Five days had passed as Il San busied himself with matters of import regarding his new student. Only one day to a full week where he noticed that the familiar actions of sitting at his desk in his study, writing up training regimen and dietary needs for a student, was surprisingly easy to get back into. Though slightly untrue, he believed to have been rather idle for the past years. He had thought that throughout the decades, his awareness of such things would have begun to diminish, mostly due to his lack of drive to reestablish another tutelage, and the disappointment of his students; but he was proven wrong. Doubts, however, took a bigger blame on his idle habits.

Ever since the move to the outskirts of Janln City, in the Distant Jade, he hadn't touched anything related to the Divine Art or his plans for revenge against the Prince of Yerek, Malakim (Marak) Hanhal. Invitations to events in the Noble Ward and the Royal Palace had always been dealt with by Spear, and the most he had had as an event were birthday celebrations Spear insisted to hold in the estate. Something or other about making sure some wrinkled bastards not forgetting his mighty existence and getting full of themselves. He never paid any heed to the boy’s grumblings, so he went along with the cumbersome event if only to see some of his friends. Likewise, the new intel on the damnable Prince had been gathering dust in his drawer, none of them deciphered, read, or confirmed. None had to be due to his plans having been put to a stop because of his likewise execrable students.

No, they weren't his students anymore. The ignorant, useless, and damnable to the depth of the Underworld’s hell. Il San sighed in frustration. He didn't know, rather, never knew, how to feel about their actions when putting aside his subjective opinions. Could he blame them at all? The subconscious answer would be; no. He couldn't, truly he couldn't. It especially wasn't easy to do when moments like the one he was in, sprung up every now and then. Moments he got to himself, and his mind took him back to where he came from. A reminder he could do without, but his aging mind never paid attention to his needs when the past was involved. It had been a life outside of, what he believed to be, the delusional comfort of the Distant Jade.

When his students had learned of the vengeance against the Prince, the fools, the lot of them! had decisively run away. No shred of shame, duty, or, as unnecessary as it may seem, pride! But, he knew he used this as an excuse for his anger. The fact was, they had already planned to book it a long time ago. He always had an inkling that they had known about who he was against. He couldn't blame them, who in their right mind would simply agree to go against the ruling family just for the sake of it, and simply because an old man taught them some ‘exclusive’ Art and getting revenge his payment for the lessons? No one; well, no sane person; and Il San hadn't wanted them to be sane either. Just peculiar enough to go along with his ploy, just smart enough to outsmart the princeling, and just strong enough, through the deathly training he put them through, to not have anyone stand in their way.

Well, they had become all that and more. The dishonorable lot! He believed they got to know about the Prince’s involvement when they began to cause havoc wherever they could. Way before he had time to tell them. In the beginning, when they started to fight each other, he summed it up as them being competitive brats. Challenging themselves was better for their growth. However, the fighting went on even as they made their own way out of his wing and branched out to their paths. He had been baffled, but since they had been so diligent, he planted the idea that it was a ploy from them to get attention from the Royals or get close to the Royals. He had even watched on in interest, constantly following up on them. And, foolishly, foolishly! offered aid when they got into tight spots. It turned out that, when they began their fights against each other, it had more to do with setting some nonsensical records amongst themselves, and in turn, gathering information about the outside world and, subsequently, running away.

Taking calming breaths, Il San made a mental note to throw Spear out of the estate. When the boy had come back after his little adventures, Il San had let him back in and deceived himself that he at least got one student in the works. But as time went by; nothing. The boy had integrated himself so much into his life that it simply became redundant to cast him away. In any case, his punishment was rather easy to deal. His grumbling and devastated faces he made when his businesses failed always put Il San in a good mood, and why wouldn’t they when he pulled some of the strings for the successes and failures? He had to admit though, Spear was very resourceful, probably the most well connected among the five, and as he grew, he learned to tighten his grip in his works. The current failure he suffered surprised Il San himself, but he knew that the sneaky fox would handle it. But wanting to butter him up for more money, was it? Hah!

