Chapter 32: The Incomplete Path

In the evaluation records for temporary instructors, the administrator’s eyes widened in shock as they reviewed the scores submitted by students.

“You got a perfect score!”

“???”

“This is the highest score we’ve ever recorded at our academy, only once achieved before! What kind of class did you teach to get such satisfaction from the trainees?”

Unlike the excited administrator, the person who had set this new record remained unfazed.

[The lecture is done now, right?]

“Oh, yes. Today’s payment will be transferred to the account you provided, and you’ll also receive a bonus due to the high evaluation score.”

[Then, I’ll be on my way.]

“Wait, but you didn’t provide any contact information! When will your next class be so we can coordinate the schedule…”

[I’m not interested.]

The scene had flipped. Where the academy had once been lukewarm, the administrator was now eagerly trying to hold on, but Haeeung’s lack of enthusiasm was evident. Next to them, Joo Ahyoung chuckled at the sight and linked her arm through her sister’s.

“Let’s head out, unnie.”

“W-Wait… oh no, the director will scold me for this.”

While the administrator looked on helplessly, the two walked out, heading down the street together.

“How did you find teaching today?”

[Are you asking for honesty?]

“Of course!”

[I was disappointed.]

“In what way?”

[The trainees’ skills, the other instructors’ teachings, and the overly luxurious facilities—everything.]

At first, she had held some expectations, curious to see the depth of modern instruction. But the reality was a disappointment.

[Student. What was that awkward movement just now?]

“It’s the activation stance for the assist action.”

[What do you mean by ‘assist action’?]

“Don’t tell me you don’t know, instructor? You obviously need to take an assist action to trigger a skill.”

[You mean they rely on external force even for a simple diagonal slash?]

They were all basic moves that should come entirely from the practitioner’s own intent, but these students used the “skills” taught to them as a crutch. Their stances, balance, and strength—everything was poorly executed.

[It was third-rate swordsmanship.]

The forms and stances were there, but instead of a path that could lead to enlightenment, they left students with bad habits and broken techniques. And yet, these students paid a hefty fee to learn it.

“That’s exactly why I wanted you to come and teach here, unnie. I wasn’t satisfied with it either.”

[You must have endured quite a bit.]

“Hehe. I knew you’d understand.”

[Have you thought of quitting?]

“I do think about it sometimes, but it’s not just a martial arts academy. If you don’t go through one of these academies, it’s almost impossible to awaken.”

The monster threat invading humanity from the Gates—the Awakened were the only real defense. And these academies that created Awakened fighters made people pay dearly for their chance.

‘It’s all nonsense.’

Even in the martial world, where money could shape what a disciple would learn, their status, and how they’d grow within their order, opportunities were extended even to those without means. Those who showed potential were offered more advanced training and a fair chance to succeed as martial artists. This was a universal minimum across sects.

‘Ahyoung is different. Not because she follows me, but because she genuinely has talent.’

Not just digging aimlessly, Joo Ahyoung had worked in the right direction, building a disciplined body through rigorous training. In a cesspool full of unqualified pretenders—what might as well be called the “Assist Faction”—she was one of the few competent ones.

“I do think I’m on the right path, but the academy and instructors keep telling me I’m wrong. Lately, it’s really shaken my confidence.”

[Leave that academy. Training there will only set you back.]

In a place where incompetents ruled, anyone with real skill was deemed abnormal. This academy wasn’t right for Joo Ahyoung, especially considering how most Awakening academies were tied to regional guilds. This one, in particular, was closely associated with the Myeongho Guild.

[Do you really want to stay and end up associated with the Myeongho Guild?]

“No, I really don’t… but I can’t see another path to becoming an Awakener.”

This was her dilemma: she’d already invested years into her goal. It would take courage to abandon it now.

‘I hope she finds that courage.’

Helping someone take that first step requires courage, and for both Ahyoung and Haeeung, they still had a step to go.

“A mute instructor is actually useful?”

“Here are the records from the virtual training session, Mr. Steven. Please review them.”

Presented by the academy’s Education Planning Team, these records covered a virtual reality capsule session. It featured no “assist actions”—the so-called “corrective techniques”—on which modern Awakeners’ combat skills were built. Instead, the lesson was structured purely around authentic martial arts principles.

Rather than drilling skill-motions for future use, the trainees received individualized basic swordsmanship corrections directly from Haeeung herself. After the class, the trainees’ average training level in the simulator showed a remarkable 2.3-level increase, compared to the mere 0.015-level increment seen in Steven’s classes.

“That’s purely coincidental! Without skill-motions, this style of swordsmanship is useless in the long run!”

“The Education Planning Team does not agree. In fact, we’re planning a thorough evaluation of the effectiveness of your own classes, Mr. Steven.”

Watching the video, Steven felt a pang of alarm. This was true swordsmanship, crafted from fundamentals—not the patched-together, skill-movement hacks he relied on. Haeeung’s instruction not only demonstrated the techniques but adapted the stances according to each trainee’s physique, skill, and growth potential, laying the groundwork for an individualized approach.

