Chapter 7
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi had no reason to hesitate once he discovered the target. He stepped into the space thick with black wasps flying about. The wasps, which had remained still when there was no movement, soon recognized him as their target.
Sensing the swarm gathering around him, a small whirlwind began to rise from the tips of Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s fingers.
Tsssss!
The wind that started from his fingers wrapped around him like armor. The mysterious current spun wildly around his body alone, perfectly blocking the stingers of the attacking black wasps.
Wind God Armor
It was a wind armor formed by borrowing the energy of the Wind God, one of Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s martial arts techniques. Since it could even block swords, there was no way the wasps’ stingers could pierce it.
Unaffected by the barrage of stings, Hyeok Ryeon-hwi approached the beehive.
The moment he stood before the table, his hand moved.
Whoosh!
His hand slipped through the wind and seized one of the black wasps flying in the air. The wasp already hung limp—dead from the strike.
Casually, Hyeok Ryeon-hwi examined the wasp he had caught.
What he looked at was its tail.
At first glance, it seemed ordinary. But upon closer inspection, it was different.
There was a white mark on the wasp’s tail.
However, it wasn’t a mere stain.
Tiny letters—so small they were nearly dots—had been engraved on the wasp’s abdomen.
The characters came into view.
Pass (合格)
This was the reason the man who had entered the examination room earlier had failed. What one truly had to bring out of the room was not the beehive, but a black wasp bearing the word “Pass.”
Among the roughly five thousand wasps in the room, about ten had this marking on their tails.
Whether one brought out such a wasp or not would determine the result of the examination.
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi easily grasped the intention behind this test.
Anyone who had trained in martial arts could generally see objects in darkness. The writing on the wasp’s abdomen was extremely small, making it difficult—but not impossible—for someone of sufficient skill.
Yet the person who had entered before him had failed to notice it.
Partly because his skills were lacking—but more importantly because he had panicked.
Had he not fled with only the beehive in fright, he might have noticed the writing on some of the wasps.
But he hadn’t.
Overwhelmed by the situation, frightened, he simply followed the initial instructions.
The first test was simple.
It assessed whether one possessed keen eyesight capable of perceiving objects even in darkness, sufficient internal energy to support it, and the composure to remain calm no matter what happened.
With the wasp already in one hand, Hyeok Ryeon-hwi extended his other and picked up the beehive. The wasps continued to thrust their stingers at him in fury, but he walked calmly toward the door as if he were somewhere else entirely.
He opened the door without fuss.
At the same time, the wind surrounding him vanished.
Light streamed in through the crack, and Hyeok Ryeon-hwi stepped out with an expressionless face, even taking the time to close the door behind him.
He emerged looking exactly as he had when he entered. The onlookers, who had been watching while swallowing nervously, murmured in surprise.
“He looks perfectly fine.”
“Did he just walk out?”
But the whispering did not last long.
He held the beehive in his hand; there was no reason to suspect he had simply stood by the entrance and come back out.
They weren’t the only ones surprised.
Even Bu Ui-min stared closely at Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s face in disbelief.
“You… how are you so fine?”
He didn’t like Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s expressionless face, nor the way he had been getting on his nerves since yesterday. Secretly, Bu Ui-min had hoped to see that handsome face ruined by wasp stings.
But the man standing before him was completely unharmed.
Without meaning to, he asked how that was possible.
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi simply extended his hand and spoke briefly.
“Check.”
Bu Ui-min was about to speak upon seeing the beehive—when Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s other hand opened.
At the sight of the dead black wasp inside, Bu Ui-min’s head snapped up in shock.
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi looked down at him, expression unchanged. Bu Ui-min clicked his tongue and shouted irritably:
“Damn it. Pass!”
The murmuring swelled again at once. Already irritated by Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s success, Bu Ui-min barked:
“Quiet! And if anyone asks him how he passed, that’ll be immediate failure. You—wait over there.”
If the secret of the wasps were revealed, the test would be ruined.
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi silently moved to the indicated spot. Watching him, Bu Ui-min bit his lip.
Strange. This group was supposed to be the rejects…
Though unknown to the applicants, the evaluation began the moment one entered the academy. Most of it concerned one’s sect or family background.
Those from unimpressive sects or clans were grouped together—expected to fail.
This group Bu Ui-min oversaw was exactly that.
No outstanding sect members, no well-known young masters. Just mediocrities—or so he thought.
There were thirty in total.
He had assumed all would fail the first test.
