Chapter 269

Chapter 269
## Chapter 269. A Face So Damned Missed (4)

—

The expressions on Cheol Sun-jik and his tagalongs’ faces quickly soured, looking as though they had just chewed on garbage.

Typically, I am quite receptive to fresh perspectives. Even with the extensive data available from the Man-tong-bu, the Library of Myriad Books, and the Moolim Alliance, blind spots are inevitable, and there are moments when others offer far better judgment. A prime example was when I readily adopted Jang U-jae’s proposal regarding the restructuring of the Representative Team. His argument was that the group’s long-term endurance mattered more than short-term output.

In terms of actual execution, it was undeniable that since I already held the solutions, I could handle tasks at a much faster pace than anyone else. My proposals bypassed the tedious cycle of verification between the Academy, the Education Pavilion, and the Man-tong-bu, receiving immediate clearance. Yet, the true purpose behind delegating the workload instead of hoarding it for maximum velocity was to ensure the Representative Team could function seamlessly even during my absence. And precisely as Jang U-jae had predicted, the team was steadily evolving into a self-sustaining entity that no longer required my constant oversight.

While I maintain an open mind in that regard, I harbor a deep loathing for individuals who manipulate circumstances solely for personal gain.

‘Ultimately, the core vulnerability that triggered the downfall of the Moolim Alliance in my previous life was that wretched egocentrism—the mindset that nothing else mattered as long as one’s own skin was saved.’

It was always our unfortunate So-jeong-dae of the White Wolf Pavilion that bore the brunt of the suffering, constantly marginalized by the political maneuvering of the Nine Sects and One Gang, the Five Great Families, and the 12 Peaks.

I leaned in closer toward Cheol Sun-jik.

“Are you aware of why military factions and commerce syndicates strictly enforce a hierarchical chain of command?”

“……”

“It is because there are times when an otherwise unpleasant directive serves the greater good of the entire collective. If disciples ignore the commands of their Sect Leader, that faction will crumble in no time. If the laborers of a merchant group act entirely on whim, the business falls apart.”

“……The Murim Academy operates on a different principle.”

Cheol Sun-jik desperately clung to his rhetoric, trying to wrap his agenda in righteous-sounding phrasing until the very end.

“Of course it does. Yet the core foundation remains identical. Once you finish your time at the Academy and receive your placement within the Moolim Alliance, will you still stand there and demand that ‘a Council is mandatory’?”

“Target obtained.”

The only reason Cheol Sun-jik dared to orchestrate this little political theater was because he viewed me as an easy target. Had a figure like Il-gak of Shaolin or Jegal Jeong-gi of the Jegal Clan held the title of Academy Representative, he wouldn’t have dreamed of playing such a reckless hand. They possess the leverage to strike back effectively, backed by an unshakeable foundation. The reason he brought a laughable proposition forward and shoved it in my face was his assumption that my backing was flimsy.

He is the type of person who navigates life through calculating cowardice, meticulously measuring the weak against the strong and only engaging in battles where victory is guaranteed. And the most effective method to break that breed of human is quite simple.

“When you are posted to the Moolim Alliance, you will undoubtedly step into a role at least equivalent to a squad leader or a vice hall master. When that happens, Cheol Sun-jik, what will you do if a subordinate defies your command, claiming it lacks fairness?”

“……”

“What if the collective consensus of your unit concludes that it is far safer and more beneficial to simply avoid engaging the enemy?”

I needed to hammer home the reality that ‘I am an adversary he is entirely powerless to defeat.’ Glancing around the room once, I fired another question directly at Cheol Sun-jik.

“Will you turn tail and flee when facing the vanguard?”

He was rendered speechless. Regardless of how he tried to spin his response, he would inevitably choke on the very logic he had established moments prior.

“You were running your mouth so effortlessly just a moment ago; what happened to make you suddenly lose your tongue?”

