Chapter 8: In Which I Accidentally Break a School Legend and Attract a Pack of Ninjas
Let me be clear: I didn't mean to break Queen.
Not in the "oops, I dropped a vase" way, or even the "I borrowed your notes and accidentally aced the test you studied all week for" way.
I mean emotionally and physically broke her, in front of a crowd, in the middle of the Wild's High gymnasium, while wearing nothing more than standard-issue training gear and a look of mild concentration.
The room was dead silent, except for Queen's ragged breathing echoing off the gym walls. She was sprawled across the mat like someone had just unplugged her battery and stolen her will to fight.
And yeah... I was the one holding the metaphorical plug.
Dal Dal and Moon Young looked like they'd just seen a live kaiju stomp through downtown Seoul and politely bow on its way out. Their eyes were wide, mouths slightly open, brains clearly buffering the scene.
Queen—the undefeated juggernaut of Wild's High—hadn't just lost.
She got Steamrolled. Overrun. Turned into a tutorial level.
And the one who'd done it?
Me.
Song Jae Gu.
Your friendly neighborhood transfer student.
Now, before you start throwing tomatoes and calling me an arrogant meathead—let me explain. I'm not some genetically modified super-soldier. I just trained like a lunatic, meditated harder than a monk with anxiety, and maybe… maybe was reborn with the mind of a thirty-four-year-old martial arts freak. That tends to help with muscle memory.
Still, seeing Queen—a girl who could probably bench press a truck and punch holes through walls—on her knees was not exactly the highlight I was hoping for today.
Then again, if I didn't show my full strength, they'd keep underestimating me. And I was getting real tired of the "You're just a pretty boy who stumbled in here" looks.
"Do you still want to continue?" I asked, offering her a hand.
She looked up at me like I was the final boss of her arc. Then, she smiled—a real one, not the smug, sarcastic type. And in that moment, I realized something rare had just happened.
I'd earned her respect.
That made the fifteen minutes of her trying to chop me in half totally worth it.
She took my hand, stood up with the grace of someone who just lost a fight but not her pride, and I could see the spark in her eyes.
She wasn't done with me.
Not by a long shot.
After the match, things got... weird.
Clapping echoed through the gym. I turned and spotted Lee Na, the undisputed empress of Wild's League. She was staring at me like I had just solved world hunger using only chopsticks and raw determination.
"Wonderful display, Mister Song," she said smoothly, like she hadn't just watched her school's golden girl get clapped like a mosquito.
Her words were calm, but her eyes? They had the kind of gleam you see in a tiger right before it decides you'd make a decent lunch.
"Please follow me. We will discuss your future with us."
Oh boy. When the head honcho says "discuss your future," it's either a scholarship offer or a secret underground training program involving death matches and dramatic backstories.
I nodded, wiped sweat from my brow—and then Dal Dal launched at me.
"Darling, you were so awesome!" she squealed, already armed with a towel and about ten pounds of enthusiasm. "Let me help you!"
And help she did—wiping my arms, face, and a few places that definitely weren't sweaty.
Now, I'm not made of stone.
I may be spiritually thirty-four, but biologically? Still a seventeen-year-old dude with working hormones. So I let her fuss over me while Moon Young hovered nearby, quieter, more careful, handing me water like I might evaporate if I didn't hydrate fast enough.
The two girls looked at me like I was some kind of mythical beast—half martial artist, half mystery, and all mayhem.
And then came the real kicker:
The Wild Guards.
These weren't your average gym rats.
They weren't here for tournaments or trophies.
They were real fighters—bodyguards of billionaires, experts in practical combat, the kind of people who practiced breaking bones like others practiced violin.
They were next.
Lee Na was leading me to meet them.
And honestly?
I couldn't wait.
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Lee Na led me through the school like a general marching me to the war council. Her heels clicked against the tile floor like they had something to prove. I followed, posture straight, sweat still drying on my skin, trying to look a lot more confident than I felt.
Not that I wasn't confident. I mean, come on—Power of Youth and all that.
But walking into Charles' office? That felt different.
It was like stepping into the lion's den, except the lion wore a three-piece suit and had the resources to buy a small country.
Charles looked up the moment we entered. He didn't offer a handshake. He didn't need to. The dude radiated charisma and danger like some anime version of Bruce Wayne.
"Mister Song," Lee Na began, standing tall beside me like she hadn't just seen me punch her top student into a coma. "We've reviewed your background thoroughly."
I didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just nodded.
"We've concluded that you're a prodigy. One of the rarest of your kind. Your level of skill is impossible for someone your age."
I smirked. "It's the result of the power of youth, sweat, and hard work. Add a little talent to the mix, and here we are."
Okay, maybe the smirk was unnecessary. But if you train for ten hours a day since you're old enough to walk, and you've had a taijutsu master who can outrun bullets? You earn the right to smirk.
Besides, let's be honest: Charles was fishing for something.
Sure enough, he reeled in his next line.
"Song Jae Gu," he said, eyes glinting like a Bond villain who'd just spotted the new 007, "have you ever heard of Ki?"
Bam. There it was.
I paused for one heartbeat, enough to make it look like I was considering the weight of the question, not the lie I was about to tell.
Ki. The so-called "life force" martial artists in this world loved to brag about. Move faster, hit harder, jump higher.
Cute stuff, really.
