Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: A Coincidence for the Transfer Student (5)
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Contrary to the common misconception, superhuman martial arts weren't simply techniques for strengthening the body.
Superhuman strength and speed were merely the visible results.
The true foundation of martial arts was the ideology and philosophy for handling mana.
That which superhumans often called the True Meaning.
A single line of wisdom from a book, an enlightenment buried in someone's heart, or a desperate dream...
That was true martial arts. Thus, martial arts served as teachings for mental discipline and training to test the limits of the body.
Of course, there were exceptions.
Cases where the purpose of the martial art itself was to pursue even greater strength and faster speed.
Most military superhuman martial arts developed during the Cold War era followed this trend.
In modern times, such martial arts had naturally fallen out of use, but some were still passed down.
And the martial art Wesley had learned was one of those.
Its official name was a military secret, but the media called it 'Air Dominance'—an ultra-high-speed martial art.
No sooner had the word "coming" left Wesley's mouth than his body reached right in front of Yeomyeong.
Whoosh!
His fist traced a bold arc, and the wind hit Yeomyeong's cheek first.
Yeomyeong neither blocked nor dodged the punch. Instead, he thrust out his right fist.
A blatant cross counter. Wesley retracted his swinging fist and clashed his elbow against Yeomyeong's punch.
He would deflect the fist and follow up with another strike.
Crack!
But contrary to Wesley's expectations, a chilling sound emanated from the elbow that met the fist.
A horrific pain shot up Wesley's arm, but he didn't stop his attack.
He raised his knee to target the lower body. Blocked.
Left fist. Blocked. Shoulder charge as he closed in. Deflected. Headbutt. Dodged.
In the flurry of exchanges in an instant, Wesley's attacks failed one after another.
Is the gap this wide? As Wesley gritted his teeth and prepared to attack again.
Thud!
Yeomyeong's foot struck his abdomen in a surprise kick. Wesley flew back and crashed into the floor.
The impact was so great that the flooring splintered with a crunch.
Reactions to the scene were polarized. The students gasped in admiration, while the supervisors clutched their foreheads.
Separate from those reactions, Wesley rose from his spot with a twisted expression.
"You fucking... Were you going easy on me?"
Yeomyeong shook his head as Wesley spat out blood-tinged saliva.
"No, I thought that would end it. You're tougher than I expected."
"Ha!"
Wesley bared his teeth in a grin. Even as his legs trembled from the lingering shock and blood trickled from his forehead, his eyes burned with fighting spirit.
"Feels like your feet are your main weapon, not your fists. Don't hold back—use them."
"...Hmm."
You'd die. Yeomyeong swallowed the words with effort.
He worried it might come off as provocation, but he was more concerned about actually killing him.
Controlling his strength was harder than expected. When had he ever held back, after all?
From necromancers to dragons and Pasun. The opponents Yeomyeong had faced so far had been such that holding back wasn't an option—he had to squeeze out every ounce of strength just to survive...
"Spacing out in the middle of a fight!?"
Seeing Yeomyeong lost in thought, Wesley bellowed and charged again.
Lightning-fast but straightforward linear attacks. The martial art pursuing pure power targeted Yeomyeong's vital points relentlessly.
It began with a punch to the throat, leading to another one-sided exchange. Combos and heavy blows, counters and deflections.
But the clash didn't last long.
At the point where anyone could see Wesley's mana clearly depleting, Yeomyeong reached out in a surprise grab for his throat.
"Gah!"
A strangled cry escaped the suddenly gripped neck.
If controlling his strength was hard, he'd just knock him out like always.
"Kkh... L-Let... go...!"
Wesley swung wildly, having read Yeomyeong's intent, but the grip only tightened on his throat.
As strength drained from Wesley's limbs and the supervisors moved to stop the fight.
Someone's foot slammed down from atop the central staircase railing.
Boom!
An attack precisely targeting Yeomyeong's arm holding the throat.
Yeomyeong reflexively hurled Wesley aside, or his arm would have snapped from the force.
Proving its power, the lobby floor cracked deeply, spewing dust.
Yeomyeong frowned at the dust. Not from the surprise attack, but because he recognized the technique that had targeted him moments ago.
True Strike.
As Seti had described, the ultimate technique of Flying Leg Art.
Moments later, as the lobby dust settled, a familiar handsome face emerged.
"...Jeon Yunseong?"
The foreigner most despised in Korea, yet considered the handsomest of Korean descent.
Though they'd never even faced each other, the guy glared at him with a ferocious expression.
"That Flying Leg Art! You're from Korea—did they send you...?"
Before Jeon Yunseong could finish, the recovered Wesley shouted at him.
"Hey, Jeon Yunseong! Why are you butting in!?"
"No, I... I was trying to save you..."
"Save me? Why? Think he's gonna murder you in a room scramble?"
With Wesley's words, the other students' gazes turned to Jeon Yunseong.
But oddly, there wasn't a shred of goodwill in those looks.
'...It's not just because he interfered in the scramble... Is he getting bullied?'
Even to Yeomyeong, who wasn't great at reading the room, the students' stares at Jeon Yunseong felt off. Like they were looking at a public enemy.
And Yeomyeong wasn't the only one sensing it—Jeon Yunseong mumbled at his lips before hanging his head.
"...Sorry, I misunderstood."
"Hey! You call that an apology!?"
"...I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the scramble."
Jeon Yunseong bowed to Wesley amid cold student glares and flustered supervisors.
Watching the scene briefly, Yeomyeong brushed the dust from his clothes.
