Chapter 111
Chapter 111
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Ties from Past Lives
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Han Ibi widened his eyes and said,
"Brother Kwak, isn't that going a bit too far, even among those who rely on one-shot kills?"
Kwak Wonhoe blew a soft 'haa' onto the blade of his sword before replying.
"What do you mean?"
"Did you really have to push me that hard? Even firing those dangerous arrows. I nearly died."
Kwak Wonhoe lifted his gaze from the sword and said,
"But Brother Jong won."
"Pardon?"
"No matter what, the fact that you came out on top doesn't change."
"That's not the point, is it?"
At that, Kwak Wonhoe suddenly burst into loud laughter, sheathing the sword he had been polishing as he spoke.
"We soldiers... we consider unwavering loyalty to our duty the highest virtue."
Han Ibi was momentarily speechless.
"There was no other intent. As a soldier and as an instructor, I had to defeat you, Brother Jong. I saw it as my duty not just to my team, but to you, and on a larger scale, to the Yeom Society. So don't take it to heart."
His words rang so true it was hard to argue back. Still, Han Ibi couldn't just let it go like that.
"I thought you only handled swords and bows well, Brother, but your tongue is just as sharp. You could thrive as a civil official."
Kwak Wonhoe shrugged with a chuckle.
"Thanks for the praise, but a silkworm must eat mulberry leaves. My place is the battlefield, where I'll live and die. Ah, speaking of which..."
Kwak Wonhoe's expression grew somewhat serious.
"...there's something I wanted to ask."
"What is it?"
"Show me your hand, Brother Jong."
"My hand?"
"Yes. Your right hand."
Wondering what this was about, Han Ibi still held out his right palm.
"Why? Worried I might be hiding some hidden weapon out of spite?"
Kwak Wonhoe laughed heartily and waved it off.
"Don't make me laugh. I'm sick of hidden weapons now."
"Truth be told, I'm the same."
"What I wanted to see was the back of your hand. Let me see that."
Something felt off.
A dry gulp slid down Han Ibi's throat.
But there was no reason to refuse.
Han Ibi had no choice but to slowly flip his palm over.
Kwak Wonhoe muttered,
"Hmm. Nothing there. I could've sworn I saw it."
'Damn. He must've seen the lotus pattern that appeared on the back of my right hand.'
But Han Ibi played dumb.
"Seen what?"
"Well... it looked like you had a tattoo or something. I thought I glimpsed it during the fight earlier."
Han Ibi forced an awkward smile.
"Ah, haha. Tattoo? What tattoo? I'm no barbarian... I rolled around in the mud, so you must've seen that."
Kwak Wonhoe tilted his head.
"Maybe... but it looked like a flower or something."
Just then, the door burst open.
Han Ibi and Kwak Wonhoe's gazes snapped toward it.
There stood Gil Sonrok and Hyeon.
Hyeon, a grin on his face, was panting slightly as he slapped Han Ibi's back with a loud thwack.
It hit so hard Han Ibi felt his eyes might pop out.
"Benefactor Jong, I never pegged you for such a skilled fighter."
"No, no. Skilled? Hardly."
Gil Sonrok chimed in.
"Whoa, it was amazing. When did you master flying dart techniques?"
Hyeon cut in again.
"That's not what I meant. As for darts and hidden weapons... those vile Sichuan Tang Clan—er, ahem. The benefactors truly excelled there."
Gil Sonrok raised one eyebrow.
"Then what are you praising?"
"Didn't you see, Benefactor Gil? That hand-to-hand combat. That powerful brawling. That's the martial art our Shaolin pursues."
Kwak Wonhoe chuckled.
"Hey, monk. Forgot there's someone here who got done in by that brawling?"
Han Ibi interjected.
"Thanks to which, it got ruled invalid."
A sudden silence fell.
Han Ibi was right.
Before the match, Yellow Dragon Hall's Nam Cheongbong had warned against close-quarters combat.
Though it looked like Han Ibi had won, the Martial Alliance's internal meeting resulted in a final invalidation.
In the end, the win went to Kwak Wonhoe's team.
Lumping in that unlucky Ban Banggeun too.
Hyeon said,
"Hmph! Those so-called martial artists acting all finicky like women! A win's a win—what's with all the excuses?"
Kwak Wonhoe replied,
"Monk, you haven't forgotten there's a 'winner' here because of those excuses, have you?"
Gil Sonrok said,
"Of course. Brother Kwak, regardless, sharing first place is a great bond. Whoever among them succeeds, I'll sincerely congratulate them. Right, Monk Hyeon? Buddhism even has that saying about ties from past lives."
Hyeon snorted again, wiping his nose with his sleeve.
"Whether it's a bond or a grudge, only time will tell."
The invalidation ruling for Han Ibi's team had already been handed down, but the meeting room still held members of the Yeom Society and related instructors.
Because the Yeom Society's Chairman, Elder Jang Gyoryeon, had visited.
Heo Son-dam had just finished plainly explaining the afternoon's long-range projectile evaluation.
Jang Gyoryeon nodded and turned to Tang Hyobi of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
"What do you think, Instructor Tang?"
