Chapter 375

Chapter 375
## Chapter 375. The Fluctuating Currents (7)

—

The position of the Hall Master of the Personnel Hall (*Jaein-dang*) is notoriously regarded as one of the most effortless assignments within the Murim Alliance. Wielding a moderate amount of authority over staffing decisions, the post remains relatively unburdened by heavy duties outside of specific seasons. On the rare occasions when a deployment dispute arises, the respective Pavilion Masters typically settle the matter among themselves, leaving the Hall Master with nothing more to do than stamp the finalized paperwork.

Consequently, the current leader of the Personnel Hall desired to prolong his tenure in this comfortable role for as long as possible. That peaceful aspiration held firm—until he was forced to manage the latest graduating class from the Murim Academy.

“Are you serious? They still haven’t turned in their placement choices?”

“They requested that we remain patient. They claim they cannot decide until they know where their Squad Leader is being deployed…”

“Squad Leader?”

The Personnel Hall Master felt his blood pressure spike at the sight of his subordinate delivering such utterly preposterous reasoning.

“What sort of ridiculous nonsense is that? And who exactly is this Squad Leader supposed to be?”

“They claim that Jin-so-un serves as the Squad Leader for the Sahwal-dan.”

“…”

The frustration building within him finally boiled over into an outright shout.

“So I am asking you, what kind of absolute garbage is that?!”

A group named the ‘Sahwal-dan’ was something even he, the official overseer of all human resources across every faction in the Murim Alliance, had never once heard of.

“I-I am equally in the dark, sir. Regardless, they refuse to submit their applications until their Squad Leader files his own…”

“Have these fools completely lost their minds? Are they all eager to be demoted and shipped off to the regional outposts? Unbelievable!”

“…”

“This is unacceptable… Fine, reassign every single one of those idiots to the local branches! It is entirely because I have been far too lenient with them. Now they think they can ride right over my authority, don’t they?”

The Personnel Hall Master roared his furious ultimatum, but the subordinate merely stared back with a distinctly unimpressed expression. Noticing the look, the Hall Master snapped his head up toward the younger man.

“What! What are you looking at!”

“If you proceed with that order, the other martial pavilions will certainly create an uproar.”

“What are you babbling about?!”

“The total number of graduates in this particular class is significantly lower than in previous years, is it not?”

“Even if that is the case, we always bring in more than enough recruits!”

Because the Murim Alliance replenishes its lower ranks with Academy graduates who emerge only once every four years, they traditionally secure at least ten percent more students than the actual number of open slots. As a result, highly sought-after pavilions invariably faced a surplus of applicants beyond their capacity, which normally sparked fierce rivalry to claim a spot within the Murim Alliance proper. Those who lacked sufficient merit or faltered in the competition were ruthlessly cast out to the regional branches.

This cutthroat process was accepted precisely because it mirrored the true nature of the Jianghu, an environment entirely dictated by the law of the jungle. Yet, looking at the current dilemma, things had gone entirely awry…

“Did you already forget about what transpired regarding Muk-rim?”

“Ah…”

Only then did the Personnel Hall Master’s eyes widen in realization. He had completely overlooked that detail after spending days without sleep arguing over how to handle the sudden influx of casualties.

“As things stand across the martial pavilions, the sole department that has reached its maximum recruitment capacity is the White Wolf Pavilion.”

“…”

The White Wolf Pavilion—a place that was chronically understaffed because rookies usually preferred a remote branch assignment over entering its grim ranks—stood as the solitary unit completely filled to the brim. The Personnel Hall Master found himself utterly bewildered by this bizarre, unprecedented turn of events. While the Hall Master remained frozen, staring blankly into empty space, his subordinate pulled him back to reality.

“For the time being, you must personally convince the Academy student, Jin-so-un.”

“…Me?”

“The regular staff members have attempted to approach him, but every single one was turned away at the door.”

“Sigh…”

For a regional administrator accustomed only to receiving flattery and bribes regarding personnel favors, he was at a total loss as to how to approach this. Moreover, every other member of the Personnel Hall had already failed. He felt deeply insecure because he doubted his own presence would yield a different outcome. Above all else, the primary source of his hesitation was plain.

“You expect me… to go humble myself and beg a mere disciple of the Tae-eul Sect?”