He didn't know Jeon Yunseong's circumstances, but the prank had gone far enough.
"Supervisor, what happens to the room scramble in a case like this?"
"...Usually, it's a draw."
"I see. Then... I'll head to my originally assigned room. 314, right?"
Hearing that, Wesley jumped in with surprise.
"A draw? It's not over yet!"
"...That's just your opinion."
"No! I can still fight..."
Yeomyeong silently stared at Wesley. Wesley's lips twitched, then he whipped his head away, his fist trembling.
'...What a brat.'
There were limits to being emotionally honest. Seeing someone who looked close in age act like this made the reality of attending school sink in.
But for his first day at the school he'd ever attended...
Yeomyeong held back a sigh and gathered his luggage. Then he spoke to Wesley, still shaking with rage.
"...Room scramble or spar, I'll do it again anytime you want."
"...What? Another round?"
"Yeah, tomorrow... I have something, so not then. Sometime this week."
Please fight in the arena next time, the supervisor added softly. Wesley sprang up with a burst of laughter.
"Ha, lost in skill and character."
"..."
"Heard you were a merc—turns out you're a decent guy."
Yeomyeong fought to keep his facial muscles from twisting as Wesley strode over and offered his hand.
'...Same class as the Saintess?'
Hopefully, guys like this weren't common at the academy. Yeomyeong shoved away the ominous feeling and clasped Wesley's hand.
Reactions to their handshake were neutral.
Most students seemed satisfied with the entertaining show, while supervisors scowled at the ruined lobby floor.
A few floated question marks over their heads, unable to follow, but most dispersed with a "good's good" vibe.
Thus ended the mishap on his first day of transfer. As Yeomyeong followed the supervisor.
He briefly locked eyes with Jeon Yunseong, standing blankly in the lobby.
Envy, regret, and thick wariness.
Jeon Yunseong averted his gaze belatedly, read, but Yeomyeong committed that look to memory.
Recalling Seti's words about using him for revenge.
***
The author held his breath, listening intently to the sounds outside the door.
Talk of Jeon Yunseong this, the transfer student and Wesley fighting that, trailed off into sudden silence.
Were Wesley and the transfer student fighting? In the quiet, he recalled the scene from the airport earlier.
The transfer student battling that lunatic Hong Seti.
Jeon Yunseong and Soemiri watching beside him had been impressed...
But not him.
Frankly, he was scared.
Was it his first time seeing a fight with killing intent and mana exploding?
Sure, that played a part, but what truly terrified him was the transfer student's skill itself.
Not content with coating his sword in mana, he fired sword beams.
'Firing sword beams means he's at least reached Sword Aura... Fuck. Shenanigans from chapter one?'
Compared to him, still on the cusp of superhuman level, it was worlds apart.
If the transfer student was truly from the real world... It was a gap he could never close, no matter what.
The author buried his face in his knees, trembling.
'What if he discovers who I am?'
Should he seek alliance or cooperation? Offer the opportunity only he knew as bait to become his subordinate...
'Fuck, would you?'
He put himself in the shoes. Hadn't he thought this world was entirely his own?
Another from reality? He'd slit their throat without a second thought.
Better to escape the academy and find another way...
*Knock knock*
As he pondered countermeasures, someone rapped on the door. The author startled and stared.
"Wh-Who's there?"
*It's the supervisor. May I come in?*
Why a supervisor at this hour? Feeling uneasy, the author replied.
"Ah, yes, Supervisor. It's fine. Come in."
The door opened immediately upon his permission.
The next instant, the author clamped his mouth shut to stifle a scream.
Behind the opening supervisor stood none other than the transfer student... Cheon Yeomyeong, following him in.
No way, no, it couldn't be.
"Cheon Yeomyeong. This is your room from now on. Dorm rules are on the desk there, blankets and pillows..."
It was exactly that. The author thought of the hidden assassination dagger and poison needles under his pillow, then shook his head.
Fine for clueless freshmen, but useless against a superhuman like that.
Only one option left...
'Hide my identity, no matter what it takes.'
He swallowed hard and forced a calm expression.
For a long while, as the author desperately steadied his quivering lips, the supervisor finished explanations and left.
Alone in the room now, the author covered his shaking legs with the blanket.
Oblivious, the golden eyes calmly scanned the room.
What didn't he like? The guy kept furrowing his brow slightly.
'Damn.'
The author took a deep breath and spoke to Yeomyeong, setting down his bag.
"Um... hey... Hi? Shall we introduce ourselves first?"
"Cheon Yeomyeong."
"...I-I'm Baonic Le-Lerak. N-Nice to meet you."
Fuck, his tongue wouldn't move. As the author cursed inwardly, Yeomyeong gave him a strange look.
"...Lerak? From the Lerak family, by any chance?"
"Uh... yeah. You know my family?"
Of course he would. The Lerak family was more famous than most royalty beyond the dimensional gates.
Not in a good way, though.
"Yeah, I've seen you in documentaries a few times."
"D-Documentaries...?"
"Family Beyond the Gates series. Yours was the second one... Well, you might not know it."
Yeomyeong replied, pulling something from his bag.
Flinch.
Baonic shuddered at the glinting sword hilt peeking out, but Yeomyeong drew something else.
A portable broom and dustpan. Utterly unexpected.
"..."
As he stood speechless, Yeomyeong asked.
"The room's a bit dirty. Mind if I clean?"
The author was surprised twice by Cheon Yeomyeong: first, that he was kinder than expected.
Second, that he cleaned better than imagined.
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