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Chapter 37

“Shinwoo, what happened?”

“Master! What happened?”

“I don’t know, Lehu. It seems to be going smoothly for now?”

“Can you explain how that works?”

“Master, I also ask for your guidance!”

The next day.

Hyeji and Jeong Ahyeon rushed at me like a pack of wolves.

I had nothing to fear, so I briefly recounted what happened in the professor’s meeting.

However, I was a bit vague about any topics related to coats.

Hyeji knew what my coat was, but Jeong Ahyeon had no idea.

As I finished speaking, the two were deep in thought.

“Well, that’s how it is.”

“So Shinwoo, what abilities did you awaken?”

“I don’t know. How would I know that?”

Meanwhile, numbers above Hyeji’s and Jeong Ahyeon’s heads began to rise.

Two mirror fragments appeared at the same time.

I couldn’t grasp the principle behind it.

[It seems that the future fragments are created based on your physical distance from them.]

‘So if I’m close, they appear, and if I’m far, they don’t, right?’

[Yes, but the range is not very large.]

‘Well, since I’m a melee type, it doesn’t really matter. It’s a bit of a bummer that they don’t appear from a distance.’

I guess it was because I was a shooting idiot who focused entirely on close combat.

‘They say they now teach shooting and coding at taekwondo academies—should’ve gotten early education!’

[Can you manage it with your head?]

‘Facts have no piercing, you f*ck!’

Just then, Hyeji spoke to me again.

“Shinwoo, then what do you plan to register your ability as?”

“I heard they just label it as physical enhancement?”

“Will that even fly? Hunters naturally enhance their bodies.”

“I think so too.”

“I don’t know. They pay me to say that, so I gotta deliver on my salary.”

The government was definitely going to reject that.

How could one only have physical enhancement without even knowing what their ability is?

It’s like saying a Middle Eastern guy wearing AirPods is a refugee!

Just right on cue, the classroom door creaked open.

There was space by the classroom door for several people to pass without a problem.

But it didn’t seem to be the case for the man entering through that door.

He barely made it in, hunched over as if he took up most of the space.

I wondered who it was.

The person who entered was an elderly man.

But not just any elderly man, he seemed extraordinary.

Tattered dobok. Muscles bursting at the seams. Countless large and small scars embroidered like art on his body.

Disheveled white hair. A long white beard hanging beneath his chin. A sun-kissed skin.

From just that, I could guess that his life was anything but easy.

Most importantly, his sharp eyes belied the term “old man.”

He shot glances that seemed like they could pierce through anything.

Amidst the pressure, everyone fell silent as he slowly made his way to the podium.

Just walking.

But every move of his made us shrink back in fear, like herbivores trembling before a carnivore.

Moreover, there was another curious point.

Even as that massive body moved, there was absolutely no sound coming from his feet.

Moving as if walking on air without a sound.

The pressure that enveloped everything didn’t match the serious mode of Professor Kang-hyuk, but it was enough to keep us on edge.

[That’s quite a massive person. Is it correct to say he’s human?]

‘He looks like a high-level pro, but what’s he doing in this idiot academy?’

As I thought about how idiotic the academy was, I glanced at Hyeji and Jeong Ahyeon.

Hyeji had this look, “What kind of animal is that?” and aside from that, she seemed unfazed as usual.

However, Jeong Ahyeon was a little different.

Her eyes sparkled brighter than ever.

Like a fan meeting her idol.

Before I knew it, the old man had silently arrived at the podium.

He looked around the classroom and started to speak.

“Nice to meet you. I am Kang Jin.”

There was no reaction; only silence filled the classroom.

Quiet glances passed among the students as if asking, “Who is that?”

However, the next words shattered the silence.

“I am known as Cheonma (Heavenly Demon) to the world.”

That was enough to stir a commotion in the classroom.

“Why is the top hunter, Cheonma, here!”

“Mom, I met Cheonma today!”

“Hey, when did Cheonma become a man?”

“You idiot! Cheonma has always been a man from the start!”

“That’s really Cheonma! He’s not a figurine!”

I was also curious why Cheonma had come.

