Chapter 49

• A Meeting of Uncommon Individuals

At the top of a pavilion, a little distance from the Geomhon-gwan.
In a room filled with a sense of tranquility and neatness,
two young men were talking.
One was a young man in a blue martial robe sitting in a chair,
with three swords on his body,
and in the hands of another young man in white, standing by the window,
was a white crane fan with a dark blue tassel.

At a glance, both were outstanding talents who would not be outdone anywhere. Despite their young age, the aura emanating from their entire bodies was reminiscent of peak masters. The young man in the white robe, who looked like a noble young master, was gazing out the window as if admiring the scenery, and he lightly shook the folded fan and spoke to the young man in the blue martial robe who was sitting in a chair and quietly savoring the scent of tea.

"They say it was a failure!"

What was a failure? Even while delivering the negative news of failure, a quiet joy could be felt in the young man's voice.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. They say he was dragged to the prefect's office about an hour ago. It's right to think that it's all over now."

"An hour... As expected, I can't beat your sharp eyes and ears. To have already obtained information that far."

The young man in white said with a smile.

"It's nothing. You know well that our association's eyes and ears are more extensive and sharper than this."

"But if it was a failure, he must have had more talent than we thought, right?"

The young man in blue, with two swords with dark green tassels slung across his back and a sword with a red tassel hanging at his waist, changed the subject. This was the urgent matter for now. There was plenty of time later for self-praise about their organization's information network.

"Yes, it was a bit of a surprise that it failed even with those two involved. They say almost all the first-floor mechanisms of the Geomhon-gwan have turned into useless scrap metal. Prefect Gang Ha-yun will have to sweat quite a bit to clean up this damage."

"Is there anywhere those two don't get involved? Isn't it their specialty to get involved in perfectly fine matters, mess them up, and blow them out of proportion? It's just that it doesn't show on the surface..."

The young man in blue's brow furrowed slightly. And a momentary feeling of disgust flashed across his face.

"Your mouth has spoken the truth. With those two involved, this matter will not be settled quietly. I have never seen those troublemakers end things quietly. But this case was a bit big!"

A feeling of displeasure towards them could also be felt in the words of the young man in white, whose elegant jawline was very impressive. It seemed that the individuals referred to as 'those two' by these two were by no means in a good relationship.

"Regardless of how the matter progressed, wasn't Ho Cheon-gang's failure something we had hoped for to some extent?"

The young man in blue asked back.

"That's right. We can't let them save face with their own hands. Isn't he the one who insulted us all together? We can't let such a punk be dealt with by the joint front of the eight great families and the minor sects."

There was no hesitation in the voice of the young man in white, who had instantly demoted Nanchang's number one martial manor, Tiger Fang Manor, to one of the minor sects. For him, it was a natural thing.

"Of course. We can't borrow someone else's hand to wipe the ink stain on our face just because it's dirty and shameful."

"Of course. If we lose face over something like this, our face will really be a mess."

The young man in white also nodded his head as if in agreement. For them, it was natural to repay the insult they and their sect had received with their own hands, so there was no room for reconsideration. Ho Cheon-gang had also tried to avenge the insult to his sect in his own way, but they couldn't let a mere disciple of a minor sect strike first. At a glance, it seemed like nothing, but for them, this was a very important issue.

"Ah, did he finally enter 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 upon hearing his question. His left hand unconsciously fiddled with the folded fan in his right hand.

"That's right. Coincidentally, he ended up sharing a room with that punk."

A flash of surprise appeared in the young man in blue's eyes and then disappeared.

"Really? Will there be no danger?"

The young man in blue asked with a slightly worried voice. The fact that a completely different story was getting entangled in a strange direction made him feel unnecessarily anxious.

"I can't even imagine him forming a friendship with someone else. Such a thing 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. That's how great his trust in the young man in white was.

"This year, too many unexpected people have passed. Especially his existence cannot be ignored. With him joining, the possibility of the power of the eight great families' punks increasing is very high. But we can't let a force other than our nine sects take the lead."

"Don't worry. I'm always keeping a watchful eye and being careful. We can't let the leadership of the Cheonmu Academy pass to a force other than our nine sects. Nine pillars are enough for the orthodox faction. We can't let eight unnecessary side branches get in the way unsightly."

"I'm counting on you."

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

"Is that so? Then it must be reliable. It's really a wonderful skill. Your tea ceremony always surprises me."

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

"Hehe, it's just a humble hobby."