In reality, his stubborn pride was the true anchor holding him back from taking action.

“…”

The subordinate could not conceal his deeply frustrated expression… in fact, he chose not to hide it at all. Trapped in a deadlock where they could make no progress, the lower staff members were burning out day by day while their anger toward their superior intensified, yet the Hall Master remained blissfully oblivious to the resentment building right beneath his nose.

When I recall my activities during this exact period in my past life, it feels almost absurd that I had already taken up a post within the Murim Alliance. Gye-cheol-yeong, who was ahead of us in seniority, had taken the initiative to dispatch his *Saje*s to the Murim Alliance ahead of his own arrival. He engineered this solely to ensure his own future path would be far smoother and more comfortable.

During that era, the Tae-eul Sect was trapped in a state of unceasing decay following the severe public disgrace dealt to us by the Iron Sword Sect. Even the financial backing provided by the Gye-ryong Merchant Guild was steadily drying up, leaving us in a desperate position where we absolutely required the meager stipends offered by the Murim Alliance. Consequently, like commodities being traded away, the fellow disciples of my generation entered their mandatory terms of service within the Alliance.

‘We weren’t even given the chance to undergo proper training.’

While we were still adjusting as low-ranking foot soldiers, Zhuge-so-myeong was abruptly assassinated, plunging the Murim Alliance into utter chaos. Because the hidden hand of the Demon Cult had not yet been exposed to the public at that juncture, his murder remained an unsolved mystery, which ultimately planted deep seeds of discord throughout the organization.

The factions of the Jeongdo-hoe and the Baekdo-hoe immediately pointed fingers at one another, drawing weapons in mutual suspicion, while the structures of the 12 Peaks and Castles found themselves utterly broken from within. Though it was discovered much later that the Yin-Yang Twin Demons were the true perpetrators, the Murim Alliance had already fractured to such a degree that it could scarcely be considered a unified coalition anymore.

‘Reflecting on it now, the present reality has shifted drastically.’

The Yin-Yang Twin Demons met their demise back in Muk-rim, and the Demon Cult is gradually being forced out into the light. Even if a similar tragedy were to strike tomorrow, a massive internal conflict on the scale of my previous life likely wouldn’t erupt. Of course, observing the covert betrayals and localized skirmishes breaking out across the Central Plains just like before, it makes me realize that perhaps Zhuge-so-myeong’s assassination was merely a convenient catalyst for an inevitability.

“Hey! Over this way.”

As a voice interrupted my wandering thoughts, I walked toward Buk-won-pyeong, who was gesturing to me from a corner of the establishment.

“I thought the Samcheong Musang-geom technique was restricted to a single chosen heir? You seem to be managing an impressive amount of wealth.”

Geum-yang-ru, celebrated as one of the three premier taverns in Wuhan, baseline charges an exorbitant five times the rate of normal establishments for its refreshments. And the person who insisted on meeting here was none other than Buk-won-pyeong.

“Is it not common knowledge that the *Dae-sahyung* of the Tae-eul Sect is independently wealthy? That is precisely why I selected this venue, *Dae-sahyung*.”

Good grief, either commit to casual speech or stick to formal titles. Just pick one and stay with it.

“My senior *Saje* possesses a remarkably sly streak.”

“You praise me too highly, *Dae-sahyung*.”

While Buk-won-pyeong continued his playful bantering, a server quietly approached our table.

“Allow me to provide you with warm towels, gentlemen.”

In contrast to ordinary eateries that employ young, inexperienced boys, this establishment utilized a mature man who possessed the unmistakable poise of a martial artist. Is it because I rarely frequent places of this caliber? It makes me feel distinctly restless and out of place.

In any case, once an assortment of refined dishes and an exceptionally aromatic, rich liquor were laid out, and we had emptied our vessels a few times, I began to settle into the opulent surroundings. As my discomfort faded, I started taking note of the patrons around us. There were individuals adorned in extravagant jewelry and fine silks, alongside others sporting martial gear heavily inlaid with gold, silver, and precious stones. There were also those who bore no external signs of wealth but radiated a suffocating pressure, sitting near elderly figures trying desperately to mask their physical decline with an air of vitality.

