Book 2 Chapter 29

The meeting of the unconventional.

At the very top of a pavilion located a little distance from Geomhonggwan.

Inside a room filled with an aura of tranquility and neatness,

two young men were conversing.

One was a young man in blue martial attire, sitting on a chair,

carrying three swords on his back.

In the hands of the other young man, dressed in white and standing by the window,

was a white crane fan with dark blue silk tassels.

At first glance, both men were outstanding talents, possessing a brilliance that would not be outshone anywhere. Despite their young age, the presence emanating from their bodies was reminiscent of peak masters. The young man in blue martial attire, who was quietly savoring tea while seated, was addressed by the young man in white, who had a noble appearance and was gazing out the window as if appreciating the scenery, lightly waving his folded fan.

"I hear they failed!"

What could have failed? Despite conveying the negative news of failure, a subtle hint of amusement could be felt in the young man's voice.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I hear he was dragged to the dorm supervisor's office about one 'gak' (approximately 30 minutes) ago. I think it's safe to say it's all over for him now."

"One 'gak'…… As expected, I can't compare to your sharp intellect. To have already gathered information that far."

The young man in white said with a smile.

"It's nothing. You know well that our faction's perception is far broader and keener than this."

"But you say he failed, perhaps he had more talent than expected?"

The young man in blue, with two swords adorned with dark green silk tassels slung across his back and a sword with red silk tassels hanging from his waist, changed the subject. The urgent matter was on this side. There was ample time later for self-praise about their organization's intelligence.

"Yes, it was a bit unexpected that he failed even with those two getting involved. I heard that almost all the mechanical devices on the first floor of Geomhonggwan have been rendered useless scrap metal. Dorm Supervisor Kang will have quite a sweat on his brow to sort out this damage."

"Do those two ever not get involved? Their specialty is to interfere in even normal matters, mess them up, and greatly exaggerate them. It's just not exposed on the surface…"

The young man in blue's brow furrowed slightly. A momentary expression of disgust flickered across his face.

"Your words speak the truth. With those two involved, it will be difficult to settle this matter quietly. I've never seen those troublemakers finish anything quietly before. But this time, it was a big deal!"

Even in the words of the young man in white, whose elegant jawline was striking, there was a sense of displeasure towards them. It seemed that the individuals referred to as 'those two' by these two men were not on good terms with them at all.

"Regardless of how the incident unfolded, isn't Ho Cheon-gang's failure something we'd somewhat hoped for?"

The young man in blue retorted.

"That's right. We couldn't let them save face with their own hands. Aren't they the ones who insulted us all? We can't just let someone like that be dealt with by the joint front of the Eight Great Families and the minor factions."

The young man in white, who casually relegated Namchang's greatest warrior, Ho Hwajang, to the status of a minor faction disciple, spoke without hesitation. For him, it was a natural course of events.

"Of course. We can't wash away the stain on our faces by relying on others just because it's unsightly."

"Certainly. If we were to lose face over something like this, our reputation would be truly ruined."

The young man in white nodded in agreement. For them, it was natural to repay the insult they and their sect had received with their own hands, leaving no room for consideration. Ho Cheon-gang might have tried to repay the insult to his sect, but they couldn't allow a mere disciple of a minor faction to get there first. While it might seem like a trivial matter at first glance, for them, it was a very important issue.

"Ah, has he finally entered this year?"

As if suddenly remembering something, the young man in blue asked the young man in white. The young man in white's eyes flickered subtly at the question. His left hand unconsciously toyed with the fan he held in his right.

"Indeed. Coincidentally, he ended up sharing a room with that fellow."

A flicker of surprise crossed the young man in blue's eyes before disappearing.

"Really? There won't be any danger, will there?"

The young man in blue asked with a voice tinged with slight worry. The fact that completely unrelated matters were intertwining in strange ways made him feel inexplicably uneasy.

"I can't even imagine him forming friendships with others. That will never happen. Don't worry too much."

The young man in white said in a calm voice, as if to reassure him. Only then did the young man in blue's face brighten. His trust in the young man in white was that profound.

"Too many unexpected individuals passed this time. His presence, in particular, cannot be ignored. With his addition, the power of the Eight Great Families is likely to increase significantly. But we cannot allow forces outside our Nine Sects to gain the upper hand."

"Don't worry. We are always keeping a watchful eye and are being careful. We cannot let the leadership of Cheongwan fall into the hands of forces other than our Nine Sects. Nine pillars are enough for the righteous path. We cannot have eight unnecessary branches intruding unsightly."