Martial artists frequently assume that the rhetoric of the Unorthodox Faction (Heuk-do) is far cruder than that of the Orthodox (Baek-do). However, my experiences traveling through the Sa-heuk-ryeon taught me otherwise. In reality, the speech of the Unorthodox can be remarkably measured. Granted, the low-level thugs who live without a tomorrow will immediately resort to vulgarity, but those with true standing weigh their words with extreme caution.

The reason? In the Unorthodox world, a misspoken phrase can instantly cost a man his head. Because a lethal conflict can erupt over a single slight, they guard their tongues. Conversely, the Orthodox rarely face the threat of immediate violence. No matter how much mockery or passive-aggressive venom they inject into a conversation, as long as it avoids a direct slur, it rarely serves as a valid pretext to draw steel.

Because of this, I made a choice. Right here and now, I would instill a deep, visceral terror in Cheol Sun-jik that his skull could easily be crushed. I would force him to realize the true weight and consequences of his machinations. That way, the next time he decides to open his mouth, he will think twice. The next time he tries to scheme, he won’t foolishly attempt to use me as a stepping stone.

I rotated my wrists to loosen them up.

“If that is your stance, then there is absolutely no reason for any of you gathered here to bother finishing your education at the Academy. Pack your bags, return to your respective homes, and spend the rest of your days arguing over your precious Council or whatever it is.”

“……”

“I will personally draw up the official documentation detailing the reasons for your withdrawal from the Academy and forward it directly to your clans. That way, each of your families can immediately adopt this spectacular system you’ve devised.”

Hearing my declaration, the gathered crowd bristled with sudden fury.

“What insolence!”

“Do you honestly believe you wield that kind of authority simply because you are the Academy Representative?!”

“I will not take this lying down……!”

*Bang!*

“Quiet.”

*Crack—*

The desk I had casually tapped fractured right down the middle. The neat towers of paperwork arranged on its surface tumbled and scattered wildly across the floorboards.

“Wh-what madness is this……!”

Witnessing that display of sheer, overwhelming power, the expressions of the self-proclaimed Representative Councilors, Cheol Sun-jik included, turned entirely pale with shock. Why is it that people remain utterly blind to their own disrespect? The solution to that ancient riddle was vividly displayed right in front of me. They genuinely do not comprehend that their own actions are offensive. It is the classic hypocrisy (jeok-ban-ha-jang) where they believe they are entitled to act as they please, yet cry foul the moment the tables are turned.

“Did you just refer to this as ‘that kind of authority’?”

“Target acquired.”

It requires pulling them forward by the collar and forcing them to stare directly at their own misconduct before reality finally registers. Only when you make them grasp the gravity of the transgression they were attempting to execute do they actually begin to utilize their brains.

“Your respective sects will be utterly appalled. This is nothing short of openly challenging the absolute rule of a Grandmaster. At best, it constitutes blatant insubordination; at worst, it borders on the ultimate crime of betraying one’s master (gi-sa-myeol-jo).”

“……”

Much like how a person only learns to watch their tongue after getting their teeth knocked out once. The moment I lifted my hand, every single one of them instinctively ducked their heads like frightened turtles and shifted into a defensive stance.

“Good grief, so you actually expected me to authorize this total piece of garbage right now?”

I threw out the harsh profanity openly, yet not a single soul dared to object. Though they were burning with humiliation, they knew full well that the disgrace was entirely self-inflicted due to their own blundering. I leaned back comfortably, propping myself against the frame of the seat.

“Now that the lesson is over, clear out. As you can see, I have actual work to attend to.”

A suffocating quiet enveloped the chamber. The working staff of the Representative Team sat with their jaws dropped, completely dumbfounded by the verbal onslaught I had just unleashed. The first to break the paralysis was the student from Hwasan. Following that lead, the rest of the group, including the representative from the Jegal Clan, began filing out one after another. Cheol Sun-jik lingered until the very end.

“What is it now? Ah, are you looking to match the current state of that desk?”

