Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: Introducing My Roommates
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‘Huh? Yeon... Yeonsa?’
Han Ibi jumped in surprise.
He never dreamed that “Yeonsa”—the title of this very novel—would show up here.
Yeon Nanju spoke up then.
“Yeonsa... You mean the imugi, right? What on earth does that signify?”
Maeng Gap-son chuckled heartily again before replying.
“It’s best not to pry into too many secrets at once. The more you know, the more dangerous it gets.”
Han Ibi was thoroughly flustered.
The story had gotten tangled ever since he showed up, but he hadn’t expected it to veer this far off course.
Especially since Dream of the Ant Snake had nothing like this anywhere—not even if you scoured it with your eyes peeled—aside from that “Yeonsa” term.
This novel’s about... that kid from the Qingcheng Sect, Jong Ri-hyeok, who’s got this tragic family backstory. He awakens, avenges his clan, lands a job at the Murim Alliance, and rises to success. But what the heck is this...?
Of course, he’d only checked up to volume four.
Maeng Gap-son spoke again.
“Anyway, this is where our paths part. This fellow will guide you from here on.”
A voice called from behind.
“Greetings. I’m Wang Si-ik.”
Han Ibi’s group followed the plump man named Wang Si-ik on horseback for about an hour.
No answers whenever they asked where they were headed.
In the end, they had no choice but to keep quiet and trail after him.
And finally, they arrived at...
- Wise Dawn Pavilion
It wasn’t quite as grand as Heavenly Numbers Pavilion, but the building was imposing nonetheless, topped with a neat signboard.
Seeing it, Yeon Nanju said,
“Oh, Wise Dawn Pavilion... I think I’ve heard of it. It’s the imperial library, isn’t it? Probably.”
That was right.
Wise Dawn Pavilion was essentially the national library.
It housed replicas or handwritten copies of Buddhist scriptures and all sorts of ancient texts.
In an era when books were precious, it served as a backup repository to prevent knowledge from being lost to war or fires.
Hmm? A library, of all places...?
As Han Ibi puzzled over it, Wang Si-ik led the group inside.
An elderly guard sat at the entrance, but he waved them through without a second glance, clearly on familiar terms with Wang.
“It’s late today, so you should head to the dorms first,” Wang said.
Yeon Nanju blinked in shock.
“Dorms? You mean... we sleep here?”
“You’ll see when you get there.”
What could they do?
Han Ibi, Jong Ri-hyeok, and the others exchanged bewildered looks, utterly at a loss.
Surprisingly, a brand-new building stood behind Wise Dawn Pavilion.
That was the “dorm” they’d been directed to.
A hunched-over old man whose back nearly scraped the ground and a wrinkled old woman took charge of the men and women separately.
Like dorm supervisors, perhaps.
In any case, Han Ibi and Jong Ri-hyeok were sent to the left building, while So Eun-ri and Yeon Nanju went to the right.
Thus, the four ended up scattered into separate rooms.
The old man assigned Jong Ri-hyeok to a first-floor room.
Loud chatter spilled out from inside.
After watching him enter, Han Ibi climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor.
The hunched grandpa silently pointed to a plain door.
Han Ibi hesitated a moment, then cleared his throat to announce himself and pushed it open.
Oof! So bright!
The first thing he saw was light.
Light.
Han Ibi squinted before pinpointing the dazzling source.
A bald head like a full moon!
The shiny dome reflected the sunlight.
He wore gray robes that felt like activewear monk garments.
The young monk sat cross-legged on the bed, utterly still.
Meditating, maybe?
Han Ibi looked away.
Another young man came into view.
He was on the small side, sitting on the floor tinkering with something.
What... what the heck is this...?
That was when it happened.
“What’re you doing, peeking like a stray cat? Greet us if you’re here.”
Right—there was one more person.
A young man lounging sideways on a bed, wiping down his sword with a cloth.
His thick brows and square face gave off a sturdy, straightforward vibe.
Okay, finally someone normal-looking.
Han Ibi felt a flicker of relief and bowed politely.
“Hello.”
The young man paused his polishing, lifted the blade, and inspected it.
His sword gleamed beyond clean—polished like a mirror.
Without breaking stride, he asked,
“Where’re you from?”
“I’m Jong Ri-mae of the Qingcheng Sect.”
The young man raised an eyebrow.
“Qingcheng Sect?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Last I heard, they stepped back from the Nine Great Sects...”
“That’s right.”
“And yet... you got an invite?”
“Apparently. I just found out myself.”
The young man chuckled dryly.
“You got duped too, huh? Secrets, secrets, secrets... What’s with all the damn mysteries?”
Han Ibi asked,
“And you, brother? Where do you hail from?”
“Yellow Dragon Party.”
“Yellow Dragon... Party?”
“Yep.”
“Ah... Forgive me, but I’ve never heard of that sect.”
“I’m not from the jianghu.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m military. Imperial Army. Name’s Kwak Won-hoe.”
“The Imperial Army?!”
