Chapter 72
Chapter 72
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Brother, Get Out (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dongyun Hall had only one entrance.
Hearing me tell him to get out, Jin Kyung-ryong flinched for a moment at the pressure I exuded, swallowed dryly, and clamped his mouth shut.
He seemed to be considering the possible outcomes of the Dongyun Hall incident, but it didn't take him long.
"...Thanks."
With that, Jin Kyung-ryong shuffled out the entrance.
After he left, Eun Ha-seong and Woo So-rung turned toward the door to lock it as I'd instructed. I added a word of caution laced with concern for them.
"Before Eun So-jeo brings Professor No Sam, none of this can leak outside. You get what I mean, right?"
"Yes! Brother Eon!"
"Leave it to me, Brother! Not a single one will get out."
"...You punk. They're still your seniors—why call them 'guys'? Such an elegant little shit."
"Ah! Then not a single person will get out!"
Now, the only one left by my side was Jeong Hyeon.
I cracked my knuckles and neck muscles as I turned to him and asked,
"You probably figured it out, but I'm about to have a physical conversation with these seniors about junior-senior etiquette. What about you? If you're not into it, you can go hang with Ha-seong and So-rung."
"I'll have your back."
From the way he rolled up his sleeves, it wasn't just about watching from behind—he meant to fight alongside me.
'...Hmm.'
Something like this had happened to Jeong Hyeon in the original story too.
But the circumstances were quite different.
Back then, he hadn't been promised the vice president position, and the location itself was Unmae Hall, so that was different. But the biggest difference was that Jeong Hyeon hadn't rolled up his sleeves right away like this—instead, he'd endured and endured before finally drawing his sword.
He hadn't been this proactive.
Wondering if this was okay, I scratched my cheek and spoke up.
"This is unavoidable."
"I think so too. Now that a first-year has become vice president of the student council, there must've been complaints brewing for a while. I somewhat agree with what you told Chairman Jin earlier—that it's better to crush these things in the bud."
"...Yeah? Well, anyway. Once the professor or student council president steps in, it'll be recorded as nothing happened in the student files. But rumors will spread."
"What kind of rumors?"
"You know, stuff like 'they committed insubordination' or whatever."
"Wouldn't that rumor stick to you too, Young Master Eon?"
"I'm already known as a scoundrel, so if a scoundrel acts like one, it's just another drop in the Yangtze River—who'd notice?"
"I'm already a disgrace to the Wudang Sect. Adding another handful of dirt to Wudang Mountain won't make it show."
True enough.
...No, not that.
'Tsk. This guy wasn't like this originally. Where'd he pick up all this dark water?'
Well, it wasn't bad.
No matter how I looked at it, Jeong Hyeon fit right in with the discipline committee.
'In the original, he started as vice head of Unmae Hall's discipline committee and worked his way into student council executive roles.'
That was the royal road—gain experience, prestige, and authority as vice head, then move up to head. But the problem was Cheongjuk Hall's talent pool was so thin that I was jumping straight to vice president.
'Gonna have to make him head right away.'
But as the mess unfolding before my eyes showed,
Cheongjuk Hall's basic discipline was a total disaster.
That meant the first-year discipline head would face just as many challenges as the first-year student council vice president.
'To cut down on those challenges, showing off Jeong Hyeon's skills in a moment like this could be one way.'
The Wudang Sect taught Taiji Fist and Bagua Fist before even picking up a sword, so his skills were beyond doubt.
"Alright then, back me up good."
I patted Jeong Hyeon's shoulder and turned toward the seniors.
They must've sensed the ominous atmosphere on our side, because for a moment, the whole place fell deathly silent.
Creak—
In the midst of that, Ha-seong and So-rung began locking the door.
The sound of the wooden bolt sliding into the metal groove echoed: clunk-clunk-clunk—
"Etiquette."
I used that clunking as my cue to step forward.
"Makes the man."
I reached the man I suspected was behind this mess and finished my sentence.
"Ever heard that one?"
Looking around, I saw some who seemed swept up in it by accident.
But the ones actively involved—the seniors surrounding us—radiated a fierce aura.
"Lower your eyes when we're talking nice, newbie."
"Yeah. Show some respect for your seniors!"
"If you thought becoming vice president meant you could strut over us like some punk bullying servants at home, you'll change your mind right here."
I listened quietly to their bullshit for now.
All the while, I memorized their faces.
'Pathetic.'
Did my demeanor seem like hesitation to them?
The guy who'd called me a scared little chick earlier gestured for the others to hold back, then burst out laughing with a pfft and clicked his tongue.
"Pfft. Did 'scared chick' hurt your feelings? So what're you gonna do about it?! Gonna commit insubordination against the promising top student of our era? You came all fired up but now you're stuck, huh? Especially since you left your sword behind?"
"......"
"Puhaha. If you wanna tarnish your bright future yourself, come at me. This Yang Geum-pyo got suspended thanks to Jin Kyung-ryong's frame-up, and my path to public office in the academy is blocked anyway. I've got nothing to lose."
Ah, so this was Yang Geum-pyo?
I remembered him as one of the minor villains from Cheongjuk Hall who'd left a somewhat notable impression despite his small role.
'Traitor to the country. Or in this case, traitor to the academy?'
In the dorm showdowns, Cheongjuk Hall had bet an entire semester on one event just to win a single match. They'd gathered talent and strategy, and it actually seemed possible.
But this Yang Geum-pyo had bet on Unmae Hall—Jeong Hyeon's dorm back then—and broken the leg of Cheongjuk Hall's key player. When Unmae Hall got a forfeit loss, all hell broke loose.
'And Yang Geum-pyo was the ringleader?'