When I gestured with my chin toward the fractured wood, he flinched, turned away, and walked briskly toward the exit. No doubt, once he was clear of the office, Cheol Sun-jik would deploy his smooth rhetoric to pacify the companions he had led into this mess. He would continue to manipulate them as disposable tools for his own advancement. I am hardly a saint who would patiently sit back and allow that cycle to continue.

“If you follow others blindly without thinking for yourselves, you will end up being led around by a fraud like him, dragging not just your own reputation but the name of your entire lineage through the mud. Just look at yourselves. Cheol Sun-jik was the sole architect of this entire scheme, yet every single one of you is bearing the exact same disgrace today. Bear this moment in mind.”

Hearing my parting words, the retreating students glanced back at Cheol Sun-jik one by one before turning their backs completely and walking out the door. Cheol Sun-jik, now standing completely isolated at the threshold, shot me a gaze dripping with pure malice.

“Representative Jin, do you honestly believe you have conquered the entire war just because you managed to win a single engagement?”

I let out a sharp laugh.

“Did you seriously walk into this room under the impression that this was a battlefield?”

“……”

“It really shows just how lightly you underestimated me.”

“……You will absolutely rue what transpired here today.”

I gave an indifferent nod.

“There is likely no one alive who understands the weight of regret better than I do. I am nowhere near as fragile as your imagination paints me, so spare yourself the pointless anxiety.”

“……”

Realizing that any further debate was entirely futile, Cheol Sun-jik spun around and stormed out.

“Dae-sa-hyeong, are you certain this is fine? Hurling such intense public humiliation at them……”

Eun-ho-Lee, who was acutely aware of Cheol Sun-jik’s vindictive nature, voiced his concern. I offered a sharp, direct response to the boy.

“And what if it isn’t fine?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did I not emphasize this before? As long as we intend to forge ahead, characters like that who try to sabotage our progress will show up without end. Are you suggesting we halt our journey just because of a few roadblocks?”

“No, sir.”

I gave Eun-ho-Lee a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

“Then don’t lose sleep over it. If anyone tries to pick a fight, we simply break their skull whenever they cross the line.”

“……Dae-sa-hyeong. No, Representative-nim.”

“What?”

“Even if that’s true, announcing that you’ll openly crush someone’s skull in front of an entire audience is a bit……”

“Target confirmed.”

As I shifted my eyes slightly, the warm, supportive glances that had filled the room previously had completely evaporated. In their place were nothing but frozen, unnerved stares. I glanced down at the splintered desk, then looked once more toward the doorway where Cheol Sun-jik had departed. He truly was a person utterly devoid of utility.

With the conclusion of the academic term drawing near, the Library of Myriad Books had emptied out entirely. The Academy pupils, freed from the burden of written examinations, were pouring all their energy into preparing for the final remaining hurdle: the Practical Strategy and Tactics Evaluation.

Those who had secured a ‘Gap’ (A) ranking engaged in training sessions roughly once every five days. Those holding an ‘Eul’ (B) status practiced once every three days. The students marked with a ‘Byeong’ (C) grade pushed themselves every other day, while the ‘Jeong’ (D) tier individuals drilled a minimum of once per day.

Given that scale, what was the routine for those stuck with a ‘Mu’ (F) ranking? They practically lived at the training grounds, showing up at least twice a day to swing their blades until they were on the verge of collapse.

‘With three separate ‘Mu’ marks to my name, I don’t have the luxury of taking a single breath.’

The determined Geum-pyo-Lee remained stationed out on the training fields from dawn until dusk, pausing only to consume his meals. Despite the bitter winter chill that turned his respiration into thick white clouds, his entire frame was so completely drenched in perspiration that the freezing air couldn’t pierce through. The moment he attempted to halt his movements even briefly, an overwhelming dread would grip his chest, forcing him to keep moving.

