Private Lessons in the Cave
I'd teach him knowledge from my world. In return, he could teach me the Murim studies I lacked. We complemented each other perfectly, so it was perhaps inevitable that Geum Ra-geo and I would end up exchanging lessons sooner or later.
And Geum Ra-geo craved the secrets of my overwhelming Heupseong Daebeop—its operation and control. His dantian and meridians were wrecked, leaking qi nonstop, and he desperately wanted to hold it together. His eyes mirrored those of a patient dreaming of rehab.
Thus began our little teacher-student game. Geum Ra-geo, sporting a crude scholar's hat I'd hastily sewn together from black cloth, raised his hand.
"Keuhuhu. Teacher. Let's get started, quick quick."
"Shall we open the book, Student Geum Ra-geo?"
"Hehehe. I've summarized the bits you explained that puzzled me. Mind translating?"
Geum Ra-geo spread a book in front of me. Inside were messy notes from my drunken ramblings—summaries, questions on parts he didn't get. Scribbles or writing? Hard to tell.
"Student Geum Ra-geo."
"Yes, Teacher?"
"You call that handwriting? Were you asking me to read it or just guess? Fair warning—my handwriting's naturally like this too, but push it and you might catch a loving whack."
"Blame my one good eye for not learning proper."
"One-eyed bullshit—fine, you're saying I can interpret your wild guesses however and make up the formulas? Like 'what the hell's Juwa Imma' and ignore it with confidence?"
"Didn't think of that. I'll write prettier next time."
He nodded readily, admitting fault. Guess he didn't want to risk qi deviation from bad formulas or teachings either.
I tapped the wall of our makeshift training area in one cave corner. A stone slab smoothed like a blackboard, charcoal instead of chalk. Scrubbing left black marks.
"Alright. Like I explained to the kids last time, I don't even know the exact formulas for using Heupseong Daebeop myself."
"Bullshit. You use it—don't know the formulas?"
"Does our kid know every muscle in their sphincter and how it works? The full process from making shit to shitting it out?"
"Hm..."
"Your shit and asshole come from your body—yet you don't know? If you don't know, shut up and learn. Ignorance ain't shameful. Besides, Heupseong Daebeop is something I tweak on the fly whenever I want—no manual exists."
Geum Ra-geo looked displeased but had no comeback. What could he say? My version was customized to my body—no systematic structure for others.
"But!" Clap! I smacked my hands. His one eye went dull.
"Now that Student Geum Ra-geo's my pupil, I promise to teach my best."
"Keuh! Quite the honor."
"So don't half-ass it either. No fun teaching a slacker."
Felt like I needed glasses for this. None handy, so I swept back my hair and continued.
"First, strip away all Murim basics—acupoints, inner arts, the lot. What you're learning is a system developed differently, from another path."
.........
"Class dismissed. Good work, Student Geum Ra-geo."
"...."
His face was a sight—frozen from the fresh shock. No other way to put it. I'd felt the same arriving in Murim; no reason he wouldn't. Probably hit him harder.
Muttering my explanation, he scribbled furiously on paper. My teacher duties done, I cracked a bottle of booze. He shuffled over.
"You bitch!"
"Not 'bitch'—'Teacher,' you fuck."
"Teacher."
"Yeah?"
"What's this?"
"You begged me to teach it."
Regrettably, I could use Heupseong Daebeop but wasn't sharp enough to break it down in writing. I understood the phenomena bodily, intuitively—but to write it, I'd need terms this world lacked. First, invent proper nouns.
This world called it Bulripmunja—not relying on words. Some insights can't be captured in text anyway.
So before passing this enlightenment, he needed basics from my world: what we called foundational education, aura circulation methods.
"What you learned today is totally different from my tweaked Heupseong Daebeop. Skip this, and no explanation would stick."
"...Got it. A power remade from alien roots—can't grasp without the foundation."
"What? Smartass all of a sudden."
He wasn't unwise—just not always sage. Geum Ra-geo's brain was sharp. Brutes without talent couldn't reach Hwagyeong.
"Teacher! One question."
"Class is over... but a curious student deserves extra lessons. Shoot."
"This part. Totally unlike Murim—how to interpret..."
I helped translate. But one proper noun was tricky in this tongue.
"Dunno how to render this. 'Blue'? Not the color..."
"Roughly get it. I'll try."
"Cool. Fail, come back."
His scribbling, pondering, brooding continued. He didn't half-ass it—decoded my words earnestly, grilled me on doubts.
"Teacher. Thanks. No need for more today—stuff another crumb, and the insights I snagged'll bolt."
"Memorized solid?"
"Who you take me for? Geum Ra-geo's brain ain't busted yet!"
"My turn then."
I shed my outer robe, grabbed a sword from the corner. He nodded, plopping his hat on my head.
Wearing it meant I was the student now.
"Hey, chick! How much of that Jeongjungdong subtlety did you steal from my drunken chatter?"
"Heh. See for yourself, Teacher."
Anyone witnessing this would've clutched their head in dizziness. These mortal enemies playing sloppy teacher-student? And giving pure teachings without tricks?
They weren't foes only—no, not allies either.
