“Aigoo... I’m dying...”
Bang Jin-Hun sagged into the couch.
‘Why the hell was that so tiring?’
Even if live streaming took a lot out of the streamer, Bang Jin-Hun was a martial artist. Even non-martial artists could record nonstop for twenty-four hours straight, so it made no sense for Bang Jin-Hun to feel this exhausted.
‘At least, that’s what logic says, but...’
It felt like he had just finished a three-days-long intense training session. His body felt heavier than a ton of lead.
“T-Tae-Hun... How about a cup of... coffee...”
Bang Jin-Hun scanned his office to look for his disciple, only to clamp his mouth shut. He could see Cheon Tae-Hun sagging on the office’s desk.
‘Am I looking at a squid or a person?’
Cheon Tae-Hun sagging lifelessly like that reminded Bang Jin-Hun of a freshly killed squid on display. However, if Cheon Tae-Hun was left alone for a little bit longer, he might really switch his species to an actual octopus!
“Kkeuh-euuuh...”
Cheon Tae-Hun pushed himself off the desk like a stiff zombie. His joints noisily creaked to protest against the attempts to move his body.
“D-did you say... coffee, master?”
“No, don't worry about it, man,” Bang Jin-Hun muttered, then shook his head to dissuade his disciple. Even he had some semblance of morals left. Ordering a kid who was practically half-dead to brew some coffee seemed like a cruel joke. “Forget about coffee and come sit over here.”
Cheon Tae-Hun dragged his unmoving feet toward the couches and plopped down on one.
Bang Jin-Hun watched his disciple sag into the cushion, then sighed loudly. “Okay, so... We don’t have to do another livestream for a while, right?”
“Yes, sir,” said Cheon Tae-Hun. However, he decided to omit the follow-up sentence.
‘...As long as we don’t have to offer supplementary lessons, that is.’
However, would things stay that way?
Bang Jin-Hun hadn't seen his performance yet. However, if he did, he'd go absolutely mental with foam bubbling from his mouth and demand that they either shoot supplementary videos or just reshoot everything from the beginning!
It wasn't as if Bang Jin-Hun was passionate about capturing the perfect footage. However, if a lecture was filmed sloppily, shouldn't he strive to fix that? Or, at the very least, add supplementary lessons?
“I haven’t done anything major, so why am I so pooped out?” Bang Jin-Hun groaned while using his sleeve to wipe away the beads of sweat still forming on his forehead. Even though the stream had ended a while ago, his nervousness didn’t want to let up at all.
“Those f*cking bastards...” Cheon Tae-Hun growled. He was also riled up, although it was for a good reason.
Bang Jin-Hun had no idea since he wasn't watching the monitors, but all those damn balloons popping up in the latter half of the stream must've severely interfered with the lecture.
Cheon Tae-Hun should have systematically blocked the viewers' ability to gift balloons before the stream began, but his lack of experience meant he didn't know how.
“Insane bastards... You got enough money to throw around, huh? Is that it?!”
Even though Cheon Tae-Hun growled unhappily, he knew he shouldn't be surprised by the younger-generation martial artists' robust financial situation.
These Assembly members lived most of their lives holed up in this nameless mountainside, their sole focus on improving their cultivation. That might not sound all that extraordinary, but when their monthly 'salary' was added on top...
Yes, the amount received each month by a martial artist in their early-to-mid twenties couldn’t be all that high, but it was still a lot compared to their peers out in the surface world who had expenses such as university tuition fees to worry about.
Most people broke their backs trying to make enough money to live, yet these younger-generation martial artists saw their bank accounts continue to swell month after month, even though all they did was diligently cultivate.
No wonder they had enough money to throw around as they wished. To make matters even more complicated, these martial artists were told repeatedly to be frugal from a young age. Which meant they were also not very good at the art of spending money, either!
Cheon Tae-Hun glanced at Bang Jin-Hun. “...By the way, master. Do you mind if I ask you something that I think is weird?”
“What is it?”
“Why do the Assembly's older experts obsessively emphasize being frugal and saving money?”
“That’s because they were dirt-poor.”
“...I’m sorry?”
Bang Jin-Hun calmly repeated himself. “Because they were poor, man.”
Bang Jin-Hun noticed the stupefied look on his disciple’s face and smirked softly. “Why would they keep telling people to be stingy if they were rich? It’s because they needed money but never had enough.”
“But, sir. Don’t we have enough now...?”
“Well, yeah. These days we do.”
It was true that the Assembly’s martial artists were financially well-off. This was one of the motivating factors for the younger generation to cultivate their butts off. That was because the odds of succeeding in the martial world and making enough money to live in comfort were so much higher than in the surface world.
“But that wasn't always the story in the past, you know?” Bang Jin-Hun tutted softly. “Think about it. Where would martial artists make money from in the old days? Back when people openly walked around with weapons and cut heads off for fun, strength was the only thing that mattered, right? If you have the strength, you can also have all the power in the world. And money will naturally fall on your lap, too. But did you forget what era came before our current one?”
“...It was the Joseon dynasty.”
“Yup, that one. I hear it was really tough to make a living as a martial artist in those days. If they caught you walking around with a sword, the whole platoon of law enforcers would supposedly chase after you.”
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