Scattered across the training grounds, several other Academy students trapped in the exact same predicament as Geum-pyo-Lee could be spotted. Without a doubt, the initial wave of expulsions would claim individuals from this very circle. These were the unfortunates who would be forced to walk out of the Academy gates on their own two feet—an institution they had bled to enter. Even though the projected failure rate was a mere one percent (1%), absolutely no one wanted to find themselves counted among that statistic. To be branded a dropout from the prestigious Murim Academy carried a stigma of failure far more excruciating than failing the entrance trials entirely.

‘I am losing my mind.’

Seong Mo-ran, who had been drilling alongside him over the past few days, had recently relocated to an isolated training chamber after experiencing a sudden breakthrough in the Wave-Breaking Sword Art (Pa-san-geom-beop). If she managed to solidify that breakthrough and integrate it into her forms prior to the final grading, Seong Mo-ran would easily escape the chopping block. Witnessing her progress only caused Geum-pyo-Lee’s panic to multiply.

“Haa, haa! Haa, haa!”

His lungs burned fiercely, and he continued to thrust and slash his weapon until his physical limits were stretched to the absolute brink, yet—no sudden flash of inspiration manifested for him the way it had for Seong Mo-ran. Rather than the dread of parting ways with his two younger martial brothers and fellow sect members within the Murim Academy, it was the suffocating fear of being left in the dust while they advanced that slowly corroded Geum-pyo-Lee’s resolve.

“Greetings, Geum-pyo-gong!”

His infuriating Dae-sa-hyeong had taken to addressing him as ‘Geum-pyo-gong’ over the last few days, mockingly claiming that a failure who collected ‘Mu’ grades and faced expulsion was no true disciple of the Tae-eul-mun.

“Whew……”

“Geum-pyo-gong. You look as though you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“What do you want?”

“Ah, did I happen to interrupt ‘someone else’s’ vital practice session?”

Did he truly derive that much pleasure from tormenting someone who was already down? How a person with such a twisted temperament managed to secure the mantle of Academy Representative was utterly beyond comprehension……

“Whew……”

Geum-pyo-Lee muttered under his breath, lacking even the spare energy to clear away the sweat that was beginning to crystallize like frost upon his skin.

“……Dae-sa-hyeong.”

“Oh? What’s this? Why are you suddenly calling me your senior brother?”

“If your sole purpose here is to break my concentration, please leave. I am completely out of patience.”

“Tsk, tsk. Look at you, completely defeated and slumped over just because of a few miserable ‘Mu’ marks.”

*Thump.*

So-un-Jin abruptly dropped to the ground, sliding a heavy, blunt object underneath himself to sit on. Was he seriously planning to camp out right there just to maximize his teasing? The sheer accumulation of sorrow and resentment Geum-pyo-Lee had bottled up finally erupted.

“Did you not relentlessly mock me as if my entire life were over the moment I received that ‘Mu’ grade?!”

“Of course you deserved it. Only a complete slacker manages to drag home a score like that.”

“……”

Geum-pyo-Lee felt a suffocating sensation clawing at the interior of his chest. He would never dream of demanding special treatment from his younger brothers or his junior sister, but surely, as the eldest disciple, shouldn’t this man offer even a shred of solace? Yet, the individual who held the title of Dae-sa-hyeong was behaving like this……!

“Do you honestly believe I am being unnecessarily harsh?”

“……!”

The crushing weight of past anxieties combined with his deep sense of letdown struck him all at once, and a film of moisture began to blur his vision. Gritting his teeth against the overwhelming shame, Geum-pyo-Lee desperately tried to blink back the tears threatening to spill over.

“I don’t want to fail out of this place either. I want nothing more than to walk the exact same path as you, Dae-sa-hyeong. But……”

He had strained every nerve and pushed himself to the absolute limit over and over. From the moment he recognized that his natural aptitude paled in comparison to his younger brothers, he had doubled his output. He cut his sleeping hours to the bare minimum and slashed his meal times just to afford more hours on the field. Yet, despite everything, the looming result was expulsion. Geum-pyo-Lee possessed neither the serendipitous fortune of Seong Mo-ran nor the raw, effortless genius of his younger brothers. And when an ordinary man is forced to confront a blindingly brilliant prodigy, he is inevitably broken by the realization of his own mediocrity.

