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Chapter 8: The Unforeseen Encounter

I stared at the imposing elder, my eyes wide. Clad in a dark robe, his hair was a thick black that belied his age.

With a languid expression and a long scar running across his cheek, he exuded an air of gravitas.

His body was a mass of rippling muscles, seemingly ready to burst from even the smallest of movements.

Comparing him to Tang Deok or Elder Lee, he would be no less impressive.

In fact, he might even be more formidable.

‘Wait, that elder is Pejon?!’

He introduced himself as Pejon, the Master of the Martial World.

A title given in respect to all the losses he had endured without ever retreating from his beliefs as a martial artist.

Despite having the prowess to utilize majesty (覇), he chose the character for defeat (敗) as his title, a testament to his honor.

Moreover, he was the master who had profoundly influenced my life.

‘Wow.’

I internally marveled.

There was something Pejon had once said to me.

What was it again?

‘If only I had my previous body in my past life, I would have become the number one in the world.’

A boastful claim indeed, but now I found myself pondering if his words were perhaps true.

‘…With a body like that, I can’t blame him for lamenting every day.’

Pejon’s body, having undergone rejuvenation, was fragile and weak.

His face had a gentle demeanor, reminiscent of my own physique before the shedding of my previous body.

To say he was a martial artist, yet possessed such a diminutive frame but remarkable strength, seems almost absurd.

That image of Pejon, who would lament daily while trapped in that body, surfaced in my mind.

Now I understood.

With such a form, even I would have despaired.

“…Pejon has arrived?”

“Is it really him?”

“Why is the conqueror of the west here…?”

The martial artists present all buzzed with excitement. Three Eminent Beings, the pinnacle of righteousness and the peak of martial prowess.

I had not expected to see him in a place like this.

And neither did he seem to expect my presence.

‘…Why is he here though?’

I never anticipated to encounter Pejon before his rejuvenation.

Could this be something I was meant to experience here? Or merely a coincidence?

As these questions swirled in my mind, Pejon addressed the gathered martial artists.

“Well…”

In a dispassionate tone, he remarked while looking at them.

“I merely came to show my face, so I have nothing in particular to say. Just do what you can.”

His voice held no interest whatsoever.

I wondered why he bothered to show up.

“Then, I will take my leave now…”

As Pejon began to speak, his expression suddenly contorted.

Then—

‘Huh?’

Our eyes locked.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the light—there was no way he’d notice me among so many figures.

But no, he was definitely looking right at me.

His onyx-like eyes trained directly upon me. I quickly checked myself internally.

‘I’ve concealed my presence.’

I had suppressed not only my energy but my very essence.

Even Pejon shouldn’t be able to detect my realm.

This meant I had indeed ascended to the level of the Three Eminent Beings.

While I felt a surge of pride, I had to shake it off.

‘…This isn’t the time for that. Anyway.’

Ultimately, Pejon couldn’t sense my realm.

He would only perceive me as a top-tier, perhaps peak martial artist.

‘But why is he staring at me?’

I found myself gazing back at him in confusion.

“Hmm.”

With a grunt, Pejon made a sudden movement.

Thud.

“Gah!”

“Eep!?”

He appeared in front of me in an instant.

‘So fast.’

I nearly reacted in time.

His speed was extraordinary.

Pejon suddenly reached out and grabbed my bicep, not gripping too tightly but certainly holding on.

I was startled, fearing he might leak some of his energy into me.

But that wasn’t the case; he merely seemed to be feeling my bicep.

“…What’s going on?”

When I regarded him with confusion, he asked me plainly,

“What’s your name?”

“Pardon?”

“What is your name?”

“It’s Gu… no, Baek Yangcheon.”

“I see, is that so?”

“Uh… sir, did I do something wrong…?”

“No, not at all.”

He smirked.

“Hmm…”

“…Sir?”

“This is an unexpected harvest.”

“Eh?”

“You said your name is Baek Yangcheon?”

“…Yes.”

A flicker of unease washed over me.

His reaction was unusual. Damn it, I felt like I had experienced this response somewhere before.

As I strained to recall, it clicked into place not long after.

This was—

‘When we first met.’

The expression Pejon had when we first came face to face after my rebirth.

The intensity in his eyes now mirrored that moment.

‘Oh no, that can’t be.’;

What I feared was taking shape within my thoughts.

“Really? You.”

With a smile, Pejon continued, “Become my disciple.”

The surroundings turned icy, as if winter had abruptly descended.

Oh no.

‘What the actual hell?’

I never imagined I would hear those words from him again.

“Disciple…?”

“Did Pejon just say disciple?”

“…Is he speaking to that young man?”

Eyes were drawn to me. I didn’t wish to be singled out like this if at all possible.

‘Is he out of his mind?’

I never expected Pejon to do something so rash.

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Sir… what suddenly brought this on…?”

I had to smooth over the situation, but why was I the target?

It was utterly ridiculous.

“You heard me clearly, didn’t you?”

Pejon was relentless in his pursuit of clarity.

“Disciple. I’m saying become my disciple.”

“…”

His gaze burned into me. That tired, annoyed expression from earlier was gone, replaced with a fervent desire that seemed to fixate on me.