Moreover, a male Cheonma in an era where the name had become a vulgar joke?

[Oh, so Cheonma really exists even in this day and age.]

‘For your information, in this age, all Cheonma are female. The views are third-rate.’

[Don’t talk nonsense!!! The ‘Cheon’ in Cheonma means heaven (天), not ‘cheap’ (賤)!!!]

‘If you don’t believe it, why not just search “Nopia” right now?’

“Cheonma! What brings you here?”

One student, unable to hold back bubbling curiosity, shouted a question.

At that, a small smile spread across Cheonma’s face.

As if he had been waiting for that question.

“I am here today as a substitute for my distant relative, Professor Pilyong.”

Cheonma introduced himself as a distant relative of Professor Pilyong.

I distinctly remembered that Professor Pilyong had a pretty impressive physique.

[There’s quite a difference in hair density though.]

‘Looks like Professor Pilyong lacks internal energy.’

“And,”

Cheonma cleared his throat and suddenly eyes glinting with fierceness began to shine.

Just that alone filled everyone with fear.

A mix of awe and trepidation toward Cheonma reflected in everyone’s gaze.

Cheonma’s mouth slowly opened.

“I’ve come to see the lowly creature that has brutally defeated a martial artist.”

An unexpected declaration.

I was confused.

‘Who could have defeated a martial artist?’

[If not you, then who else could it be?]

‘Oh f*ck, it was me.’

In that silence, no one responded.

Might feeling a discontent with this situation, Cheonma growled fiercely.

“Speak up, who is it?”

Then fierce gazes pierced my back.

I didn’t know it was possible to feel so much heat from stares!

Meanwhile, Hyeji beside me showed me a worried expression.

Jeong Ahyeon had that look like, “Here we go.”

Overwhelmed by countless stares, I sighed and finally spoke.

“It’s me.”

“Is it you?”

Cheonma turned his gaze toward me.

Since my mouth was open, I wanted to ask what he wanted.

“So what’s going on?”

“Pathetic.”

Out of nowhere, I felt annoyed.

[So it’s going to be intense from the start, huh?]

‘It’s the first time I’ve seen this f*cker, and he’s already getting worked up?’

Regardless of my feelings, Cheonma kept babbling away.

“How dare a piece of trash like you embarrass martial artists and bring disgrace to the learning environment!”

“I’m just saying, the other guy started it.”

I was quite confident.

After all, it was the idiots who started it!

I definitely had no faults!

“Shiljang Kwonbeob.”

“Oh, f*ck.”

That was my fault.

[Looks like karma has caught up with me.]

‘It’s Chapter 13, you shouldn’t expect me to remember everything.’

Jeong Ahyeon beside me looked at me with schadenfreude.

At the same time, the pressure from Cheonma began to focus solely on me.

The pressure that had been spread throughout the classroom now concentrated entirely on me.

“Seeing you lose to a piece of trash like this means the honor of martial artists has fallen to the ground.”

“Are martial artists who get beaten 25 times a row even martial artists? They’re just punchbags.”

“Hm. Now that I see, you at least have the basics.”

“Why are you bringing back what’s already settled? Are you here to fight me or what?”

Showing off my superiority, Cheonma laughed mockingly.

Of course.

“Heh. You’re not even worth fighting.”

“Then please get on with the class.”

That laugh cracked quickly.

“How dare you act like a student?”

“No, if you’re here as a guest professor, you gotta do your job. You don’t get paid to slack off! Is that how Cheonmas act nowadays?”

“Cheonmas? There is only one Cheonma in this world.”

Although he called himself Cheonma, he seemed to be clueless about it.

I decided to enlighten him.

“How many Cheonmas are there? Furthermore, nowadays it’s all about female Cheonmas. Look at you, you’re clearly a man, how dare you call yourself a Cheonma?”

“Go!!!!!!!!!!!!”

[I like pink Cheonma.]

‘But I still prefer black hair.’

As expected of a distant relative of Professor Pilyong, Cheonma had veins bulging on his forehead.

Of course, there were differences too.

His enraged muscles made quite a statement.

Professor Pilyong couldn’t reach that level.

