The First Circle
To properly delve into the magic and mysteries of this world, he had to master its written language as quickly as possible.
To do that, he absolutely needed a good tutor.
"So you need a literacy tutor. Since the request fee is twenty-five silver taels, that should easily cover two months' salary, even including our brokerage fee."
There were plenty of people eager to become tutors.
Frankly, the labor pool was so oversaturated that he could have stepped outside the Nangin Association, grabbed any of the gloomy-faced, pale-faced scholars crouching on the street, and easily hired one on the spot.
And for good reason.
In this world, those in the literary and artistic fields—specializing in poetry, calligraphy, painting, and the zither, collectively known as the Four Arts—were destitute unless they possessed truly overwhelming talent.
Artists of mediocre ability were desperately scrambling to find any kind of work.
Honestly, he could have found one without going through our Nangin Association.
Perhaps Mak Chung's doubt showed on his face, for Ilyang smiled faintly and spoke.
"I understand that posting a request also counts toward one's record. Am I correct?"
"Ah! Ah, yes! That is correct. I see you've taken that into consideration."
The ranks of the Nangin plaques were generally divided into wood, iron, bronze, silver, and gold.
To raise one's rank through normal means, one had to accumulate a record of both accepting and posting requests above a certain monetary value. More precisely, there had to be a record of commission fees paid.
Unless, of course, one's martial arts are exceptionally formidable.
For reference, Pyeong So-byeok, who had been a first-class expert, held a bronze plaque solely based on his personal martial prowess and his record of posting requests.
Still, it's quite unusual.
Most vagabonds only accepted requests to save money; they rarely thought to raise their rank by posting requests themselves. They were notoriously stingy when it came to spending their own coin. They certainly wouldn't pay a commission fee for such a simple task.
"In any case, I understand. This is a request that can be resolved immediately."
Mak Chung, the receptionist, gestured to one of the runny-nosed kids sitting behind him, sending the child to fetch a scrawny, pale-faced scholar waiting outside.
"This is Scholar Gong Chu, from a nearby literary academy. He is the perfect fit for the request you have posted, Young Hero Ilyang."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Scholar Gong Chu. I am Ilyang."
"Ahem, a pleasure. I am Gong Chu."
Scholar Gong Chu.
At a glance, his clothes were shabby, and his frame was small and thin. He was so short that he stood barely a head taller than Ilyang, who was only about ten years old.
It was obvious his circumstances were far from affluent, but what did that matter?
As long as he was capable of teaching the script, nothing else was of consequence.
"Would you be able to begin today?"
"Of course."
"Then let us sign the request form and depart."
After properly registering the transaction at the reception desk, the two headed straight for the Manseok Inn.
"Let us eat first. It is difficult to accomplish anything on an empty stomach."
"Ahem, thank you, Young Hero."
Gong Chu, habitually adjusting his worn scholar's cap, enjoyed a splendid meal courtesy of Ilyang at the Manseok Inn. Afterward, he pulled several well-worn, finger-smudged books from his satchel.
"I have brought the Thousand Character Classic and the Four Books and Five Classics. Though they are old and worn, they are perfectly adequate for your studies."
"Understood."
"Then let us begin with the Thousand Character Classic."
Gong Chu silently hoped that the calm, composed boy before him would show a genuine interest in academics.
Only then could he turn this brief two-month stint into a long-term arrangement, sparing himself the constant worry of where his next meal would come from.
I must make the Thousand Character Classic as engaging as possible. That way, I can coax him into moving on to the Four Books and Five Classics.
The market for private tutors in this region was nothing short of a living hell.
Gong Chu had to surrender half of his commission to the association as a brokerage fee, leaving him with mere pittance. Yet, even such meager work was impossible to obtain without connections at the reception desk. He could not afford to let this rare opportunity slip through his fingers.
Sitting in a second-floor room of the Manseok Inn, Gong Chu adopted his gentlest, most encouraging tone. He wrote out the characters one by one on a wooden board using charcoal, striving to ignite a spark of passion and curiosity in the boy.
Though it hardly befitted the dignity of a scholar, he had even practiced storytelling techniques in private to appeal to young children. He was utterly serious about surviving in this cutthroat tutoring market.