Ha-yeon had already sealed Jigeokseong and Jisu-seong's fates. Geum Ra-geo figured she'd flip anytime.
That was their dynamic. Laugh now, behead later—future foe.
With brains, he could've muddled formulas, skipped threads, tricked half-truths—picking only the meat.
But I never did. Filled gaps, translated terms locally for ease. If he still blanked, dragged in side subjects.
Why?
"Pass or fail?"
"Lacking. Talent's there—a flea-hair's worth of Jeongjungdong subtlety—but it must cleave clean."
We each had what the other wanted. He lacked solid sword arts but mastered martial principles essential for supreme arts.
I offered alien inner energy arts.
Words go polite, returns come polite. If words demand courtesy, how much more human deals?
People can't truly understand others. Even mind-reading or emotion-sensing changes nothing.
Relations stay forever opaque—add deceitful masks, how could he teach pure?
Fool him first, I'd doubt his lessons too. Suspicion's ghost would haunt: I did it, so he will.
Thus Ha-yeon gave full, honest effort in studies—deception be damned. Even if he schemed, she'd play the sucker.
And that illogical trust yielded surprise: sincerity crept into his teachings.
"Just swipe down... and it cleaves?"
"No inner force. Pure principle."
"Makes no sense, but if it works... This is Murim-evolved study? Thought it was just in manuals."
"Like this: Ihyanghwanwi."
Geum Ra-geo vanished instantly. The trick I'd seen twice. My eyes snapped back; I slashed at him behind me.
Slow, calm—blade dropping like a hat. Child's play to dodge, but he pressed his wrist to it instead.
Kakang! His robe tore. Thick fabric. Scratched the mechanical innards underneath—just rubbing, not slashing.
He smirked, backing off.
"Entered Jeongjungdong subtlety. Just the feel, but enviable. Young me clung to one manual—didn't know advanced principles existed."
"That move you just—"
"Ihyanghwanwi? Not just speed. Can't manual-ize it... Like your inner energy principles. Wordless."
Bulripmunja. Systems in reason and mystery—untouchable form.
How students claimed demos was on them.
"Seen Ihyanghwanwi before?"
"Told you last time—one besides you."
"Kekuk. Wouldn't have survived clueless."
"Clumsy user saved me."
Ha, playing sucker sprouted his conscience. At least under the hat, we were diligent student and devoted teacher.
"After Jeongjungdong, next is that guy! Ihyanghwanwi counter!"
"Kuhahaha! Got skills, trying to mooch? Earn it—sweat for me, I'll teach."
"Uhaha! I'll pour teachings endlessly for my student!"
"I'm instructor now. Hat on, you're disciple."
"Sorry, Teacher."
Our gazes clashed briefly. Then we roared laughing at each other's mugs.
"Kuhahahaha!"
"Uhahahaha!"
.........
My days: wake, teach, learn. Endless exchanges till hunger hit.
Reciting Jeongjungdong inwardly, I paced the cave.
"Down. Swipe. Whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh—whoosh. That it?"
The cave sprawled wide. How'd he hide that gut? A massive cavern underground, mocking "underwater cave."
Watery areas breed huge caves—no shock.
"Where..."
Whoong— Sword fluttered feather-light. No cleaving power.
Jeongjungdong. Motion in stillness. Silence of moving.
What to infuse in this powerless flap? Not aura, not physics—how into this metal lump?
Infuse, then cleave? Ha-yeon's thoughts deepened.
A dry well ahead. Drip insights to fill the Jeongjungdong well.
Draw at will—that's the goal.
"Tough."
She scratched her head. Expected hard-ish, but this was brick wall.
True cutting martial arts—beyond Heupseong or Somu Magong crutches.
Speaking of, slave's Taeguk Hyegeom? Basic forms held similar subtlety.
Slave too dim to unlock; Geum Ra-geo called supreme prereqs—right beside me.
"Sneaky bastard."
Share the good stuff, but sect rules blah blah. Infuriating.
Me dripping drops into empty well; him swinging, well served ready-made?
Hm... Stray thoughts piling—today's self-study ends.
"Class over."
Ask Gold Teacher tomorrow.
Ha-yeon wandered, slipping through honeycomb wall holes to iron-barred cells.
Familiar faces peeked between.
"Milady. You've come."
"Gave you swim-and-escape chance—caught anyway. Nice work."
"No excuses. Still, I can only watch your back."
"Fine. Not hurt at least. Yuk-ryeong and O-ryeong asleep?"
"As you see."
Thanks to my tip-off, prisoners looked decent—no torture marks. Pass.
Key item:
"Hey, Nangong. Comfy inside?"
"Hmph."
I waved to her in another cell. She glared venomously—that her reply.
Hm, caged black panther vibe. Why I prefer dogs over cats.
"What's wrong, baby kitty?"
"No words for a slut cavorting with pirate scum. You're after Nangong sword like the rest."
"Wasn't planning—gimme, I'll take kindly."
"Your trailing Blue Dragon looks pathetic now. Why not torture me?"
"Thing is, Nangong... you're fucked."
"What?"
"Guy coming who cracks skulls to read memories. Sky Monster Star? Something."
Nangong-ryeon's face drained pale.