal scholar holding an open folding fan. A martial artist and an immortal cultivator.
Beyond the threshold, a wide flagstone avenue diverged into several winding thoroughfares.
Directly ahead rose the Retainer Pavilion, responsible for general administration and registry, while the Battlefield Hall dominated the right flank.
To the left lay the industrial courtyards where artisan retainers worked their crafts: the Alchemy Hall, the Talisman Courtyard, the Formation Courtyard, and the Medical Courtyard.
The entire bureau operated like an autonomous walled city.
Most of the people passing along the avenues were mortal scribes, runners, and court officials, but here and there, cultivators wearing spatial pouches and bronze identification medallions strolled by with an aura of detached arrogance.
Most were noticeably advanced in age; young faces were vanishingly rare.
It makes sense. Any young genius with respectable talent would have joined a proper immortal sect, not chained themselves to a mortal royal court.
Jeong Won-baek ushered Lee Hyun into a sunlit examination hall inside the Retainer Pavilion.
Three desks stood in a neat row across the chamber. At the center sat an austere woman with streaks of silver running through her dark hair; to her left, a stern, middle-aged man sat methodically stamping official scrolls.
Judging by their aura, both were at the mid-to-late stages of the Qi Refining Stage.
Jeong Won-baek took the vacant seat at the rightmost table.
The silver-haired woman set down her brush and looked up. “I am Resident Retainer Yuk So-yeon.”
The man beside her gave a formal cupped-fist salute. “Resident Retainer Ma Jin-ho.”
“I am Lee Dong-il.”
Yuk So-yeon spread a blank parchment across her desk. “Though we term this an evaluation, it is hardly an interrogation. Our purpose is merely to confirm Fellow Daoist’s identity, verify your realm and cultivation art for signs of unorthodox corruption, and review the code of conduct governing the Bureau of Heavenly Service.”
“Understood.”
“Where do you hail from?”
“I cultivated in seclusion within the deep mountains of the northern frontier.”
“Which mountain range specifically?”
“My master forbade me from disclosing the exact name.”
“A common enough rule among hermits. The Bureau of Heavenly Service does not pry into private inheritances without cause. Are there any cultivation clans, imperial sects, or powerful individuals hunting you within the borders of Untaek?”
“None.”
“Have you ever practiced demonic arts, desecrated corpses, or refined the blood essence and mortal souls of living beings to cultivate?”
“Never.”
Yuk So-yeon signaled to the scribe beside her, who dipped his quill and swiftly noted the responses in the official Retainer Register.
“Your age?”
“Twenty-nine.”
Lee Hyun had settled on this number after careful deliberation.
If he claimed to be in his early twenties, it would be unnatural for such a young cultivator to abandon the sect path for a mortal court. But if he claimed an older age, the window of time he could safely exist without arousing suspicion over his eternal youth would shrink dramatically.
If I say twenty-nine, nobody will bat an eye if my face doesn’t age for twenty or thirty years. That will give me more than enough time to hunt down the formula for the Barrier-Breaking Pill and master alchemy.
Yuk So-yeon accepted the answer without skepticism. “Next, we shall measure your realm and elemental affinities.”
Reaching under the desk, she brought out a heavy sphere of polished black stone roughly the size of a human skull. Three distinct, concentric rings were carved into its surface.
“This is a Realm-Measuring Stone. It measures the density and refinement of your spiritual energy to discern your stage. Channel a thread of your power into its surface.”
Lee Hyun rested his palm against the cool mineral.
Deep within his dantian, he isolated an infinitesimal, needle-thin strand of Primordial Unity True Qi from his vast sea of power, guiding it upward to his fingertips.
Wuuuung—
The innermost circle of the stone flared with steady, pristine white radiance.
“The peak of the early Qi Refining Stage…” Yuk So-yeon observed closely. “You stand right at the threshold of the 3rd layer, though your energy has not yet undergone qualitative condensation into the middle stages.”
“That is so.”
