Chapter 8
The large room felt empty.
Only a few hours ago, thirty people had been staying there. Now, only two remained.
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi and Bi Seol.
Only the two of them had passed the first examination and earned the right to stay. The other twenty-eight martial artists were practically driven out, forced to leave the Illusion Academy immediately.
Most of them were in miserable shape.
Some had been beaten and swollen by the Black Phoenix, while many others had been so frightened by the sight that they gave up from the start.
And this situation wasn’t unique to their room.
Groups labeled as “elimination teams” were virtually wiped out in the first round. Other groups weren’t much different.
The first examination was known to pass only about one out of ten applicants. It was the strictest and most difficult stage, and most martial artists had already been filtered out.
In fact, the overall outline of who would ultimately be accepted was largely determined by this first test.
Those who passed were, at minimum, considered first-rate martial artists. After clearing the second and third examinations, they would be formally admitted into the academy.
While nearly ninety percent failed in the first round, only about thirty to forty percent were eliminated across the second and third rounds combined.
Still a significant number—but far more lenient compared to the first.
Now, with only two people left, the room was quiet.
Bi Seol had tried speaking cautiously to Hyeok Ryeon-hwi several times, but his replies were short and curt.
Naturally, conversation faded. They each spent their time resting in silence.
The one who broke the stillness was Bu Ui-min.
He entered the room looking far more exhausted than before. Compared to earlier that day, his face showed clear signs of hardship.
When he saw the two sitting there calmly, his expression soured.
Because of those two, he had been severely reprimanded. Two completely unknown individuals had passed the first exam. They could indeed be talented—but the higher-ups were treating it as his mistake.
One unexpected pass might be excusable. But two? From an elimination team? Statistically unlikely. Naturally, suspicion fell on him.
He was even accused of possibly leaking exam information for money.
If the two failed in the second or third examinations, it would confirm his error in the first round. But even if they passed, the situation was already troublesome.
So now, whether he liked it or not, he had to hope they both made it all the way.
Seeing them merely staring at him without reaction, Bu Ui-min let out a soft sigh.
Haa… Annoying brats.
The only ones left were the ones he disliked from the beginning. Still, they were now in the same boat.
He spoke.
“Dinner time. Let’s go.”
The two stood. Since they weren’t allowed to wander freely yet, they moved with him.
Under Bu Ui-min’s guidance, they entered the academy’s dining hall.
Though many had been eliminated, the hall wasn’t as empty as expected.
Seats were nearly full.
Bi Seol asked, puzzled, “The first exam is over—why are there still so many people?”
“Until lunch, applicants and enrolled students eat separately. Now that the first exam is done and the numbers have dropped, they’ve combined the schedules.”
“Ah, I see.”
Bu Ui-min answered curtly.
Just as he was scanning for seats, someone hurried over.
Recognizing the man, Bu Ui-min frowned.
It was Jang Tae-bang, a martial artist of similar age and a current member of the academy.
“Hey, Bu Ui-min.”
“What.”
“Heard you caused quite the incident this time. Ah—are those two the famous ones?”
His mocking tone made Bu Ui-min grind his teeth. He tried to ignore him and walk past.
“I also heard you pocketed some under-the-table money thanks to this exam. Must’ve been nice?”
“…You’ve clearly lost your mind.”
Killing intent flashed in Bu Ui-min’s eyes. His hand moved toward the sword at his waist.
Jang Tae-bang, sensing the mood, smirked and changed tone.
“The Vice-Director is looking for you. Follow me.”
At that single sentence, Bu Ui-min withdrew his killing intent.
The dining hall had two floors. The second floor was reserved for high-ranking officials.
Unlike the crowded first floor, it was quiet.
Standing at the railing above was Dan No-baek.
Vice-Director Dan No-baek—known as the One-Armed Thousand Swords.
A master in his mid-fifties, thin build, always wearing a gentle smile. Yet behind that smile lay an insatiable hunger for power.
He was also one of Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s surveillance targets.
Their eyes met.
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi did not look away.
For a brief moment, Dan No-baek’s expression twisted faintly with displeasure.
Their gazes clashed midair.
“Hyung-nim? What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.”
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi turned his head.
It wasn’t time yet.
This should suffice as a greeting.
Meanwhile, Bi Seol found a table.