“But…… no matter how hard I run, I can’t close the gap. I want to keep up with everyone, but…… the terror of being the only one abandoned at the starting line is paralyzing me.”

The tears he had fought so bitterly to restrain finally spilled over, rolling down his cheeks. Once the barrier fractured, the droplets flowed continuously like a broken dam, tracing wet lines down his face.

“Sob…… I don’t want to be left behind by myself. I want to c-come along too, *hic*.”

“Tsk, tsk. It is precisely because you swing your weapon with such an anxious, frantic mind that your perception has become entirely warped.”

“Sob…… What did you say?”

So-un-Jin questioned him after letting out an unimpressed click of his tongue.

“What exactly is the format of our upcoming practical test?”

“……The Strategy and Tactics Evaluation.”

“And how is it structured to run?”

“The Three Armies are separated into distinct tactical squads, maneuvering to capture opposing banners and hold strategic strongholds.”

“In that case, what constitutes a high mark within that framework?”

“Ensuring the survival of the squad while expanding the faction’s territory to clamp down on key bases.”

“Are you seriously still blind to the reality?”

“What reality?”

So-un-Jin exhaled a heavy breath, shaking his head in mild exasperation.

“Do you honestly believe your younger brothers or your fellow sect members would ever exclude you from their tactical unit?”

“……”

Geum-pyo-Lee’s jaw dropped in absolute bewilderment, completely forgetting to wipe away the wet tracks staining his face.

“Broaden your perspective. If you remain trapped within such narrow, short-sighted tunnel vision, how do you expect to grasp even a passing sliver of martial enlightenment?”

“B-but…… won’t my inclusion simply make me a liability to the team?”

So-un-Jin clicked his tongue once more.

“Tsk. Answer me this. Why do you believe your blade lacks the aggressive, piercing edge that Dong-ryong possesses?”

“Because Dong-ryong was blessed with an incredible, innate gift for martial arts.”

“Then when the four of you, Sa-ryeon included, coordinate to execute the White Tiger Sword Formation (Baek-ho-geom-jin), why is it that Eun-ho consistently serves as the central anchor of the entire array?”

“Because Eun-ho possesses an exceptional talent for reading the macro state of the battlefield.”

“And what is your designated role every single time?”

“I, I am always tasked with swinging my blade at the absolute vanguard of the line……”

So-un-Jin gave a slow, deliberate nod.

“Exactly.”

“Huh?”

“The reason your strikes lack lethal intent, and the reason your entire muscle memory is hardwired into deeply defensive, reactive patterns.”

The voice of the eldest disciple pierced directly through the confusion clouding Geum-pyo-Lee’s mind.

“It is because your core instincts are entirely focused on shielding your younger brothers and preserving the integrity of the formation.”

Block confirmed.

“……!”

So-un-Jin rose smoothly to his feet and unsheathed the Black Dragon Sword.

“Typically, when a practitioner of the Tae-eul-mun unleashes the So-cheon Sword Art, they drive the blade forward with the explicit intent of boring straight through to the opponent’s spine.”

*Swish.*

“This precise execution is what we call the One Flash (Il-seom). Yet your strike instinctively arrests its momentum right at the solar plexus. Subconsciously worrying that you won’t have enough time to pierce deep and recover your stance, you pull back prematurely out of a frantic desire to transition into the next defensive motion.”

Geum-pyo-Lee’s face drained of color. How terrifying could a deep-seated physical habit (seup) be to a martial artist? Once a form is warped by a fundamental flaw, correcting it is an agonizingly steep mountain to climb. He was already starting from behind, but to discover he had developed a fundamentally broken habit…… Geum-pyo-Lee felt as though his entire martial foundation was crumbling beneath him.

“Am, am I completely finished?”

“Hmm?”

