Chapter 120
Chapter 120
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: Uninvited Guest (1)
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Beneath the grounds of the Murim Alliance lay countless secret chambers with walls forged from millennium cold iron or millennium dark iron.
Of course, since each department had its own vital assets, the reasons for these chambers varied accordingly.
For instance, the Military Affairs Department stored top-secret documents, while the Finance Department housed gold, silver, treasures, and rare artifacts.
Then what lay beneath the main hall—or headquarters—overseen directly by the Murim Alliance Leader?
The correct answer: nothing at all.
This was because the chamber existed solely as an evacuation site for the elderly and children unable to practice martial arts in the event of an attack on the Alliance.
Thus, during peacetime, it was regarded as a high-security training ground used by the Alliance Leader's direct strike team for group drills.
However, for the past few days, that strike team had relocated their training elsewhere, leaving a single man and woman to discuss swordsmanship and clash blades directly.
"Compared to the path you've swung your entire life, this weapon called the sword doesn't require you to exert more force than necessary, unlike a staff."
Chaeng!
Ssaeaeaeak!!
"Exactly!"
Chaeng!
Chaechaechaeng!!
"That was excellent just now. Unlike with a staff, where you powerfully slash to repel the opponent, you can defend my openings and check your foe's movements by mixing thrusting motions between forms like you did. Well done."
"Hoo-ha. Hoo-ha. No, Master. This disciple is too dull. I only just remembered to thrust after hearing your words."
None other than the Murim Alliance Leader and the visiting cadet Peng So-jin, who had reformed their relationship as master and disciple.
"No, a good job is a good job. You've spent a lifetime building the habit of swinging a staff, I haven't yet taught you the introductory forms of the Hwanwon Sword, and my only advice so far was that the sword doesn't need to be swung with full force like a staff. And this was while I was pressuring you, limiting your thinking. Yet you resolved a life-or-death dilemma on your own. You deserve praise."
"Th-thank you."
"I'm just stating the truth about your talent. No need for thanks. Anyway, you're clearly more gifted with the sword than the staff. Especially with my swordsmanship—it's a perfect match."
Finishing his words, Gong Son Mugeol unwittingly muttered an inner thought aloud.
"That said, Eon Yong-un figured this out instantly? So-jin grew up alongside him like siblings, so maybe she would know, but the Hwanwon Sword? He only saw it once, briefly, at that inn back then. Hah. I knew he was showing talent everywhere, but he even has an eye for others' aptitudes?"
He quickly remembered Peng So-jin stood before him and shifted his train of thought.
"Ah, So-jin, sorry. I was lost in other thoughts for a moment."
"It's fine, Master. I think Yong-un is amazing too."
It was sincere.
And Peng So-jin felt the same as Gong Son Mugeol.
She was finally wearing clothes that truly fit her—a sensation so profound it sent chills down her spine.
Since Eon Yong-un had opened that path for her, hearing Gong Son Mugeol mention his name didn't bother her at all.
On the contrary, it pleased her.
"And..."
"And?"
"Personally, I'm sorry to Yong-un. I didn't know his true feelings and said things like he'd be easy to deal with as a wastrel, got angry when he said the staff didn't suit me, and even came to the Alliance to bother him."
Yet that pleasure was matched by shame and regret.
'I never even thought to help him shed the wastrel label others pinned on him. Do I deserve this overflowing opportunity?'
The chance to become the Murim Alliance Leader's disciple could have been Eon Yong-un's.
No, it wouldn't just have been possible—he could have claimed it if he'd wanted.
Eon Yong-un had yielded that opportunity to her.
"You look lost in thought. You seemed so enlightened while swinging the sword, but suddenly like this—the cause must be Eon Yong-un, right?"
"...Yes. It feels like I've only received as an older sister. I haven't even properly said I'm sorry or thanked him for introducing me to you, and now the visit is already ending."
Gong Son Mugeol chuckled softly at Peng So-jin's murmur.
"Eon Yong-un probably doesn't dwell on such things. The man I know has long forgotten them and only hopes his sister—who struggled to pick up a sword—achieves greatness. So, So-jin, just focus on learning the sword from me as you are."
"Yes, Master."
"Well, anyway, the mental cultivation is fully transmitted, and you've grasped the sword's characteristics. Now you just need to learn the proper Hwanwon Sword forms from me. However..."
"Is there a problem?"
"Looking at the hourglass, quite some time has passed already. As you said, it's nearly time to end the visit. The other cadets, excluding you who applied for extension, must be packed and gathered."
"...Ah! Now that you mention it!"
"Whatever Eon Yong-un truly thinks, if your heart is filled with such guilt, your sword will lose its way. Let's end here for today and go see off the cadets. I'll give you time to talk with your peers—use it to convey what you need to say."
I began my report just as I had upon arriving at the Murim Alliance.
The Alliance Leader Gong Son Mugeol stood before me to receive it, with my fellow cadets behind—just like before.
"Excluding Peng So-jin, who applied for a visit extension, Eon Yong-un and eighteen others have completed preparations to return to the Righteous Martial Academy. We report to the Murim Alliance Leader."
However, unlike our arrival, the welcoming party and farewell group had changed.
- Nangong Uk? That thick-headed vice-chair of the Baekbon Council is nowhere to be seen?
'He excused himself with an illness. Instead, the Military Affairs Department—which sent underlings initially—and the Medicine King Hall have their Grand Strategist and Medicine King Elder here personally?'
