Agreement (3)

Any student of the academy was expected to attend class. I wasn't about to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deny that — even if I'd blown off every single lecture on the first day of the term.

Believe it or not, I'd been a model student before the regression.

"And thus, the origins of martial arts are…"

I was half-listening to the tedious lecture when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠someone jabbed me in the side.

"What."

Not that there was any mystery about who it was.

"Woohyeok. Aren't you going to pay attention?"

Jegal Hui was the only person sitting next to me.

The morning of my first day of class. The moment I opened the door, the noisy classroom went dead silent.

"…Hahaha. I suppose I should get back to my seat."

The sole heir of the Hebei Peng Clan — the young man who would one day be known as the Fierce Tiger Blade and rise as a hero of the Murim — took a step backward.

"Ahem. Lovely weather today."

The youngest son of the Sichuan Tang Clan, infamous even among the Five Great Noble Clans for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never reading a room, stared at the ceiling and muttered complete nonsense.

If that was how the direct descendants of the Five Great Clans reacted, there was no need to mention anyone else.

Great…

This life of mine at the academy was clearly going to have nothing whatsoever to do with making friends.

"Woohyeok! You're late. Did you get home all right yesterday?"

"Thanks to you."

At least I had Jegal Hui. That was something.

"You remember you're meeting my father today, right?"

It would have been even better if her overbearing father weren't in the picture.

Ah. That might have been crossing a line.

Remembering the morning put me in a sour mood. I clicked my tongue without thinking.

"…Ugh."

Somewhere across the room, a student seemed to shrink into his seat.

"Why are you suddenly intimidating the other students?"

So it hadn't been my imagination.

"I didn't do anything."

I was genuinely offended.

"You really don't know? It's the evaluation match, obviously."

Jegal Hui leaned in and murmured the reason everyone was giving me a wide berth.

"It was too brutal to call a spar. After it ended, people started calling you the Blood Wolf."

I didn't know whether to laugh.

"Ha. That's what they call brutal?"

This was why I couldn't stand the old generation. They're all spoiled rotten by peace.

And the funniest part?

"The person I actually sparred with doesn't seem to care at all. So what's everyone else's problem?"

Jegal Hui, who'd been on the receiving end, had gone and become friends with me like it was nothing.

"Well, I'm fine, but… Young Hero Gang still hasn't come to his senses, apparently."

The name she dropped made my head tilt on its own.

"Young Hero Gang? Who's that?"

It rang a faint bell.

"Gang Hansang, the Swift Thunder Sword of the Ilseong Sect. Remember? The one whose limbs you broke in the match…"

"Ah."

Right. Him.

"The guy who lost at lightning speed? Fast enough at losing. Slow enough at bouncing back, I guess."

"…Pfft."

A smothered laugh came from somewhere ahead. I looked up, and the student whose eyes met mine went white, slammed his face into his desk, and stayed there.

"Hmm…"

I stroked my chin, watching him.

"Woohyeok. You don't actually want to get along with anyone, do you?"

Jegal Hui asked it like she already knew the answer.

Busted.

Even before the regression, I hadn't collected many memories at Cheonryong Academy. Back then I'd been too busy keeping up with lectures and throwing myself into training. The only stretch of time I'd actually gotten close to the other students was right before graduation — and even that had only been possible because Danmok Jin's help had sent my martial prowess soaring overnight.

In the end, I could only build relationships after I'd stacked up enough skill to earn them…

I'd thought what I had with Danmok Jin and Jegal Hui was genuine friendship, at least. But now that I know Danmok Jin's secret… even that was hard to trust.

Not that it had wounded me, exactly. I'd figured out how the Murim worked — how this whole world worked — a long time ago. For an orphan who didn't even know his parents' names, the world had never been a warm place to begin with.

I swallowed the thoughts as they surfaced. It was an old, tired story, and I was done turning it over.

"Jegal Hui. The academy is for attending class. Not for making friends."

"Says the guy who doesn't even listen in class."

