Ma Gil-sang left.
After a brief, sweeping glance, he vanished without a word, his expression unreadable.
With the "tiger" gone, the Copper Hall quickly reverted to its usual chaotic bustle.
"Ugh... I'm really..."
"My back's killing me from sweeping and scrubbing since morning."
"If he was just going to leave without saying anything, why did he summon us all in the first place?"
As the instructors grumbled, Copper Hall Director Chunghyeon squinted at the appointment letter.
"So... his name is Cho Un-hwi?"
"Yes, sir, that's correct."
The young man's crisp reply and prompt posture seemed quite promising.
Yet Chunghyeon couldn't shake his unease.
He seems like a decent, reliable sort... so why this chill in my bones?
Having trained countless students over the years, Chunghyeon had developed a keen eye for character. Now, as he observed the man before him, he felt a profound, ominous sense of impending disaster.
"Let's see here..."
There wasn't anything particularly out of place.
The martial uniform, though cheap-looking, was clean and well-ironed. His hair was neatly swept back and tied in a low ponytail.
The only flaw might be the long bangs that half-obscured his face, making him seem somewhat stifled. But even that was a matter of personal taste.
His limbs... they're quite slender.
He looked too delicate to have mastered martial arts.
Is he really a First-Rate Master?
There was no mistaking it. The New Martial Arts Academy wasn't a pushover that would tolerate any deception about one's skills.
Chunghyeon asked, "So... you're twenty-five years old?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"You look quite young for that."
"It's a family trait! We're all youthful-looking."
"I see... is that so?"
"It's a bit awkward to say myself, but despite my appearance, I'm a magnificent man, ready for marriage anytime!"
"Ah, I see," Chunghyeon replied.
He asked again, "What about your sect?"
"I received my teachings from the Righteous Sword Sect."
"The Righteous Sword Sect... I've never heard of them."
"They're just a small, insignificant sect in the countryside. It's not surprising."
"Still, to have raised you into a First-Rate Master, they must be quite solid..."
"That's all thanks to my own exceptional talent!"
"..."
What is this guy?
Usually, when people talk about their sects, they try to make them sound as impressive as possible. Even if they came from some backwater, beggar-ridden sect, they'd desperately search for something to brag about.
But this guy had none of that. He seemed to live solely for the thrill of his own brilliance.
Chunghyeon instantly realized:
Ah, he's a nutcase.
This guy was a complete nutcase.
We've got a proper madman for a new recruit.
Chunghyeon's head began to ache.
"Hmph. Very well. I'll withdraw. Yeom Gwang!"
"Yes, Director."
"Chief Instructor Yeom, take this young man and explain everything in detail. And allocate him a few sets of Copper Hall uniforms!"
"Yes, Director."
Yeom Gwang was the Chief Instructor.
The Chief Instructor was the leader responsible for overseeing all Instructors. While Chunghyeon handled various administrative tasks, Yeom Gwang was a higher-ranking officer who directed the major and minor affairs of the Instructors.
Yeom Gwang, the Toad Merchant, was as unlikeable and insincere as his appearance suggested.
"This is the Training Ground," he said, walking briskly.
"And this is the Cafeteria," he gestured casually with his chin.
"Your quarters are over there. You'll be in the last room on the fifth floor."
The informal speech was an extra touch.
As I stared at him, Yeom Gwang frowned.
"What? Got a problem?"
"No, sir. By the way, the Copper Hall is quite large. Do I only need to know the Training Ground and the quarters?"
"You can figure the rest out yourself, at your own pace."
He suddenly switched to addressing me informally.
"Our quarters are on the top floor?"
"At my age, do you expect me to struggle all the way up there?"
I thought they were giving me a room with a good view, but it turns out they put me on the most inconvenient floor to reach.
At least the scenery will keep me from getting bored.
And it'll make escaping easier too.
As I instinctively scanned my surroundings, plotting escape routes, Yeom Gwang turned around.
"Pah!"
He spat on the ground with a thwack and shifted his weight onto one leg.
"You said your name was Un-hwi?"
"It's Cho Un-hwi."
"Cho Un-hwi, Un-hwi—same difference."
He frowned, his lips twitching.
"You got someone backing you up?"
"What are you suddenly talking about?"
"This is the first time I've ever seen that heavy-assed Hall Master Ma Gil-sang actually leave his seat."
"Well, I've never seen you here before."
"Perhaps there was some misunderstanding. After all, why would the Mad Blade take an interest in a new instructor?"
Yeom Gwang muttered to himself, convincing himself of his own explanation. His expression darkened further.
"Anyway, forget about that. Just thinking about the mess you caused this morning, making us scramble to clean up, makes my teeth grind."
As he turned to leave, Yeom Gwang growled menacingly.
"You seem to have lived comfortably, relying on your meager martial arts skills. But now that you're at the New Martial Arts Academy, you'd better watch your step."
What am I supposed to do about that?
Cho Un-hwi shrugged as he watched Yeom Gwang trudge away.
Thud.
As Cho Un-hwi entered the room at the far end of the fifth floor, the musty smell of old dust tickled his nose.
"Quite an old room, isn't it?"
