Chapter 117
Chapter 117
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Intensive Training Week (1)
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The next day, when he recounted the events of the recommendation festival, Moyong So-hye was the first to light up with excitement.
“Waaah! Myojin Sect! Did the instructor really pick it?”
“Yeah. With my golden touch.”
“Instructor! You're so stylish!”
Beyond Moyong So-hye, who clung to him happily, Baek Ri-seol was furrowing her brow.
When he asked what was wrong, a thoroughly dejected reply came back.
“Ugh. The cat is cute, but I'm worried. It strangely runs away whenever I reach out.”
“Sister! It'll be fine!”
Moyong So-hye clenched her fist with vigor.
“I heard the cats from Myojin Sect are well-trained and docile.”
“Really?”
“Surely if you just stay still, it'll come over and rub against your legs on its own.”
“Hehe. Just thinking about it feels nice.”
“So! We just need to watch out not to keel over from cuteness overload.”
“Survival! Cuteness death!”
Clap clap.
He watched fondly as they high-fived and bounced around, when Nangong Yun-ho approached.
“You must have had a tough time, Instructor.”
“Tough? It was all thanks to the goddess of luck.”
“Still, a Murim excursion. I never imagined the day would come when I'd attend one as your assistant.”
The Ghost of Bronze Hall, formerly of Bronze Hall himself, seemed to be filled with fresh emotions.
“It's all thanks to you, Instructor.”
“That's a given.”
Unlike Nangong Yun-ho, who was endlessly moved, Jegal Tan seemed worried about something else.
“Instructor. Good luck with the draw is fortunate, but there's something you need to keep in mind.”
Chu Un-hwi grew inwardly concerned at his solemn expression.
'Whenever this guy makes that face, trouble always follows.'
And sure enough.
Jegal Tan poked at a subtle point.
“Before the drawing, did you hand in your instructor's log and receive anything back?”
“I don't think so.... Ah, right.”
When he rummaged in his pocket, a crumpled paper that had been shoved in haphazardly came out.
It was the paper that Senior Instructor Jang Cheol-sim had given him after finishing yesterday's chores.
Since he'd stuffed it into his pocket right away, it was not just crumpled but rolled into a small ball.
“Sorry. It's a bit crumpled.”
“...Well, I expected as much.”
Jegal Tan, his lower lip covering his upper one as if about to cry, squatted down and began smoothing out the paper carefully.
Peeking over his shoulder, a foreboding phrase appeared as the paper regained its original shape.
“Uh. Shit. No way.”
“That 'no way' is exactly right.”
Jegal Tan picked up the tattered paper and muttered glumly.
“For the next month. It's the final intensive training week before the Murim excursion.”
A special period to review their training in preparation for real combat.
To Chu Un-hwi, that sounded like.
'We're screwed.'
Jegal Tan's warning became reality immediately.
That night, long after the sun had set, just as he was thinking of going to bed, uninvited guests burst in.
“Temporary Instructor Chu Un-hwi!”
He threw on some clothes haphazardly and rushed out to find a burly instructor in crisp uniform, standing rigidly.
Behind him were over a dozen students in tow.
“What's this about?”
“Didn't you get the notice yesterday? Intensive training week until the Murim excursion.”
“I heard about it.”
But he hadn't expected visitors in the middle of the night.
As he blinked in surprise, the instructor sighed heavily.
“A temporary instructor, huh....”
Do they really have to explain even the basics?
“......”
He grumbled, but from the sidelong glances, it seemed this was indeed his fault.
As he stayed silent, the instructor scowled and tilted his head.
“You don't seem to know, so I'll explain.”
So, the intensive training period—
The instructor's explanation boiled down to three points.
• Final review of everything learned before the Murim excursion.
• Fill in any gaps while teaching practical applications for real combat.
• Final checks to prevent any accidents.
Chu Un-hwi, listening, tilted his head.
“Got it. But why train in the middle of the night like this?”
When good daytime hours are available.
The instructor replied.
“Do you fight enemies on a schedule during the day?”
“Not exactly.”
“No. Battles can happen at dawn, morning, evening, or midnight.”
True enough.
Why state the obvious? The instructor answered promptly.
“That's why we're here to experience nighttime combat in the wetlands.”
“Nighttime combat?”
“And at dawn, a simple overnight by the riverbank.”
“Until dawn?”
Surprised, he asked again, only to get a reaction as if he were the strange one.
“Didn't you know? This Sichuandong training ground is famous.”
“For what?”
“What else? Survival and living training in all sorts of wild terrains.”
“Huh—?”
He'd never heard that.
In fact, no one had come looking until now.
What followed was a truth he hadn't wanted to know.
“Especially since it replicates Sichuan's treacherous lands so well.”
“Even the infamous Sichuan mountain mosquitoes are here. That says it all.”
“So people avoid coming if they can.”
“But when the Murim excursion approaches, it's the first popular training ground everyone rushes to.”
His head spun at the grim reality.
“Alright. Training starts now, so hurry and prepare.”
“Prepare what for training...?”
“You need to set up and clean the equipment for training, and handle cleanup afterward, right?”
His vision blurred.
The night training was just the beginning.
The next dawn, other instructors arrived with their own groups of students.
They even fought over the training ground, counting days.
“We're already using this place. Go somewhere else.”
“No such rule exists. If you trained yesterday, it's our turn next.”
“Our training isn't finished yet.”
“Same for us.”
After a noisy argument, they compromised by each occupying a section of the wetlands.
The real problem came after.
By morning, five groups showed up, and by lunchtime, ten groups collided at the entrance.
