WeTried Translations

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Editor: Abstract

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Chapter 58: Ki-Restraining Bracelets (1)

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Ki-Restraining Bracelets (1)

Pushed back a considerable distance, Cheong Seung dropped the black iron ball he'd been holding, his palm searing with pain.

Thud!

The hand that dropped the ball was flushed red and swollen. The Tai Chi arts alone couldn't stop it and even using ‘Grafting of Flowers and Trees’ to bleed off as much force as he could, his palm still bore a wound, and something in it felt cracked.

"Hah..."

But what made Cheong Seung's mouth fall open wasn't the pain. It was the black iron ball lying on the ground. A footprint had been stamped into that solid iron. It made no sense. Black iron was an entirely different class of material from ordinary iron in durability, weight, and resilience, and yet something had done this to it. Cheong Seung looked around at the cadets on the field. Every one of them wore the same stunned expression.

'This isn't... something to let slide.'

Whoosh!

Cheong Seung threw himself into a movement skill sprint straight at Mumu.

"Master Cheong Seung!"

"We have to catch that junior, no question!"

His teammates shouted after him, and Cheong Seung answered by running harder. Seeing this, the cadets in orange uniforms on the opposing team snapped out of their daze and broke into their own sprint, unwilling to be outdone.

Watching the crowd come rushing in, Mo Il-hwa frowned.

"Hey. You should've kicked that gentler. Looks like he's mad."

"That's bad news. They're preparing for the first quarterly tournament, and if the iron wall of a goalkeeper hurt his hand, that would explain it."

At Hae Ryang's words, Jin-hyeok asked, puzzled.

"But why are the other team's players running over too?"

Just as Jin-hyeok said, both teams were charging in together. The first to reach Mumu was, naturally, Cheong Seung, who'd used the fastest movement skill.

Seeing Cheong Seung's swollen hand, Mumu scratched his head and said, sheepish.

"Ah... senior. Sorry. Did I kick it too hard?"

At that, Cheong Seung shook his head and broke into a wide grin.

"Not at all, junior. In all my years, I've never seen a kicking technique so strong and so beautiful. Have you ever played Cuju before?"

"No."

Of course he hadn't. At that answer, Cheong Seung continued as if delighted.

"Ha ha. Then this works out perfectly. Why not take this chance and join us in a game of Cuju?"

"Yeah, talent like that going to waste would be such a shame."

"That was really something."

The academy seniors who'd come with Cheong Seung praised Mumu. Watching this, Hae Ryang clicked his tongue. He'd worried they'd come to pick a fight, but they'd come running like this to recruit Mumu as a Cuju player.

"Cuju?"

"Doesn't the combination sound promising? Your incredible kicking power paired with my skill would..."

Slap!

"This one's got some real life in it."

Cheong Seung, clapping his hands together, couldn't hide his excitement.

"Huh? Life in it?"

"Ah. I slipped into an old dialect from my days in the mortal world without meaning to. It just means the best."

"...More importantly, doesn't your hand hurt?"

Caught up in the mood, Cheong Seung had forgotten his palm was injured and clapped his hands together. It stung fiercely, but he forced himself to act unbothered.

"Don't worry about th..."

"Wait a moment!"

Just then someone cut him off and shoved Cheong Seung aside.

"Huh?"

Cheong Seung, shoved off balance without warning, stumbled, and one of his teammates snapped at the newcomer, voice sharp with anger.

"Senior Young Jo. Isn't this a bit rude?"

"Ah... was it rude? Sorry. But I'm in kind of a hurry here too."

"In a hurry..."

"What's your name, junior?"

At the question from the cadet called Young Jo, Mumu scratched his head and answered.

"Mumu."

"Mumu? Right, Junior Mumu. I saw that kick just now. Best one I've ever seen."

"...Thank you."

"Don't let talent like that go to waste. Why not play Cuju with us instead? With you, I could raise the greatest Cuju player to ever succeed me..."

"What's this about being the greatest, when you've never once managed to get a kick past the goal I guard?"

Cheong Seung cut in partway through.

At that, the cadet called Young Jo raised an eyebrow.

"What was that, now?"

"I already had my eye on this junior first. Don't butt in, and step aside."