Unlike with Heo Son-dam, his tone carried a touch of courtesy, perhaps due to her being a guest instructor.
Tang Hyobi shook her head.
"That was... neither proper dart arts nor anything else. Utterly embarrassing. I'm ashamed to even speak of it."
She still harbored resentment over her Tang Baekmun's elimination.
Jang Gyoryeon then turned to Nam Cheongbong of Yellow Dragon Hall.
"And your opinion, Instructor Nam?"
Nam Cheongbong, who had been deep in thought, finally spoke.
"Rules are rules."
Jang Gyoryeon asked with interest,
"And excluding the rules?"
"Then, in my view... it was excellent."
Tang Hyobi made a face like it was absurd.
"What? You're defending that rule-breaker?"
Nam Cheongbong said,
"I'm merely sharing my thoughts as a soldier. No bias intended—please don't misunderstand."
Jang Gyoryeon asked,
"And what thoughts are those?"
"A soldier's primary duty is to win. Everything else is secondary. If this match had been real combat against the Demonic Cult, not practice... the techniques that boy Jong Ri-mae showed were perfectly optimized for victory."
"Then why didn't you say anything during the invalidation?"
"Rules are rules."
Jang Gyoryeon burst into loud laughter.
"A soldier through and through, down to the bone. Hahaha."
After laughing for a while, he sobered and turned to Heo Son-dam.
"Keep a close eye on him."
Heo Son-dam bowed politely.
"Understood."
"Whether he's a once-in-a-generation genius or a monumental delinquent."
Heo Son-dam grinned.
"No need to worry, Chairman. With that person's request... I've had measures in place from the start."
Of course, the Sichuan Tang Clan boasted unrivaled prowess, but hidden weapons were more of a secondary specialty for them.
No matter what anyone said, their true forte was handling poisons.
If the Black Path had the Red Hegemon Gate, the White Path had the Sichuan Tang Clan.
These two sects had advanced their poison arts through centuries of rivalry, flipping dominance back and forth.
Poison was inherently tied to evil by nature.
Thus, the existence of a top poison sect like Sichuan Tang in the White Path balanced the Red Hegemon Gate—a great boon to the martial world.
Each knew provoking the other would bring dire consequences.
And so, the Yeom Society's training had reached the Demonic Cult's poison arts and antidotes.
Before learning to use poisons, they studied antidotes first.
The schedule prioritized combat and survival against the Demonic Cult.
The instructor was a familiar face: Paeng Mo-ha, the society's in-house physician who rushed to treat trainees' wounds.
Even Han Ibi and the young trainees were exhausted from the relentless training march.
Antidote theory was mind-numbingly dull.
Mostly lectures.
Paeng Mo-ha spent most time showing herb illustrations from books or real samples when available.
And hidden weapons... hidden weapons... more hidden weapons...
Survival demanded it, but Han Ibi had another reason for boredom.
Every time Paeng showed a real herb, the system chimed incessantly.
The Herb Encyclopedia database was vast, covering nearly every herb.
No need for this tedious learning.
Every moment was torture.
Han Ibi nodded off unwittingly.
In his dream, he walked through a dark castle. The figure was nine feet tall, burly, with a black cloth masking below his eyes.
Han Ibi sensed this was the 'Evil Spirit Lord' he'd sought even in dreams.
He resolved to strike first, groping for a weapon, but couldn't find his sword, pawing at his clothes in vain.
The figure approached slowly.
Han Ibi couldn't move, sweat pouring down.
Suddenly, a massive axe hurtled toward his neck.
"No—!"
Han Ibi bolted up, yelling.
A beat of silence, then roaring laughter.
Dazed at first, Han Ibi soon realized.
He'd interrupted Physician Paeng Mo-ha's lecture.
Trainees laughed uproariously but fell silent at Paeng's grim face.
The stern middle-aged physician with walrus mustaches spoke.
"Young Hero Jong, care to explain what 'no' you were yelling about?"
Han Ibi scratched his head sheepishly.
"Nothing... that shouldn't."
Paeng Mo-ha glanced sideways.
"Then explain what shouldn't."
Han Ibi's face flushed.
"Sorry."
Paeng Mo-ha said,
"No need to apologize. Content's so easy you dozed off, right? Come up front and explain this herb's effects to the trainees."
'Damn.'
This dried-rat-like old coot needed to humiliate him to feel better.
Paeng Mo-ha urged,
"What are you waiting for, Young Hero Jong? Come here."
"...Yes."
Han Ibi trudged to the podium reluctantly.
Paeng shoved a dish of dried herb samples at him.
"Name and effects?"
The system's voice echoed in Han Ibi's mind, Herb Encyclopedia DB whirring.
But he couldn't answer correctly.
This wasn't a quiz.
From long office experience, Han Ibi judged playing ignorant was best.
"I... don't know, Physician."
"I'm instructor this session."
"Ah, yes. Instructor."
"Hmph. Even trivial knowledge can save your life sometimes, Young Hero Jong. Realize your ignorance and reflect."
"...Understood."
On his way back,
Paeng muttered softly.
"Tsk tsk tsk. No wonder he got booted from the Nine Great Sects... Such a rotten attitude..."
(To be continued next time)