Chapter 2: The New Instructor of Dongcheon Hall (2)

Ma Gil-sang left as abruptly as he arrived.

He gave Cho Un-hwi a quick once-over, his expression unreadable, and vanished without a word.

With the tiger gone, Dongcheon Hall returned to its usual boisterous atmosphere.

“Honestly!”

“My back is killing me from cleaning all morning.”

“Why call everyone in if he was just going to leave without a word?”

As the instructors grumbled amongst themselves, Chung-hyeon, the Head Instructor of Dongcheon Hall, scrutinized the appointment letter with narrowed eyes.

“So… your name is Cho Un-hwi?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Cho Un-hwi replied crisply, standing at attention.

Despite the young man’s seemingly earnest demeanor, Chung-hyeon couldn’t shake off a lingering unease.

‘He seems quite diligent, but why do I feel so apprehensive?’

Having mentored countless students over the years, Chung-hyeon had developed a keen sense for character.

And right now, the man standing before him radiated an unsettling aura, a sense of impending doom.

‘Let’s see…’

There was nothing particularly off about his appearance.

His martial arts uniform, though of cheap make, was clean and well-pressed. His hair was neatly tied back.

The only slight oddity was his long fringe, which partially obscured his face, giving him a somewhat gloomy air.

‘Well, I suppose that’s just personal preference.’

‘His limbs are… rather slender.’

He had a rather delicate frame for a martial artist.

‘Is he really a first-rate master?’

It wasn’t impossible. The Shinmu Academy wouldn’t be so lax as to allow someone to fake their skills.

“You’re… twenty-five years old?” Chung-hyeon asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“You look quite young for your age.”

“It runs in the family! We all have youthful appearances!”

“I-is that so?”

“Though I hate to boast, I assure you, I possess the heart of a mature man, ready for marriage.”

‘Right…’

Chung-hyeon pressed on.

“And where did you receive your martial arts training?”

“I trained at the Jeonggeom Sect.”

“The Jeonggeom Sect… I’m not familiar with it.”

“It’s a small, insignificant sect in the countryside. Nothing to write home about.”

“Well, they must have been quite competent to have trained a first-rate master like yourself…”

“That’s all thanks to my natural talent, sir!”

“…”

Something was off.

Usually, when asked about their sect, martial artists would proudly sing its praises, no matter how insignificant it might be.

But this Cho Un-hwi showed no such pride. He seemed entirely self-absorbed.

Chung-hyeon had a sudden realization.

‘Ah, he’s one of those.’

This Cho Un-hwi was trouble. A first-rate weirdo, joining their ranks.

A wave of fatigue washed over him.

“Ugh, alright. You’re dismissed. Yeom-gwang!”

“Yes, Head Instructor.”

“Instructor Yeom, please show our new colleague around and provide him with some Dongcheon Hall uniforms.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Yeom-gwang was the Chief Instructor.

While Chung-hyeon handled the administrative duties, Yeom-gwang oversaw all matters related to the instructors.

True to his toad-like appearance, Yeom-gwang was gruff and unfriendly.

“This is the training ground.”

He marched ahead, barely glancing back.

“And this is the mess hall.”

He gestured vaguely with his chin.

“Your quarters are here. You’ll be in the room at the end of the fifth floor.”

He didn’t even bother with formalities, addressing Cho Un-hwi casually.

When Cho Un-hwi simply stared at him, Yeom-gwang frowned.

“What? You got a problem?”

“Not at all. But Dongcheon Hall seems quite large. Are the training ground and my quarters all I need to know?”

“You can figure out the rest yourself. In your own time.”

He continued to speak informally, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“My room is on the highest floor?”

“You want me, at my age, to climb up and down those stairs every day?”

So much for hoping for a room with a nice view. He had been assigned the most inconvenient room in the entire building.

‘Well, at least it’ll be quiet up there.’

Perfect for practicing his arts.

As Cho Un-hwi instinctively surveyed his surroundings, mentally mapping out the optimal training route, Yeom-gwang turned to face him.

“Ptooey!”

He spat on the ground and propped his hands on his hips.

“Did you say your name was Un-hwi?”

“It’s Cho Un-hwi.”

“Whatever. Un-hwi, Cho Un-hwi, same thing.”

He frowned, a malicious smirk playing on his lips.

“You got someone backing you up or something?”

“What do you mean?”

“Because that’s the first time I’ve ever seen The Light of the Flame, Ma Gil-sang, grace us with his presence.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met the man.”

“Must’ve been a misunderstanding then. I can’t imagine why The Light of the Flame would be interested in a newbie instructor like yourself.”

He muttered to himself, seemingly convincing himself of his own explanation. Then, his frown deepened.

“Anyway, none of my business. But just the thought of having to clean up this place because of you this morning makes my blood boil.”

He turned to leave, then shot Cho Un-hwi a menacing glare over his shoulder.

“You might think you can coast by on your fancy martial arts, but I suggest you watch your step in the Shinmu Academy.”

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Cho Un-hwi simply shrugged as he watched Yeom-gwang stomp away.

***

Creak.