They represented a concentrated gathering of elites rarely encountered in everyday life.

“Do you find the atmosphere unpleasant?”

Hearing Buk-won-pyeong’s inquiry, a quiet laugh escaped my lips.

“Not at all.”

“I am glad to hear it. Considering these are the very individuals you will have to contend with moving forward.”

“You think I need to ‘contend’ with them?”

Amused by my response, Buk-won-pyeong gave me a curious look. I emptied my small cup in a single swallow and scanned the room. In this second life of mine, I am well aware of the true puppet masters guiding the Jianghu. I know exactly how their machinations brought about its ruin before. And right now, I am actively engaging in this war to ensure that history does not repeat itself.

But to compromise or negotiate with them? From the very start, I had zero intention of playing their games. They are nothing more than obstacles meant to be utterly crushed. If anyone else heard me voice such an ambition, they would label me a lunatic. That is precisely why I keep these thoughts entirely to myself.

“Why do you look so grim? Surely you didn’t believe you could simply fade into the background given your current status?”

“…”

I shifted my gaze back toward the crowd. Though I hadn’t picked up on it initially, they were casting covert, calculating glances toward our table. Was it because we seemed entirely out of place here? Or did they have another motive? Seeing my expression darken, Buk-won-pyeong gently swirled the contents of his cup and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Are you plotting something entirely different?”

I offered no reply. Providing the answer he wanted to hear would make me a hypocrite, whereas revealing my actual intentions would sound like the ravings of a madman.

“I received word from the Personnel Hall Master. You still haven’t submitted your secondary or tertiary placement preferences, have you?”

“There is a clarification I must first obtain from a certain individual.”

This was an intentional message directed at the Leader of the Murim Alliance. Whether he acted out of genuine goodwill or because he harbored a hidden agenda, I required his explicit confirmation regarding the requirements for entering the White Wolf Pavilion. If I haphazardly accepted just any assignment, there was no telling when I might get the chance to transfer back to the White Wolf Pavilion. My stubbornness was entirely calculated for his benefit. Meeting my unshakable resolve, Buk-won-pyeong’s expression turned noticeably grave.

“So it wasn’t merely a case of you being indecisive.”

“I rarely take actions without a definitive purpose.”

“Mmm… It seems I may have crossed a line with you today.”

“What are you implying?”

Buk-won-pyeong let out a heavy, weary breath.

“Even so, I ask for your understanding. The obligations I hold toward those individuals are far too significant. View it simply as a minor overstep by an affectionate *Saje*.”

“My senior *Saje* certainly knows how to play the charm card.”

Chuckling softly at my remark, Buk-won-pyeong stood up from the table and signaled for me to follow. I trailed behind him in silence, harboring a bit of resentment.

‘Why does it feel like everyone is trying to use me as bargaining chips lately?’

The rear section of the tavern opened up into a beautifully manicured garden reminiscent of the Songhwa Pavilion. The notable distinction here was a network of delicate streams winding across the grounds like a labyrinth, with the outdoor structures relying on simple fabric screens rather than solid walls. Though the seasonal chill had begun to thaw, it hardly felt like the ideal temperature for an outdoor gathering.

Fortunately, heated braziers nestled inside hollowed logs were positioned in the center of each pavilion, effectively keeping the cold at bay while providing an aesthetically pleasing glow.

“I mentioned a lingering obligation, but I am presenting this arrangement because I genuinely believe it serves the best interests of the Tae-eul Sect as one of its worldly followers. I dispatched numerous missives directly to the Tae-eul Sect, but the recurring response was always ‘we are occupied, direct all matters to him.’ Truly, I cannot fathom what keeps them so endlessly distracted. Unbelievable.”

The soft moonlight cast a pronounced shadow across Buk-won-pyeong’s complaining face.

“The turbulence spreading across the Jianghu… I do not believe these incidents are being orchestrated by our ‘true’ adversary.”

Buk-won-pyeong spoke in a measured tone as we navigated the extensive stone pathway cutting through the garden.

“We are currently wasting our strength fighting an ‘illusion.’ Yet, the bloodshed resulting from it is entirely ‘real.’ With each dawn that breaks, at least one martial sect is being wiped off the map.”

The profound weight of his anxiety was palpable in the long sigh that followed.

