Book 4 Chapter 9

Reunion with Disciples

Yeom-do kept his promise, and now, as predicted last night, Bi-ryu-yeon stood before the Zhuque detachment not in a human skin mask, but in his true form. He gazed at his disciples with eyes filled with emotion.

This was the first time they had met so closely since parting ways at Mt. Ahmi.

Once all sixteen members of the Zhuque detachment were assembled, Bi-ryu-yeon sauntered out and stood before them.

"Who are you?"

Seeing an unfamiliar person lingering in their private training grounds, Dang Cheol-yeong, unable to hold back, asked. Bi-ryu-yeon, glancing at Dang Cheol-yeong’s displeased expression, declared,

"This is our first meeting, right? Nice to meet you. I am your eldest disciple."

The members of the Zhuque detachment blinked at Bi-ryu-yeon's preposterous declaration. Utter disbelief widened their eyes. What sort of nonsensical gibberish was this?

Bi-ryu-yeon’s self-introduction made the entire Zhuque detachment doubt their ears. They then re-examined their pasts one more time. However, no matter how hard they thought, they couldn’t recall ever seeing the face of such a senior disciple. Moreover, they had no hidden, secret pasts.

He wore a plain-looking black martial uniform with wide sleeves, and his bangs hung down, obscuring the contours of his face. Judging by the smooth jawline visible between strands of hair, his face didn’t seem geometrically perfect. Yet, he was still an unknown figure. To make matters worse, judging by the insignia on his sleeves, he was undoubtedly a first-year freshman. They were already in their third year. Something was clearly very wrong. If so, there was only one conclusion.

"You madman!"

They all shouted in unison. It was a natural reaction. For a complete stranger, a mere freshman who had just entered the Cheonmu Academy, to audaciously utter the words 'senior disciple,' and even 'eldest disciple,' in front of third-year seniors like themselves. How could they not be enraged? The Zhuque detachment, unaware of Bi-ryu-yeon's true identity, had a perfectly understandable reaction.

"What do you want?"

Bi-ryu-yeon, who had always treated them with dismissive, condescending politeness, now consistently used a subordinate tone.

"You madman, you've lost your mind. Where do you think you are to utter such blasphemy? Do you dare speak such nonsense because you have the confidence to back it up?"

The first to step forward and denounce Bi-ryu-yeon was the hot-tempered Noh-hak. The flushed faces of the others indicated they felt the same.

"Of course."

Bi-ryu-yeon replied with a smile. They had grown so much in the short time he hadn't seen them. Or perhaps, their courage had grown? He had told them to take care of their health… Regardless, the outcome was the same, so it didn't matter.

"Ho, you seem confident. Arrogant fool, then show us the proof."

Noh-hak had no idea that his next words would be him digging his own grave.

"Proof? Are you that curious? Then I'll show you. You!"

Bi-ryu-yeon's index finger pointed at Noh-hak.

"And you!"

His finger then turned towards Dang Cheol-yeong.

"Come here!"

Bi-ryu-yeon beckoned with his index finger. His attitude seemed to belittle Noh-hak and Dang Cheol-yeong. The unpleasant feeling of being mocked stimulated their nerves. Noh-hak and Dang Cheol-yeong bristled simultaneously.

"You!"

Like angry wild boars, they shouted in unison, but it was Noh-hak who lunged at Bi-ryu-yeon first. The hot-tempered fellow, forgetting about a coordinated attack with Dang Cheol-yeong, simply charged forward. He intended to teach that insolent fellow a lesson in a single blow. Furthermore, he felt no need to borrow Dang Cheol-yeong's help to deal with such a freshman. Noh-hak’s miscalculation ended up with him taking all the calamity upon himself, unintentionally saving Dang Cheol-yeong.

Noh-hak prepared his honed Gangryong Ship-i Jang (Eighteen Dragon Palms) and attacked with his Muyeong Shinbo (Shadowless Divine Steps). It was no exaggeration to say that no one had survived his twin palms in the past six months. He believed Bi-ryu-yeon would be no exception.

However, Noh-hak's expectation was shattered in an instant. Caught in Bi-ryu-yeon's simple hand movement, which was as easy as flipping a palm, his center of gravity faltered, and in the blink of an eye, a heavy impact struck his chest. Bi-ryu-yeon's palm had struck him. Although Bi-ryu-yeon had used enough force to avoid killing him, the pain was immense.

"Gak!"

A pained scream erupted from Noh-hak's mouth. And he was dumbfounded.

'Tsk, tsk, it's been nearly half a year, and you still can't block this much… What have you been goofing off with all this time?'

Bi-ryu-yeon instantly nullified the past six months of bloody training the Zhuque detachment had endured. Wouldn't they be convinced if there were results?

"You're not bad, but still a long way to go. How can you be so easily provoked! This is your punishment."

