Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: The Benevolent Hero of the World, Heo Son-dam
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Hyeon's voice was matched by his brutish muscles writhing like living creatures.
His bloodshot eyes made him look for a moment like the Broad-Eyed Heavenly King returned from hell itself. No matter how much the sly Bang Kwang-sil tried to weasel out, he couldn't muster a response.
So Han Ibi spoke up in his place.
"It looks like it's him."
The reddish, gooey porridge scraps clinging to Hyeon's bald head, as his body trembled with rage, plunged the scene into utter absurdity.
No one could laugh...
Bang Kwang-sil snorted like an enraged bull, bracing himself with inner energy surging through his body against Hyeon's imminent charge.
That was when it happened.
Instead of charging, Hyeon's arm whipped out like lightning.
Whoosh.
Sensing a hidden weapon, Bang Kwang-sil quickly stepped aside with his footwork.
Thud!
The young men couldn't help but be shocked upon identifying what had embedded itself in the wall.
It wasn't a hidden weapon at all—it was just an ordinary wooden chopstick from the table.
Whoosh.
The sound rang out again.
'Ah! My chopsticks! I wasn't done eating yet.'
Just as the thought crossed Han Ibi's mind, another five or six wooden chopsticks flew straight at Bang Kwang-sil.
Bang Kwang-sil tried to evade them using the Nine Palaces Steps, the footwork of the Mount Hua Sect.
But astonishingly, the chopsticks had already claimed every possible escape route.
With no choice, he resorted to the Plum Blossom Steps and leaped into the air.
The chopsticks, now aimless, thudded one after another into the wall.
The young men couldn't help but applaud the swift, flawless lightness skill Bang Kwang-sil displayed.
"As expected of the Mount Hua Sect's Plum Blossom Steps!"
"Incredible!"
'This punk. A monk throwing hidden weapons like that.'
As Bang Kwang-sil prepared to land triumphantly, a urgent voice cried out.
"Watch out!"
It was Seon Hyeok-rae from the Mount Hua Sect.
Bang Kwang-sil felt a chill and glanced back.
Incredibly, a hulking figure had appeared at his landing spot—Hyeon himself.
'No way—that pig-like guy got here this fast...'
Bang Kwang-sil tried to adjust his speed with the Thousand Catties Drop technique to escape Hyeon's striking range.
But Hyeon strode forward aggressively, cutting off his retreat...
'Wh-what's this!'
Bang Kwang-sil suddenly felt the world spinning.
Ah... everything was circular.
Had he finally grasped the principle of Taiji, seamless and eternal, unifying all into one...?
Not a chance!
Quite the opposite.
He himself was spinning.
Crash! Clang!
In the midst of his landing, the combined forces of gravity and centrifugal motion accelerated him wildly, sending him crashing onto a table strewn with half-eaten food.
The quick-witted owners of those seats had already scattered.
Bang Kwang-sil ended up covered head to toe—hair, clothes, shoes—in leftover food scraps.
In other words...
Double payback!
Han Ibi thought.
'Whoa... this monk sure knows how to hold a grudge.'
Everyone probably felt the same.
As Bang Kwang-sil shook his head and tried to rise...
Hyeon was already looming before him again.
Han Ibi thought.
'Ah... it's not over yet?'
That was when it happened.
The sound of air slicing.
Seon Hyeok-rae from the Mount Hua Sect was thrusting his sword at Hyeon's back.
Mun Won-bi of the Beggars' Sect launched himself forward, shouting,
"No killing blows!"
But it was too late.
Just as a bloom of blood was about to stain Hyeon's broad back...
Clang!
A metallic ring echoed, and sparks flew instead of blood.
Seon Hyeok-rae's sword went flying far away.
And what had knocked it aside? Astonishingly, a plain old iron spoon!
"Now, Yeomsa Society trainees. I figured hot-blooded young folks gathering like this might lead to a scuffle or two, but I never imagined it'd happen on day one."
The man smiling amiably was none other than Heo Son-dam of the Pajeong Temple.
The next day brought an unexpected break.
They had to clean up the previous day's chaos, after all.
The fight between Wang Qing-lin and Ju Geum-ryeong had been evenly matched from start to finish, ending in a draw.
No major injuries occurred.
Just some light scratches on both sides.
Meanwhile, Bang Kwang-sil, whom Hyeon had slammed to the floor, looked a mess on the surface, but it amounted to mere bruises all over.
Han Ibi suspected this was exactly what Hyeon intended.
Like a vicious senior soldier in the army beating you only where it wouldn't show.
A real devil for a monk.
What was the Shaolin Temple thinking, ordaining a guy like this?
Minor injuries notwithstanding, they were treated by the healers dispatched by the Murim Alliance.
The fact that dedicated healers were on hand underscored the gravity of this training program.
The day after the commotion, lectures were set to resume normally.
All the trainees gathered again in the Frost Pavilion.
Standing at the podium, Heo Son-dam spoke.
"When arrogant, vigorous youths from prestigious righteous sects—who all fancy themselves strong—get together, a bit of tussling is bound to happen. But..."
The atmosphere in the Frost Pavilion was starkly different from the easygoing vibe of the first day—dead silent.
All the young men had witnessed the 'true face' of Heo Son-dam standing before them.
He had appeared out of nowhere, casually flicking aside the hefty sword of Seon Hyeok-rae with a light spoon.
Han Ibi pieced together the implications.