"…Ugh."

She really was a Jegal. She never let anyone have the last word.

Class came to an end.

"Woohyeok. Hurry up and come out. Father's going to be waiting."

Time to go meet the head of the clan that never lost an argument.

Jegal Hyeon — patriarch of the Jegal Clan, head of the Murim Alliance's Military Department, and the man known as the Divine Strategist — took a slow look around Cheonryong Academy.

"Hahaha! So this is Hwangbo Hyeong, the one they call Shandong's greatest rising talent."

The heirs of famous, prestigious sects were chatting at their ease, conversation blooming among them like it had all the time in the world.

"Cha-hat!!"

The heirs of nameless backwater sects, meanwhile, were pouring everything they had into learning the academy's martial arts.

That's how it's supposed to look…

Cheonryong Academy was an educational institution under the Murim Alliance's direct authority. Any irregularity inside its walls reached Jegal Hyeon's ears almost as soon as it happened.

A country orphan with no backing whatsoever beat Hui in a sparring match?

Naturally, he had learned of the anomaly at this evaluation match at once. And the fact that his beloved daughter had lost to some nobody named Baek Woohyeok had hit him hard.

Hui? The same Hui who crushed the Wudang Sect's third-generation disciples a year ago?

She had been called Hubei Province's greatest prodigy — a Jegal mind paired with a swordsmanship that was anything but Jegal. That made it worse.

If she'd been caught by some clever trick, perhaps I could accept it…

But they said she had lost overwhelmingly. The instructors who watched the match had gone so far as to describe it as watching an adult ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fight a child.

…How is that possible?

Jegal Hyeon could not take the matter lightly. And it was not merely because he was an outrageous daughter-fool.

Mysterious movements have been observed in the Ten Thousand Great Mountains — and now a nameless rising talent appears out of nowhere…

Anyone with eyes would have found it suspicious.

A spy sent by the Demonic Cult? The way he's been carrying himself is far too conspicuous for that… unless that's the point. A diversion?

His daughter already seemed to have struck up a considerable friendship with this unidentified talent.

Did they already know Hui's personality?

The whole sequence of events was coincidental enough to make him wonder whether someone had studied her martial-arts-obsessed nature in advance and planned around it.

Jegal Hyeon fanned himself with a white-feathered fan, turning the matter of the new student — the one they'd saddled with that ominous nickname, Blood Wolf — over and over in his mind.

"Father!"

The beloved voice calling from a distance brought his thoughts to a halt.

"Hui!"

A warm smile was just beginning to form at the sight of his daughter's bright face — she had her mother's beauty — when she ruined it.

"Here he is! The Woohyeok you wanted to meet!"

The audacious young man who had wrecked that face without mercy, and who had somehow become friends with her anyway, stood right there beside her.

Jegal Hyeon's teeth ground together before he could stop them.

"Ah… so you must be the infamous Blood Wolf. You certainly have the bearing of a rising talent who made such an impression at the evaluation match."

"Haha… I don't know about infamous, but thank you for the kind words. I'm Baek Woohyeok of Hangzhou."

Unexpectedly polite. Unexpectedly composed. This brat?

It was, on the surface, exactly how a rising talent of the Orthodox Murim ought to carry himself. That only made Jegal Hyeon like him less.

Cheonryong Academy was the finest educational institution in the current Murim. Naturally, the rooms prepared for outside visitors who'd come to see the students were extremely luxurious.

Which made them considerably uncomfortable for me. Even after I'd risen to unit commander in the Murim Alliance in my previous life, I'd spent more time in the field than inside headquarters.

That look could kill a man. Who does he think he is, a Transcendental Realm master?

It didn't help that the patriarch of the Jegal Clan was sitting across from me, pretending at civility while staring daggers through my skull.

"Father! What brings you to the academy all of a sudden?"

Without Jegal Hui in the room, those eyes said he was ready to start a life-or-death duel on the spot.

"Hahaha! I heard my daughter received quite the lesson in her sparring match, so I came to meet the young man responsible."