In an instant, dozens of fist shadows, 'Gwonyeong' (券影), rained down on Noh-hak's entire body. It was a crude and lawless attack.

"Puh-bub-bub-bub!"

With hundreds of sounds like leather striking, Noh-hak's body began to rise vertically.

"That… that… that is!"

The watching members of the Zhuque detachment gaped. Noh-hak and the Zhuque detachment members knew all too well what happened when subjected to such ruthless martial arts. It was etched into their bones as fear.

Sam Bok Gu Ta Gwon Beop (三伏狗打券法)!

That cursed, crude martial art had reappeared before them. They wished it were all a dream. But the pain that shot through their cheeks when they pinched themselves betrayed their hopes. They felt like cursing God.

'Why… only me….'

Noh-hak's consciousness began to fade. This was the second time.

This intensity, this resonance, and above all, this familiar, terribly awful feeling!

'Why did I foolishly step forward again, forgetting the lesson from Mt. Ahmi half a year ago? Is my learning ability and my ability to understand lessons only that much?'

Noh-hak lamented and trembled with fear as his senses froze and consciousness drifted away. His resilience had surely increased, so the pain should have lessened, but it remained the same. He was reliving the sensations he had felt in terror and despair half a year ago, right here, right now.

As his vision blurred, he saw the Muryonghwan (墨龍環) on Bi-ryu-yeon's wrist, which moved ceaselessly. With that, Noh-hak finally lost consciousness.

The Zhuque detachment watched in shock as Noh-hak flew away, spewing blood. Half a year ago at Mt. Ahmi, they had experienced the same scene in terrifying fear. The name that sent shivers down their spines, Sam Bok Gu Ta Gwon Beop. That cursed martial art had reappeared before their eyes. The ruthless martial art that had beaten Noh-hak to near death as a demonstration last summer at Mt. Ahmi.

As they watched Noh-hak’s pitiful figure fly backward, spewing blood like a red mist, and the Muryonghwan glinting on Bi-ryu-yeon's wrist, a word from their master echoed in their minds.

'When you meet your eldest disciple, treat him with the same respect as you would this master's incarnation. You will recognize him as your eldest disciple at a glance.'

Just as their master had prophesied, they recognized him at a glance. The Muryonghwan he wore was clearly different from the plain Mukhwan they wore. Moreover, it was the exact same item their master always wore during their stay at Mt. Ahmi.

Bi-ryu-yeon, casting a glance at Noh-hak, who had once again stepped forward and was sent flying backward in a mist of blood, turned to the Zhuque detachment and said,

"I believe I've provided sufficient proof. Anyone else have any complaints?"

There were no more complaints. Who would dare harbor such thoughts, risking such misfortune! Bi-ryu-yeon was willing to provide further proof for any disciples (now junior disciples) who still claimed insufficient evidence, but as they unanimously refused, he regretfully abandoned the thought.

"Do you want to get hit too? Why are you still standing there?"

Bi-ryu-yeon glared at Dang Cheol-yeong, who was still standing blankly beside him. Dang Cheol-yeong felt his heart plummet at his gaze.

"How could I dare!"

Dang Cheol-yeong, showing an unusual weakness. It was uncharacteristic of him, but it wasn't the time to dwell on that. He was suddenly grateful to Noh-hak for having charged forward first. The entire Zhuque detachment bowed in unison and shouted,

"Nice to meet you. It is an honor to meet you, Eldest Disciple!"

As they shouted with strong voices, cold sweat trickled down their foreheads and backs. In fact, for Bi-ryu-yeon to insist on being the eldest disciple, not being in a direct master-disciple relationship, was an act of audacity. However, the shadow of their master was too profound to ignore Bi-ryu-yeon's presence. And most importantly, the consequences were as frightening as the plague.

'When you meet your eldest disciple, follow him as if he were your master.'

The master's words, spoken before their departure, suddenly flashed in their minds.

'… It will be beneficial for your well-being.'

And then came the master's final warning. In the end, it turned out exactly as the master had said. They suddenly felt like crying. And now, Bi-ryu-yeon, who had become their eldest disciple, lectured his junior disciples.

"The eldest disciple is the same as the master. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Eldest Disciple!"

The sixteen members of the Zhuque detachment answered in unison. Bi-ryu-yeon, who had confidently proven his status through his actions, surveyed them with a satisfied smile. It was a touching (?) reunion of master and disciples.

Just then, Yeom-do, who had been watching from afar, approached, looked around, and said something. The members of the Zhuque detachment were once again bewildered by his words.

"It seems you've already introduced yourselves."

Introduced yourselves? Did they now call beating someone up like a dog on a hot summer day and then burying them in a pile of sand an introduction?

"Allow me to formally introduce him. Say hello. This is Bi-ryu-yeon, your eldest disciple."