He hoped the new one would be better, no, he would make him better. He wouldn’t make the same mistake he did with the others; giving them freedom and be as uninvolved. As he had planned for the five’s growth of strength, he had convinced himself that it was better for them to cultivate the will to go against the Prince. He would then provide the chance no matter how minuscule; and that chance would have been very small, to fight the Prince. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Step by step he would mold Gin into a worthy avenger. He wouldn’t rival the prince, but he would be able to give him pause. Just enough for him to handle the finishing blow. That part was his to claim and none else.

To this point, Il San thought of the conversation he had with young Gin. He had told him that he hadn't brought him into this on a whim, and he had deliberated on it, long and hard. All those things were true. From his perspective, Gin was the right fit in his plans. Ever since the young boy had come to give his blessings on some of his birthday celebrations, the boy's presence had persisted in his mind. He knew it was his greed that made him pay attention. It was his mind, and plans back to a wall, already worming the idea of having Gin as his avenger and nailing it down as his final decision. He also knew it would work well, especially when his parents had come to ask for the boy to wait for them at his estate for a time. If this was not the heavens showing me the signs, he had said, I don't know what is.

He had had his apprehension on telling the boy’s parents, he knew they wouldn't have made it easy for him, and rightly so. However, if he started from the ground up, it would be easier to convince them, the boy being the start and the end of the matter. He did want to chide himself on this, but his resolve kept him from it, far from it. A world's difference would indeed be the case if he didn't go ahead with his plan. A world he planned to make a little better, even through his selfish, selfish goals.

A knock got Il San out of his brooding. Exhaling through his nose, he let the tension his body built slip. “Come in.”

Not wasting time, the door was opened, and in stepped Spear. The boy’s amiable air was suppressed by annoyance, vivid, and unhinged. It had been rare to see such expressions on him, but these days he wore them on his sleeve. Il San felt a flicker of amusement from the sight.

“Master, your guest is here. She will be arriving in the Reception Hall soon,” Spear bowed, then straightened to deliver the news.

Grunting, Il San passed by Spear without a word and was out the door in long strides. Exiting, he stepped into his library, though compact, it held a vast selection of materials all related to the Fighting Arts, and the hidden gems of collections extensively covering the Divinity under the School of Martial Arts. It was his prized possession. The lengthy wooden windows shared the same shade of dark brown as the shelves. The larger books were mostly bound in leather, but what filled the shelves were scrolls that were bagged in silk pieces individually. A small wooden bench by the windows was accompanied by a table with two padded stools. The few collections of books had actually been authored by the Master himself and distributed to the School of Martial Art’s library in the Royal Palace. Silently appreciating the sight, as he always did, Il San expertly turned two corners created by the shelves and got further away from his secluded study. Soon, he left the library with Spear closely following behind him.

On that day, he had invited an old friend, a highly regarded Clergy of the Palace and the University of Divinity. She was dedicated to the works and had been a fierce opponent to Il San in his training years. If the Divination hadn’t played their folly on her, she would have been a great ally to have. But, alas… The two of them had an interesting relationship of disturbing one another twice a month with what Il San chided as useless visits. It annoyed the both of them, but it's what had kept them close friends over the years. He also had to appreciate the efforts she made to get time for him in her busy schedule, especially in regards to getting away from the Palace since it was a hard fit of its own.

As Il San got near the Reception Hall, Spear took long quick strides for the screen door and slid it open for him. Entering, Il San was greeted with the well-paced activities of servants while they filled the table with various snacks and refreshments. They were her favorite pastime meals and she wouldn’t entertain a visit unless they were there. A long time ago, he had tried to not offer her any snacks and she had decisively left. When he had told her she had overreacted, she glared at him while asking if he would have spent even a second longer in the Arts if the Fighting Arts were nonexistent. It was a long stretch, but Il San had gotten the message loud and clear. Il San sighed as he gazed at the table, he himself couldn't eat anything else other than what she wanted him to eat when she was there. It was a sacrifice he had to make, as usual.

Feeling a gloomy existence behind him, Il San cast a glance at Spear. He had yet to leave as he stared dispassionately at the table. A pained expression was deepened on the lad’s face. Il San always wondered what was so great about money to have a usually uninterested block like Spear disregard his well-built facades. He never understood it, and he had decided never to. However, as long as he could use that to quell his wrath, he could say it worked out well nonetheless. Ignoring Spear, Il San went to the table for a cursory inspection, and he noted that there were new items he had never seen or tasted before. He wondered if he would like any of them as sugar and he were the worst kind of enemies. As he did so, he heard Spear bid him a good time with his guest, the door sliding shut again, and the boy left in what Il San bet was in dejection.

