Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: 결혼적령기 무림교관-29화
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Chapter 10: A Small Incident (1)
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Five months since the entrance ceremony at the Divine Martial Academy.
It was the day of the fifth sparring test.
As students gathered in the small training ground, the temporary sparring arena prepared for the matches had Squad Leader Yeom Gwang and the other instructors standing there.
Yeom Gwang looked around at the twelve instructors nearby and asked.
"Everyone here?"
"Yes, Squad Leader."
"Hmm. Good."
As he nodded in satisfaction, a small hand rose from one side.
The woman who timidly raised her hand below shoulder level while glancing around, Instructor Yeo Mae-hong, spoke up.
"Um... Squad Leader. Instructor Chu hasn't arrived yet."
"Ugh. That guy never shows up on time."
Yeom Gwang, who had been about to ignore it and disqualify him, couldn't relax his expression upon seeing Yeo Mae-hong.
'Pretty Instructor Yeo Mae-hong keeps taking that guy's side.'
Yeom Gwang was almost forty now.
It was only natural that his eyes drifted toward the handful of female instructors among the new recruits, as he lamented still being single.
Of course, zeroing in on Yeo Mae-hong—the standout one who drew eyes for all sorts of reasons—was perhaps inevitable too.
'Birds of a feather flock together, they say. I need to guide this sweet female instructor before she strays down the wrong path.'
He was just thinking he should invite her to an instructors' gathering soon.
"Huh! Instructor Hunter!"
"It's Bronze Hall's Ghost!"
"Eek. Even the Baek Family's Snow Woman."
"Oh my. Moyong So-hye! Yul-seo, hi hi!"
Chaotic chatter.
Yeom Gwang's face soured as he spotted the man arriving with four students in tow like a folding screen, drawing all the stares.
Whispers here and there.
"Lots of sparring participants today."
No sooner had he spoken than Jegal Tan chimed in from beside him.
"It's the last sparring before the midterm, so lots of people showing up for final checks."
"Well, good chance to rack up points."
Chu Un-hwi paused as he scanned the area. He'd have to head up to the instructors' sparring arena soon.
Ignoring Squad Leader Yeom Gwang smirking down at him from above, Chu Un-hwi turned to his group.
"Alright. Here's the strategy for today."
Lowering his voice, he held up an index finger.
"You each win exactly three times today."
"Pardon?"
Nangong Yun-ho let out a high-pitched yelp.
But Chu Un-hwi stood firm.
"No need to overdo it. Victory points only check if you've got more wins than last sparring."
Don't bother winning extra.
It won't help my promotion.
He added the last part naturally, and Nangong Yun-ho asked gloomily.
"Don't they usually say to give it your all?"
"If you win ten this time, next month it'll be eleven. Doesn't help promotion."
"But as martial artists..."
"You wanna die like one right now?"
Nangong Yun-ho shrank back like a turtle.
At that moment, Baek Ri-seol leaned heavily against him, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead with a groan.
"Instructor... Today, fragile little Seol-i has no energy left. Can't even lift her sword. Sob. Sob."
Baek Ri-seol bit her sleeve pitifully and tilted her head up.
"So whisper some encouragement in my ear."
"Go wild like a gorilla."
"Hmm. That's... not quite right..."
Chu Un-hwi let out a dry chuckle at Baek Ri-seol puffing out her cheeks in dissatisfaction, then tilted his own head.
'But why's the Baek Family's Snow Woman her nickname?'
For someone as expressive—downright obnoxious, even—like Baek Ri-seol.
"Anyway, Jegal. You keep an eye on them so no slip-ups."
"So, fight full throttle for promotion, right?"
"Grab exactly the points we need. Anyone padding the score and jacking up next time's quota? Don't bother planning to live."
"...So, gaming the academy's student-growth focus. Got it."
Moyong So-hye, who'd been listening, raised her hand.
"What about me?"
"Don't push yourself. Gotta fix the scarecrow with me after."
"Hiiing."
Ignoring Moyong So-hye's mock tears, Chu Un-hwi clapped his hands.
"Go snag those points."
Go!
My damn students!
Nangong Yun-ho went first.
He steadied his pounding heart and stepped into the arena.
The opponent was a familiar face.
"Grr. Nangong Yun-ho."
Sa-gon of the Shin Young Sword Clan.
Once a promising talent in Bronze Hall, he now glared with eyes full of resentment.
"Long time."
"Hmph! Long time? Yeah, sure. Looks like you've been doing great."
Sa-gon didn't look great, even as empty flattery.
In truth, he'd plummeted in an instant.
All because he'd lost to Nangong Yun-ho, now mocked as Bronze Hall's Ghost.
He'd lost a few more times after, but the first defeat stuck deepest in everyone's memory.
"Thinking of the humiliation you put me through..."
Not just the students' mockery—even Squad Leader Yeom Gwang, who'd hyped his record, ditched him the moment he lost.
"I'll crush you and wipe it clean."
Shing.
Nangong Yun-ho clamped his mouth shut, facing the intimidating sword stance.
"Don't get cocky just 'cause it's sparring. Heh heh heh."
Was he scared of Sa-gon's surging aura? No.
'I can read a move ahead now.'
He had a feel for how long to play defense.
Then, the instructor's lesson surfaced.
—Your strength is your bullheadedness. Mull the Divine Martial Swordsmanship over and over. That alone will let you erect an ironclad sword wall and unleash mountain-like strikes.
Erect the sword wall. Unleash mountain strikes.
'Good.'
Boom!
With the drumbeat, Sa-gon charged like the wind.
Full internal energy surging—his toes cracked the arena floor.
"I'll end it in one strike!"