Ignoring Noh-hak, who lay sprawled like a dog on a hot summer day, Yeom-do formally introduced Bi-ryu-yeon. The Zhuque detachment members were puzzled. Never mind them, how did even Yeom-do know of Bi-ryu-yeon's existence?

"How do you know Senior Disciple Bi?"

Namgoong Sang stepped forward to ask their question. Senior Disciple Bi… Bi-ryu-yeon was very pleased, as the effect of showing his authority was already evident.

"Oh? Didn't I tell you?"

Yeom-do's act was so skillful that even Bi-ryu-yeon, who knew the situation, found it hilarious. However, to ensure everything went smoothly, he swallowed the laughter that threatened to escape.

"Although I've deliberately refrained from mentioning it, I am actually acquainted with your master from your time at Mt. Ahmi."

"What? That's impossible!"

Yeom-do's statement was like a bombshell to the Zhuque detachment. How could Yeom-do know their master from their training camp at Mt. Ahmi!

"The martial world, though vast, is a web of intertwined destinies that cannot be fully expressed in words. Your master earnestly entreated me."

Emphasizing the words "earnestly entreated," Yeom-do's piercing gaze landed on the Zhuque detachment members. A chill ran down their spines. Something felt ominous.

"'If you make my disciples weak, I will not let it slide.'"

"What?"

It was like a bolt from the blue. The master's influence, which they thought had long ended, was still holding them captive.

"So, I promised him. No matter what it takes, I would ensure you defeat those freshmen from the Cheongryong detachment."

Yeom-do emphasized "no matter what it takes." As if that was the key point…

"……."

They were all stunned, their spirits drained. They felt as if their minds had been bleached white. Yeom-do's testimony served as the official confirmation of Bi-ryu-yeon's identity, removing any lingering doubts. Moreover, the guarantor was Yeom-do, one of the five great sword masters of the martial world. No one could possibly disregard such a figure. Who could suspect that Yeom-do was making a false statement!

The martial world is a place where grudges and connections are intertwined, so such possibilities could not be entirely ruled out. However, for the Zhuque detachment, they had never resented the connections of the martial world as they did now.

Thus, the Zhuque detachment gained an eldest disciple they never asked for. When would they ever escape Bi-ryu-yeon's grasp?

Regardless of whether the elders' gazes held goodwill or malice (?), as students, Bi-ryu-yeon had to attend his classes. Furthermore, today's lesson was on poison, an essential skill in the martial world.

Poison cultivation was famously ranked first among the most disliked classes at the Cheongwan Academy in the previous year's student survey. However, the study of antidotes was a mandatory subject for all students at Cheongwan Academy, making it impossible to avoid. This was everyone's misfortune. The reason everyone disliked poison classes was the smell.

Upon entering the dim door, the laboratory was beyond imagination. Dozens of pots bubbled, emitting colorful smoke with a strange stench, and on one side, dozens of classified collection shelves were lined up. They were filled with hundreds of disgusting and horrifying poisons, the likes of which they had never seen, ruining anyone's mood. Though their origins were unclear, one of them was a two-headed red serpent. A sign kindly identified it as a Hongrin Twin-headed Serpent.

As soon as they entered the poison laboratory, a unique and potent aroma stimulated their senses, making their heads spin.

"As expected, this is the poison class that all students dislike the most. This foul smell alone could kill someone. It's utterly lethal."

"Cough, cough. I agree. I feel like I'm suffocating."

Hyo-ryong, whose face was contorted by the sensation of hundreds of blades scraping and probing the mucous membranes of his nose, said, clutching his nose tightly. Bi-ryu-yeon and the other students were also holding their noses. Strangely, Jang Hong-man seemed unaffected. He looked so composed that they suspected his sensory organs might have lost their sense of smell.

"Is that old man's nose paralyzed? Why is he the only one unaffected?"

Bi-ryu-yeon asked with suspicion. No matter how they looked around, no one other than Jang Hong stood there unaffected, clutching their noses.

"Perhaps his nose fell off the first time he smelled this. Otherwise, is that even human?"

Hyo-ryong chimed in. They could tolerate anything else, but this smell was unbearably foul and dreadful. It felt like all their hard-earned patience training had been in vain. They were confident they wouldn't break under any torture or threat, but the thought of their patience crumbling at just a foul odor made them feel miserable and pathetic.

"This is truly inhumane and terrible torture. Why does it feel like a murder plot?"

Feeling pathetic, Hyo-ryong vented his dissatisfaction.

"Come on, it gets better once you get used to it. Isn't it like that for everyone at first?"

Jang Hong, still composed, said with a smile.

"Your advice is not very trustworthy coming from someone who fundamentally lacks a sense of smell."