I held back a sigh. There was no crazier situation than this.

“…I’m sorry.”

As I offered a hasty apology, the atmosphere around us shifted dramatically.

“You refused?!”

“…You turned down Pejon’s offer?!”

In a moment when the Master of the Martial World extended a hand to take on a disciple, my refusal had stunned everyone.

‘What do they expect me to do?’

Accepting was impossible at this point—especially since—

‘I’m already his disciple! What the hell do I do now?’

If I accepted now, things would become exceedingly complicated.

It would be safe to say that there was no option to become a disciple here.

“Why?”

Pejon questioned, leaning in as if he didn’t understand.

His reactions, both then and now, were distinctly consistent.

“I already have martial arts I’ve learned, and my master is still around.”

“Your master…? Hmmm. Whoever it is, they can’t possibly match me, right?”

That was the most arrogant thing I had ever heard. It was absurd to talk down about someone else’s master like that.

The Pejon now seemed more bizarre than I remembered.

“Well, my master isn’t someone who would back down easily.”

“More capable than me?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at what Pejon said.

Him thinking that no one could surpass him held a humorous air.

“Yes.”

“Ha.”

Pejon suddenly burst into a laugh at my unabashed response.

“What a bold little fellow you are.”

With that, he abruptly turned his back.

“I’m busy now, but I’ll come back later.”

Come back? What for?

I wanted to argue that it wasn’t necessary.

“…Once again, I must insist that I—”

“I’ll see you later.”

“…”

Pejon ignored my plea and vanished from sight.

As Pejon disappeared, all that remained were the intense stares directed in my direction.

In the stillness, whispers of disbelief echoed around me.

What was I supposed to do now?

Having experienced many outrageous situations, I knew the best way to handle this was simple.

‘Just ignore it.’

That had always been the most effective method I knew.

*

Creak.

Boom-!!

“Eek!! W-wait a moment—!!”

An imposing elder burst through the doorway, the force of his entry startling everyone inside as they scrambled to try and stop him but—

No one could halt the old man.

In this world, only two people could possibly match up against such a figure.

Crash—!!!

The doors swung open repeatedly as he made his way through.

After a while, he reached a room.

“Senior!”

As he loudly entered the room, he exclaimed.

Wham-!!!

A strong impact struck Pejon. Although he brushed it off with a wave of his hand—

Crimson trickled from his palm. Despite this, Pejon seemed unfazed.

“Quite the greeting.”

He chuckled as he brushed his hand off.

The figure who had made the initial strike, an individual sitting at a table, finally looked up.

Chills ran down my spine.

As I locked eyes with Pejon, a shiver rippled through his back.

“Bi Ju.”

His voice seemed to compress the air around us.

“I clearly stated that if you were to come, you should give me a heads-up.”

“It was a rather urgent matter.”

“Urgent, you say…”

A low growl emanated from Pejon’s lower dantian. The atmosphere shifted to something chilling; his heart was aflame.

“Do you think the clan leader of the Main Sect can be so easily approached?”

The clan leader.

The leader of the current Martial Alliance, a being closest to the world’s greatest.

Pejon met the Sword Sovereign’s demanding gaze with his own.

He smiled sheepishly, though it was awkward.

“I apologize for this part. Still, since my senior asked, couldn’t you let it slide that I came here?”

“…”

The Sword Sovereign gradually relaxed his energy.

“I was asked to do some work while I was here; I merely came to check the faces of the newcomers.”

His intention was to spar with the Sword Sovereign while in Hanam, but apparently, Pejon was told to show his face for the Martial Alliance’s admission test today.

Despite the chore, he had followed through, prompting the Sword Sovereign to relent.

“…Are you proposing we spar now?”

“Oh, I originally planned to do so, but—”

Pejon’s smile widened.

“There’s another purpose for my visit.”

“A purpose?”

“Indeed… ah.”

Just as he was about to speak, he glimpsed to his side.

Having been hasty, he hadn’t noticed before now. Someone stood behind the table.

“A prior engagement, I see.”

At Pejon’s words, the figure before him turned.

“Hmm?”

As their eyes met, Pejon’s brows furrowed.

It was a strikingly handsome young man clad in the robes of the Martial Alliance.

Though smaller in stature than Pejon, he boasted a build that approached a strong frame.

He appeared to be in his thirties, just reaching adulthood.

‘What kind of eyes does he have?’

The moment my old traitor’s heart reacted to the young man’s gaze; I was seeing something akin to the look Pejon held when he met the Sword Sovereign.

It was a gaze both cold and unyielding yet paradoxically simmering with immense heat.

“What’s your name?”

The very question I had just heard him ask was reiterated.

The young man with the red eyes responded, “I, the junior, pays his respects before Pejon.”

His heavy words resonated deeply, his deep voice matching his masculine visage appropriately.

“I am Gu Cheolun, the Deputy Lord of the Blue Dragon Clan.”

Hearing the name, Pejon’s eyebrows perked up.

“Shin Ryong, if I recall correctly.”

Shin Ryong Gu Cheolun.

He was the very reason Pejon had sought to come to Hanam.

 

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