Well, anyway.
As my report ended, those gathered for the send-off began speaking, starting with the Alliance Leader.
"You've worked hard. I hope the past seven days here aided your growth, even if just a little."
After the customary greeting, Gong Son Mugeol draped a cloak embroidered with the words "Righteous Alliance" across my chest—the traditional gift for returning cadets—and sent a transmission.
[The weapons made from White Lotus Pure Steel have been selected. They'll be sent via the regular merchant caravan to Hubei in a few days. As for Pavilion Master Myeong Tae-seong, whom I promised to assign to the passers—he has no official ties to you, so he's already taken leave and left ahead. Once you exit Luoyang Castle and reach the main road, you'll 'happen' to meet him.]
Chuckling, he confirmed the promised gifts once more, patted my shoulder with a grin, and moved to drape cloaks over Zhuge Seol-ji and the others right behind me.
With the spot before me now vacant, Grand Strategist Zhuge Hye stepped forward.
"Good seeing you."
She offered a curt, formal greeting as an adversary.
"Yes, good seeing you too, Grand Strategist."
Then, in a hushed voice, she got to the point.
"...You. Rematch next time."
Go, obviously.
But I feigned ignorance.
"...What do you mean?"
For some reason, Zhuge Seol-ji behind me burst out with a "Pfft."
"...Seol-ji, you!"
Zhuge Hye's brow furrowed, and the stakes rose.
"...Double or nothing."
"In that case, we'll meet again when there's a chance."
Next was the Medicine King Elder.
"Your complexion's improved in just days. Looks like my medicine worked well."
"I haven't fully absorbed it, but it suits me perfectly."
"Hmph. Who gave it to you? Of course it suits! Anyway, don't forget what I said!"
"Ah. The sword that saves people..."
"Hey! You say embarrassing things in front of everyone? Not that! I meant if you're interested in medicine, I'll take you as a disciple. As long as I'm alive, the offer stands. Whenever you tire of those wicked blades, come find me."
Wasn't this the same person who once asked if I was the drunk left at the tavern, told me not to if I didn't want to, and chased me out?
Well, anyway.
Thus ended the farewells from the so-called heavyweights.
"Normally, this would conclude the departure ceremony. However, since one cadet from this group—Peng So-jin—applied for an extension to stay longer at the Alliance, I'll give you all some time for peer farewells. Busy folks may attend to your duties; I'll handle the send-off."
Thanks to the Alliance Leader's consideration, we finally got time to exchange a few words with Peng So-jin—whom we'd barely glimpsed these past days amid her lessons with the Leader.
Peng So-jin approached me first, her expression complex and hesitant, then stammered out:
"...Th-thank you."
I wondered what she'd say, but it was thanks?
Hm.
From her perspective, she had plenty to be grateful for.
But accepting it outright wouldn't balance the scales.
So I chose my words carefully.
"Sister."
"Yes?"
"This is just the beginning. You still need Uncle's approval in the end. I'll accept your thanks then."
"......"
By then, she'd get the Peng Family's secret spirit pill, Bear Embryo Transformation, just like in the original.
"Just don't forget I helped you until then."
"How could I? I'll never forget."
"That's good enough."
Three days after the Righteous Martial Academy's visiting cadets left Luoyang.
Duduk- duduk- duduk-
A drizzle began falling over the Henan region.
Rain might be a godsend to drought-stricken farmers.
But it wasn't welcome to most other folk.
Especially travelers.
It chilled the body, risking colds; turned dirt to mud, erasing paths and complicating camps.
Yet for assassins targeting travelers, it was a dear friend.
It fatigued prey, masked scents and presences, and thick clouds blocked glint off blades—ideal conditions.
And such assassins lurked here.
Clad head-to-toe in black, smeared with pitch-like paint.
As they held their breaths like dead mice, a similarly attired black-clad figure approached from afar and spoke to the highest-ranking among them.
"Squad leader. The academy priests have all headed into the nearby mountains."
The squad leader chuckled lowly at the report.
"Kekeke. Heaven aids us. In this thickening downpour, with no nearby village, they'd seek caves or cliff overhangs."
Another black-clad figure's eyes gleamed at the laugh.
"Shall we follow?"
But the squad leader shook his head, unlike his prior grin signaling the moment had come.
"Not yet. Our goal is the total annihilation of this batch of Murim Alliance visiting cadets. Certainty over haste. Charging now gains only a slight edge. Judging by the rain scent and clouds, it'll pour harder. Wait for the perfect moment."
His judgment proved correct.
The drizzle swelled into a torrent.
Shwaaa-
Shwaaaaa-
"They're surely scrambling now. Let's go."
Using the downpour as cover, the assassins swiftly ascended the mountain where the cadets had fled, aiming for total extermination.
Yet as the squad leader neared their camp...
'A water channel?'
From the torch-lit campsite stretched an unnatural trench channeling water away—hard to form naturally.
'...Something's off.'
He moved to signal a halt.
But the pounding rain drowned signals.
Stopping now was impossible.
Muttering inwardly, the squad leader drew his blade, smeared thick with ash to hide its gleam.
Then.
A young man's low voice from behind chilled his spine.
"Ah. Don't draw that."
Turning toward the voice.
A youth in a blood-red hat emblazoned with a demon's visage smirked from the darkness.