“What? We got here first.”
“Nonsense! We were first!”
Raising voices was par for the course.
“Who's the manager here?”
“What's with all this gear from the previous group rolling around!”
“You should've cleaned up ahead of time!”
He watched instructors bicker over the training ground, or got shoved around while cleaning equipment.
Instructors and students alike made a racket as they pleased.
“Tch. I said I didn't like this place.”
“Should we sneak off to that spot over there to rest?”
“What's this filthy sackcloth?”
“Look. They even built a shelter in the tree.”
That's not allowed—!
Blocking students eyeing his cozy nest, the young ones giggled ignorantly.
“What? A temporary instructor?”
“Leave him. Being stuck in a low-grade simulation training ground means he's pitiful anyway.”
“Hm, he looks familiar.”
“Whatever. Where's the water?”
Warding off the sudden invaders wasn't hard.
But there were too many.
“It's our turn next! Ours!”
“What are you talking about? No way I'm accepting that!”
In one corner of the wetlands, instructors screamed at each other.
“Ah! Come on! Think of the people waiting behind!”
“The sun's gonna set like this! Hurry up—!”
Outside, newly arrived instructors bellowed.
“Ah. It's broken.”
“Can't be helped.”
“Flint's fine, but should we take it for later?”
“Tch. What's this? Worm farm? Why's this here? Should I flip it?”
And students, taking advantage of the fighting instructors, rummaged through the wetlands and started scowling at each other.
Running around nonstop alone, dragging out students bitten by Sichuan mountain bugs, protecting his carefully tended worm farm from ruin, and fending off the breaking of his newly cherished fishing rod—suddenly, an old memory surfaced for Chu Un-hwi.
Long ago. When the Murim Alliance and Iron Chain Alliance fell, and righteous and demonic masters united for a final desperate battle.
'There was a man called the Last Battle King.'
The indomitable warrior dubbed the last pride of the demonic path.
The beast-like powerhouse who made Nether Heaven Society elites tremble with his aura alone.
After a long, grueling bloodbath, facing another wave of Nether Heaven Society elites, he said.
“These dogs charging in packs remind me of my nephews.”
Nephews out of nowhere?
Puzzled, they asked, and he replied.
“I've got a lot of brothers. My old man was a lecher.”
Lots of moms.
He muttered to himself and shook his head.
“Nether Heaven Society bastards. As vicious as my nephews.”
Wasn't quite right? At least these could be beaten to death.
Back then, he'd thought it was a joke.
“Now I get it.”
Truly, beings that were shit but couldn't be beaten were terrifying.
Nangong Yun-ho, arriving at the wetlands late to match the instructors' wake-up time, was startled.
“Why's it like this here again.”
The knee-high grass, grown straight and tall, was trampled.
The riverbank that once sparkled with golden sand was a total mess.
The interior of the wetlands was no better.
In the middle of the swamp, stamped with chaotic footprints everywhere, an instructor sat alone on a tree stump.
As he approached, the instructor, perched on a small stump with arms over both legs, was muttering something.
“It ended up like this after all.”
Jegal Tan, arriving next, was shocked too.
“Uwak. Total disaster. What happened here?”
“Is the instructor finally fed up with academy life? Complaints exploding?”
Moyong So-hye and Baek Ri-seol also looked quite surprised at the thoroughly trampled wetlands.
“Instructor?”
When Nangong Yun-ho asked, a soulless “Why—” came back.
“Why is it in such a state?”
Instead of an answer, incomprehensible mutters returned.
Jegal Tan seemed to understand the mumbling full of gloom.
“It started sooner than expected.”
“Started what?”
“The scramble for the training ground. Outdoor grounds are popular, so competition flares up before Murim excursions.”
“I see.”
But something was off.
Jegal Tan tilted his head.
“Where'd everyone go? They couldn't have left already.”
“Maybe they saw the mess and turned back?”
At Moyong So-hye's point, Jegal Tan shook his head.
“No way. They wouldn't abandon such a precious training that reminds the young masters of overnight hardships.”
For the first time, a clear answer came from the instructor.
“They left.”
“Already?”
“I made them.”
How on earth?
How could he send away all those instructors and students?
Though puzzled, what returned wasn't an answer but a question.
“Jegal. I have something to ask.”
“Y-yes, speak.”
“Do we have to do this crap for a whole month?”
Yes, came the reply, and the instructor picked up a burning log.
Then, in a deeply ominous tone, he muttered.
“Filth is purified by fire, after all.”
“I-instructor?”
“Reset to primal state, then reestablish this as a no-shitheads zone.”
“W-what are you doing?”
“Arson. Arson to uphold justice!”
Whoosh.
At the sight of him swinging the blazing firewood, Moyong So-hye watching screamed.
“Stop him!”
The four charged at the instructor.
Trudge. Trudge.
Returning to the lodging with weary steps, Wang Wu greeted him sweeping the courtyard with a broom.
“You're back?”
“...Ugh. Yeah? Were you here? Urgh.”
“Why would the one who stayed in the wetlands for convenience come back here on purpose.”
“Dunno. Gonna sleep.”
As he shambled toward his room, a meaningful remark came from behind.
“You seem to have had quite the ordeal. Shall I clean it up for you?”
“Clean up what how?”
“You seem troubled about the training ground.”
Hohoho.
Laughing rhythmically, Wang Wu spoke in an enticing tone.
“Don't let appearances fool you. I'm a recluse who devoted his dreams to the future of the Murim world.”
So now.
If you just give the order.
“This old man will use a little scheme for his lord.”