But I wasn't using Ki.
I was using Chakra. The real deal. The ancient flow of spiritual and physical energy combined into a force that could shatter mountains. I wasn't going to explain the difference. That'd be like giving calculus lessons to a goldfish.
So instead, I gave him a smile that said, I know more than I'm saying.
"Of course. All top-class warriors use Ki," I replied. And because I'm not above a little drama, I added, "And I use it."
Lee Na twitched. Just slightly. But I caught it.
Charles, meanwhile, looked like a kid who'd found a dragon egg under his Christmas tree.
"You're right," he said, holding up a hand. A faint glow shimmered across his palm like he was holding bottled sunlight. "Ki is the foundation of all true martial artists."
Then, like we were suddenly in storytime mode, he added, "Unlike you, I had no martial arts background. But I met a master… through a chance encounter. He helped me awaken my Ki. Though I needed medicine."
He smiled meaningfully. "You… did not."
I didn't respond. Mostly because what could I say?
Yes, sir, I trained under the green beast of Konoha himself, Might Gai. No, you've never heard of him. Yes, I can do pushups with my pinky fingers while dodging kunai.
Not helpful.
So I stayed quiet and let the air stretch. It worked. He motioned for me to sit, and I did.
"I know you must have a lot of questions," Charles said.
Yeah. Like: Why does this school keep putting me in rooms where the walls feel like they have ears?
But I nodded.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table like we were about to make a deal.
"I built this school to help young women become stronger. Not just physically. But in every way. A place where they can stand above society's expectations."
I believed him. Mostly.
But then he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like a teenager who'd just confessed to accidentally setting the school microwave on fire.
"Of course… there was an unexpected side effect."
He grinned.
"All of them ended up single."
Lee Na glared so hard I thought the walls might melt.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the laugh from escaping.
"Ahem. Moving on," Charles coughed. "Among these girls, I found true potential. Women who could surpass human limitations."
The Wild Guards.
Just hearing their name made the air shift.
These weren't high school students. They were gladiators. Elite fighters trained with one purpose—win or break trying.
"And now," Charles said, "you're going to face them."
Ah. So that's what this was about.
Testing me.
I leaned back, eyes narrowed. "And?"
Charles grinned, like he'd been waiting for me to ask that exact question.
"What do you want from me?"
His answer?
Simple.
Dead serious.
"You," he said, "are too strong to just remain a student."
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Okay, let me paint the scene for you.
Imagine walking into a room that looks like someone shoved a dojo into a billionaire's office. Cherrywood desk. Samurai armor in the corner. Air so thick with testosterone, I swear it probably had a beard.
That's Charles.
The guy in charge of Wild's High.
And currently, the man sitting across from me with the calm of a Zen monk and the smile of someone about to tell me I just accidentally enrolled in a fight club run by ninjas.
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers like he was plotting world domination. "Now, Ki isn't my personal project or something I created," he began.
Right. Because that would've been normal.
"It's ancient. There are clans, hidden organizations—masters who've honed this power for centuries."
He said it like we were talking about a historical artifact.
But my brain? It was lighting up like a Christmas tree on overdrive.
Murim.
A secret world of martial artists, assassins, and mystical Ki-users. Basically Hogwarts, if Hogwarts were run by Bruce Lee and every class was Advanced Neck Snapping 101.
"The masters of old," Charles continued, "they chose to separate from the public. Said being around normies would stagnate our development."
He waved around the office. "And look—tech's exploded. Medicine's advanced. So maybe they were right."
He looked at me, sharp and serious.
"It's now law. No spreading knowledge of Murim. No public power use. And if you break those rules—"
His voice dropped like a hammer.
"Consequences are severe."
Great. So the hidden world came with a do not talk about hidden world clause. Classic.
I gave a dry chuckle. "So what, was this whole chat just bait to get me to spill something?"
Charles smirked like a cat that just set a mousetrap. "Of course not."
Yeah, and I'm the Tooth Fairy.
I gave him a look that basically said: Bro. Please.
He laughed—because apparently, tricking martial artists into revealing themselves was his version of fun.
"The Murim Association," he added, tone shifting again. "They monitor everything. Work with governments. Eyes everywhere."
Oh. Fantastic. Big Brother just got a black belt.
"And if you're caught?"
He went on.
"If it's small, maybe you get a slap on the wrist. Or an invite to the Association."
Then his voice went ice-cold.
"But if you leak secrets?"
Yeah. You guessed it.
"Death penalty."
I didn't flinch. I'd seen worse.
But part of me was like, Note to self: never get caught explaining Ki in a YouTube tutorial.
Charles leaned forward, eyes gleaming now with that recruiter at a military school glint.
"But enough doom and gloom," he said. "Murim is also a place of glory. Legends. Warriors. Immortals of combat."
He stood up suddenly, the kind of move that says pay attention or get drop-kicked.
He extended a hand toward me like we were sealing a blood pact or joining a kung fu boy band.
"Song Jae Gu," he said, voice filled with pride and promise.
"Do you wish to become… a Wild Guard?"
Cue dramatic music.
Cue inner turmoil.
Cue me seriously wondering how I went from "trying to pay tuition" to "getting drafted into the Mortal Kombat Olympics."
But my fists?
They were already clenched.
Because deep down, I knew one thing:
I was born to fight.
And this?
This was just the beginning.