Well Learned
Nam Sogyun, the promising prodigy of Cheongseong Sect. He was one of the figures tipped to achieve outstanding results in the upcoming sparring tournament for the later generation disciples, a key event at this Murim Conference. The epitome of his sect's hopes, all pinned on one talented youth.
And rightly so. Hailed as a martial arts genius from a young age, he never shied away from even the most grueling training. Cheongseong's masters and elders often said of him: "Nam Sogyun is the living proof of what happens when genius meets effort. In the next ten years, the future of the jianghu will be shaped by none other than him."
Growing up amid endless attention, he never doubted his brilliant future. Word of Cheongseong's new talent spread beyond the sect walls. Whenever disciples from major sects approached him first, seeking friendship upon hearing his fame, his chest swelled with pride. He even dreamed of monopolizing the gaze of beautiful women.
But things rarely went his way. It irked him that a Shaolin monk tagged along to gatherings of young men and women, throwing cold water on everything. Worse, the women giggled over worthless thugs instead... That was why, reading the impudent kid's lip movements clearly, he didn't hesitate to launch himself forward.
Cheongseong's famed lightness skill, Seryu Pyo (Fine Willow Drift). A soft sway like willow leaves brushing past—but its trajectory flashed like lightning, elegant and swift. Each step on the air flipped the atmosphere, sending out ripples like thin silk. His body soared like a bird dangling from clouds, crossing several zhang in the blink of an eye to land lightly before the three youths.
The young men stared wide-eyed. They weren't just dressed in rags, that much was clear. Both had slender builds and refined auras that caught the eye. One wore a calm, gentle smile, solemn yet soft. The other seemed a bit lighter, but his face alone lifted one's mood.
Even to Nam Sogyun's eyes, they looked a touch—ever so slightly—better than him.
...Makes me hate them even more.
His fellow later generation disciples followed behind. He sensed the women's gazes pouring from afar. His shoulders tensed. Yeah. So what if these loafers had good looks? Against my illustrious background and overwhelming martial prowess, they're nothing.
He looked down at the brat. Barely out of his teens, by the look of him. He resembled the two young men ahead, like brothers, in face and vibe. But those oddly grating eyes, and puffing away on that pipe alone... It was obvious the kid was rotten to the core.
Anyone else would've jumped in shock at the target of their mutterings appearing right in front. But he just puffed indifferently. Was he ignoring it? Or too scared to react?
Scared stiff, obviously. Nam Sogyun concluded simply. He twisted his lips into a smirk.
"Kid. Think I couldn't hear you from way over there? Come on, say it again."
"Kid?"
The boy laughed. And in the next instant—darkness swallowed everything.
What the hell? Nam Sogyun panicked, whipping his head around. It felt like he'd been transported alone to another world. Then he realized what filled his vision.
No way—poison smoke!
Thick gray haze. He held his breath in a hurry. But that wasn't all. Something cleaved through the fog from all sides, slashing down at him.
Block it!
But the moment he saw it coming down on him, Nam Sogyun froze solid.
It was a pipe. A monstrous pipe big enough to blot out the sun. It plummeted to cleave him in two, with an overwhelming momentum he couldn't possibly withstand.
His body locked up. Arms wouldn't move. Legs wouldn't budge. He couldn't do a damn thing. All the techniques he'd sweated over, the years, the effort—rendered worthless by a kid's flick.
An aura that nullified everything!
***
"Jinpyeong!"
"No!"
Jingang and Jinun launched forward. Always on edge watching their little brother. Even back on that mountain path, facing bandits to stop Jinpyeong from causing trouble, Jinun had stepped up himself.
The brothers unleashed Pung Chwi Palbo (Wind Stealing Eight Steps) in unison. A gust wrapped their legs, propelling them there in a flash. They reached out for Jinpyeong's pipe.
But the youth and Jinpyeong were too close, and Jinpyeong's reaction too instant. It seemed inevitable that the pipe would crush the blue-clad hero's skull.
Yet another figure leaped between them. A bald young monk with a bluish glow around his shaved head. Faster than the brothers, he slipped in and softly caught the pipe.
But,
"Nngh...!"
A low groan escaped. Crunch—the monk's toes dug into the earth. Channeling inner energy, his hand vibrated fiercely. Softness harboring steel built up layer by layer against the pipe's pressure. Force clashed upward and downward, exploding dust like a gale.