“My raw execution is already subpar…… and now I have to completely dismantle a corrupted habit (seup) on top of that.”

So-un-Jin let out a heavy sigh, looking at him with genuine pity.

“Why on earth would you try to fix it? You’ll never match Dong-ryong when it comes to raw, offensive ferocity anyway. As long as you fight alongside Dong-ryong, your martial style will never naturally evolve into an aggressive one.”

“Target locked.”

“……”

Who could possibly find joy in hearing a blunt declaration that their potential for future growth had hit a dead end? Geum-pyo-Lee’s expression grew progressively bleaker. It felt as though his very chest was being mercilessly gouged by the harsh critique of his maddening senior brother, leaving him bleeding inside.

“However.”

The eldest disciple’s voice cut through the despair.

“You simply need to lean into that trait and push it to its absolute zenith.”

“Pardon me?”

So-un-Jin bent down, retrieved the heavy object he had been lounging on, and extended it outward.

“What is this supposed to be?”

“The perfect tool to ensure a deep-seated habit (seup) ceases to be a flaw.”

Geum-pyo-Lee stared down dumbly at the object resting in So-un-Jin’s grasp.

“……A shield?”

So-un-Jin nodded tracking his gaze.

“If the instinct to safeguard your allies within a tactical matrix is already woven into the very fabric of your muscles, then lean into that purpose fully and become a dedicated vanguard.”

“……”

“Do you still harbor some archaic prejudice against utilizing a shield?”

Geum-pyo-Lee shook his head vigorously from side to side. Had his life not been preserved multiple times solely due to the bulwark his senior brother provided during the chaotic entrance trials? From that day forward, any lingering disdain for shield-bearing had completely evaporated, regardless of whatever elitist opinions mainstream martial artists held. So-un-Jin stood straight.

“If fate dictates you bear a bulwark anyway, then wield it with absolute pride. Become a shield that keeps your brothers and sect mates breathing.”

With those words, he closed Geum-pyo-Lee’s fingers securely around the grip of the armament.

“Furthermore, forge yourself into the unyielding bastion that safeguards the very legacy of the Tae-eul-mun.”

“……!”

Every single word uttered by his senior brother sent a powerful tremor vibrating straight through his core. So-un-Jin’s unblinking, intense gaze remained locked onto Geum-pyo-Lee’s eyes.

“Behind the safety of your unbreakable defense, your martial brothers will be entirely free to unleash their blades for you without a single shred of hesitation.”

The suffocating dread of being left behind dissolved into nothingness within a heartbeat. The visage of his senior brother, radiating pure, unmatched talent, alongside the familiar faces of his younger siblings and peers, no longer felt like distant stars he could never hope to reach. He didn’t need to match Dong-ryong’s offensive mastery, nor did he need to replicate Eun-ho’s strategic intellect. Because as long as he stood firm to absorb the incoming storm, his companions would completely annihilate anyone who stood in their path.

It felt as though he had finally uncovered his true calling, his rightful place in the grand design. He turned his gaze back down to examine the defensive armament his senior brother had gifted him. As his fingers brushed away the thin layer of dust coating the surface, the intricate engraving of a fierce goblin came into view. An understated, ancient majesty radiated from an item he had initially written off as a mere rusted relic. While Geum-pyo-Lee remained captivated by the shifting lines of the demonic visage, his senior brother’s voice drifted down to him.

“The Diamond Shield (Geum-gang-pae). A legendary relic forged to repel all forms of malice.”

Those words sent a profound, soothing ripple cascading through Geum-pyo-Lee’s soul.

“A shield that…… repels all forms of malice……”

Geum-pyo-Lee softly rehearsed the phrase over and over under his breath, cementing it within his mind as his ultimate purpose. His frantic, erratic pulse gradually slowed, settling into a heavy, unshakeable rhythm.

“A bastion to preserve everyone……”

Geum-pyo-Lee’s vow echoed across the training grounds, low, steady, and full of weight.