Chapter 5: Find the Student (2)

“Sagon, what did that Cho bastard say?” Yeom-gwang asked, his eyes narrowed.

One of the students, Sagon, bowed respectfully.

“I insulted him to his face, just as you instructed, Chief Instructor. He seemed quite dejected when he left.”

“And then?”

“I heard he tried to approach a few other students, but they all turned him away, just as you predicted.”

Yeom-gwang chuckled, pleased with the report.

“Good work.”

“Hehe, Chief Instructor, if I may…”

“Yes, yes, you’ve earned your reward. I’ll make sure you’re matched with a weak opponent in the upcoming evaluation. Show them what you’re capable of.”

“Thank you, Chief Instructor! You’re too kind!”

Sagon bowed his head, tears welling up in his eyes.

Yeom-gwang smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice.

‘You’ll never succeed.’

Not while he was around.

Yeom-gwang’s power within Dongcheon Hall was absolute.

He had been running the place for years, taking advantage of Chung-hyeon’s apathy and incompetence.

Over time, he had devised several methods to consolidate his power and manipulate those around him.

The promise he had just made to Sagon was one of his favorite tactics.

He called it “The Push.”

He would identify a student who was eager to please and use them to spread rumors, manipulate public opinion, and even incite group action against instructors he wanted to get rid of.

Once the target was sufficiently isolated and demoralized, he would rig the evaluation results to ensure the student’s success.

Most of the students in Dongcheon Hall came from minor sects and were desperate for any opportunity to advance their careers.

Once they had tasted success, they would be too afraid to speak out against the rigged system, lest they lose their hard-earned promotion.

It was a clean and efficient method, with no messy consequences.

‘This is what true power is all about.’

Martial arts prowess was only one aspect of success in the Murim world.

Cunning, manipulation, and even outright deceit were often necessary to achieve one’s goals.

Yeom-gwang saw himself as a mentor, teaching his students valuable life lessons about the harsh realities of the world.

‘This is true education.’

He surveyed the instructors, their faces etched with fear and resentment, and a sense of pride swelled within him.

‘If only that damned Cho wasn’t here to ruin everything!’

He had no idea where the newcomer had come from, but he was determined to make him regret setting foot in his domain.

The thought of Cho Un-hwi flirting with Yeo Mae-hong, the object of his affections, made his blood boil.

“Chief Instructor?”

“What is it? You’re still here?”

“If you have a moment, I’d like to ask for your guidance. I’m having some trouble mastering the Shinmu Sword Technique.”

The Shinmu Sword Technique was a basic swordsmanship style taught in Dongcheon Hall.

As Chief Instructor, it was Yeom-gwang’s duty to provide guidance to any student who requested it.

But he was in no mood for such trivialities.

“You idiot! Do you think I have time to waste on your pathetic attempts at swordsmanship?!”

The student quickly produced a heavy pouch.

“My family has prepared a small token of appreciation for your time, Chief Instructor. They’re quite eager for me to succeed in the upcoming evaluation.”

“Oh?”

“I’m determined to prove myself this time. And I believe your guidance, as a renowned master, will be invaluable.”

“I’m impressed by your dedication.”

Yeom-gwang hefted the pouch, gauging its weight.

“Very well. I can’t refuse such a sincere request.”

“Thank you, Chief Instructor!”

“You can rest assured that you will succeed this time.”

Yeom-gwang’s words were spoken with the confidence of a prophet.

***

Cho Un-hwi whistled as he read the student’s profile.

“Namgung Yun-ho, huh?”

Namgung Yun-ho.

The eldest son and heir to the Namgung Clan, one of the Five Great Clans that ruled the Murim world.

Their clan was known as the Heavenly Spear Clan, renowned for their unparalleled spear techniques.

“And the older brother of Namgung Yong-ho, the Little Sword Dragon.”

The future of the righteous Murim was said to rest on the shoulders of five exceptional talents, known as the Five Dragons and Three Phoenixes.

Namgung Yong-ho was one of the Five Dragons, a prodigy whose swordsmanship skills were already legendary.

But his older brother, Namgung Yun-ho…

“His record is abysmal.”

It was hard to believe that the same blood flowed through the veins of the Heavenly Spear Clan’s patriarch and this… disappointment.

He was twenty-one years old and had already spent seven years languishing in Dongcheon Hall.

Most students graduated within a year or two.

To spend seven years in Dongcheon Hall was practically unheard of.

“It seems his family has given up on him. They’re not even bothering to send him any instructors.”

He was practically abandoned.

Or perhaps it was worse than that. Perhaps they were deliberately trying to erase his existence.

“He’s not even listed in the student registry.”

Most people in the Murim world didn’t even know that Namgung Yong-ho had an older brother.

The Little Sword Dragon was often referred to as the eldest son of the Namgung Clan, as if his brother didn’t exist.

It was as if they were trying to pretend he had never been born.

Even Mo Yong-Seon-ya had only learned of his existence by chance.

“He was in my class when we first entered the academy,” she had explained.

“But then, one day, his name just… disappeared.”

“He became a ghost, a presence that existed but was never acknowledged.”

Namgung Yun-ho had become a legend, a cautionary tale whispered among the students of the Shinmu Academy.

It was a strange and unsettling story.

“There’s something off about this,” Cho Un-hwi muttered to himself.

“That hotheaded, sword-obsessed maniac is now a ghost? I don’t buy it.”