Exactly half a double-hour—one hour—after Gong Chu had begun his lesson with such fierce determination:
"Wh-what in the world..."
Gong Chu's jaw dropped as he stared at the boy. Gulping dryly, he asked in a trembling voice,
"Young Hero, did you perhaps already know how to read?"
"No. This is my first time learning. I only knew about thirty-two characters prior to today. But this is quite entertaining. The structures of the characters are very easy to memorize."
"...Is that truly the case? How can someone who has never studied before grasp the characters so effortlessly?"
It defied all of Gong Chu's common sense.
When first introduced to the Thousand Character Classic, even the most brilliant prodigies struggled to copy the complex strokes, let alone memorize them.
Yet this boy was entirely different. He grasped the meaning and pronunciation after hearing them just once or twice, practically dragging the lesson forward at a breakneck pace. In a mere hour, he had already mastered half of the text.
And the only reason it took that long was because of the time spent writing and erasing on the wooden board.
The boy absorbed everything perfectly the moment it was taught. There was absolutely no need for repetition.
A sudden thought crossed Gong Chu's mind.
Could he have posted this request solely to help me financially?
But that made no sense; they had never met before today. Shaking off his bewildered thoughts, Gong Chu quickly composed himself and proceeded to teach the remaining characters in the same manner.
"...Mastering the entire Thousand Character Classic in a single day. By my standards, such a feat is utterly impossible."
"The world is vast, so many extraordinary things are bound to happen. Thank you for your hard work today."
Once the lesson concluded, Ilyang went down to the first floor of the inn, ordered a few simple dishes, had them packed in wooden containers, and handed them to Gong Chu.
"...Ah. Thank you for your kindness, Young Hero."
"Think nothing of it. Your instruction today was excellent."
"I was planning on conducting lessons three times every ten days. Would that suit you?"
"That is perfectly fine. I shall see you in three days, then."
Ilyang saw his tutor off at the door and immediately returned to his quarters on the second floor.
"This should suffice for the basics of the written language."
Still, the more characters he knew, the better.
Especially when it came to the artifact he had acquired by chance—the inventory. In this world, they seemed to call it a Jemuldae.
As expected, when he questioned Pyeong So-byeok, he learned that such items were exceedingly rare.
The characters inscribed on this artifact are similar to runes, yet their essence is different.
Therefore, the more he understood the writing systems of this world, the greater his chances of deciphering the runes on the artifact.
Since Ilyang possessed a flawless grasp of the runic languages used in the lower dimensions, once he familiarized himself with the structure and fundamental rules of this world's script, he might even be able to craft his own artifacts.
Though before that, I should try brewing some potions or elixirs.
Based on the serious conversations he had held with Pyeong So-byeok over the past ten days, this world was, as expected, a society of knights who revered what they called martial arts. A world focused on cultivating internal energy and refining the physical vessel to transcend human limits.
Yet, at the same time, it possesses its own unique mysteries.
According to Pyeong So-byeok, the Mansi Sect and the Cheonhyeol Sect—the groups Ilyang had encountered upon first arriving in this world—were esoteric sects shrouded in shadow. They were branded as public enemies of the Murim, secret organizations that people avoided even mentioning if they could help it.
Even Pyeong So-byeok, who held considerable sway in these parts, had nearly jumped out of his skin at the mere mention of the Mansi Sect and the Cheonhyeol Sect.
Of course, there was always the possibility that Pyeong So-byeok was lying.
However, Ilyang deemed that highly unlikely.
No one lies during a one-sided dinner date with a ghoul.
Perhaps because the ghoul's appetite was rather hearty, Pyeong So-byeok—having witnessed the magic of his own fingers and toes vanishing before his eyes in real-time—had answered every single one of Ilyang's questions with utmost politeness and enthusiasm.
"I-I swear it's the truth, Great Hero! Even I don't know much about the Mansi Sect or the Cheonhyeol Sect. Mentioning cultivators is strictly taboo in the first place. But the 'elders next door' my father used to talk about might be from those groups. Our clan occasionally kidnapped children to offer them as tribute to those elders, so I only knew about them in passing!"
Beyond that, Pyeong So-byeok had shown no hesitation in confessing to his numerous unprompted atrocities and the various corrupt deeds committed by the Pyeong Clan.
To summarize, must I view this as two coexisting worlds?
