Late Winter's Piercing Wind (4)
Honestly, at this point, even if the instructors and assistant instructors got swapped out, it wouldn't mean much to me. The evaluation metrics shifting from relative to absolute grading wouldn't send my top scores plummeting to the bottom. Besides, the place I want is Baekrang Pavilion. As long as I don't get undervalued enough to get shoved off to some branch office—not the ultra-popular Cheongryong Pavilion or Jeokryong Pavilion that everyone craves—it's no big deal.
"What's so funny?"
A voice dripping with chill. Not wanting to stir up trouble, I gave a light bow.
"My apologies."
But the instructor glared at me like he wanted to bore holes through my skull and pressed again.
"I asked what was so funny."
Whatever these guys did now didn't matter to me anymore, so I'd planned to ignore it. But...
"I asked what was so funny. Answer me!"
You're straight-up doing this crap and expect me not to laugh? Got it.
I lifted my slightly bowed head again.
"I don't know the reason, but it's ridiculous watching you try to downplay our entire cohort."
"What?"
"Sure, the previous cohort got tons of attention because of Dragon Child, but that doesn't mean our group is somehow inferior to your generation. I can't buy that."
It was true our cohort didn't get as much spotlight as the last one. That group had been making names for themselves even before entering the academy. But ours had Ilgak and plenty of others who'd shine in the future Righteous-Demonic Great War. Calling us inferior? No way.
As I answered confidently, the instructor's face twisted.
"You don't know the reason?"
His head tilted crookedly.
"You really have no idea?"
"No clue."
Why's he nagging with the same damn question?
"It's all because of you."
Huh? What bullshit is this now?
"Because you slyly snatched the representative spot, the academy's overall level dropped."
The absurdity choked my words. But did he think I'd cower and not retort? He grinned smugly and continued.
"With such a low-class representative, lecture quality tanks, and that'll hit the entire Murim Alliance hard."
As if I were the root of all evil. Like I'd stolen what was theirs.
"In all the years since the Murim Academy opened, we've never had such trash-tier recruits."
He glanced at me.
"Watching the disciples from the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families scramble helplessly against a single third-rate sect kid? It boils my blood so much I can't sleep."
The Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families disciples shot pitiful looks at their own. Then their gazes turned back to me, burning with intent to crush me before I could grow further.
"Well, you're a cunning bastard, after all. This time, you framed someone for sorcery and wrecked Jeondeungmun, right?"
Even after the Execution Hall got involved, he calls it a 'frame'? No point talking—he wasn't listening. Tae-eul Gate getting smacked down wasn't new. Yeah, we're weak. Fine. But...
"What the hell are you even on about?"
"...Huh?"
Blunt, brainless insults and mockery like this? Way over the line.
And for line-crossers...
"Oh, are you from Cheongseong Sect? The kind who learned sorcery?"
"What?"
Brainless attacks work best.
#
"You crazy son of a bitch!"
"Am I wrong?"
"Spouting such nonsense...!"
"Why so worked up? Is it true you learned sorcery? True you're from Cheongseong Sect? Do your eyes turn black or something?"
"...!"
His over-the-top freakout confirmed it—Cheongseong Sect for sure. Anyone else wouldn't blow up like this.
"That hard to just say 'no'? Guess liars always show it."
"...Do you know what you're spewing right now?"
"Did I say anything wrong?"
"You're framing me with lies...! You think this just slides?"
I let out a deliberate, hearty laugh.
"Didn't you stir up folks with lies too, Instructor? So my words are a crime?"
"When did I...!"
"'Worst cohort ever.' That true?"
I turned, scanning the academy students' faces. Most looked sour. Even those who hated me wouldn't want to get dragged down too—natural reaction. The mood swung my way.
I kept my eyes on the students as I spoke.
"You just denied all their hard work. And now I'm the big criminal for lying?"
"That's..."
"Does me being rep prove we're the worst? Oh, by the way, I beat Ilgak in a duel."
Students' eyes flicked to Ilgak. His bald head flushed suspiciously red.
The instructor gnashed his teeth.
"That was probably because you hid getting secret training from the headmaster."
"Oh? Do martial artists reveal all their arts? Is that how Cheongseong Sect teaches?"
"..."
"Then tell us your arts, Instructor. And your ultimate kill moves too."
"..."
Can't say it, huh. The saying goes: always hide three-tenths of your skill. Lunatics hide seven. Where's he selling wolfberries from?
I shrugged.
"Your words were just bullshit, then."
"...!"
Instructor and students' eyes bulged double-size. Yeah, I crossed the line. On purpose. Had to make him really snap.
"Probably swapped instructors for some other reason, then blamed us students. That's why the bullshit spew."
Grind.
Whoa, brutal—gonna wear his teeth down.
Think I'd stop? Big mistake.
"That other reason... probably..."
I turned back to the students, especially centering on Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families.
"Scared your dumb juniors might catch up. Worried scores mixing up means others snag key spots outside your cliques."
"...!"
Instructor and his faction flushed crimson. Some shot me hostile glares. Whatever. You hated me anyway. If you're dumping shit on my path, expect splashback.
"Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families got it good. Mediocre scores? Seniors swoop in from above to drag you along."