Cheong Seung's tone had sharpened, and the mood shifted at once. The two sides squared off, facing each other down. Young Jo scoffed.

"Hah. If that's how you want to play it."

The atmosphere grew even uglier at that. It looked like the two sides might come to blows any second.

'What in the world is happening here?'

Mo Il-hwa clicked her tongue inwardly at the scene. A fight was about to break out over who got to claim Mumu. Even Mumu, who'd seemed genuinely interested in Cuju moments ago, looked lost over what to do about the situation.

"Enough!"

At the sharp bark, every head turned toward the same spot. There stood a middle-aged man with drooping eyes and a mustache, hands clasped behind his back. The middle-aged man was none other than Yang Baek-jeon, Sword Master Yang, one of the masters who taught sword art at Changcheon Martial Academy. The cadets who recognized him couldn't hide their unease.

"Uh oh, Master Yang."

Yang Baek-jeon was a master every cadet dreaded. Strict about the rules and quick to hand out demerits at the slightest offense to his sensitive temperament, cadets went out of their way to avoid him.

"What's this commotion you're all raising inside the academy?"

At his question, Cheong Seung scrambled to explain.

"Master Yang. It's not what it..."

"Not what? Are you saying this master's eyes deceived him?"

"N-no, sir."

"If you don't disperse this instant, I'll mark every one of you down with a demerit."

At his warning, both sides exchanged glances, then quickly backed off from their standoff and scattered. Staying any longer meant everyone would end up with a demerit.

"See you later, junior."

Even so, Cheong Seung winked at Mumu as he left, still holding onto his recruitment ambitions to the very end. Young Jo, unwilling to be outdone, mouthed something at Mumu too, though it was impossible to make out what he was saying. Once they'd all retreated back to the Cuju field, Master Yang Baek-jeon approached Mumu's group and spoke.

"Are you all first-years?"

"Y-yes, sir!"

Jin-hyeok answered with a proper fist-and-palm salute, showing due respect. Yang Baek-jeon looked them over and said,

"Heading in this direction, you must be on your way to the lecture on Understanding Elegant Movement Skills."

"Yes, that's right."

"Then you don't need to go."

"Sir?"

"Master Ga Yu-hang, who teaches that class, has canceled today's lecture for personal reasons. I happened to be on my way to deliver that news."

'Yes!'

At this, Mo Il-hwa's lips twitched, unable to hide her delight. Without Understanding Elegant Movement Skills, today's classes were done. Master Yang Baek-jeon looked at Jin-hyeok and said,

"Good timing. Could you head to the lecture hall and pass this news along to the cadets waiting there?"

"Ah, yes sir, understood."

Simple enough. Then Yang Baek-jeon turned his gaze to Mumu.

"You are... Yu Mumu?"

"Yes, that's me."

"No class since it's canceled, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then follow me."

"Sir?"

Mumu couldn't hide his confusion at the sudden order. Yang Baek-jeon, apparently displeased with Mumu's reaction, frowned and said,

"A master of this academy tells you to follow, and you say 'sir'?"

"No, it's just, you suddenly told me to follow you."

"You'll understand once we get there."

With no other choice, Mumu had to follow him.

"Why's he taking him?"

"No idea. I don't really..."

Yang Baek-jeon's cold manner weighed on their minds. Jin-hyeok, Mo Il-hwa, and Hae Ryang, none of them understanding what was happening, could only watch and wonder if Mumu had caused some kind of trouble without their knowledge.

* * *

Mumu looked at the characters carved into the wooden plaque hanging inside the room.

[Discipline Bureau]

Just looking at it gave off a solemn, almost oppressive feeling. Yang Baek-jeon, who'd brought Mumu here, left him standing and sat down alone in a chair across from him, then said,

"Do you know why you've been brought here?"

At the question, Mumu tilted his head. He'd only come because he'd been told to follow, so was this question even fair?

"No idea."

"You don't know... hah."

Yang Baek-jeon sighed and shook his head. Then he gestured with his chin toward Mumu's sleeve and said,

"Roll up your sleeve."

"Why my sleeve?"

"When a master tells you to do something, you just do it. Why so many words?"

"..."