“Your spiritual energy is astonishingly stable, however. So steady that one might mistake it for the foundation of an elite sect disciple…”
Ma Jin-ho peered over the desk and nodded in agreement. “It appears his qi is exceptionally pure because he has devoted himself single-mindedly to one fundamental art without dabbling in erratic manuals.”
Next, Yuk So-yeon set out a flat jade disc inlaid with five colored segments.
When Lee Hyun pressed his fingers to the center, the green segment of wood, the red segment of fire, and the yellow segment of earth illuminated in quick succession.
“Triple spiritual roots.” Yuk So-yeon made another notation. “Twenty-nine years old, a stable foundation, and mediocre roots that aren’t entirely hopeless. May I ask why Fellow Daoist chose to enter the Untaek Kingdom’s service rather than seeking entry into a cultivation sect?”
“In a sect, someone of my aptitude would be treated as an expendable outer disciple or menial laborer,” Lee Hyun replied smoothly. “In a mortal kingdom, I can live comfortably as an esteemed guest, treated with dignity and wealth.”
Yuk So-yeon stared at him for a brief heartbeat before giving a dry, approving chuckle. “…A remarkably pragmatic view. You aren’t wrong. The overwhelming majority of rogue cultivators who claw their way into sect gates spend their entire lives toiling like draft animals before dying penniless at the Qi Refining Stage. Still, had I been in Fellow Daoist’s shoes, I might have held onto the dream of Foundation Establishment a little longer.”
Finally, Ma Jin-ho produced a small bronze oil lamp from beneath his counter.
Its base was cast in the likeness of snarling demonic beasts, and a single silver thread served as its wick.
Though the reservoir held no oil, when Ma Jin-ho grazed the wick with a flick of his thumbnail, a pale white spark ignited, fluttering quietly.
“This is a Demonic-Art Detection Lamp. It reacts violently to blood qi, vengeful spirits, and corrupt arts. You need only inject a thread of qi into the frame.”
Lee Hyun laid his palm flat against the bronze casing and sent another thin wisp of Primordial Unity True Qi inward. The white flame did not sputter or darken; instead, it flared with a calm, crystal-clear brightness.
“Completely clean.” Ma Jin-ho lowered a metal snuffer over the flame. “Lastly, please demonstrate a defensive or offensive spell of your choice. Though rare, we occasionally encounter rogue cultivators who have reached the Qi Refining Stage relying solely on pills, unable to cast a single proper incantation.”
Lee Hyun formed a single-handed mudra.
With a soft hum, a translucent, pale golden Spirit Light Shield condensed in the air before his palm, spanning roughly the width of a dinner platter.
Yuk So-yeon calmly flicked an iron pellet off her desk.
Clang!
The pellet struck the barrier dead center and ricocheted off, clattering harmlessly against the flagstones.
The translucent surface did not so much as shudder.
“Adequate.”
Yuk So-yeon spoke offhandedly, but Ma Jin-ho leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the glowing disk.
“Wait… is that truly a basic Spirit Light Shield?”
Lee Hyun blinked. “It is. Is something amiss?”
“No, nothing is amiss… but the structural density is astonishing. The qi distribution is so flawless that it looks like something cast by an elder who has practiced the same shield technique every day for thirty years.”
“I know few techniques,” Lee Hyun said humbly. “Lacking variety, I simply repeated the few arts I possessed until they became second nature.”
“A rare virtue,” Jeong Won-baek remarked from his seat, nodding in satisfaction. “Rather than greedily pursuing hundreds of half-baked spells, mastering a single defensive art to perfection is far superior. Given that your mastery lies in the Spirit Light Shield, Fellow Daoist possesses the exact foundation required for a Battlefield Retainer.”
With that demonstration, the formal evaluation reached its conclusion.
Yuk So-yeon opened the register to the final page. “Currently, retainers within the Bureau of Heavenly Service are partitioned into four distinct branches: Resident, External, Battlefield, and Artisan. Are you familiar with the duties of each?”