"I trust only you."

"Don't worry. It's as certain as the taste of the tea I brew. I guarantee it."

"Is that so? Then it must be reliable. Truly, your skill is remarkable. Your tea ceremony always amazes me."

The young man in blue said, taking another sip of tea.

"Heh heh, it's just a modest hobby."

The young man in white, who had been gazing out the window, turned and sat on the chair. He then picked up his teacup before the tea cooled further and savored it. If the temperature of the tea were to drop below this point, it would be a desecration of the tea. If the tea was too hot, the heat would numb the taste buds, making it difficult to properly appreciate the flavor, and conversely, if it cooled too much, the cold would steal the taste and aroma from the tea. He had not the slightest desire to insult his close friend, tea. Both men, as they quietly savored their tea, had the same ornate dragon pattern embroidered on their sleeves.

Bilyeon, who had greatly contributed to causing immense financial damage to Geomhonggwan, one of the dormitories of Cheonmu Academy, and Hyoryong and Jang Hong, who had contributed to the damage with their passive, observational stance of simply watching him, were able to avoid punishment from the dorm supervisor and safely receive their room assignments due to a miraculous stroke of luck, akin to a mad flood engulfing a desert or an absurd downpour in the desert. Fortunately, the worst-case scenario of immediate expulsion upon entry did not occur. Later, there were numerous speculations among the Geomhonggwan dorm supervisors regarding this incident, but none of them provided a clear explanation that could douse the burning curiosity of the public. After much ado, Bilyeon finally received his room assignment. Unfortunately, he had to live separately from Jang Hong and Hyoryong, as their assigned rooms were different. Bilyeon was assigned room 701, while Hyoryong and Jang Hong were assigned room 702. Although they were right next door, a wall separated them. He was rather disappointed to have to part with the friends he had made and who understood him so well.

The dormitories for first-year students were located on the topmost floor, the 7th floor, of Geomhonggwan. This was the same for any dormitory. It was an unwritten rule that first-year students occupied the highest floors. As their year increased, their assigned rooms would gradually move towards the lower floors. The lower the floor, the higher the grade. The reason for this convention was the difference in inconvenience due to the length of their travel routes.

In other words, having a room on the 7th floor meant longer travel routes when moving around, which was inconvenient. Therefore, lower-grade students used the upper floors. Newcomers had to endure the inconvenience of higher-ranking students with a spirit of profound respect for elders. That was the rule of this society. Even if one lacked the spirit of profound respect for elders in their heart, they had to at least maintain appearances. Otherwise, they risked unnecessary criticism or ostracism from those around them, and it was necessary to prevent such risks.

Of course, for martial arts masters, a height of the 7th floor was as easy as falling off a log, but this was a matter of feeling and ancient etiquette, and it was not something that was easily changed. Moreover, no one bothered to try and change it. A height of about 7 floors was approximately 10 jang high, which a master could easily reach with two leaps. The lightness skill they had painstakingly learned was not meant to be a decoration or for display.

If anyone complained about climbing up and down the 7th floor stairs, their admission to the academy would be immediately questioned. It was impossible for someone who had not properly mastered even a basic movement technique to enter Cheonmu Academy. Furthermore, many people preferred the 7th floor for its good view.

How should this man be described? Utter perfection? A celestial talent? A peerless beauty? His appearance, perfect to the point of being tiresome, his restrained Qi, his sharp gaze, his dignified bearing, and the precious sword adorned at his waist with his milky-white martial robes, all indicated that he was no ordinary person. If such a person possessed all these qualities, he would rightfully be called a talent of the world. And indeed, he was already being called a celestial talent. Bilyeon looked at the man standing before him, armed with absolute perfection.

It was a countenance and a presence that any man might envy, yet Bilyeon had no intention of wasting his spirit and time on such useless emotions. So he simply accepted it as it was, and dealt with him without much thought.

This fellow considered himself the supreme, ultimate, peerless, invincible, extreme, most beautiful talent in the entire universe of the 84,000 worlds, so he had no reason to be provoked to jealousy by a mere "modest" talent of the world. It is those who have little who envy and are jealous of those who have much, not the other way around.

Although objectively and universally regarded as a talent of the world, this man, who was downgraded by Bilyeon to an unremarkable talent, was the person he would be sharing a room with and living with for the next year, regardless of how he looked. This was their first meeting.

"Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Bilyeon. I look forward to working with you."