It was fascinating.
There was the Jianghu, the realm of ordinary mortals populated by martial artists, and then there was the Realm of Immortals, inhabited by cultivators who wielded what seemed to be magic, referred to here as bizarre illusionary arts.
The Jianghu and the Realm of Immortals.
It appeared to be a world where these two orders coexisted like yin and yang.
The bastards of the Mansi Sect and the Cheonhyeol Sect were certainly far from ordinary.
The energy he had sensed from the cultivators of those sects back then was distinctly different from ordinary internal energy.
It was far purer and cleaner than internal energy. Though, by my standards, it was still quite turbid.
It was mana that seemed to have been filtered from the atmosphere and gathered in the dantian.
Comparing the martial artists he had encountered in Giyang County to the experts of the Mansi Sect, the latter were undeniably superior in terms of purity, but to Ilyang, the difference was negligible—six of one, half a dozen of the other.
"Hmm. What I still fail to comprehend is... why does everyone gather their internal energy in the dantian?"
Even their kind and honest friend, Pyeong So-byeok, had been unable to provide a proper answer to this question. In fact, he hadn't even seemed to understand the premise of the question.
"I-Isn't it only natural to gather internal energy in the dantian? Argh, aaaaah! G-Great Hero! Please, not my thumb!"
How is that natural? It makes no sense.
The dantian was a hypothetical space that did not physically exist anywhere in the human body.
Gathering energy in a non-existent space to construct a dantian was highly inefficient, and its foundation was inherently weak. Even after the energy was fully consolidated, it offered little practical benefit in the long run.
"The reason mages gathered mana in their hearts was because the heart is where the body's life force is most concentrated."
Among all human organs, the heart possessed the densest life force, and it was undeniably the most vital organ in the body. That was why mages naturally gathered the mana drifting in the air to form circles, prioritizing the protection of their hearts above all else.
"And the same went for the knights."
Although knights did not form circles, they too gathered mana in their hearts, employing a cultivation method centered around a mana heart.
At any rate, Ilyang had shared several more candid conversations with their friendly companion, Pyeong So-byeok, after that.
Ultimately, Ilyang chose to ignore Pyeong So-byeok's assertions and advice, continuing to gather energy in his heart just as he had from the very beginning.
Of course, his method differed from this world's conventional cultivation techniques. In a manner somewhat akin to what the cultivators did, he was repeatedly filtering the external energy to an exquisite degree, gathering only the purest energy—nearly identical to nature itself—into his heart.
Tsk. Forcing the energy through such rigorous filtration makes the accumulation process dreadfully slow, but it cannot be helped. That is simply how circle magic works.
At present, the energy Ilyang had gathered in his heart was barely the size of a quail's egg.
However, this was just enough to attempt forming a first circle, albeit barely, without the aid of spirits or external catalysts.
I shall make the attempt today.
There was still no response from the spirit realm. Thus, he decided to put that matter aside entirely for the time being. Now was the time to focus on forming his circle.
Circle magic was the very foundation of Ilyang's power.
The greatest advantage of a completed circle lies in its self-sustainment.
Once a circle was established, he would no longer need to consciously focus on his breathing to gather energy as he did now; the energy would naturally accumulate and snowball with every breath he took.
Of course, this too requires a foundation of profound comprehension.
But Ilyang was a being who had once been revered as a god of magic in the lower dimensions. There was no risk of his mana accumulation stalling or diminishing due to a lack of comprehension or experience.
"Shall we begin?"
Ilyang first went down to the first floor of the Manseok Inn, paid the jeomsoi a month's rent in advance, and warned him under no circumstances to come upstairs unless summoned. Then, he took his place on the bed.
"It seems sitting cross-legged is indeed beneficial for gathering energy."
This was a useful piece of know-how Ilyang had acquired in this world, having accepted the advice of his ever-helpful friend, Pyeong So-byeok.
Ilyang had personally tested the efficiency of the lotus position. Though the underlying logic eluded him, he had to admit that this uncomfortable posture of sitting with folded legs was surprisingly effective for absorbing internal energy.
Consequently, he crossed his legs without any reluctance and sank into meditation.
Thus, on the fifteenth day since his arrival in this world, Ilyang finally resolved to attempt the creation of his first circle.