I curled my lips at them.
"Truly fair and just Murim Alliance."
Their glares at others sparked back hate from 108 Peaks and unaffiliateds. Truth aside, that's how it looked. Fearful stares at the instructor turned to contempt.
Sensing it, he straightened up.
"...Your tongue's as sly as ever."
Too late to spin my words as lies. I'd planted seeds of doubt. Now they'd believe what they wanted, no matter what he said. Proof: grumbles erupted already.
"Damn Nine Great Sects jerks..."
"This desperate?"
"If that's the play, why bother with regular admissions? Just hog it all."
Not just my words—this was pent-up inferiority and questions I'd nudged. They bloom on their own. Like now.
"Never heard of all instructors swapping at once in history."
"Even as full Murim Alliance members, same discrimination?"
"Said academy changes nothing..."
Long-brewed resentment spread fast. Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families stared down glares, while those watching me like "what's this psycho doing" now glared at him.
Feeling the shift, he bellowed with full inner energy.
"Enough! ENOUGH!!!"
Startled, they clutched ears. Hostile eyes refocused on him. He stared at me calmly now.
"If my words are nonsense... can you prove it?"
Prove?
"Prove your skills make you truly top rank."
Going for direct confrontation, huh.
"Past top ranks were at least division-head level. I... am too in the Murim Alliance. Prove it."
Selling wolfberries again. Mantongbu files say you're division-head level already. Whatever. If he wants to dive into the shithole himself...
Shing.
I drew Cheokgwanggeom, ramping up killing intent. Red lines glowed on the blade, chilling aura scattering everywhere.
"Ugh..."
"What the...?"
"This..."
Even front-row students grimaced, struggling.
I pointed the tip at him.
"I'll prove it. Cut off an arm, Instructor?"
I strode three steps forward; he retreated one, hand out. Rolled his eyes up and down.
"...Even excited, an instructor can't draw student blood."
What? Planning to draw mine in this mess?
"Then how do we prove it?"
"...Inner energy clash!"
"Hmm..."
Why does this keep happening? I hadn't hidden my skills much. Why do people keep crossing lines? Then it hit me.
"Ah."
I'd never fully shown them. That must be why.
Got it.
"Scared?"
My brief musing looked like hesitation? From his view, he had absolute edge. Duels allow senses or improv to bridge gaps, but inner energy shows years trained. No normal student could match an elite like him.
'Normal' being key.
I suppressed my curling smirk and nodded.
"Sure. Smash your dantian, right?"
"...No, inner clash isn't..."
Mocking a blood-puking cripple—what's surer? Tempting.
"Let's do it."
I sheathed Cheokgwanggeom, extended both hands.
"..."
He hesitated, then composed himself and clasped. His face brimmed with confidence.
"Go wild—show me!"
Palms locked, fingers interlocked.
Whoosh— Massive energy like a river surged through his palm. Heavy, solid—clearly unyielding in inner arts.
"Heh, feel it? There's always heaven above heaven..."
I fully circulated Tae-eul Divine Canon.
And then.
"...!"
His smug smile froze stiff.
"Hng...!"
Mouth shut tight, straining desperately. His energy, invading to my extreme gate, began retreating—slowly but relentlessly.
"...!"
No room for words; he desperately poured more, but futile. Should've compared apples to apples. No river tops the sea.
My energy swept through his curved finger middle gate, blasting past mid-dantian, hitting reversion yang gate, heavenly storehouse, hidden sea straight to his dantian.
His river-like energy drowned in my ocean, losing all fight, fully suppressed.
Further.
Swooo—
I turned hostile, whipping his acupoints wildly.
"Guhk... guhk..."
Gasping raggedly for air, thirst unquenched. Crimson face blackened fast.
Finally.
Dantian!
I ramped pressure on the encircling energy.
Choking agony, terror of shattering dantian flooding in. His face filled with horror.
"You mentioned insults earlier?"
A bit more, and I'd crush it. Calmly, I continued.
"Real insult was yours. Not just me—all our cohort."
Eyes rolled back—aware or not? Foaming at the mouth like a mad dog. Pitiful.
But can't stop.
"The insult we took. I'll repay fittingly."
Unless I show it, they'll keep crossing.
That line.
I poured more, tightening. His body shuddered violently. On the verge of blackout.
Then, desperately:
"...St-stop..."
"What? Can't hear."
I eased the dantian grip slightly. He exhaled hot breath.
"...Pl-please stop..."
"'Stop' isn't an apology."
His eyes bulged. Pain sharpened his mind.
Hesitating, he spat it out.
"F-forgive me."
Ha, still clueless. I reapplied pressure.
"Kuhk...!"
Blood foam finally spewed. I twisted aside to dodge splatter, asked loudly for all to hear.
"Wh-what? Can't make it out."
"...F-forgive me. I-I'm sorry."
Teary eyes pleading desperately. I released the pressure, withdrew all energy.
"Agh!"
One rough jerk on withdrawal—he puked blood and passed out right there.
Urk!
I stepped back, avoiding the blood.
"Tch. Class is fucked today."
As I grabbed my stuff and left the podium...
"..."
"..."
Not a breath in the hall. Geez, first day back and the vibe's already this?