Training – Jimin
As their voices rose again, people nearby slowed and turned to look.
From the outside, Soun appeared like a young boy being scolded by his older sister.
The innocent-looking youth blinked his large eyes at the woman's sharp rebuke.
Jimin, her qi alive and flaring, seemed even fiercer.
To onlookers, it looked entirely one-sided.
"Ask anyone passing by whether this situation makes sense."
At that, a passerby clicked his tongue in disapproval.
If asked, he would surely have said no.
To them, she looked like an ill-tempered woman berating a pitiful boy.
"Anyway, you agreed."
Pressed by Jimin, Soun reluctantly nodded.
"Fine, fine."
In the end, he yielded.
He would at least provide training.
Jimin's face brightened instantly.
Her usual stern, shadowed expression softened, and when she smiled, her features blossomed.
It was a radiant beauty.
The elegance of a mature woman stood layered with the unyielding resolve of a martial artist.
Softness and strength coexisted, creating a subtle allure.
"And Young Master, there is no such thing as an armory full of secret manuals. It is all a tale invented by the jianghu. They say the Shaolin Pavilion of Sutras holds vast martial secrets. It contains only scriptures. It is exactly what it claims to be—a place to store sutras. Even if something did exist, it would not be inside this building you are looking at. I can say that with certainty."
At her words, Soun slapped his leg with a sharp sound.
"I see. Just because it is called the Imperial Armory does not mean it must be inside the palace. An armory made by the palace is an Imperial Armory. An armory within the palace is also an Imperial Armory. It could exist elsewhere. It seems the Imperial Armory is in another place, noona."
Jimin merely smiled at his reasoning.
At moments like this, Soun seemed remarkably naïve.
Worse still, he did not understand why she found his obsession troubling.
He sought not manuals, but Mo-eoja.
"There is no other place either, Young Master."
They walked slowly along the eastern wall of the palace.
Then the familiar inn attendant came running toward them, breathless.
It was almost admirable how he had guessed where to find them.
After all, they wandered this area daily.
At first, they had walked here to gauge the shifts in power.
Now, they circled the same paths searching for traces of Mo-eoja.
"Where are you off to, inn attendant?"
Soun asked lightly.
The attendant bent over, gasping for breath, words barely forming.
"The master told me to bring you at once."
He wiped sweat from his brow.
"Who? Me?"
"Yes. The master said to bring you quickly."
"Why? Is something wrong?"
The attendant glanced between them.
"A guest has arrived. An old man with a white beard—like an immortal. The master does not know how to handle him."
Jimin looked at Soun.
His eyes flickered slightly.
The sunlight beneath the palace wall suddenly felt different.
She stepped forward.
"An old man with a white beard? Wearing white robes?"
The attendant nodded.
"Yes. He looks like an immortal."
"Was he carrying a short, slender staff? Twisted wood?"
"Yes. That's right."
Jimin's gaze sharpened.
"You know him?"
"It's Elder Huanghak. He arrived faster than expected."
"He came alone?"
"Yes."
"He must have told his people to follow later and rushed ahead with lightness skill."
"You know him?"
"I have never met him. But he is famous. One of the top ten masters under heaven."
Soun searched his memory.
"Huanghak—the one who staged a protest at the Grand General's residence?"
He had heard of that.
The matter had already settled in his mind.
"That's right. You must be careful."
"What kind of person is he?"
Jimin considered.
"He has no sect. He stands alone. Perhaps he never felt the need to build power, or perhaps he never desired it. They say he wields a small concealed blade hidden in his staff."
"Not that. His temperament. His character."
She smiled faintly.
"You always ask that first. He will not try to show off before you. He likely believes he has already reached the pinnacle. Words like master, peak, attainment—they are just markers. To you, they may all seem similar. But he is different. He may stand at the very end of that path. There are few in the world who could defeat him. As for his temperament… perhaps like a child. As if rejuvenated in old age. Innocent, carefree, without obstruction in movement. A good person. But childlike enough to stir trouble."
Soun nodded seriously.
"So is that good or bad?"
"He cannot be measured by such terms."
"Then I should meet him."
"That would be best. But you promised to teach me. We cannot go now. Shall we ask him to come?"
"Tell him to send another calling card."
She snorted.
"Shall we?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Yet Soun had already turned to the attendant.
"Tell him I am currently instructing a female hero of the martial world and cannot meet at once. If he sends a calling card, I will inform him where to come. I am busy. Noona, where shall we go? We cannot train here."
Now Jimin was the one troubled.
If delayed because of her, Huanghak might take offense.
"We must go now. Otherwise, there may be consequences."
"The one in need will come. No matter how immortal he seems, his protest at the ailing Grand General's house sits poorly with me. Tell him to come to Namsan. Let us go."
This was not right.
Huanghak was not a man to be treated lightly.
His eccentric nature could spark anything.
Jimin knew it.
Yet she did not withdraw.
The promise of training bound her.
The attendant's face turned ashen.
He ran without another word.
To make a messenger suffer in order to secure one's own desire—such a person would surely be a bad one.