Bi-ryu-yeon retorted to Jang Hong's still composed advice. Watching the students, the instructor, Tang Hak-ryeong of the Cheonmok Sect, known as the Thousand Poison Hand, spoke.

He was also the older brother of Tang Pyeong, the Thousand Hand Soul-snatcher, who taught Bi-ryu-yeon's group assassination techniques. However, the brothers did not get along. This was because, even blood relatives, they had different goals and paths, making it impossible for them to be on good terms.

"When the smell of poisonous herbs filling this classroom feels fragrant to you, and when the dozens of poisonous snakes, insects, and other rare poisons crawling in their cages appear cute, and when the elegant colors of the mixtures of herbs and poisons boiling in the pots look beautiful, only then will your class be complete."

Upon hearing the explanation from Tang Hak-ryeong, the instructor for the mysteries of poison and elixirs, Bi-ryu-yeon's only thought was,

"This means the class will never end."

He resented the academy for making such a thing a mandatory subject. Couldn't they expect more elegant and profound martial arts studies?

"There might be just one way. A way to finish the studies."

Hyo-ryong said, his brow still furrowed.

"What is it?"

Bi-ryu-yeon, eager to finish his studies and return to a normal environment, asked.

"Go completely insane."

"What?"

At first, Bi-ryu-yeon couldn't understand Hyo-ryong's words. But soon, he understood the truth within them. And so, Bi-ryu-yeon nodded.

"I see. If you're not insane, how could you perceive the foul odor, which seems to have risen from the very depths of hell, as fragrant? Without your nerves becoming tangled after going mad."

"That's exactly what I mean."

Bi-ryu-yeon and Hyo-ryong, enduring the lengthy explanation with extreme patience, muttered inwardly with dissatisfaction.

Tang Hak-ryeong, as if unaware of their feelings, continued his lecture with delight, standing before several rare poisons.

The future seemed bleak, wondering how long they would have to endure this. Tang Hak-ryeong, naturally, did not look kindly upon Bi-ryu-yeon's group chattering in a corner. Immediately, a threatening and irritable shout was heard.

"It's noisy. Can't you be quiet? If you dare to flap your lips one more time in front of this sacred pot of poison, I will stuff you with Yanweisan and Wujangfuntansan."

It was a terrifying threat. Yanweisan was a deadly poison that would melt one's stomach even with half a spoonful. However, compared to Wujangfuntansan, it was nothing. Wujangfuntansan, true to its name, was a poison of poisons, where just one drop would cause the internal organs to burn, leading to seven days and nights of writhing agony before death. It was no wonder such a person appeared terrifying, openly boasting of stuffing such things into his disciples' mouths. And there was no one who would view him favorably.

Tang Hak-ryeong, the elder instructor of the basic poison class, 'A Thousand Understandings of Poison and Their Various Uses,' had an appearance as gloomy as the subject he taught. His abnormally elongated jaw, narrow, slanted eyes, and tiny pupils were enough to evoke disgust. Furthermore, his personality was as eccentric as his appearance. Therefore, Bi-ryu-yeon and the other students were freed from the guilt of judging a normal person with their narrow-minded prejudice based on appearance. That's how far out of the norm Tang Hak-ryeong's personality was.

With a single threat from Tang Hak-ryeong, the room fell into effective silence. Who would dare to open their mouths and wag their tongues?

It seemed the students' attitude towards the class finally met his approval.

"Now that's quiet. If you don't want to drink a bowl of Wujangfuntansan and be injected with the Five Poisons Needle into your acupoints, causing you agony, maintain this state at all times. Do you understand?"

"Yes, we understand."

Their response was also resounding. It was a very effective threat, but it made it unclear whether he was a righteous or a demonic figure. In fact, even among demonic figures, it was rare to find someone as eccentric and terrifying as Tang Hak-ryeong. Tang Hak-ryeong had a history of actually carrying out his threats multiple times before. Of course, he would quickly administer an antidote, but those who experienced it testified that the momentary pain was enough to experience hell.

"I emphasize again, your lessons will only end when the scent of the medicinal herbs filling this room becomes fragrant to you, when you can boldly and quickly drink the poison you've made yourself, and when you can eat any food offered in the martial world without hesitation. If you learn with such an attitude and happen to be poisoned by someone else's poison in the martial world, do not mention my name. Would I be able to hold my head up in shame? Such a person will melt to death by my hand before dying of poisoning. Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

The class attitude of the Cheon-ja-jo, to which Bi-ryu-yeon belonged, was better than ever. With extreme patience, they endured the pungent scent of poison and concentrated on their studies. Not a single person was seen slacking off. Perhaps it was the ice-cold, viper-like gaze of Tang Hak-ryeong that intimidated them, as no one dared to answer and remained silent.

Everyone desperately wished for the class time to end, even by a minute or a second.