The Third-Rate Martial Artist Gathering Elixirs
The Demonic Cult returns.
The Murim Alliance falls to the Demonic Cult.
The Tae-eul Gate, as a subordinate of the Murim Alliance, falls with it.
And amid all that, I—with my uselessly perfect memory—get used up and die in various places.
Is even this something that will absolutely not change?
"Can't even speak properly? Clearly, you used some trick."
Gye Yeonseung's bullshit cut through his brief distraction, wrinkling my brow on instinct.
"...What are you talking about?"
"The gap between basic swordsmanship and advanced techniques can't be bridged. That's common sense for anyone who practices martial arts."
"Do they teach you at Huashan to make excuses like that when your skills fall short?"
"You little shit...! Take that back right now!"
"Was I wrong?"
"Fine! Then bridge that gap against me."
"..."
Hong Saryeon and the junior brothers' eyes filled with contempt. No matter how you sliced it, this looked like an adult throwing a tantrum at a kid.
"You serious?"
"I'll fight without using any internal energy, purely with forms. What, can't prove it?"
"Before that, shouldn't we take Senior Brother Gye to a physician?"
Gye Cheolyeong—who'd been wailing about the pain—seemed to expect Gye Yeonseung to avenge him, so he stopped crying and shook his head like it was nothing.
"I-I'm fine."
Dude, you're still bleeding.
"I'll ask again. Can't prove it?"
Maybe I'd already steeped myself in defeatism before it even started. My situation was undeniably a hopeless one, no different from my previous life.
But crucially, the 'me' from before and the 'me' now weren't the same.
Where was the 'absolute,' as I'd said? If everything was set in stone, it wouldn't make sense that our Small Justice Squad had captured a Demonic Cult Protector King.
That's why—I won't run away scared like before!
I lifted my head and met Gye Yeonseung's gaze.
"What if I do prove it?"
"What?"
"What then? An adult throwing a fit at a kid, and the kid gets nothing out of it? That doesn't make sense."
Gye Yeonseung's face hardened like stone. A look that screamed he wanted to kill me.
"What do you want?"
What did I need right now? If I wasn't going to let this chance slip, above all, I needed time—lots of it.
"If I win, count it as me completing Busengdang. I won't attend anymore."
"...Fine."
Gye Yeonseung stepped aside and picked up a wooden sword. His aura was vicious; clearly, a broken arm wouldn't be the end of it.
I raised my wooden sword straight.
Come to think of it, Sect Leader Hong Moon-gi had offered the Gye-ryong Merchant Group a 'chance' to enter the academy. We had the same opportunity anytime—to compete with Gye Cheolyeong for a 'special admission spot.'
Yet none of us Tae-eul Gate disciples, myself included, had ever thought to seize it.
And the result of clinging and giving up? Sect annihilation.
I couldn't just sit here replaying that nightmare.
"Begin!"
Gye Yeonseung, a lay disciple of Huashan, favored their signature Plum Blossom Sword Technique.
In my mind, the sword paths unfolding already appeared in vivid detail. Followed by their weaknesses.
The peerless genius Jegal Cheongi had researched the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families' arts to counter the Demonic Cult, creating shattering forms, ascending forms, and demon-subduing forms tailored to each sect.
But the problem was, with the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families scattered across the land, there was no way to deliver the Jegal Three Forms to them.
That's when I—with my useless perfect memory—took on the job.
Even with lacking internal energy, Cheongi's shattering form won't fail.
Gye Yeonseung unleashed the Plum Blossom Sword Technique. No inner energy meant no plum fragrance, but each motion was elegantly graceful.
I instantly struck the weakness from the shattering form that flashed in my mind.
"You bastard!"
Just like I'd done to Gye Cheolyeong, as his wooden sword swung for my head—
Thwack!
"Hngh!"
Gye Yeonseung fumbled in midair, barely recatching his dropped sword.
"Wh-what...?"
The Plum Blossom Sword Technique's shattering form unfolded. He poured his best into it, but a shattered technique held no power.
Sensing something off? I felt inner energy flow into his wooden sword.
Too late!
The deployed shattering form shattered the inner-energy-infused Plum Blossom Sword Technique—and knocked his sword from his grip.
"!!"
In an instant, the wooden sword flew from Gye Yeonseung's hand.
I smashed it down on his head; he raised both arms to block.
Crack!
"Kugh!"
A dull thud, and his wooden sword—slipping from his hands—finally slammed into the wall.
Thud.
Clatter.
Gye Yeonseung's wooden sword rolled across the floor.
He'd barely blocked with both hands.