He remembered the crazed swordsman, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he carved a path through a river of blood.

Cho Un-hwi licked his lips, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“This is going to be interesting.”

***

Finding Namgung Yun-ho wasn’t difficult.

He might be a ghost, but he was still confined to the grounds of the Shinmu Academy.

Cho Un-hwi eventually found him in one of the darkest and most secluded training grounds, practicing his swordsmanship in the shadows.

“There he is.”

He was a shadow of his former self.

His hair was long and unkempt, his beard scraggly, and his clothes were worn and faded.

He carried a battered sword, its blade dulled from years of neglect.

He would hide in the shadows as other students passed by, only emerging when he was sure he was alone.

“That’s definitely Namgung Yun-ho.”

Cho Un-hwi approached cautiously, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

He stepped in front of the young man, blocking his path.

“Mind if I have a word with you?”

Namgung Yun-ho’s dull eyes flickered with a hint of annoyance.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the new instructor at Dongcheon Hall.”

“…”

Namgung Yun-ho didn’t respond. He simply tried to sidestep Cho Un-hwi and continue on his way.

“Hold on, I need to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

Cho Un-hwi blocked his path again, but Namgung Yun-ho’s gaze remained cold and distant.

“Leave me alone.”

“Just hear me out.”

Cho Un-hwi reached out and grabbed Namgung Yun-ho’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

Namgung Yun-ho whirled around, his eyes blazing with anger.

‘That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.’

Before Cho Un-hwi could speak, Namgung Yun-ho spat out, “Are you here to sell me some miracle elixir?”

Elixir?

“Or perhaps you have some secret training method that will turn me into a master overnight?”

“You seem to be mistaken about something…”

“I’ve met dozens of instructors who promised me miracles. They sold me useless potions, taught me nonsensical techniques, and even introduced me to shamans who claimed I was cursed. What’s your angle?”

“…”

“I know what you’re doing. You want to make a name for yourself by ‘saving’ the Disgrace of the Namgung Clan. It would make for a good story, wouldn’t it? A tale of redemption, perfect for drunken boasts.”

Cho Un-hwi’s grip loosened as he absorbed the young man’s words.

Namgung Yun-ho shrugged off his hand and said, “I have no money.”

He gestured at his threadbare clothes.

“And no hope.”

“So don’t waste my time with your empty promises.”

“Or your misplaced curiosity.”

“Please.”

Namgung Yun-ho turned and walked away, leaving Cho Un-hwi standing there, speechless.

***

Swish! Swish!

Namgung Yun-ho practiced his swordsmanship relentlessly.

His movements were stiff and awkward, lacking the fluidity and grace he once possessed.

He tried to channel his internal energy, but it felt sluggish and unresponsive.

His dantian, once a wellspring of power, was now a numb void.

Some had said he was suffering from a rare illness.

Desperate for a cure, he had tried countless remedies and sought out numerous healers.

But nothing had worked.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

He refused to give up.

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his swordsmanship, the one thing that had given him purpose in life.

He would rather die than abandon the sword, his constant companion since childhood.

He pushed himself harder, ignoring the pain and fatigue that racked his body.

His movements were still clumsy, but he persevered, clinging to the familiar forms of the sword techniques he had once mastered.

“I’m getting tired.”

Even the simple act of swinging his sword had become a struggle.

He leaned his sword against a nearby tree and reached for his gourd.

It contained fresh spring water he had collected from the mountains earlier that morning.

It didn’t have any magical properties, but it always seemed to clear his mind.

He took a long drink, savoring the cool, refreshing water.

As his mind cleared, he thought back to his encounter with the new instructor.

He had been envious of the young man’s youthful appearance.

‘Everyone is leaving me behind.’

He couldn’t tell the instructor’s exact age, hidden as he was behind his long fringe and loose-fitting clothes, but he was clearly younger than him.

‘This is frustrating.’

Jealousy and self-pity gnawed at him.

But what truly tormented him was the realization that his sword, once capable of splitting the heavens, could now barely execute the most basic techniques.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, patting the scabbard of his sword.

“I’m so sorry.”

***

As Namgung Yun-ho walked away, a figure emerged from the shadows, as if materializing from the darkness itself.

“This is strange. Very strange.”

The figure solidified, taking the form of Cho Un-hwi.

It was a sight that would have terrified any onlooker, but Cho Un-hwi was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice.

“I’m sure it’s him.”

He couldn’t understand why Namgung Yun-ho was so weak.

But one thing was certain: he needed to find a way to reach the young man.

“It’s not easy to keep going after so many setbacks.”

Countless talented individuals had given up in the face of adversity.

Namgung Yun-ho’s perseverance was admirable, but what truly impressed Cho Un-hwi was his unwavering determination.

“It’s rare to find someone who can walk a path shrouded in darkness without faltering, without looking back.”

Most people needed a glimmer of hope, a beacon to guide them through the darkness.

But Namgung Yun-ho had none. He was surrounded by despair, yet he continued to move forward, his resolve unshaken.

In his long life, Cho Un-hwi had met very few individuals with such unwavering determination.

“This changes everything.”

His encounter with Namgung Yun-ho had solidified his resolve.

He knew what he had to do.

“I need him on my side.”

It wasn’t about fulfilling some prophecy or achieving some grand goal.

It was about something far more personal.

“I have a soft spot for fools.”

Cho Un-hwi grinned, his teeth gleaming in the darkness.