Han Ibi’s eyes nearly bulged as he blurted it out.
A thunderous voice boomed.
“What’s with the racket?! Take your chit-chat outside!”
“You’re disturbing our practice!”
The young monk had turned to glare at Han Ibi.
His wide, thick brows furrowed over bulging eyes that darted wildly.
Han Ibi gasped inwardly, stunned.
This guy... he’s...
Yes.
Han Ibi sensed a familiar aura from the monk.
His face was straight out of those old Korean mobster flicks—like a “gang thug.”
And with that shaved head...
Just tattoo a flashy dragon across his back, and he’d be 100% synchronized.
“Why no answer? Ignoring me ‘cause I’m meditating?”
Even the temper...
A perfect gangster.
Han Ibi quickly replied,
“Nice to meet you! New here, so I figured introductions were in order. Haha. I hate noise too, though. What’s your dharma name, monk?”
The young monk snorted loudly and wiped it on his robe.
Ugh, gross.
Han Ibi grimaced involuntarily.
“Dharma name? Screw that. I ain’t some shriveled-up geezer. Name’s Hyeon from Shaolin Temple.”
Hmm... A warm(?) name that didn’t match his look at all.
Anyway, Han Ibi clasped his hands in a formal bow.
“I’m Jong Ri-mae of the Qingcheng Sect.”
But no response.
Hyeon had already turned back to his meditation pose.
One left.
Han Ibi’s gaze naturally shifted to the scrawny kid on the floor.
Sensing the stare, the boy whipped his head around 180 degrees like an owl.
Eek!
Han Ibi recoiled.
The boy said,
“Ah! Nice to meet you. From Qingcheng Sect, huh? I’m kinda busy right now. I’m Gil Son-rok of Morning Ocean Gate.”
He looked more like a model student kid.
Anyway, he snapped his head back and resumed his frantic tinkering.
Kwak Won-hoe from the imperial side grinned.
“Haven’t known him long myself, but... that’s just how he is. Don’t take it personally. Seems decent enough.”
“I... see.”
Silence fell.
The chilly air felt tense.
Han Ibi decided to deploy his long-honed sales-and-server icebreaker skills.
“Brother Kwak, I’m twenty this year. How old are you?”
“Age? The elders would laugh themselves silly. Turned twenty-one this year.”
“Ah! Then you’re my senior. Speak freely.”
Kwak blew on his sword and polished it again.
“Alright... if you say so?”
Perfect. He bit.
Men’s worlds ran smoother once the pecking order was set.
Were guys just evolutionarily stunted?
Han Ibi glanced at the meditating Hyeon.
Kwak caught on.
“Hyeon’s eighteen this year, he says.”
Cough!
Eigh... eighteen?!
How’s that eighteen...
“Bad temper and acts like an old man, but he’s fine if you don’t rile him up.”
He pointed at Gil Son-rok too.
“That one’s seventeen this year...”
That was when Gil Son-rok suddenly whooped and started hopping across the bed.
“Yes! Yes! It worked!”
Han Ibi stared, baffled.
“What worked?”
Gil Son-rok leaped from the bed to the floor.
And held up what he clutched.
Silence stretched.
Han Ibi ventured carefully,
“That’s... that’s...”
“Right! A puppet. A warrior puppet.”
A wooden doll...
Han Ibi couldn’t stop the earthquake in his pupils.
Gil Son-rok gushed excitedly,
“Check this out!”
He wound up the key-like bit on the puppet’s back, set it down.
With a whir of the spring, the tiny wooden warrior... threw a straight punch!
Kwak shouted,
“Whoa! Impressive!”
Gil Son-rok beamed at him.
“Right? Brother! But it’s not over. Watch.”
Now the puppet launched a front kick with its right leg.
But then... its supporting foot wobbled, and it toppled sideways.
“Ahh!”
“Darn!”
Gil Son-rok and Kwak groaned in unison.
Han Ibi covered his face with one hand, struck by a powerful premonition.
Life in this dorm was going to be anything but easy.
A bolt of thunder crashed.
“Quiet down! I’m trying to enter samadhi here, and I can’t focus!”
It was Shaolin’s young monk Hyeon.
The day before, Han Ibi’s group had agreed to meet at the dorm entrance before parting.
Yeon Nanju showed up late, which irked him a bit, but the tension dulled it.
So Eun-ri was her usual plain self, as expected.
Yeon Nanju, though... what was she dolling up with, anyway? Hopeless.
The four followed Wang Si-ik’s lead again, just like yesterday.
After about fifteen minutes...
- Firefly Snow Hall
Likely the assembly point.
Han Ibi didn’t like the signboard’s name one bit, though.
It seemed derived from that old tale of studying by firefly light and snow at night.
Unfortunately, studying ranked high on Han Ibi’s hate list.
So no way he’d warm to this ink-stained vibe.
Feels like school or the army... Or maybe an officer academy mashup. Ugh, group living sucks...
That was when...
(To be continued next time)