Once more, a brief silence enveloped Busengdang.
"""Wooooaaah!!"""
The Tae-eul Gate disciples surged forward, surrounding me.
Gye Yeonseung stared at his hands in disbelief.
I scanned the room carefully.
This was definitely something that hadn't happened in my previous life.
Yes—it's different from my previous life. Everything will be different now.
#3. The Third-Rate Martial Artist Gathering Elixirs
"So, you're saying you won't go to Busengdang anymore?"
The incident had turned Tae-eul Gate upside down.
Gye Yeonseok—Gye Cheolyeong's father and head of the Gye-ryong Merchant Group—had first thrown a fit over his son's injury. In the investigation, Gye Yeonseung's negligent teaching came to light.
Gye Yeonseung took responsibility, got fired from Busengdang, and was banned from Tae-eul Gate.
Gye Yeonseok grumbled about losing his son's protector, but it was too late.
"I've already been certified as having completed it by the previous Busengdang Lord. No need to go."
Father scowled fiercely with that rugged face of his. Terrifying to others, but to me, it still stirred my chest warmly.
I quickly looked away before tears could well up.
"I still can't believe it. How the hell did you beat Gye Yeonseung? Did you cheat or something?"
"Ah, Lord Gye said that and got his arm broken. Want Father to break his too?"
"What?!"
"Anyway, I'm free until the other juniors finish Busengdang."
"Of all the thick skulls to crack, you pick Gye Cheolyeong's."
Father Jin Taesan handled all the sect's external affairs as Outer Hall Lord. With the Gye-ryong Merchant Group as Tae-eul Gate's biggest patron, this was anything but welcome news.
"The merchant lord admitted his wrong, didn't he? That's that."
"You brat! You think Gye Yeonseok's the type to let it go with words? If our grain rations drop to two meals a day, you think the other disciples will let you off?"
"Speak properly. Why's that my fault? It's the incompetence of our Outer Hall Lord."
"You little—!"
"This disciple will take his leave."
"Where do you think you're going—! If not Busengdang, help with Outer Hall work."
"I have personal matters to attend."
"Like what?"
"I'm at that age where hair's sprouting on my face. Respect my privacy."
"What?"
Jin Taesan's jaw trembled like he'd heard nonsense. But I couldn't exactly say, 'I need to prepare to protect Tae-eul Gate from the Demonic Cult's return.'
Soon, Father's hand reached for the staff in the corner, and I bolted.
"Then this disciple will be off—"
"You brat! Stand still!"
#
"You're that rootless Jin Sowoon bastard, huh?"
Escaping my fierce father, a flabby old pig with sagging jowls blocked my path.
"Who are you?"
"You... don't know me?"
How could I not? Gaudy silk robes that didn't suit him. A gold-buckled belt studded with jade, oversized gaudy rings. Only one person in Tae-eul Gate dressed so tackily.
Gye Yeonseok—Gye Cheolyeong's father—who flipped the sect upside down daily, pants hems flapping.
"What business do you have with me?"
"You brat! Watch your tongue! This is Gye-ryong Merchant Group's lord, Gye Yeonseok."
The escort—looking like a guard—glared and rolled his eyes furiously.
"Yes, I heard. Gye-ryong Merchant Lord. So, what business with me?"
Gye Yeonseok snorted in disbelief.
"Because of you, my Cheolyeong can't even get up from his injury. You thought you'd get away with harming the Gye-ryong heir scot-free?"
A bit of blood, sure—but exaggerating a single head bonk. By that logic, what about us Tae-eul Gate disciples who'd been pummeled countless times under the guise of sparring by Gye Cheolyeong?
"Didn't we agree to let it go?"
"That's between me and the sect leader. You and I? Still pending."
Shamelessness like this deserved to be called a martial art.
"And if I don't let it go?"
At my words, the guard's hand twitched toward his sword, ready to draw.
"If you were scared of getting hit, why teach swordsmanship at all? What's the point of martial arts?"
"...Y-you dare interrupt an elder...!"
I leaned close to Gye Yeonseok's ear as he rolled his eyes in thought.
"What if Senior Brother Gye gets drafted to the Murim Academy? Plan to chase him there and hold the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families' descendants accountable too?"
Gye Yeonseok—and even the guard—looked slightly shocked.
Hadn't thought that far? Or assumed the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families wouldn't bully him?
"Can't speak? Guess you lack the guts. Yet you strut around Tae-eul Gate like it's nothing. You must see us as pushovers."
"...Y-you little...!"