She grabbed his sleeve urgently.
“Quick! There’s a whole good table empty over there!”
He allowed himself to be dragged along.
The table was located in the center of the hall—but oddly spaced apart from others.
“Strange. It’s packed everywhere else, but this whole section is empty? Not bad, right, Hyung-nim?”
“Not bad.”
He disliked noisy places. The space suited him.
Bi Seol began piling food onto plates, even wedging them between her fingers when her hands were full.
To someone who had lived in the mountains, the academy’s food felt like another world.
“Wow… It’s amazing every time.”
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi took only a bowl of thin noodles and simple stir-fried vegetables.
“Is that enough to give you strength?” she asked.
“You’re the one eating too much.”
“They don’t charge extra. You have to eat as much as you can—that’s how you profit!”
She grinned brightly.
Then she tilted her head.
“Why were people standing around waiting when there’s such a big empty table? Couldn’t they see it?”
She shrugged and began eating.
Around them, many martial artists were indeed waiting for seats. Yet nearly twenty seats here remained empty.
“Shame about this dumpling, though,” she muttered. “It’s decent, but… not quite.”
She glanced at him.
“By the way… did you enjoy the Jinpum Dumplings?”
He looked up. “Why?”
“You said before—my lifelong dream is to eat those Jinpum Dumplings. I heard the meat-to-vegetable ratio is perfect. Is it true?”
“…I don’t know.”
“You didn’t eat them?”
“I bought them. I didn’t say I’d eat them.”
Bi Seol looked crushed.
“I begged you for just one… If you weren’t going to eat them, you could’ve given me one.”
“I bought them. What I do with them is my choice.”
She was speechless.
“Stop talking and eat what’s in front of you,” he said flatly.
As she resumed eating, she suddenly felt pricking gazes on her back.
She glanced around.
Many eyes were fixed on them.
“Why are they staring?”
“Probably amazed at how much you’re eating.”
“No way.”
Even so, she began eating faster.
Then—
“Hey.”
Three figures stood before them.
Mo Geuk-il, his younger brother Mo Yang-ui, and a woman named Bang Yak-ran.
Unlike Hyeok Ryeon-hwi and Bi Seol, they were already enrolled students—one year their senior.
Mo Geuk-il frowned.
He was not handsome. Poor skin, large nose, small eyes. He carried deep insecurities.
And he hated handsome faces.
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi was strikingly handsome.
Bi Seol, delicate and pretty like a girl.
Damn them…
Mo Geuk-il cleared his throat loudly.
“First time I’ve seen you. New applicants? Where are you from?”
Bi Seol answered politely.
“I’m from the Orthodox faction. My hyung here is from the Demonic Cult.”
Mo Geuk-il laughed.
“Oh? An Orthodox brat, huh?”
Without warning, he picked up a teacup and splashed it across Bi Seol’s face.
The tea ran down her cheeks.
Fortunately, it had cooled.
No one in the hall intervened.
Bi Seol calmly wiped her face.
“I’ve done something wrong?”
“You sat here. That’s your mistake. This table isn’t for trash like you.”
Ah.
A reserved seat.
Likely belonging to powerful figures.
Bi Seol bowed slightly.
“I wasn’t informed. I’ll be careful next time.”
She stood.
But Mo Geuk-il blocked her.
“I’m not finished.”
“I apologized. Isn’t that enough?”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
He picked up another teacup.
Steam rose from it.
“To disinfect filth, you need hot water.”
He stepped closer.
Bi Seol calculated rapidly.
She could endure it with inner energy.
But appearing unharmed might escalate things.
Just as she was about to act—
“Hey.”
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi finally spoke.
Mo Geuk-il paused.
“You calling me?”
“It splashed.”
“What?”
“Water splashed on my pants.”
Mo Geuk-il scoffed.
“So what?”
Before he could finish—
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s foot swept low.
Mo Geuk-il lost balance and slammed to his knees with a loud thud.
Before he could rise, Hyeok Ryeon-hwi’s hand pressed down on his shoulder.
He couldn’t move.
Pain shot through his bones. His strength drained.
In front of everyone, he was forced to kneel.
“You… do you know who I am—”
“I don’t care.”
Hyeok Ryeon-hwi tightened his grip.
His voice turned cold.
“Wipe it.”