“I am.”
“Which division do you wish to join?”
“May I transfer to another branch at a later date?”
“Whenever you wish, provided your merit points and qualifications meet the criteria.”
“In that case, I will register as an External Retainer for now.”
In truth, joining the Artisan Retainers to study the secrets of pill crafting would have served his ultimate goals best, but at present, Lee Hyun knew nothing about the art of alchemy.
If an established alchemist volunteered to become an Artisan Retainer, the Untaek Kingdom would have bowed in gratitude. Someone who merely wished to learn alchemy, however, was of no consequence. To learn alchemy, Lee Hyun would first have to amass Merit Points and then beg an Artisan Retainer for instruction.
He could also select Spirit-Plant Cultivation from the artisan roles and try to learn alchemy on the side while mingling with other retainers. However, spirit-plant cultivation was not a field that yielded quick results, making it ill-suited for earning the Merit Points he needed to learn alchemy and acquire the pill recipe within twenty years.
Furthermore, becoming an Artisan Retainer for spirit-plant cultivation presented another serious problem: all of Lee Hyun’s cultivation arts had been learned from Cheongha Valley. If it were ever discovered that Cheongha Valley’s techniques were being used in a mortal dynasty, both Lee Hyun and the Untaek Kingdom could face grave peril.
Even setting aside the Golden Core patriarchs, Cheongha Valley had dozens of Foundation Establishment cultivators serving as elders. If just one of them descended and unleashed a slaughter, the entire Untaek royal court would be reduced to ruins.
Of course, he had no way of knowing if Cheongha Valley still possessed the same might it had in the past. But unless its power had severely deteriorated, it was by no means an opponent the Untaek Kingdom could withstand.
Even if nothing happens while I am here, disaster could strike the Untaek Kingdom long after I leave. I must avoid any duties related to spirit plants…
Yuk So-yeon explained the merit system and the regulations retainers were required to observe. Most of it was common sense: one must not slaughter mortals without cause, plunder their wealth, and so on.
“If you have no objections, I shall register you as an External Retainer.”
“I have no objections.”
The scribe recorded the final entry and stamped the seal of the Bureau of Heavenly Service onto the Retainer Register. The moment the vermilion ink seeped into the paper, the small formation patterns carved along the register’s borders illuminated in sequence. The scribe then placed a blue jade token atop the register and engraved Lee Hyun’s name onto it with a silver needle.
Yuk So-yeon handed the jade token to him.
Carved on the front was a crane soaring above the clouds, while the back bore the inscription: External Retainer Lee Dong-il.
“Here is your Retainer Token, Fellow Daoist.”
Suddenly becoming a retainer of a mortal kingdom felt rather surreal.
“The registration is complete. You may continue residing at Cool Clarity Villa. Do you have any further questions?”
Just as he was about to put the jade token into his storage pouch, Lee Hyun paused. “How many Merit Points are needed to learn alchemy and obtain the recipe for the Barrier-Breaking Pill?”
“See for yourself,” Yuk So-yeon said, gesturing to the scribe.
The scribe retrieved the Heavenly Service Merit Register from a bookshelf in the corner of the room. The register was a massive ledger categorizing missions, reward items, and the terms for using various facilities, with dozens of index tabs lining the edges of its pages.
Lee Hyun immediately flipped to the section on pills and alchemy.
[One Barrier-Breaking Pill: 100 Merit Points. 10 low-grade spirit stones required separately.]
[Attendance of Basic Alchemy Lecture: 20 Merit Points.]
[Attendance of Advanced Alchemy Lecture: 50 Merit Points. Prerequisite: Completion of Basic Lecture.]
[Rental of Pill Cauldron and Earthfire Facilities: 10 Merit Points per month. Medicinal herbs and supporting ingredients must be prepared separately.]
[Barrier-Breaking Pill Recipe: 500 Merit Points. External transmission and sale strictly prohibited.]