Cho Un-hwi pushed open the door to his room at the end of the fifth floor. A musty smell wafted out, tickling his nose.

“This room is ancient.”

It was also incredibly small.

The room was bare, devoid of any decoration.

A rickety bed, a desk, and a low table were the only furnishings.

He tapped the mattress lightly, and a cloud of dust erupted.

“They haven’t even bothered to clean this place.”

Dust caked every surface, from the floor to the windowsill.

It was a wonder anyone had ever lived here.

“Well, might as well get this over with.”

Cho Un-hwi raised his hands.

a gentle breeze began to swirl around them.

Whooooosh.

With a flick of his wrist, the dust that had settled deep within the room was lifted into the air, following the movement of his hands like a miniature galaxy.

Had anyone witnessed this sight, they would have doubted their own eyes.

While it was possible for skilled martial artists to manipulate the wind with their internal energy, the level of control Cho Un-hwi displayed was extraordinary.

He wasn’t simply creating a gust of wind he was shaping it, guiding it to every nook and cranny of the room.

It was a feat that defied human limitations, a testament to his mastery over his internal energy.

“And now for the finishing touch.”

He extended his hand, and the swirling dust coalesced into a single stream, flowing out the window.

“Time to air out the bedding.”

Snap!

He pinched the corner of the blanket with his index finger and gave it a flick. In an instant, it was spotless.

The once dusty and neglected room had transformed into a serene and elegant space.

It was a truly awe-inspiring display of skill.

With the cleaning complete, Cho Un-hwi retrieved a small cloth bundle from his belongings.

Despite its unassuming appearance, the contents of the bundle were far from ordinary.

“The Daehandan goes here.”

Nestled within an ornate box was the Daehandan, a legendary elixir said to be a treasure of the Shaolin Temple.

It was said that consuming the Daehandan would grant a martial artist a year’s worth of internal energy cultivation, while ordinary people would be blessed with a lifetime of health and longevity.

And that was just the beginning.

“The Seven-Step Poison goes here, and the Yuribido goes here.”

A legendary poison that could kill with a single drop, and a mythical throwing knife emerged from the bundle as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The plain cloth bundle contained treasures that would make even the wealthiest kings envious.

“Alright, that should do it.”

Cho Un-hwi casually shoved the remaining items under the bed and settled down on the mattress.

Creak.

The bed creaked ominously, but he didn’t mind.

He had finally arrived at his destination.

“I’m here.”

It had taken him five long years.

Five years since he had been given a second chance at life.

He still had a long way to go, but he had taken the first crucial step.

Perhaps that was why, for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace wash over him.

He drifted off to sleep, enjoying the most restful slumber he had experienced in a century.

***

“So, have you met him?”

Seon In-hyeok, the White Robe Judge, awaited Ma Gil-sang’s arrival in his office, located in the deepest recesses of the Shinmu Academy.

It was not every day that two such powerful figures met like this.

And if word got out that their meeting concerned a mere instructor, no one would believe it.

“I have,” Ma Gil-sang replied.

“And what are your impressions?”

“I couldn’t find anything particularly unusual about him. He doesn’t seem to practice demonic arts.”

“Is that so? For someone Elder Chui Geol-gae personally asked you to look at, he seems quite ordinary.”

In truth, Ma Gil-sang’s visit to Dongcheon Hall was at Seon In-hyeok’s behest.

The Light of the Flame’s signature martial art, the Asura Flame Blade, was a technique of pure Yang energy.

It possessed a unique characteristic: it could detect the presence of demonic energy.

Just as the sun banished darkness, the Asura Flame Blade was anathema to all things demonic.

Ma Gil-sang nodded in agreement.

“More than his background, it’s his skill that I find curious. His hands bear no marks of rigorous training.”

“Perhaps he’s left-handed?”

“Both his left and right hands were clean. Not a single callus, not even a scratch.”

“That is unusual. But not unheard of.”

While some martial artists thrived on real-life combat experience, others honed their skills in the safety of training grounds, like delicate flowers blooming in a greenhouse.

“Elder Chui Geol-gae vouched for his skills, so I doubt there’s any deception there.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? If he lacks the skills, he won’t last long in the Shinmu Academy anyway. Those students are a handful they’ll expose his weaknesses soon enough.”

“Indeed. The students of the Shinmu Academy are the most talented individuals in the land. An incompetent instructor wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Time would tell if Cho Un-hwi was the real deal.

“Well, I suppose it’ll be interesting to see how this plays out. As you know, practicing martial arts and teaching them are two entirely different things.”

Ma Gil-sang chuckled wryly.

It was not uncommon for exceptional martial artists to be terrible teachers.

He himself had experienced the frustration of having disciples who struggled to grasp even the most basic concepts, despite his best efforts.

‘Like this! Like this! Can’t you see?’

‘When you channel your internal energy, imagine swallowing the sun!’

‘Why is this so difficult for you?!’

He sighed, recalling the countless hours he had spent trying to impart his wisdom to his clueless disciples.

“I hope he has a knack for teaching.”

“In any case, thank you for your time. I appreciate you looking into this for me.”

And so, the matter of the new instructor was seemingly forgotten.

For now.