“...What brings you here, Assembly Master?”
Kang Jin-Ho’s cheeks twitched ever so slightly after he took in Bang Jin-Hun’s sorry-looking appearance. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sure you can tell. I’m in the middle of my research.”
Of course Kang Jin-Ho knew that. Even so...!
“What are all these?” Kang Jin-Ho asked while scanning Bang Jin-Hun’s office.
Bang Jin-Hun shrugged his shoulders. “As you can see... They are secret manuals.”
“Huh. Mm...”
Old tomes of varying sizes and conditions were strewn about everywhere in the office. The dusty, moldy smell coming from these books, combined with the odor of ink, mercilessly stabbed Kang Jin-Ho’s olfactory senses.
Kang Jin-Ho frowned deeply. “...Are those bamboo and wooden slips?”[1]
“Yes, sir. Some people must’ve thought they were preserving antiques or something, because they have been keeping their secret manuals as-is. How nice it would’ve been if only they had copied it onto something more modern before sending it over... Tsk.”
Kang Jin-Ho could spot actual bamboo slips with ancient letters inked on the surface in this office, too. With how things were, maybe he had stumbled inside a museum by accident?
“...And you were reading these until now?” Kang Jin-Ho incredulously asked.
“Yes, sir. I was thinking of copying all these texts to a word processor, but it’s... How should I say it? Not as easy as I hoped?”
“Mm? Why not?”
Bang Jin-Hun intensely stared at Kang Jin-Ho before breaking his silence. “Assembly Master?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re fluent in Chinese, yes?”
“Well, more or less.”
“Does that mean you can type in Chinese, though?”
“...”
Of course Kang Jin-Ho couldn't do it. Well, how could he? That was something only the Chinese could do.
“After typing each and every word and converting it into Hanja... I think I’ve finally reached the state of the famed sage mode, Assembly Master. I couldn’t tell if I was trying to conceive a new martial art or slaving away as a badly-paid translator, you see? So, I decided I’d just rely on my naked eyes. It’s not like things will change for the better just because I’ve transferred everything to computer files, anyway...”
Of course Kang Jin-Ho fully sympathized with Bang Jin-Hun’s stance. He’d have reached the same decision eventually while doing this thankless job, too!
What Kang Jin-Ho found ‘odd’ in this situation wasn’t that, though!
“...I see. But what’s up with your attire, Director Bang?”
Kang Jin-Ho's gaze was firmly fixed on Bang Jin-Hun's choice of duds. Unlike his usual clothes, Bang Jin-Hun was fully kitted out in Hanbok, the traditional Korean attire. The problem with this get-up was that...
Well, since Bang Jin-Hun had a well-developed physique, which was topped off by his thuggish countenance, Kang Jin-Ho couldn't help but think that he was staring at a well-dressed bandit!
Bang Jin-Hun sheepishly explained himself. “I, uh, got this strangely insistent feeling that I should put on the appropriate attire for the occasion, you see...?”
“...Oh.” Kang Jin-Ho slowly shook his head, his expression stupefied.
‘This dude is not normal in the head, either...’
Was Kang Jin-Ho's surroundings only populated by weirdos? Or did Kang Jin-Ho subconsciously only pick weirdos to surround himself with? He couldn't figure this mystery out. However, what was the point? The end result would not change, anyway!
Kang Jin-Ho was dropping by at Bang Jin-Hun's office today to see what the situation was like before lending his assistance in this venture. And just one look was enough for him to know everything there was to know!
Kang Jin-Ho coughed to clear his throat. “So? How is it going?”
“...I’m dying here, sir.” Bang Jin-Hun groaned painfully and held his head. He must’ve thought that was a gesture of a man in deep agony, but he still looked like a mountain bandit who failed to catch a juicy prey just now.
“I’m trying my best to get this done since it needs to be done, you know? But it’s just not working out for some reason, Assembly Master. I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”
Kang Jin-Ho slowly nodded. He was not in the least surprised by that confession.
Conceiving and creating martial arts was an extraordinary challenge. If such an endeavor was easy, every random Tom, Dick, and Harry would’ve invented their own styles instead of getting beaten up by eccentric masters and taken to the cleaners by their sects in the pursuit of the so-called Dao.
Even those who had mastered what their school of martial arts had to offer couldn’t produce their own unique martial art that exceeded the best their sect could offer.
As an example... Shaolin’s history was over a thousand years long, but not a single monk claimed to have created a cultivation technique that transcended what Bodhidharma had cooked up. And it was true that no martial art surpassing Bodhidharma’s Yijin Jing had appeared until now.
“What brings you here, though?” Bang Jin-Hun asked again.
“I’m here to help you,” said Kang Jin-Ho.
“...I’m sorry?”
“I said, I’m going to help you.”
That was when Bang Jin-Hun furrowed his brows to indicate how unfair and bitter the world was before scanning Kang Jin-Ho from top to bottom.
‘Stop looking at me that way, will you?’
Kang Jin-Ho frowned slightly when Bang Jin-Hun used nothing but the light in his eyes to say, ‘Did this dude fall out of his bed this morning and hit his head? What bullsh*t is he yapping on about now?’
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