°°

It didn’t take long for the Clergy to arrive. A crude voice traveling to Il San's ear was all the indication he needed, and he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. Without much delay, a woman with a strong physique passed through the threshold of the Hall’s door by the aid of a servant. She had on an artistically girded light shawl made of linen, a tunic that was visible from her freed right arm and neck and decorated by vibrant colored borders. The border decoration at her neck covered it whole, only having a winged opening at the center that ran down to her collarbone.

What she had on was the normal grab of the Clergy, but it was also the go-to fashion for the population of the Capital's Noble Ward and Royal Palace. The only difference being that the University restricted the color of their clothing to the different shades of the jade minerals. The other parts of Yerek tended to prefer loose and ungirdled robes that flowed loosely to their sides, or layered robes held by broader sashes, and most made from cotton or hemp. On occasion, silk girded robes were worn and tended to fit closely on the body, and heavily decorated with geometric patterns from simple shapes to embroidery. However, the south tended to have these sort of grab as their common wear, and on top fitted with heavier articles to prevent the cold during the night time or when the cold seasons got much, much colder.

"Ridiculous! An old foggy like you never changes. It’s the same old fart face," Mali spoke even more crudely than her voice sounded. She stepped to one chair and unceremoniously plopped on it. She took the loose part of her draped shawl and raised it to her shoulder tacking it in to expose her left arm. “To all the hells! This place gets hotter and hotter as the years pass! Why did you even leave the North, old fogey? It made for a longer trip and, sure, it was much warmer when it wanted to be, but the atmosphere was better! Made me want to come to visit you, can you imagine that?”

Il San pulled an annoyed expression. He solemnly ignored the woman and went to sit at the table as well. Her complaints were not that different, just her name-calling which changed vastly per visit. He could attest to the fact that her vocabulary used to define him kept growing, ever unlimited. The ignored person, Mali, though, scoffed at the unresponsive Il San. However, the moment her eyes turned to the table, her expression quickly became the complete opposite of Il San. The snacks had successfully stolen all her attention. Il San's quietness was but a distant matter altogether then.

"Haha! I have to ask, how do you make Spear open his dusty pouch to buy these things? I bet he wants to strangle and drag me outside for a beating right this moment," Mali cackled in evil pleasure.

Yes, the reason for these snacks was to make Spear feel like horse crap. Would Spear have any objections when his Master agreed to the request? Of course not. Il San made sure to make the most out of this, and so did Mali who made sure to order the best and expensive snacks at all times when she visited him. Although it seemed like she did it to get the free food, Il San had always wondered if she had her own slightly more sensible reasons besides pettiness. Il San, on the other hand, did it for other motives, more deplorable motives, but important nonetheless. Keeping this in mind, the reason why Mali visited at least twice a month was because of the free snacks, and rarely would she miss the chance for a visit.

Il San watched on as Mali washed her hands on the delicate basin and started picking the snacks and savoring them one by one. He hadn’t deigned her with a response since none was needed. In truth though, there was a part of Il San that kept wondering, if Mali was just petty and a cheap foodie, he then needed to question their friendship. Did she come to quench his boredom or to eat?

Snorting, Il San couldn't help but ask, "Why do you have to act like the King doesn't feed you people?" It was not a new question between the two, but it was one question that tapped her sourest spot.

Mali gave an icy look to Il San. "Feed? Feed what? Endless scrolls? The dust in those suffocating Workrooms? Ha! I'll pretend I didn't hear anything!"

Just like so.

With a wave, she continued to eat, but she also went on venting her feelings. She felt that her life was too unfair. To which, even Il San had to agree. To be awakened as a Crafter had been a disaster among disasters for Mali. Ahead of all her candidates, mastered the Fighting Arts with an ease that made a naturally stoic person like Il San envious, and even before she had gone through the Night of Immersion the King had had her eye on her; that was Mali Hanbari. Everyone had expected her to be Mali the Warrior, to be put in the Hall of Divinity Warriors at the School of Martial Arts for the great things they were sure she would have achieved.