With Professor No Sam and Brother Kyung-ryong handling the aftermath, no worries there.
With Jeong Hyeon at my back, solid support.
Against Yang Geum-pyo? No mercy needed.
'Poor guy thinks I can't touch him. What a shame.'
Not really a shame.
Bullshit pity—my fists were screaming for this.
I extended my left arm straight out, placing it on Yang Geum-pyo's right shoulder, as if my fists were weeping.
"Yang Geum-pyo. Looks to me like you've still got plenty to lose."
At my words, he tried to slap my arm away like I'd lost my mind.
But my movements were much faster.
I swept my hand down from his left shoulder and grabbed the collar of his training uniform, twisting it tight—grip!
At the same time, I unleashed the first form of the Anti-Dragon Palm: Dragon Tail Swing, with my right palm open.
Rumble!
From such close range, in an instant shorter than a blink, a bursting sound erupted from Yang Geum-pyo's ribs.
Boom!!!!
"Guhk?!"
Normally, this stance at this distance wouldn't deliver full power, so technically, it wasn't a proper Dragon Tail Swing.
'No way this counts as a dragon at the peak of the heavens.'
Half-Dragon Tail Swing or Mid-Ridge Dragon Tail Swing, maybe.
Anyway, this was all intentional.
I smirked at Yang Geum-pyo, who gaped with a 'guhk' after taking the palm strike—he clearly hadn't expected me to come at him.
"See? You've got tons to lose right here."
Conversation over.
I quickly retracted my right hand from the Half-Dragon Tail Swing, bent my arm, and raised my elbow.
Then, yanking his twisted collar hard toward me, I smashed my elbow into his jaw.
Crack!!!!!!!
A sharp impact rang out, and white grains of rice poured from Yang Geum-pyo's mouth like falling hail.
Were those scattering rice grains a signal to the seniors in Dongyun Hall that the fight had begun?
"Brother Geum-pyo!"
"This, this bastard?!"
"Everyone, attack!!"
The seniors who'd bared their fangs at me earlier but held back at Yang Geum-pyo's gesture now charged like mad.
I released Yang Geum-pyo's collar without hesitation, shoving him aside.
Then mingled with the oncoming seniors.
Whirl!
Thud!!
"Guhk?!"
Honestly? They were doable.
Rumble!!
Boom!!
"Kuhuk?!!"
No, putting it bluntly—they were easy.
To a murim warrior, a year is short if short, long if long.
Grrumble!
Crack!!
"Keuk?!"
The Righteous Martial Academy, excluding grad school, had no repeats, suspensions, or leaves unless special circumstances—so basic study period was four years. These seniors had at least one to at most three years more than me.
Yet they all seemed to have squandered that time.
Rumble!!!
Splat!
"Kyak!"
Of course, I had the encounter with Wi Cheol-jin and my past life's experience, so outclassing these academy newbies with just a few years under their belts wasn't easy.
Especially in current Cheongjuk Hall, a dumping ground for rejects from other dorms—it was no surprise they couldn't match me.
But failing to even graze my clothes? Unacceptable.
"Whew!"
"Euk!"
If they'd just mastered proper formations, they'd be better than this.
Even the back-alley thugs would have better coordination.
But their hearts raced ahead, causing overlaps among themselves...
"Aak! Why hit me? You blind?!"
"You twisted in front of me—why're you bitching at me?!"
What a clusterfuck.
"These brothers of ours!"
"Kwaak!!"
"Seriously!"
"Guk!"
There were breaks and dispatch trainings during semesters—if they'd used those for practical experience, whether patrolling or short-term assignments to the Murim Alliance or major sects, opportunities abounded.
With real combat under their belts, they wouldn't be like this.
"What do we do?!"
"Kweuk?!"
Even heavy sparring would've helped—they wouldn't be begging enemies with textbook, rigid moves like 'Please let me hit you?'
'At least some confidence.'
No conviction in their punches. Who'd take a punch from someone doubting it themselves?
'Sigh, then don't swing in the first place.'
Anyway, thanks to that, I had more leeway than expected. Glancing back,
Jeong Hyeon was toying with the seniors like it was a game.
'His punches look elegant too.'
Anyway, pounding Yang Geum-pyo and the first few felt great, but thinking about turning all these punks into people made my anger surge.
I could almost hear my master's voice cackling from outside the window, far away.
-Kekekeke. This is the Cheongjuk Hall you chose! Tough it out with grit!!
How long had it been since Cheongjuk Hall students started collapsing all over Dongyun Hall?
"Whew."
Catching my breath, someone I'd momentarily forgotten flashed in my mind.
'Uh. Hold on.'
Yang Geum-pyo!
Where the hell did that Yang Geum-pyo bastard go?!
'I tossed him somewhere around here...'
Looking around, I spotted someone crawling desperately toward the entrance.
I shoved the others aside and strode toward him.
Did he sense me coming?
Yang Geum-pyo glanced back mid-crawl, freaked out, and crawled like lightning, summoning every ounce of baby-fed strength.
"De-devil scoundrel! I'm hu-human!!!"
I finally caught up to him.
Snickering, I said,
"A scoundrel hitting people? Scoundrels hit people by nature. Didn't know that and still acted up?!"
Smack!!!!
Turning around,
The seniors I'd memorized were all beaten to a pulp.
The ones in the back raised silent cheers of surrender, pleading innocence.
"We surrender! Surrender!!! W-we were wrong! No! We've done wrong!!!"
"We just got swept up in it! No proper explanation—we were told it'd be fun to watch, so we came!"
"That's right! But we're sorry! We should've stopped it! Spare us! Junior! No, Vice President!!"
This won't do.
Forget the student council—when Eun So-jeo gets here, I need to ask for a brand-new red hat first thing.