Jinpyeong's brow twitched; the monk's eyes twisted in pain.
Jinpyeong withdrew his energy. The two leaped back with a flap of robes.
"......"
Silence fell.
Nam Sogyun stood dazed and rigid. The brothers sighed in relief. The young monk quietly pressed palms together in salute. Jinpyeong calmly relit his pipe, as if nothing had happened.
Yi Jinpyeong exhaled. White smoke coalesced into a boat-like shape, floating lazily skyward.
"From Shaoshi Mountain?"
Shaoshi was Shaolin's seat. Jinpyeong guessed the monk's origin, his arrogance unshaken. The saluting monk replied humbly—quite unlike his sharp rebuke of Nam Sogyun moments ago.
"Yes."
"What's your generation name?"
"This little monk is Do Jin. My master uses the Beop (法) generation."
"Beop generation? And your master's master?"
The flustered young monk answered anyway, unsure why the boy asked or why he complied so readily.
"My master studied under Venerable Hye-gong."
"Hm."
Jinpyeong nodded and added,
"Well learned."
Do Jin, who had named himself, was speechless. He'd answered the sudden questions on reflex, but wasn't it absurd for a mere teen to speak as if appraising him?
Yet Do Jin couldn't rashly rebuke or flush with anger. Not due to deep meditation, but because that simple pipe swing had carried a power he dared not defy.
"Brothers. Let's go."
Jinpyeong, interest gone, urged his siblings. Nam Sogyun remained blankly rooted; his followers just watched them leave.
Do Jin trailed a few steps, asking,
"Might I know the young hero's esteemed name...?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
The three in dazzling white robes strode on. Do Jin's eyes sparkled, catching the characters on their collars.
"Yi Gajang...!"
Do Jin clutched his swelling arm. The legendary figure from his master's tales—excitement thumped in his chest at seeing the descendants in person.
***
The three youths vanished, the bald monk slipped away. The whispering women hurried off. Left behind: Nam Sogyun's male followers.
They prodded the still-dazed Nam Sogyun.
"Brother Nam. Why'd you just stand there?"
"Yeah. Should've thrashed that impudent brat on the spot..."
"The pipe smoke obscure your view? Didn't seem like it..."
"You didn't give that baldhead a chance to show off, did you?"
"Why'd he butt in anyway? Trying to impress the girls and break precepts?"
Nam Sogyun couldn't respond. Shock gripped him. They didn't understand. Only he'd faced that pipe head-on. Stepping beyond Cheongseong's protective bubble, he'd learned monsters existed beyond his league. "Skies beyond skies" wasn't just a saying.
One youth raised his voice.
"You fools. Still don't get Brother Nam's profound intent?"
"What intent?"
"He already showed his peak lightness skill. No need to dirty his hands on a terrified kid, right? Proved his strength and mercy in one go."
"Oho!"
The idiots chimed admiration. Nam Sogyun wanted to die. He prayed they'd change topics, but they kept dissecting his "actions"—killing him twice over, clueless.
"The girls didn't seem impressed, though. All eyes on that monk and the innocent-looking punk."
"Hm... Yeah."
"Brother Nam. Good plan, but flop. Gotta show 'em proper next time. Your success means ours too, right?"
Nam Sogyun replied weakly.
"Yeah... Let's."
***
Dongbeonhoe's entrance loomed. Crowds of factions swarmed in, making it easy to follow. As they waited their turn, the brothers asked Jinpyeong,
"Little brother. Why go so hard back there?"
Jinpyeong shrugged.
"Eh, just teaching an arrogant punk a lesson. No big reason."
"Sigh. Keep 'teaching' like that, and Dongjeong Lake'll be full of floaters. Kid didn't do much wrong, but you went for half his skull."
"That Cheongseong punk was just stunned. Wouldn't die from a pipe tap."
"...You call that a tap?"
"You were heavier-handed than usual. Big day with all factions gathering—not smart starting trouble. Some reason?"
"Not no reason. I'll explain inside anyway."
Jinpyeong's eyes gleamed ominously again. Jingang and Jinun exchanged uneasy glances. Strong hunch he'd cause a scene. If only he'd explain before entering—they could bolt. But he kept saying "after," leaving them uneasy.
Their turn neared in line. Jinpyeong burst out laughing.
Guarding the Dongbeonhoe entrance: someone they knew.