The room was small and sparsely furnished, with no decorations to relieve the starkness. A narrow bed, a desk, and a low tea table were the only pieces of furniture.
He tapped the bed, and a cloud of dust billowed up.
"This place hasn't been cleaned in ages. It's been completely abandoned."
From the dust caked on the floor to the window frames coated in a gray layer of grime, it was hard to believe this was meant to be a living space.
"Let's clean up first, shall we?"
Cho Un-hwi raised his hand.
To his surprise, a small whirlwind materialized around his palms.
Whoosh.
As his hand twitched slightly, the dust, long pressed deep into the crevices, stirred and danced with the wind, trailing behind his hand's shadow like a miniature Milky Way.
Had anyone else witnessed this, they would have doubted their own eyes.
A martial master of a certain caliber could generate wind through sheer internal energy.
But to not merely generate wind, but to manipulate it with such precision, guiding it to every corner of the room at will, was an extraordinary feat.
This level of qi control transcended human limits—a skill far beyond the mundane.
"Haaah."
As he extended his hand, the dust floating in mid-air coalesced into a single stream and began to flow out the window.
"I should probably shake out the blankets too."
Bang!
Cho Un-hwi flicked one corner of the blanket with his index finger, shaking it out in mid-air. In an instant, it was spotless.
The room, which had been filled with swirling dust moments before, now retained only its antique elegance.
It was truly astonishing.
Having finished tidying up in a flash, Cho Un-hwi retrieved his bundle.
Though it was a small knapsack, its contents were far from ordinary.
"The Great Reversion Elixir goes here."
The intricately sealed item within the ornate box was the Great Reversion Elixir, a priceless treasure of the Shaolin Temple.
Legend claimed that a martial artist who consumed it would gain sixty years' worth of internal energy, while an ordinary person would enjoy lifelong health and longevity—a legendary elixir unparalleled throughout history.
That was just the beginning.
"The Seven-Step Death Poison goes here, and the Glass Flying Dart here."
The legendary poison, said to kill instantly before one could take seven steps after ingestion, and even a legendary hidden weapon, rolled out casually as if they were everyday items.
The unassuming peddler's bundle overflowed with treasures so rare and valuable they could not be bought even by selling an entire kingdom.
"Alright. Should I stop here?"
After casually shoving the items under the bed, Cho Un-hwi climbed onto the bed.
Creak.
The bed groaned under his weight, but he felt surprisingly comfortable.
The thought of finally reaching his destination filled him with immense satisfaction.
"I've finally arrived."
It had taken him five long years—five years since he had been granted a second life.
The journey ahead remained long, but he had taken a crucial first step.
Perhaps that's why...
For the first time in a century, he slept soundly—a deep, honey-sweet slumber that had eluded him for a hundred years.
"Have you met him?"
Deep within the New Martial Arts Academy lay the Director's Office. There, the White-Robed Judge, Seon In-hyeok, awaited Blazing Fire Mad Blade Ma Gil-sang.
It was no ordinary occasion for two absolute masters to gather in one place. If anyone knew this meeting was due to a mere new instructor, who would believe it?
Ma Gil-sang replied, "Yes, I've met him."
"What was your impression?"
"I didn't notice anything particularly remarkable. He doesn't appear to have practiced demonic arts either."
"Is that so? He seems rather ordinary for someone Elder Chwi Geol-gae told me to keep an eye on."
In truth, Ma Gil-sang had visited the Copper Hall at Seon In-hyeok's request.
Ma Gil-sang's unique martial art, the Asura Blazing Fire Blade, was an extremely yang-aligned technique. This blade possessed a hidden property: it could instantly detect if an opponent had practiced demonic arts, much like sunlight banishing darkness—they were fundamentally incompatible.
Ma Gil-sang nodded in agreement.
"It's not so much the origin of his martial arts that concerns me, but rather the doubts about his actual skill. His hands show no signs of training whatsoever."
"He might be left-handed."
"Both his right and left hands were immaculate. Not a single callus, not even a tiny scratch."
"That's unusual, but not unheard of."
While some martial artists grow like weeds through real-world combat, others cultivate themselves safely in training grounds, like greenhouse flowers.
"Elder Chwi Geol-gae has vouched for his abilities, so they must be genuine."
"Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? Even if he's admitted, if his skills fall short, he won't last long at the New Martial Arts Academy. A strict instructor will quickly expose his limitations."
"Agreed. The students at the New Martial Arts Academy are the greatest talents in the world. No simpleton could possibly keep up."
Time would reveal their true abilities.
"Well, I'm somewhat curious too. As you know, mastering martial arts and teaching them are two different things, aren't they?"
Ma Gil-sang smiled bitterly.
Often, exceptional martial artists who are masters of self-study prove utterly inept at teaching. Even he himself had grown frustrated countless times with disciples whose skills stubbornly refused to improve despite his best efforts to explain.
Like this! Like this! It's that simple!
When channeling your energy, imagine swallowing the sun!
Why can't you grasp something so simple?!
He smiled ruefully, recalling the stubborn disciples who showed no progress despite his detailed explanations.
"I hope they have at least some talent for teaching."
"Anyway, thank you for your hard work. I appreciate you taking the time despite your busy schedule."
And so, the matter of the new instructor gradually faded from memory.