The young man in white, who had been gazing out the window, turned his body and sat down in a chair. And before the tea got any colder, he lifted the teacup and savored the tea. If the temperature of the tea water dropped below this, it would be an insult to the tea. If the temperature of the tea was too high, the taste buds of the tongue would be paralyzed by the heat, making it difficult to taste properly, and on the contrary, if it was too cold, the coldness would take away the taste and aroma from the tea. He had no intention of insulting his close friend, tea. On the sleeves of the two, who were quietly savoring and drinking tea, the same magnificent dragon pattern was embroidered.

Bi Ryu-yeon, who had made a great contribution to inflicting enormous financial damage on the Geomhon-gwan, one of the dormitories for the disciples of the Cheonmu Academy, and Hyo-ryong and Jang Hong, who had contributed to the contribution with a contemplative attitude of just staring blankly at him, were able to avoid punishment from the prefect and safely receive their room assignments through a miraculous stroke of luck, which could be described as a crazy flood that hit the desert, or an absurd downpour in the desert. Fortunately, the worst-case scenario of being expelled immediately upon entering did not happen. Later, various speculations circulated among the disciples of the Geomhon-gwan about this incident, but none of them were clear enough to pour cold water on the burning curiosity of the public. After many twists and turns, Bi Ryu-yeon was finally able to receive his room assignment. But unfortunately, he had to live separately from Jang Hong and Hyo-ryong. The assigned rooms were different. Bi Ryu-yeon was assigned to room 701, and Hyo-ryong and Jang Hong were assigned to room 702. Although they were right next to each other, a wall stood between them. He was very sad that he had to part with the friends he had just made, with whom he got along so well.

The dormitories for the first-year disciples were located on the 7th floor, the very top of the Geomhon-gwan. This was the same for any dormitory. It was an unspoken custom here for the first-years to have their dormitories on the highest floor. And as the years went up, the location of the assigned rooms gradually moved down to the lower floors. The lower you lived, the higher your grade. The reason for this custom was the difference in inconvenience due to the difference in the length of the path of movement.

In other words, if you had a room on the 7th floor, the path of movement was long and inconvenient. That's why the lower grades used the upper floors. The newcomers had to endure the inconvenience of the other seniors with a thorough spirit of respecting elders. That was the law of this society. No matter how much one lacked a thorough spirit of respecting elders in their heart, one had to at least put on a show on the outside. Otherwise, there was a risk of being criticized or ostracized by those around, so it was necessary to prevent such risks in advance.

Of course, for a martial arts master, a height of about 7 floors was like swimming with your feet on the ground, but this was a matter of feeling and was also related to old-fashioned etiquette, so it did not think of changing easily. And no one tried hard to change it. A height of about 7 floors was about 30 meters high, a place that a master could easily reach with two leaps. The lightness kung fu that they had learned with difficulty was not for decoration or exhibition.

If there was a punk who was whining about just going up and down the 7th-floor stairs, one should immediately suspect his fraudulent admission. There was no way a punk who had not even properly mastered a single lightness technique could have entered the Cheonmu Academy. Also, among them, there were many who preferred the 7th floor for its good view.

How should one properly describe this man? Thorough perfection? A once-in-a-millennium talent? A peerless beauty? A perfectly chiseled appearance to the point of being tiresome, a restrained aura, sharp and bright eyes, a dignified bearing, and the precious sword on his waist, which was magnificently carved on his milky-white martial robe, were not ordinary from their appearance. A person who was perfectly equipped with these aspects should rightly be called a talent of the world. And, he was already actually being called a once-in-a-millennium talent. Bi Ryu-yeon looked at the man standing in front of him, heavily armed with thorough perfection.

Although it was a appearance and aura that would make any man feel jealous at least once, Bi Ryu-yeon had no desire to waste his mind and time feeling such useless emotions. So he just thought, 'so be it,' and dealt with him nonchalantly.

This guy considered himself the number one super-peak, peerless, invincible, extreme, ultimate handsome talent in the eighty-four thousand worlds and all of creation, so he had no business being instigated to jealousy by a humble(?) guy who was at best the number one talent in the world. It is the have-nots who unsightly envy and are jealous of the haves, not the haves who are jealous and envious of the have-nots.

The man, who was objectively and universally evaluated as a talent of the world but was demoted to a not-so-great talent by Bi Ryu-yeon, was a person who would share the same room and live with him for the next year, no matter how he looked. This was their first meeting.

"Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Bi Ryu-yeon. Please take care of me."

Bi Ryu-yeon spoke first, with a greeting that lacked any formality. It was a casual greeting, as if they were childhood friends. The two were, of course, not childhood friends, and moreover, they had just met for the first time today, so Bi Ryu-yeon's greeting was a rude act that created displeasure in the other person.

"I am Moyong Hwi of the Moyong family of Henan. Please take care of me."