The trainees’ gazes sparkled with respect for her as they followed her guidance, while her own expression occasionally flickered with faint disappointment.

“As you can see, Ms. Haeeung still has much to teach the trainees. We’re even considering a formal offer for her as a full instructor.”

“And what do you expect me to do about that?”

“We need you to prepare a curriculum capable of raising the training levels by at least one level within the next week. This directive comes directly from the Myeongho Guild.”

“!!”

“I trust that’s clear.”

Steven left the planning office, face flushed with anger.

“She’s not some insignificant woman after all. I brought a snake into my own nest with my own hands.”

Despite not involving complex skill motions or practicing specific triggers necessary for skill activation, Haeeung’s teaching method proved effective. Steven now had two options: he could either adopt the improvements suggested by the Education Planning Team or attempt to eliminate his new rival, Haeeung. It was obvious which path seemed easier.

“Michael, this is Steven. Can I borrow a few of your guys?”

A dangerous glint flickered in Steven’s eyes.

While Haeeung was somewhat disheartened by her students’ limitations, she was reminded of her own days as a disciple of the Haenam Sect. The reverent glances and respectful greetings of the trainees brought back memories.

‘I was inexperienced once too.’

She hadn’t started out skilled; in fact, she struggled with her own body, constantly tripping over herself as she adjusted to the “feminine” gait expected of her, a clumsy beginner in every sense. Blaming the trainees, who hadn’t chosen to be poorly trained, seemed unfair. The fault lay with the Awakening academy’s deficient instruction.

“Wow! Ms. Haeeung, are you heading out for lunch?”

“Oh my gosh, it’s really Ms. Haeeung!”

“Eek! I’m so excited! Could you sign something for me?”

Even a week after her class, she still had to adjust to being surrounded by trainees acting like they’d just met a celebrity.

“The stance you taught me is amazing. I never knew my body could achieve such a posture!”

“Yeah, it’s so much more comfortable than those wide, rigid stances we used to practice.”

“I… I really enjoy it when you make adjustments. Your guidance is so reassuring.”

Feeling uneasy with the attention, Haeeung noticed the strange glances from passersby.

“Amazing posture? Comfortable fit? Enjoys the adjustments?”

“Oh my!”

“What’s going on? What kind of class did this beautiful instructor just finish with these girls?”

“You mind keeping your eyes to yourself, or do you want to walk home alone?”

“I mean, are you not even a little curious?”

The boyfriend’s wandering eyes earned him a jab in the ribs, but even his girlfriend, after glaring at Haeeung, couldn’t help but admire her. She’s really pretty…

“Hey! Stop poking me.”

“I’m annoyed!”

One couple seemed on the verge of breaking up over the scene, but no one looked as upset as Joo Ahyoung, whose rare alone time with her mentor was under siege.

“Sorry, but Ms. Haeeung and I already have plans. We’ll be going now.”

“Hey, wait…”

“What’s with her? Why does she get to leave with Ms. Haeeung?”

As Joo Ahyoung pulled Haeeung away from the group of excited trainees, she glanced apologetically at her mentor.

“I’m sorry, unnie. It seems like more and more people are noticing you because of my request. This must be annoying.”

[It’s fine.]

“But I know you don’t enjoy being in the spotlight.”

Though her attire was conspicuous, Haeeung still felt the need to reassure her visibly remorseful disciple.

[Really, it’s okay. Even without the academy, people tend to recognize me.]

“People recognize you? From where? Why?”

As Haeeung had been spending her days in peaceful respite, free from her usual training, she’d noticed the increasing intensity of stares whenever she ventured out with Ahyoung.

Her keen hearing picked up snippets of conversation directed at her.

• “Isn’t that the Silent Swordsman?”
• “Wow, the quality is insane!”
• “At this point, isn’t it basically her?”
• “What’s a Silent Swordsman, you nerd?”
• “Come on, don’t just go to the Awakening Academy—watch some streams too. Don’t you know about the Silent Swordsman?”

It wasn’t a misunderstanding.

People were discussing her game character.

Even someone as oblivious as she could grasp that much.

[It seems I set a record in the competitive content.]

“Wait, what?”

[In racing games, there’s a mode where you can race against a ghost silhouette of your best time.]

“Wow. You have that much talent in gaming?”

[I didn’t know either, but it seems like it.]

Unfortunately, the Silent Swordsman’s awareness was only partially effective. Given that the live streams were shorter than the ongoing long-term content, the focus of discussions had shifted more toward the “Chasing the Silent Swordsman” aspect.

Most of what she heard revolved around chasing the Silent Swordsman and the competitive records associated with it. The fact that her top score was shared in ghost mode among other players had contributed to her notoriety, but that had become a misconception rooted in a gaming culture from two decades prior, circa 2030.

She was a returnee who had fallen behind the times, unaware that the concept of auto-streaming had emerged long ago.