Gye Yeonseok bellowed so loud that hall lords and even Sect Leader Hong Moon-gi from Daehyeonjeon started emerging.
"Dozens of junior brothers couldn't get up for days after sparring with Senior Brother Gye. If you want to blame someone, start with him for making them that way."
"You dare...!"
'You little...!' 'You dare...!' Gye Yeonseok—chanting that mantra—suddenly smirked smugly.
"If Tae-eul Gate loses patronage because of you, will you take responsibility?"
This was always the problem. Half our disciples were like me—raised in Tae-eul Gate. The other half from poor village families, sent to the sect to ease the household burden.
Hard-raised kids grew up fast; we knew better than anyone that resisting Gye Cheolyeong hurt others.
"Responsibility?"
That's why Gye Cheolyeong and Gye Yeonseok could lord over Tae-eul Gate so freely.
"Plenty of other 108 Peaks want Cheolyeong. We can switch anytime. Then will you take responsibility?"
Gye Cheolyeong's entry meant massive sponsorship. And struggling 108 Peaks sects weren't just Tae-eul Gate.
'Plenty want Cheolyeong.' That was our weakness—we had to swallow our resentment.
That's why we'd never even tried the usual disciple bullying.
"Do that, then."
"What?"
"Responsibility? I'll take it. Go ahead."
Father—who'd been approaching from afar—heard from the other lords, paled, and was about to sprint over.
"Special exam season is less than a year away. Think Senior Brother Gye will get the same treatment elsewhere? What sect would welcome a rolling stone for just one year of sponsorship?"
"You... how dare you...!"
Father halted mid-stride.
"Tae-eul Gate disciples aren't idiots. We learned a gentleman's virtue, so we don't stoop to lowly company."
Gye Yeonseok ground his teeth, trembling.
"I'll make Tae-eul Gate suffer greatly. Because of you, your disciples will eat less and wear rags."
Open threat.
I whispered in his ear.
"Think I'll let that happen?"
Seeing Father charge like he couldn't take it anymore, I turned and left Tae-eul Gate.
Mountains of work awaited.
#
In my previous life, after Gye Cheolyeong entered the Murim Academy via special admission, Tae-eul Gate's sponsorship plummeted. Though a lay disciple, he cut ties like he meant it; support dried up in years, forcing disciples to ration grain.
If it's inevitable, send someone other than Gye Cheolyeong.
Considering Tae-eul Gate's inevitable involvement in the Great War of Righteousness and Evil, we needed representation at the academy. Entering as low-rank warriors meant cannon fodder and discard.
"Problem is Tae-eul Gate's martial arts are too..."
Garbage... wasteful.
Per Jegal Cheongi, only Socheon Sword Technique and Tae-eul Heart Technique were worthwhile. The rest didn't align with Tae-eul Gate's root, the Tae-eul Heart Technique.
Different roots and stems—natural no great masters emerged in centuries to shake the jianghu.
My mind held all the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families' ascending arts.
But practicing them? Tae-eul Gate wouldn't survive till the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's return—not a single dog left.
So, to grow strong now: overwhelm with internal energy.
"The Yangtze's current carves boulders."
But Tae-eul Heart Technique needed 200 years for one cycle's worth.
Thus, devour elixirs like crazy. But elixirs weren't common, hence 'elixirs.'
"...Heh heh. But I have a way."
I immediately rifled through the mental library in my head.
While Murim Alliance brothers died helplessly to the Demonic Cult, I stayed behind memorizing bulky, useless reports and data.
But as their endless waves broke the final line and time ran out, I memorized everything from Mantongbu and Simhyeongak.
More complex, voluminous classified docs than miscellany.
I gave up understanding, just stored them—building a massive mental library.
Deep in that library, one book surfaced.
Guide to Jianghu Elixirs.
Classified doc cataloging elixir discovery sites, emergence times, migration paths—from 20 years in the future.
'Classified,' but just recorded already-found elixirs.
I'd pushed my brain memorizing such useless crap—nosebleeds all day.
That suffering's payoff: murdered.
Still pisses me off thinking about it. That Taecheong Sword Immortal bastard...
My childhood idol. Unrivaled at his age, a heavenly existence.
In the Great War, he unified the fractured Murim Alliance overnight—a savior of the orthodox path.
The hero who kept the Murim Alliance alive when it nearly vanished.
But to preserve it, Taecheong Sword Immortal sacrificed everyone but a few.
The North Sea Murim Alliance was rebuilt on their blood and corpses.
"I'll never trust you or the Murim Alliance again."
Gnashing my teeth, I headed for the first elixir: Thousand-Year Snow Mushroom.