“A formidable external threat like the Saheuk-ryeon has openly declared itself. Given that reality, why do you suppose this pointless internal strife—which yields no true victor and merely bleeds us dry—persistently rages on?”

“Because they confidently assume the Saheuk-ryeon poses no genuine threat to the Murim Alliance.”

Throughout five centuries of recorded history, factions akin to the Saheuk-ryeon had arisen before. Yet invariably, every single challenger had been forced to bend the knee and dissolve before the might of the Murim Alliance. This historical track record caused the current leadership to view the Saheuk-ryeon, along with the hidden Demon Cult lurking in the periphery, as nothing more than a minor, passing inconvenience. The Murim Alliance and the orthodox factions were like terminal patients dying from a sickness called ‘hubris.’

“Precisely. Failing to recognize a lethal threat when it stands directly before you is an invitation to total destruction. And the approaching storm of chaos… I fear its waves will crest higher than anyone anticipates.”

“Are you suggesting the individuals we are about to meet can serve as a shield against that storm?”

Buk-won-pyeong gave a solemn, silent nod.

“Had this been the weakened Tae-eul Sect of yesterday, an invitation of this magnitude would never have been extended to you. It seems Gang-chae-seok’s instinct to leave the decision in your hands was entirely correct. Ultimately, it is your own direct prowess that has unlocked this door.”

“An invitation…”

I muttered the word quietly to myself. An invitation. It is a concept that naturally sparks hope in a person’s chest. Yet, that is precisely why the specter of despair always wraps itself in the guise of a grand opportunity to easily lead people astray. Because of that, I must critically evaluate and scrutinize the exact nature of the path being laid out before me.

“Step inside.”

“Are you not entering with me?”

“An invitation has not been extended to me at this time.”

“Not even to the sole inheritor of the Samcheong Musang-geom?”

“Do they not already possess far grander options such as the *Yeok-geun-gyeong* and the *Tae-geuk-hye-yang-gyeong*?”

“There was a definitive reason you categorized this as an opportunity.”

Leaving behind Buk-won-pyeong, who now carried a noticeably melancholic demeanor, I approached the entrance of the pavilion. Just as I reached out to part the beaded barrier, the strands parted seamlessly to either side on their own. No mechanical strings pulled them, nor was there any physical guide.

‘Demonstrating Telekinesis (*Heogong-seob-mul*) for a simple entrance?’

It served as a highly effective, if blatant, show of authority. Stepping into the interior, I noted the firelight dancing across the central hearth, mirroring the setup of the previous structures. I raised my eyes to carefully take in the gathering. Arranged around the perimeter of the fire, eight individuals sat in a curved formation, their collective gaze fixed intently upon me. I met their stares directly, refusing to look away.

“…”

A heavy, tense quiet filled the space. The expressions of the eight figures illuminated by the flames began to visibly harden.

“You show a distinct lack of propriety.”

The moment the individual positioned on the far right uttered those words.

*Boom—*

He unleashed a powerful wave of internal pressure. It was immediately obvious that this was the person responsible for parting the beaded curtain moments ago. The oppressive weight of that energy was heavy enough to press down directly against my legs and shoulders. He issued an order in an authoritarian tone.

“Offer your respects and declare your identity.”

The sheer arrogance of trying to force me down onto my knees while simultaneously demanding an introduction for someone whose identity he was already perfectly aware of.

“Did your mentors fail to instruct you on how to show deference to your superiors?”

Well now.

“The issue is that I have absolutely no idea who any of you are supposed to be.”

Though I recognized exactly who they were, I deliberately feigned complete ignorance. The innate entitlement they projected was thoroughly repulsive. In response to my flippant remark, the man intensified the crushing weight of his aura.

“The rumors praising your intellect were clearly exaggerated.”

*Tremble.*

It felt as though the joints in my legs might buckle under the sheer gravity of the pressure, but I maintained my posture effortlessly, tossing back a sharp retort.

“Given your immense arrogance, am I to assume you are the hypocrites of the Jeongdo-hoe… ah, excuse me, I meant to say, the esteemed council members?”

“…”

The sudden tightening of the force bearing down on my shoulders and legs served as immediate validation that my assessment was entirely accurate.