The man's name was Moyong Hwi. Even after receiving Bi Ryu-yeon's poor greeting, Moyong Hwi greeted him politely with a fist-and-palm salute, without any sign of displeasure. Bi Ryu-yeon said, looking at him intently.

"You're so stiff!"

"What do you mean?"

'He's handsome, but he's a stiff and boring guy, as if he were precisely stamped out of a mold without a single error.' That was Bi Ryu-yeon's first impression and evaluation of his roommate. It was obvious that if he was stiff and boring, it would be boring, and boredom was close to a sin for Bi Ryu-yeon.

"Isn't it hard to talk so stiffly? Let's be comfortable. It's too awkward for people of the same class, isn't it?"

"I don't want to use informal language carelessly with someone I've just met."

Bi Ryu-yeon frowned slightly at Moyong Hwi's blunt answer. He felt as if he were pointing out that he was using informal language with someone he had just met. Of course, Bi Ryu-yeon had used honorifics with most people since he had entered the Jianghu, except for a few people around him. It was strange that he hadn't used honorifics with Moyong Hwi this time. But in his honorifics so far, there was no respect for the other person to be found even if you washed your eyes and looked for it, and it was only filled with ridicule and sneers to the point of overflowing.

His fake honorifics were not honorifics, but just a light ridicule. 90% of the cases were the same, except for the 10% of exceptions. Therefore, the people he used informal language with were only those he acknowledged. He had only let those he did not acknowledge hear his sarcastic honorifics. Of course, Bi Ryu-yeon's criteria for evaluating others were too arbitrary and personal. Bi Ryu-yeon muttered to himself.

'He's so stiff! He might be harder than a diamond. What a boring guy, to the point of making me yawn.'

Fortunately, Moyong Hwi did not hear this, as it was a muttering to himself. When had he, who had always been the object of others' envy, ever been treated so insignificantly? What he had received from those around him so far was always envy and jealousy, and admiration. But there is no law in this world without an exception, and no matter how much the opponent was a qilin child who was receiving the envy and expectations of all the next-generation figures of the Murim, Bi Ryu-yeon was by no means someone who would be intimidated or care about such a title or halo.

So, for Bi Ryu-yeon, there was no thought or need to be afraid of or treat Moyong Hwi awkwardly. Of course, he also did not know who the famous figure Moyong Hwi, who was already making a name for himself in the Jianghu at a young age, was. If others knew, they would have fainted from his ignorance.

After exchanging their first greetings, they buried their evaluations of each other deep in their hearts, and Moyong Hwi silently began to take out and organize his luggage. Bi Ryu-yeon's eyes shone with a strange light as he watched Moyong Hwi take out and organize his luggage one by one. There was something noteworthy about his luggage organization. And as he continued to organize his luggage, Bi Ryu-yeon's complexion became paler. What was he so surprised about? After another hour, Bi Ryu-yeon, who had been silently watching Moyong Hwi's actions, put an end to his patience and opened his mouth. His question was filled with curiosity.

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

"What do you mean?"

Moyong Hwi looked up at Bi Ryu-yeon with his black-jade-like eyes while continuing his actions silently. Even during the conversation, his actions did not stop.

"I'm asking if you have to fold your things so sharply. It's not like you're measuring something, so you don't have to organize your things so neatly, as if measured with a ruler, right? Isn't it hard and annoying?"

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

Moyong Hwi answered bluntly. His things and luggage were so neat, as if measured with a ruler, that it was truly admirable. Just looking at the blanket, the square corners were so perfectly sharp that the corners looked like some terrifying weapon.

It wasn't that he was obsessed with cleaning and organizing, but seeing him organize his luggage one by one so perfectly without any gaps, it seemed Moyong Hwi had a kind of mysophobia. Mysophobia. A personality that is unusually fond of cleanliness, a terrifying disease where one cannot find mental stability if one's surroundings are messy. It is also called 'infinite cleaning disease'. The exact cure for this disease, which cannot tolerate even a single speck of fine dust floating in the air, has not yet been revealed.

It was a thorough organization where not a single crookedness or misalignment could be found, to the point where mysophobia was suspected. It was incomparable to Bi Ryu-yeon, who left everything in a mess. But although Bi Ryu-yeon was impressed by Moyong Hwi's sharp and perfect organization of his things, it was purely a pure admiration for his patience and courage in wasting his useless time and energy. It was just an admiration for his uniqueness, and he had no intention of doing so himself. He still firmly believed that he was a normal person.

Looking at Moyong Hwi, Bi Ryu-yeon thought of the saying, 'too much is as bad as too little'. That's how much his mysophobia and perfectionism were a bit excessive. Just a moment ago, he had been worried that the next year would be boring, but the moment he saw his mysophobia, he suddenly thought that it might not be so. Of course, it would by no means be pleasant.