Hmm… Even if I only attend the basic and advanced lectures, acquire the Barrier-Breaking Pill recipe, and rent a pill cauldron for just one month… that’s 580 Merit Points? But to actually practice, I’ll need to buy medicinal herbs and rent the facilities for much longer.
In truth, the Merit Points he needed would easily exceed six hundred.
Just how much work do I have to do to earn 600 points?
Lee Hyun turned to the back of the register, where the missions available to External Retainers were listed. The rewards for most of them, however, ranged from a paltry one to five Merit Points.
Why are they so stingy…?
“Can I apply for this mission right now?”
“Four people have already applied. Priority goes to those who have served as External Retainers longer and those who haven’t received a mission recently.”
“What about handling the spirit insects at the Cheongsu River?”
“The same applies.”
“Then this investigation mission…?”
“Already assigned.”
“There are fewer missions than I expected.”
“It can’t be helped,” Yuk So-yeon said. “There are plenty of External Retainers but very few missions that actually grant Merit Points… unless you’re willing to fight against the Heavenly Yang Kingdom, that is.”
If I want to learn alchemy and get the pill recipe within twenty years, being an External Retainer won’t even come close…
Lee Hyun looked through the merit register once more. The other retainers—especially the Battlefield Retainers—had an abundance of missions, and their assignments yielded the highest rewards.
I’d be better off becoming a Battlefield Retainer. But first, I need to find out if I have the skill to handle their duties.
Closing the register, Lee Hyun asked, “Does it cost Merit Points to receive sparring instruction from the martial arts masters at the Martial Training Courtyard?”
“None at all,” Jeong Won-baek replied with a chuckle. “The martial artists over at the Martial Training Courtyard love nothing more than sparring with cultivators, so don’t you worry. I’ll get in touch with Head Gwak.”
* * *
The following day, Lee Hyun visited the Grand Training Ground of the Martial Training Courtyard.
Unlike his previous visit, when it had teemed with soldiers preparing for departure, the grounds were now quiet and uncrowded. In the distance, soldiers drilled with shields, and on several small sparring platforms, pairs of martial artists traded blows with blunted weapons.
Lee Hyun was guided to a separate training ground enclosed by high walls. To one side, wooden swords, wooden spears, and blunted iron weapons were neatly arranged on racks.
Two men stood waiting in the center of the grounds.
One was Gwak Cheon-ung, Head of the Martial Training Courtyard and a master of the Profound Realm. The other was a seasoned martial artist who appeared to be in his mid-forties. He wore deep navy robes, and an old scar ran from his temple down to his jawline.
Gwak Cheon-ung introduced him. “This is Martial Instructor Seo Jin-myeong of our courtyard. Not only is he a master of the Transformation Realm, but he’s also a far better teacher than I am.”
“Greetings, Immortal. I am Seo Jin-myeong.”
“A pleasure. I am Lee Dong-il.”
Moments later, both Lee Hyun and Seo Jin-myeong held wooden swords with rounded edges.
“First, we must assess where your skills lie,” Gwak Cheon-ung said. “Since it’s your first time, don’t overthink it—just fight however you see fit. There’s no need to be intimidated, either. With me standing by, neither of you will suffer any serious harm.”
“Understood.”
Lee Hyun and Seo Jin-myeong squared off, standing roughly ten zhang apart.
Gwak Cheon-ung turned to Seo Jin-myeong. “Jin-myeong, he is our young, newly joined immortal retainer. Give him a small taste of actual combat, but don’t push him too hard right out of the gate.”
“Yes, sir.”
Seo Jin-myeong answered, but his voice cracked ever so slightly. The right hand gripping his wooden sword was trembling. He tightened his fingers, fighting to suppress the shudder, yet the moment he looked directly at Lee Hyun, the sword wavered again.
Cold sweat ran down his spine. The hair on the nape of his neck bristled, and his breathing grew shallow before he even realized it.
What… what is happening?