Bilyeon was the first to speak, offering a greeting devoid of formality. It was an informal greeting, as if they had been childhood friends. Of course, they were not childhood friends, and furthermore, they were meeting for the first time today, so Bilyeon's greeting was a rude act that could cause displeasure to the other person.

"I am Moyong Hwi of the Moyong family in Hamnam. I look forward to working with you."

The man's name was Moyong Hwi. Despite Bilyeon's subpar greeting, Moyong Hwi politely performed a fist-and-palm salute and greeted him without any sign of displeasure. Bilyeon observed him closely and said,

"You're so stiff!"

"What do you mean?"

Bilyeon's first impression and evaluation of his roommate was that he was handsome, but stiff and boring, as if precisely molded without a single deviation from a template. If he was stiff and boring, he would clearly be dull, and dullness was almost a sin for Bilyeon.

"Isn't it difficult to speak so stiffly? Let's be comfortable. It's too awkward between fellow students."

"I do not wish to use informal language with someone I've just met."

Bilyeon's brow furrowed slightly at Moyong Hwi's curt reply. It felt as though he was being implicitly criticized for using informal language with someone he had just met. Of course, Bilyeon had used polite language with most people since his arrival in the martial world, with a few exceptions. It was unusually strange that he did not use polite language with Moyong Hwi this time, as Bilyeon had always used polite language. However, his polite language up to that point contained no respect for the other person, and was filled with only mockery and ridicule.

His feigned politeness was not respect but a light taunt. With the exception of one in ten cases, all nine were the same. Therefore, the only people with whom he used informal language were those he acknowledged. He only addressed those he did not acknowledge with condescending politeness. Of course, Bilyeon's criteria for classifying his interlocutors were highly arbitrary and personal. Bilyeon muttered to himself.

'He's so stiff! He might be harder than a diamond. He's so boring it's making me yawn.'

Fortunately, Moyong Hwi did not hear this, as it was spoken to himself. Had he ever been treated so contemptuously, he who had always been the object of others' admiration? All he had received so far was admiration, envy, and praise. However, there are no exceptions to the rules in this world, and Bilyeon would never be intimidated or bothered by the reputation or halo of the person, even if he was a prodigy who was the object of admiration and expectation from martial artists of the past and present.

Therefore, Bilyeon had no intention or need to feel intimidated or uncomfortable with Moyong Hwi. Of course, he did not even know who Moyong Hwi was, a famous figure who had already made a name for himself in the martial world at a young age. If others knew, they would be shocked by his ignorance.

After exchanging initial greetings, they each buried their impressions of each other deep in their hearts, and Moyong Hwi silently began to sort out his luggage. Bilyeon's eyes gleamed as he watched Moyong Hwi take out and organize his belongings one by one. His luggage organization had something noteworthy about it. And as Moyong Hwi continued to organize his belongings, Bilyeon's complexion grew paler. What was he so surprised about? After another 'gak' of silent observation of Moyong Hwi's actions, Bilyeon finally broke his patience and spoke. His question was full of curiosity.

"Do you have to do it like that? Do you want to do it like that?"

"What do you mean?"

Moyong Hwi continued his actions without interruption, lifting his obsidian-like eyes to look at Bilyeon. His actions did not stop even in the middle of the conversation.

"Do you have to align your belongings like that? You don't have to measure them like you're surveying. Do you need to organize your belongings so perfectly straight, as if with a ruler? Isn't it tiring and bothersome?"

"This is my habit, so don't worry about it!"

Moyong Hwi replied curtly. His belongings and luggage were so perfectly aligned, as if measured by a ruler, that it was truly breathtaking. Even a single blanket was folded into a perfect square, its corners looking like formidable weapons.

It was as if Moyong Hwi had mysophobia, a compulsion to be excessively clean, and could not find mental stability if his surroundings were messy. This terrible condition, also known as 'infinite cleaning disorder,' has no known cure.

His organization was so meticulous that not a single crookedness or misalignment could be found, as if he had symptoms of mysophobia. It was incomparable to Bilyeon, who tended to leave everything in a mess. However, although Bilyeon admired Moyong Hwi's perfectly organized belongings, it was purely admiration for his perseverance and courage in wasting his useless time and energy. It was merely admiration for his eccentricity, and he had no intention of doing so himself. He still firmly believed he was a normal person.

Looking at Moyong Hwi, Bilyeon recalled the saying "Going too far is as bad as not going far enough." His mysophobia and perfectionism were indeed excessive. Until a moment ago, he had worried that the year ahead would be boring, but the moment he saw his mysophobia, he suddenly felt that it might not be so bad. Of course, it would by no means be pleasant.