She had truly had it all, only for the Awakening of her Divinity to throw all that off the rails, and Mali the Crafter rose from her blood, sweat, and tears. Il San could only grunt in response. At some point in their lives, his only thought was, what's new? It was very normal for her to start the conversation with updates on her miserable life.

As miserable as her life was, maybe the gods really did know what they were doing. The way she picked up the Fighting Arts, was the same way she easily picked up the Crafting Arts. Through her efforts, efforts she had bitterly professed to put in to serve her Nation, she had contributed to the advancement in weapons development for the School of Martial Arts. This had been greatly ignored due to the necessity of greater weapons being deemed unnecessary, and the bulk of the research done in the University was on the application of the Divine Art to the body and its enhancement.

The key topics holding priority were, the current method of absorption still being too ‘crude’, so an objective was set to create a method more suitable than that of inhalation. A more effective method was necessary in order to gather the most of the gods’ stone. The second focus was, the dwindling collection of gods’ stones. A way to apply the Divine Art in the body with the use of one stone to either two individuals or more was crucial. If not this, then recreate the gods’ stone via man-made methods to not halt the continuation of the Art to future generations. These topics were indeed of import and rarely did anyone venture out of these aspects, but they had several negatives that plagued their success as much as the positives. Nonetheless, these, and much more, captured the focus of those from the School of Craft in the Divinity Research Department ruled over by the Divinity Court; or as they liked to call themselves, Divinities Revelations.

At the end of it all, Mali had found her way to the Hall of Divinity Warriors, an accomplishment she never knew she would have gotten outside the battlefield. Those in the Noble Ward and the Royal Palace knew to show respect where she appeared, and the King did take a greater liking to her. Only a liking and not a council, of course, since Mali tended to be clipped when she handled matters with the person who was the reason for her working to her very bones. When finished with her tirade, Mali opted for another topic:

"So, it's very strange that you call me to visit you earlier than planned. What would be the problem?" Mali asked, curiosity written all over her face.

"Yes, I have a new disciple now-"

"A what?! A new disciple? You?! What did this person do to ensnare your attention? Aiya, I feel so sorry for the brat. Mm, this is too good I say, what is this new snack? I've never seen it. Ah, and this kahawa is very good as usual, mm, lovely."

Scratch the clipped attitude for those that annoyed her. She behaved much the same to everyone, her outwards guarded appearance would deceive many until she talked and told you exactly what she thought of you. Il San could only sigh and went on, "So, I'll not have time to spare for our meetings-"

"No, I think that doesn't make sense. You can definitely make time for me to visit. All you have to do is give the brat some stones to lift as we are entertained by their misery. Haha!"

Yes, she also loved to hijack the conversation. When asked why she did so, she responded with the explanation of her easily forgetting what she wanted to say. Better out than in, it's better than not remembering your response, ai, especially for something important.

Il San ignored her again and went on, "I'll be focusing on him for a couple of months so you should focus on your work-"

"Il..." The seriousness in Mali's voice stopped Il San short, and the annoyance he felt from the interruption dashed aside as the jovial air she had reduced fully. "Don't tell me you are still looking for someone to carry out your revenge? After all this time..."

Il San frowned, but answered the query with undisputed conviction, "I will do it. That is that."

Another old tale, Mali could easily be described as Il Sans closest confidant, but also his least supportive. She believed his endeavors against the Prince to be futile. Il San understood her worries, understood her judgment as well. He would be foolish not to, she was very capable in her judgments and she knew where a line should be drawn. She tried time and again to convince Il San to draw his line where they were. But why would Il San do so? It was either his death or the princeling.

"What happens when they decide that they will follow their seniors?" Mali lifted an eyebrow. To Mali, this was a true concern. She had been with Il San through it all and had been just, if not more, baffled at his students’ antics. It was the main reason she tortured Spear with the snacks and other things, she would have done much the same to the others, but unfortunately, Spear was just the easiest of the four to access.

"He wouldn't dare," Il San said with strong conviction. Before Mali could speak further, Il San decided to redirect her attention, "Have there been any new updates about the Art?"