Chapter 43
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: It's Because of That Guy
Time passed quickly.
Over the past month, really nothing had happened. It was just the repetition of the same daily routine.
Peaceful days repeated one after another.
Of course, from the perspective of the training disciples, it might have felt different.
Even today, the members of Team Seven were pushing themselves to the brink, the metallic tang of blood filling their mouths.
It was all because of Instructor Ha Mu-baek's conviction that they needed to earn their keep after consuming those precious medicines.
The training was curse-worthy brutal, and curses spilled naturally from their lips.
Yet smiles lingered in the eyes of the five disciples.
This was exactly what they had hoped for—grueling training that made them want to curse.
Each had their own reason for needing to grow stronger, and they knew full well that breaking through their limits demanded exactly this.
In the first half of the term, they had been all but ignored.
If not for the clash with Dang Chu and their aim for the Summer Combat Festival, they likely would have stayed neglected.
"Huff... huff... In a way... should we be grateful to that bastard Dang Chu?"
After wrapping up today's session, Dang Jin-san sprawled on the ground, staring up at the sky as he panted and spoke.
The others shot him looks, wondering what nonsense he was spouting.
Endured the hellish training just to snap now? Yeon Ha-min thought it for a fleeting moment.
"No. It feels like our instructor finally started teaching us with some real effort after we crossed paths with that guy..."
"Come to think of it..."
Dan Mok Un-roe nodded faintly and murmured.
"What do you think that guy's up to now?"
Nak Woo-jin, ever the quiet one, asked out of nowhere.
"Dunno. Haven't heard a peep since he headed back home after the Summer Combat Festival."
Dang Jin-san's reply.
"What happens to him ain't my problem anymore."
And he meant it. During the Summer Combat Festival, he'd purged every last grudge against Dang Chu.
"Why bring him up outta nowhere?"
Dan Mok Un-roe asked Nak Woo-jin.
"Dunno. His punchable mug just floated up in my head. Hoped he was suffering worse, so I asked."
Dan Mok Un-roe and Yeon Ha-min gave slight nods at Nak Woo-jin's words.
They shared the sentiment.
Dang Chu.
What a loathsome prick.
Good riddance not seeing him anymore.
Then came the thud of approaching footsteps.
Slow, brimming with arrogance. They could tell who it was just from the sound now.
"Ah. Now I get why I hoped Dang Chu was suffering more. It's 'cause of this asshole."
Nak Woo-jin muttered low. Louder than a whisper, but the other four caught it clear.
A moment later.
"Hmm. Still a charmed bunch, huh? Sprawled out like trash again today."
A mocking voice drifted in.
There at the training ground's edge, glaring down at Team Seven's five: Pang Gun-ho.
With the grounds right next door, he always showed up at session's end to jeer.
Team Twenty's other two were likely still grinding away, yet this clown bolted here the instant their instructor vanished. Acting like he belonged to Team Seven.
The reason? Obvious.
Ju Woo-myeong, his own teammate.
No matter Pang Gun-ho's status as Pavilion Lord Pang Do-yul's grandson, Ju Woo-myeong's backing outshone it. Used to lording over the Pang family on name alone, he couldn't stomach sharing space with someone superior.
Couldn't flaunt his superiority.
So he slunk to easy prey Team Seven for his sneers.
"Yeah. Still no guts for a spar? You 'experts' who nabbed Namgung Ji-hu?"
His lofty gaze grated, so they rose one by one. Couldn't even catch a proper breather thanks to him.
"Step up at the Autumn Combat Festival. That'll settle it."
Nak Woo-jin clipped.
Pang Gun-ho's brow twitched.
Bred never to hear casual talk from peers, he raged purely at the informality.
"Mind your tongue."
Pang Gun-ho growled.
"This ain't Pang territory."
Dang Jin-san shot back coldly.
"Tch."
Aware Dang Jin-san was Sichuan Tang Clan head's son, Pang Gun-ho swallowed his fury.
But not as cowed as before Ju Woo-myeong.
Son of the clan head or not, Dang Jin-san wasn't heir, and their ranks matched.
Pang family clung to grandfather as head forever, but father ascending wouldn't shock anyone.
Then I'd be young master too...
Pang Gun-ho eyed Dang Jin-san, stray thoughts drifting.
"Guy who flips out over casual talk."
Nak Woo-jin snorted.
"Lowborn whelp yapping from that hole you call a mouth."
Pang Gun-ho smirked mockingly.
He'd haunted this spot a full month.
Knew exactly Nak Woo-jin's triggers.
Lowborn.
The word that set him off.