Yet Hyeok Ryeon-hwi had passed.
How troublesome.
His workload had just increased.
Trying to vent his frustration elsewhere, he looked over the remaining candidates.
“Well then, who’s next—”
“Me!”
Bi Seol shot her hand up eagerly. Bu Ui-min felt a strange unease but shook his head.
One unexpected result was enough.
Bi Seol stepped before the door.
“If a black wasp stings that pretty face of yours—”
“I’m going!”
She cut him off and dashed inside confidently.
For some reason, Bu Ui-min felt anxious.
Why?
There was no way—
Bang.
The door opened.
Bi Seol stepped out, her face just as clean as Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s. Smiling brightly, she extended the beehive—and in her hand, a black wasp bearing the white word “Pass.”
Bu Ui-min covered his forehead.
“…Ha.”
He sighed and looked at the sky.
One success was troublesome enough. Two? He’d surely be questioned about how he conducted the test.
“…Pass.”
Bi Seol pumped her fists excitedly.
“I passed! Brother!”
She ran toward Hyeok Ryeon-hwi with a radiant smile.
Behind her, however, Bu Ui-min’s face was dark with worry.
This is seriously twisted.
In eighteen years since the academy’s founding, only twice had someone from the “reject group” passed.
But never like this.
Two at once.
“Stop eating so much.”
At Hwan-ya’s words, Dalchi lifted his head slightly from his food, glanced at him, then calmly replied:
“Hwan-ya eats too little. That’s why Hwan-ya is small. Eat more. Then Hwan-ya grows.”
“What did you say?”
Hwan-ya glared.
He wanted to smack the back of Dalchi’s head, but that might reduce the inn to rubble.
“I’m not small. You’re just absurdly big.”
“Master same height as me. Only Hwan-ya small.”
Hwan-ya faltered, unable to retort.
He sighed.
He wasn’t short—just dwarfed by Hyeok Ryeon-hwi and Dalchi.
More humiliating was feeling like he’d lost an argument to Dalchi.
“Forget it. Why am I even arguing with you?”
The inn was half empty despite it being lunchtime. Recently it had been packed with applicants to the academy, but now things had quieted.
They had chosen this inn on the outskirts to avoid attention. But the true reason was someone else.
Hwan-ya rested his chin in his hand as footsteps descended the stairs.
A middle-aged man appeared.
Ordinary face. Scruffy beard. Nothing remarkable.
Hwan-ya’s eyes gleamed.
Finally moving.
This was why they had stayed here—to watch him.
The man slung a bundle over his shoulder, scanned the room, and left.
Hwan-ya nudged Dalchi’s chair.
“That’s the one the boss told us to follow. Let’s go.”
Dalchi immediately stood.
They followed at a distance.
The man entered a manor within Seongdo.
The two slipped inside after him—
But he was nowhere to be seen.
Then—
Bang!
Doors around the courtyard burst open.
About thirty large men emerged, surrounding them.
The middle-aged man appeared again, smiling smugly.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you tailing me? I knew from the inn! Covering your faces so obviously—did you think I was a fool?”
Hwan-ya and Dalchi remained silent.
“Who do you belong to? I’m curious what idiots sent such useless spies after me.”
No answer.
He signaled his men.
The largest stepped forward, grinning at Dalchi.
“Big muscles. Let’s see if they’re useful.”
As he approached—
Boom!
Dalchi’s fist slammed into his face.
The man spun, hit the ground, and bounced back up.
Silence fell.
Dalchi calmly said,
“I’m still hungry.”
Hwan-ya sighed.
“We’ll finish quickly. Then eat.”
One thug reached for his sword—
Whirl!
Two daggers spun around Hwan-ya’s fingers. Slightly larger than usual, with ringed handles.
One flew.
Whoosh—thud!
It struck true. The man fell before drawing his sword.
The middle-aged man felt dread.
Their tracking had been poor—yet their martial arts were overwhelming.
Something was wrong.
Hwan-ya spoke:
“Pop quiz.”
“W-what?”
“Did you catch us? Or did we let you? And if it’s the latter—what do you think happens to you?”
The man’s face paled.
Realization dawned.
They had wanted this.
He had gathered his men himself.
He had walked into their trap.
As he trembled—
Another dagger flashed.
A thin line of blood ran down his cheek.
He hadn’t even seen it.
Hwan-ya spun his dagger and grinned.
“What’s there to think about? You’re all dead.”