At that, Mumu made a slightly sullen face, stared at Yang Baek-jeon for a moment, then rolled up his right sleeve. The Ki-Restraining Bracelet on his wrist came into view. Yang Baek-jeon's eyes narrowed at the sight. Just as he'd heard, it clearly wasn't some ordinary bracelet.

"Roll up the other sleeve too."

Mumu, mindful of his adoptive father Yu Yeop-kyung's teaching that lord, master, and father were one and the same, felt it was unfair for the man to keep ordering him around without explaining why, but he complied without argument.

Shk!

Rolling up his sleeve revealed the Ki-Restraining Bracelet on his left arm as well. Once he'd confirmed it, Yang Baek-jeon pointed at the table.

"Take them off."

"Sir?"

"Those bracelets, rings, whatever you call them, on your arms. I said, take them off."

Mumu frowned at that and said,

"Is that why you called me here?"

At Mumu's question, Yang Baek-jeon's face hardened.

"Are you talking back to me right now?"

"...It's not talking back, it's just that you're telling me to take these off without explaining any reason, so I'm asking."

At Mumu's words, Yang Baek-jeon scoffed.

"There are rules at this academy. And I've heard that some brat who hasn't even trained in Martial Arts not only passed the entrance examination by relying on some artifact's power, but has been causing trouble ever since. Sounds like a story you've heard somewhere before?"

"...Whose story is that supposed to be?"

"Whose? Did you just ask whose?"

"Yes."

At that, Yang Baek-jeon glared at Mumu as if he couldn't believe his ears, his voice rising.

"I'm talking about you."

"Me?"

"That's right. Who else at this academy entered without having trained in Martial Arts at all, besides you, Yu Mumu?"

Mumu tilted his head. He'd passed the entrance examination fair and square. He had no idea what the man was talking about. Was there some rule saying you couldn't enroll without training in Martial Arts?

"It's true I haven't trained in Martial Arts, but I passed the entrance examination properly."

"Properly? Hah!"

Yang Baek-jeon clicked his tongue and continued.

"You call it proper, passing by relying on the power of some artifact?"

"...Master, you keep saying 'artifact,' artifact. What exactly are you talking about?"

"The bracelet you've got on your arm, that's what!"

"This?"

Mumu held up the Ki-Restraining Bracelet on his arm and asked.

"Hah. Look at this kid. Are you seriously playing dumb in front of a master of this academy right now?"

"...I'm not playing dumb, I'm genuinely asking because I don't know. And this isn't an artifact."

"Not an artifact, you say?"

"No. This is..."

"Are you telling me that bracelet has no strange power whatsoever?"

At the question, Mumu fell silent. If asked whether it had no strange power, that wasn't quite true. After all, it pressed down on him with tremendous weight and crushed his muscles so he couldn't unleash his full strength. Seeing Mumu's reaction, Yang Baek-jeon clicked his tongue.

"Look at this. Were you trying to play innocent and act like you didn't know, hoping to slip past this master? Pretending the thing on your arm isn't an artifact at all?"

"That's not what I'm doing."

At Mumu's words, Yang Baek-jeon slammed the table.

"This is Changcheon Martial Academy. Do you think this master will simply stand by while a cadet who came here to learn Martial Arts tries to claim results through cowardly means, relying on some artifact instead of competing fairly?"

"Cowardly means?"

"This kid is still playing dumb. Take that bracelet off this instant."

"Take it off?"

At the endless string of questions in return, Yang Baek-jeon finally lost his patience and shot up from his seat. Then he shouted at Mumu.

"Do I have to rip it off you myself before you'll take it off!"

At his shout, Mumu bowed his head slightly, his body trembling. Seeing this, Yang Baek-jeon scoffed, his tone firm and unyielding.

"Feeling sorry to lose your precious artifact, are you, but don't think that means I'll let this whole matter slide, you're sorely mista..."

Grip!

Just then Mumu grabbed both of Yang Baek-jeon's hands tightly, his face lit up with delight.

"Really?"

"What?"

What was this? Why the sudden change in attitude?

Yang Baek-jeon couldn't hide his bewilderment at Mumu's abrupt shift. Mumu, eyes shining, said to him,

"You're really going to take them off for me? Please, please take these off."

'!?'

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