First, Instructor Heo Son-dam possessed tremendous inner energy. To affect a heavier weapon with a lighter one required an overwhelming gap in power.
Second, he was proficient in hidden weapon techniques or darts. Hitting the sword's center precisely with a spoon was no small feat.
Finally—and most crucially—Heo Son-dam had undoubtedly been secretly observing everything from the start.
How else could he time his intervention so perfectly to avert disaster?
Even more chilling: he never lost that affable smile the whole time.
His small, narrowly slitted eyes made him look perpetually amused.
Or maybe... he wasn't smiling at all!
Han Ibi shuddered.
The trainees shuddered too.
They were all thinking the same thing.
It was the terror of facing a serial killer who greets you with a beaming smile.
Heo Son-dam continued.
"Anyway, it's best not to cross the line. After all, you're here because your sects chose you."
Even his impeccably polite speech now felt like utter hypocrisy.
Then Heo Son-dam pulled a stack of documents from the table, flipping through them with a flourish as he said,
"Honestly, I wasn't going to show this yet, but..."
All eyes locked onto Heo Son-dam and the papers in his hand.
"It's probably too far to see clearly. Someone come up as a representative to check it out. Hmm, who should it be... Bang Kwang-sil of the Mount Hua Sect!"
Called out of the blue, Bang Kwang-sil shot to his feet.
"Yes!"
"Could you step up here and take a look?"
"Pardon? Ah... yes."
Bang Kwang-sil approached with reluctant steps.
He examined the documents.
His face quickly filled with shock and dismay.
The trainees' curiosity peaked.
Heo Son-dam said,
"Well, Young Hero Bang? No mistake, right?"
"Yes..."
"You may return to your seat."
Bang Kwang-sil meekly sat down.
Heo Son-dam explained.
"As Young Hero Bang confirmed, these are consent forms from each sect's leader, absolving the Murim Alliance of responsibility even if trainees die during training. See the seals?"
The young men erupted in stunned murmurs.
Han Ibi was equally shocked.
'What the hell? This isn't some primitive era with barbaric rules like that...'
Heo Son-dam pressed on undeterred.
"The Yeomsa Society has rules prepared for such situations."
He drew another set of documents from his sleeve.
There were two types, distinguished by color.
The first was a bright yellow, like a talisman.
The second was a deep crimson, as if freshly dipped in blood.
Heo Son-dam said,
"If a trainee causes an incident or disturbance during Yeomsa Society training, we'll issue a warning based on severity. I was going to explain slowly, but..."
One corner of his mouth curled up.
"...I think I misjudged. Should've mentioned it on day one. First offense gets a yellow warning. If you don't learn and cause more trouble, it's a red warning. Understand? You'll be sent home. If you can go home, that is."
The room fell silent as if doused with cold water.
"Of course, that last part was a joke. Still, giving two chances—how generous is that? Hahaha."
No one laughed except Heo Son-dam.
Han Ibi thought,
'That... that psychopath...'
After laughing alone, Heo Son-dam personally distributed the yellow warnings.
Wang Qing-lin of Maesan Sect, Ju Geum-ryeong, Bang Kwang-sil, and Seon Hyeok-rae of Mount Hua Sect, and Hyeon of Shaolin Temple.
Yellow cards!
Han Ibi mused to himself,
'Dad... you loved soccer so much—don't tell me you put soccer rules into a wuxia novel...'
After that, the training proceeded... exceedingly smoothly, to say the least.
Over a month had passed since entering the Yeomsa Society's training program.
So far, it had been mostly 'theory' lessons.
For Han Ibi, who had always been far from studious, it was grueling.
Yeon Nan-ju, dozing off constantly, seemed to feel the same.
The protagonist Jong Ri-hyeok and So Eun-ri, however, listened intently without so much as blinking.
Summarizing the curriculum so far:
- History and Current State of the Demonic Cult - Scholar Seok Bun-geon of the Manhak Society
- Demonic Cult Organization - General Hyeon Do-myeong of the Imperial Army
- Demonic Cult Doctrine - Monk Mu-sang of Shaolin Temple
- Basics of Demonic Poison Antidotes - Tang Gyeong-cheong of the Sakpa Tang Clan
...
Han Ibi felt a surge of irritation, grumbling inwardly.
'What is this, Murim University? Why is everything so...'
Just the titles gave him a headache.
Today's lecture was on 'Demonic Cult Organizations and Formations.'
The instructor was Na Sin-su from the Joyang Sect.
Han Ibi learned from his roommate Gil Son-rok that the Joyang Sect excelled innately in mechanisms, formations, and inventing mechanical devices.
Gil Son-rok said Joyang Sect was unrivaled in mechanisms worldwide, though slightly behind the Jegal Clan in formations.
No one excels at everything.
Thus, while lacking in pure inner energy and refined martial arts, Joyang Sect wielded formidable power through creative tools and formations, holding its own against other Murim Alliance sects.
He overheard Gil Son-rok, the youngest of his bunkmates, whispering to someone.
"My granduncle is known as the 'Hand of God.' He's revered as the greatest genius in Joyang Sect history since its founding."
Genius or not...
If he wasn't a genius lecturer, it was just as boring as the previous classes.
Mechanism blueprints and intricate formation diagrams assaulted his vision, leaving him dizzy.
Han Ibi felt like vomiting on the spot.
'What's the point of all this crap? It's like... learning romance from a book. We need hands-on practice!'
That was when it happened.
(To be continued in the next installment)