"Hehe… it's embarrassing, but Father's right. I learned a great deal. Woohyeok is really incredible."

"I… see. Then as her father, I ought to offer Young Hero Baek my thanks. You have my gratitude."

Jegal Hyeon delivered the courtesy with a face that was not grateful in the slightest. I waved it off. He was a friend's father, so I intended to observe the proper forms — for now.

"Not at all. I learned a great deal myself. …And please, speak freely. When a great elder of the Murim — and my friend's father, no less — insists on such formality, I hardly know what to do with myself."

"Hahaha! I'll give that some thought. A friend, you say?"

"Yes, well… that's how I think of her."

"That's how it works, isn't it? You become friends after a match. I think of Woohyeok as a friend too."

"Heh heh… so these days even a thug who lays hands on a pretty face gets to be called a friend…"

"Pardon?"

"Ah, it's nothing. Well. If he's Hui's friend, then he's like a son to me. I ought to serve him a cup of tea. Wait just a moment."

True to the image of a gentleman, Jegal Hyeon brewed the tea himself, then held the cup out.

"Here."

"Tea Father brewed with his own hands is rare even in the clan. Today's your lucky day, Woohyeok!"

Jegal Hui's face lit up. I, on the other hand, couldn't quite hide my distaste.

Petty bastard.

The teacup was vibrating with the internal energy Jegal Hyeon had poured into it — a favorite little prank among seasoned Peak Realm masters.

If I just grab it, the cup shatters.

I took the cup he offered, closing my fingers around it without hurry.

Best I can do is keep the shock of the shatter to a minimum.

My current martial prowess had only just stepped into the First-class rank. If I used intent, I could not only weather this little joke but turn it around and give Jegal Hyeon a taste of his own medicine. I had no intention of doing so.

In the Murim, you hide three-tenths of your strength. That's the rule.

No telling what he'd do if I showed my hand and he realized how wrong I was.

"Thank you. I'll take it gratefully."

I held the endlessly vibrating cup and offered an awkward smile.

"Haha. I may have taken the joke a little too far. I don't have a son, you see. Forgive me, Woohyeok."

Jegal Hyeon's sharp gaze rounded all at once. He let out a hearty laugh and withdrew the energy from the cup.

"I see."

I nodded, treating it as the price of laying a hand on a daughter-fool's daughter, and drank.

"Well? How is it? A secret tea the clan takes some pride in."

"…It's excellent."

Honestly, I couldn't tell tea from dishwater. I'd lived a life that had nothing to do with refined hobbies like this. But I nodded and said it was good, because that was the polite thing to do.

"It must have been difficult to drink tea like this in those great mountains you came from, I imagine?"

This bastard just kept crossing the line.

"Father, what is that supposed to mean? Woohyeok is from Hangzhou."

Jegal Hui's face hardened as she scolded him.

From Jegal Hyeon's point of view, of course, it had been nothing more than a probe. If he'd truly believed Baek Woohyeok was a spy from the Demonic Cult, he wouldn't have resorted to a cheap trick like that.

Even so, the remark was an unmistakable insult — to his daughter, and to the young man who'd just heard it. He had all but accused his daughter's friend of being a Demonic Cult agent.

On any other day, Jegal Hyeon would have apologized the instant Hui called him on it. Today was different.

He simply stared at Baek Woohyeok, slow and unblinking. Baek Woohyeok didn't look away. One corner of his mouth twisted, and he stared right back.

"…Father? Woohyeok?"

Jegal Hui called both their names, unsettled by the sudden shift in the air — and in that instant, a raw curse tore out of Baek Woohyeok's mouth.

"…Hic."

Jegal Hui hiccupped before she could stop herself.

He's… terrifying.

The killing intent rolling off Baek Woohyeok hit her so hard she could have sworn her whole body was being carved to pieces. She hadn't been afraid even when he'd beaten her to the ground in their match. This was the first time she had ever felt fear toward him.