Facing the onrushing assault, Nangong Yun-ho thought.
'Sword wall.'
Whoosh.
The sword tip, pointed quietly at the ground, slashed up diagonally, batting away Sa-gon's blade.
'Mountain-like strike.'
Whoosh.
"Hah! Haah!"
Sa-gon gasped in horror—his own sword snapped, the opponent's halted at his throat—as he collapsed to his knees.
Chills ran down his spine. Chills.
As Sa-gon scooted backward on his butt by instinct, Nangong Yun-ho sheathed his sword.
"Next!"
"Haa... Where're you looking?"
The opponent scowled at Baek Ri-seol, who bit her lip with a hand on her hip.
"Where? You forfeiting?"
"Hmm. Fragile Seol-i in this dangerous spar... Hold on. That fox of an instructor chatting up my instructor. Name's gotta be..."
"Student Baek Ri-seol!"
Only then did Baek Ri-seol's gaze snap over. The student calling her trembled.
Her stunning face was frozen cold. But her eyes burned with life.
Like pale-tinted eyes harboring golden flames underneath?
"Participating."
Scraaaape.
The wooden sword scraped the arena floor.
Though wooden, it felt like a blood-drenched steel blade aimed at him.
"We were sparring, right?"
Swish.
Balanced on one leg, she spun like a dancer—or so it seemed.
"Dangerous spar."
Crack!
The opponent gaped at his wooden sword shattering to splinters.
"But you're the dangerous one."
A chill smile curled her lips—or so he thought—
Thwack!
Consciousness cut off.
The spars proceeded smoothly.
Nangong Yun-ho scattered rock-solid aura without budging an inch, claiming three victories.
Baek Ri-seol toyed with foes using bouncy footwork, smashing them.
Jegal Tan had no standout traits.
A bit crooked maybe, but he'd been top-tier in Silver Hall originally. No way Bronze Hall students could handle him.
Even the biggest worry, Moyong So-hye, went perfectly.
"Waaah—!"
Her fists blurred like wind as she burst into fake sobs.
"Sorry!"
Cute little fists hammered solar plexus, collarbone, throat, chin.
Thud. Thud-thud-thud!
"Kehuk—!"
The chain combo flowed in one breath—no defense possible. In seconds, he clutched his gut, brow struck, jaw wrenched around.
'Chain Fist technique was the right call.'
Worried her timid nature might falter mid-attack, he'd drilled her relentlessly on the scarecrow—even half-asleep—to unleash the chain without pause.
And the result?
"Kekekehek!"
She turned an acquaintance fist specialist into mush.
"Sob. Ugh."
Moyong So-hye was now bawling for real after pulping her friend.
'Tough it out. That's the jianghu. No friends in the jianghu.'
Having forcibly severed her friendship, Chu Un-hwi stood tall.
Quite the spectacle—acquaintances gasped in horror.
"Hic. Our cute Yul-seo turned into a blood-mad Yul-seo."
Yul-seo.
Chestnut yul, rat seo.
Squirrel. Perfect for petite, round Moyong So-hye—but that nickname was history now.
"Blood dripping from her hands. How'd So-hye become..."
She's a jianghu denizen now, rookies.
Call her Bloodhand Yul-seo from here on.
He beamed with pride watching Moyong So-hye sniffling into the next spar on Jegal Tan's signal—when a soft voice spoke up.
"Instructor Chu's students are all showing tremendous growth."
He turned to see a stern-faced female instructor in her thirties smiling with her eyes.
Someone he'd passed in the lounge a few times. Fellow newbie too.
'Name's...'
Recalling it, Chu Un-hwi greeted her.
"Instructor Jo Hyeon of fist arts, right?"
"You remember."
She sounded genuinely surprised.
"Didn't think you would, since you never show in the lounge."
"No way."
They chatted lightly, and she smiled.
"Taught Moyong So-hye briefly once. Figured her lively but fragile temperament would slow growth a lot."
Would've.
With normal methods.
"But seeing her now, looks like my guidance fell short. Second-rate skill at minimum..."
"Not quite there yet."
Moyong So-hye had grown, sure.
But in Chu Un-hwi's eyes, still full of gaps.
"Just got lucky finding aptitude in handiwork."
"Hehe. Finding true aptitude is every student's dream."
"Luck, that's all."
As they bantered, Yeo Mae-hong poked his side.
"Instructor Chu. What's going on?"
"With what?"
"Nangong Yun-ho downed three like ragdolls, then flopped over solo."
"Oh. Such. Un. For. Tu. Nate. Thing."
As planned.
"Jegal Tan and Baek Ri-seol seem off too. Moyong So-hye..."
Having turned her third friend to mush, Moyong So-hye wept openly.
"...Looks done with spars."
"Poor. Girl."
"Sounds like you're reading a book. Match-fixing...? Nah."
Her probing gaze followed as Chu Un-hwi turned away.
That was when.
"Instructor Chu! What the hell is this?!"
Yeom Gwang stomped up, bellowing right away.
"Sparring a kids' game?!"
His own students crushed—boy, was he steamed.
Chu Un-hwi replied with a slimy grin.
"No way."
"Then why do they all forfeit the fourth?!"
"Must've hit tough opponents back-to-back, worn out. Wonder whose students gave my kids hell?"
"Th-that right?"
His own trainees.
Yeom Gwang's nostrils flared—he was pleased.
"Real tough foes, huh. Look exhausted. Let it slide."
"Hmph. Pass this once."
Ambiguous expression as Yeom Gwang walked off—Chu Un-hwi sneakily pumped a fist.
"That was on purpose, right?"
To Yeo Mae-hong's narrowing eyes, Chu Un-hwi just whistled.
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