Because of Cheonma’s appearance, all the students except for Jeong Ahyeon involuntarily recoiled.

Even though the threat wasn’t directed toward them.

“How dare you look upon Cheonma with such disdain?”

“An incredibly strong person that no one can defeat.”

Upon hearing my answer, Cheonma took a moment to calm down and went “Hmm.”

Then he said, “That’s a good answer. Then tell me, what is the Clerical Festival that allowed you to call me Cheonma?”

“Cheonma Death Beam.”

The satisfaction didn’t last long.

[Is it not the Cheonma Mirror Ball?]

‘That was a move by cut-off dear. It’s not a signature move.’

At that moment, the number above Cheonma’s head went up by one.

A mirror fragment appeared at the same time.

It must’ve been created because of the short distance.

As I looked into that mirror fragment, I saw Cheonma shooting a Death Beam at ‘me’.

A direct hit to ‘my’ face with Cheonma Death Beam!

[That’ll probably kill me if I get hit.]

‘This bastard is really trying to murder me.’

As I came back to reality, I immediately tilted my head to the side.

Just then, Cheonma’s Death Beam penetrated my chair’s backrest, and the number above Cheonma’s head went up by one.

“Wow. You dodged that?”

“No, f*ck, were you actually trying to kill me? And for real, that’s a Death Beam.”

“Go!!! That’s Qi Energy released from my fingertips!”

In an instant, I was on the verge of life and death, and now I felt no fear whatsoever.

My heart was filled with just two things.

Anger and f*cked-up feelings.

“I said it before, but the idea that Cheonma is a man is ridiculous.”

“Fine. I want to address that too.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve recently discovered something called the internet.”

“The internet, huh.”

[Looks like you are older than me but can’t pronounce properly.]

‘You’re gonna bring age into this? Talk about a lack of conscience!’

As I noticed his increasingly poor pronunciation, I unwittingly spoke out.

“Why is your pronunciation off? Are you preparing to pass away?”

“Go!!!! I’m still in prime condition!!!!”

“If you need help, I can get dentures for you. But out of conscience, I’ll avoid offering standard ones.”

Cheonma gritted his teeth and continued.

“In any case, I was trying to see how great the Cheonma is on there, and the world was very strange.”

“……Wait, you seriously searched?”

“I tremble in rage every time I see those swindlers claiming to be Cheonmas.”

It seemed like he was truly enraged, as veins were bulging on his trembling fists.

“Those useless beings claim to be Cheonmas through cooking, sorcery, parenting, and blacksmithing!”

“Well, those are all men. This isn’t a platform, so please go elsewhere.”

“Go!!!! Recently, there are women with pink hair or those who flaunt their lower bodies, declaring they are Cheonmas.”

“That’s the current trend.”

Therefore, he hadn’t raised his voice too high yet.

As if this much was still acceptable.

However, the next statement echoed like a lion’s roar throughout the classroom.

“Even green monsters or plants, and women using sorcery while not even being martial artists, they’re calling this the end times!!!”

“Well, why are you searching for that? By the way, to protect your mental health, it’s essential to avoid searching for yourself.”

In the first place, searching one’s ego is madness.

Many authors end up falling into curses because of it!

Once again, it’s genuinely a crazy thing to do.

“It’s truly lamentable.”

“You understand, right? So I only acknowledge one male Cheonma.”

“Are you talking about yourself?”

“No, compared to the true Cheonma, you are nothing.”

Cheonma grew more furious than ever.

It seemed he didn’t want to admit he was fake.

“Who is that!!!”

“Michael Jackson.”

I confidently proclaimed that name.

Michael Jackson is indeed a Cheonma.

Upon hearing this, Cheonma chuckled.

“Is that the last straw? That foreign boy is the Cheonma?”

“……What?”

He laughed mockingly.

At that moment, my anger soared.

[…Are you okay?]

‘Is this bastard insane? How dare you insult Michael Jackson, you f*ck?’

My escalating rage surpassed the threshold and began paralyzing my reason.

Unaware of my state, Cheonma continued to speak contemptuously.

“How can such a lowly being be so great—”

I cut him off and shouted:

“Go(喝)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


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