Maybe why taciturn Nak Woo-jin snapped at Dang Chu news today—Pang Gun-ho's nonstop prods.
"You little..."
Flames leaped in Nak Woo-jin's eyes.
Team Seven's other four circled him.
None knew Nak Woo-jin's history. Thus, clueless why "lowborn" hit so raw.
Still, they were comrades.
Summer Combat Festival forged them beyond team—into brothers-in-arms.
"Autumn Combat Festival. Quit the bullshit here."
Baek Ri-pyeong fixed Pang Gun-ho with icy eyes, voice like frost.
"Tch..."
Pang Gun-ho bit back words, stewing in frustration.
Plain to see.
Strongest here? Baek Ri-pyeong.
Prime hand in toppling Namgung Ji-hu, no doubt.
No fluke as Zhongnan Sect disciple.
Daily provocations taught him: that guy's tough. Tougher than me.
So he poked Nak Woo-jin, the seeming soft spot.
Baek Ri-pyeong's pedigree? No slouch. Grandson of ex-Zhongnan head.
Among Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans elites, open secret he'd cut ties.
No empty title, ex-head.
Fell gloriously in last war.
Current head—ex-head's junior brother—shunned him to lock in power. Insiders knew.
Team Seven scrubs? Clueless.
Pang Gun-ho toyed with needling that sore spot.
But held off.
"Huh? Gun-ho, hanging here again?"
Voice from behind stopped him cold.
Still grave, resonant. Casual now, but innate majesty seeped through.
Ju Woo-myeong.
Always the pattern.
Pang Gun-ho teetering on explosion? Ju Woo-myeong materialized.
Eerie timing.
Perfectly synced, his design or Ju's.
"Young Master Pang, visiting again today?"
Followed a graceful voice.
Ha Seol-ran.
Fellow disciples bantered casually now, yet she stuck to honorifics.
"Oh? Miss Ha. Training fun today?"
Dang Jin-san beamed at her.
"Yes. A rewarding day."
Ha Seol-ran beamed back.
Team Seven couldn't wrap heads around it—this beauty as their instructor's sister.
Short first half together, but worlds apart from known Ha Mu-baek.
Ju Woo-myeong and Ha Seol-ran arrival crushed Pang Gun-ho's momentum.
Ju Woo-myeong? Untouchable.
Ha Seol-ran? Instructor chaperone.
Pang Gun-ho loathed his instructor from day one, sicced clan spies for dirt.
Report? Grandfather's scathing note: cut the crap.
First time backer-grandpa stonewalled—clued him Instructor Han Seol-bing was heavyweight.
Post-arrival: gripes galore.
Frustrations piled.
Starting with radiant-smiling Ha Seol-ran. Despised her.
Pang turf? She'd kneel below his belt.
Beauty primed his baser urges.
But Instructor Han Seol-bing blocked it.
Enigmatic aura crushed him utterly.
Plus Ju Woo-myeong pest.
Team Seven vermin too.
Realization: solo here. Utterly alone.
Need lackeys in those empty slots? Hands and feet I can boss.
Idea struck.
Uncle Pavilion Lord? Doable.
Grandpa'd approve easy.
Yeah. Gotta do that.
Pathetic not thinking sooner.
"Tsk tsk. Training done—eat, dorm, or grind more. Why clump yapping?"
Creaky elder voice cut in.
This area's overseer old-timer.
Dragon Training Pavilion hands usually young bucks, but him? Different.
Senior. Voice matching: wheezy.
Yet built. Stupidly built.
Outclassed regular workers.
Why tolerate worker's gall? That.
Brawn aside, old help. Could thrash anytime, but nah.
Knew ugly optics of bullying peon. But shelf life on smarts? TBD.
All irked in this hellhole—pure aggravation.
Pang Gun-ho'd never cop to old man's aura dominating.
"Ah, elder. Heading to chow now. Join?"
Familiar now, Ju Woo-myeong polite to old man. Eyes to Team Seven.
Nods all around.
Seven strode to Devouring Dragon South Pavilion.
Pang Gun-ho? Ignored singleton.
"Fucking pricks. Payback someday. Revel now. Shit."
Teeth grinding, venom spewing.
"Heh. Purify that mind."
Old worker's voice tickled ear—ignored, stomped off.
To Devouring Dragon West Pavilion.
Hidden Dragon Corps haunt. Pang disciples there too—vent there.
"Fuck. Insane me. Why chase this Fierce Dragon Corps crap?"
Month gone. Zero as envisioned.
Pang Gun-ho's rage-filled eyes smoldered murky.