5: Germlin.

The Geumgangsan people were kind of insane. As a man of few words, Minho evidently found it easier to show Jisung around than to respond to the ten thousand questions Jisung had brewing in his brain. As a result, Jisung was bored to the brim.

Of course, he was willing to follow the morals of another era. He did not want to be thrown into a lake for his unethical behaviour. But the Lee clan, as stated before, was sort of insane.

As if the three thousand rules and gender segregation were not enough, their enforcement of those rules was out of control. Not only did there exist a discipline paddle, but it was not the most common form of physical punishment. They had the disciples stand on their hands.

Like, upside-down. While copying the rules.

They passed a group of red-faced teenagers serving their punishment, and Jisung was speechless because the sight was so bizarre.

Wandering around the beautiful courtyards he could pretend like he was actually visiting a set of some period drama. Something about romance, immortals, and serious danger. Perhaps something that was made somewhere other than the United States, where there would likely be a lot of graphic scenes.

It was only natural for his thoughts to wander slightly to that, given how elegant and stunningly beautiful everyone around him was. It did not help that everyone is so repressed here, either.

That train of thought vanished without a trace as they passed what appeared to be a class of the Lee clan kids practising sword fights, with an older disciple correcting their poses and giving directions, and Jisung could not stop himself from cooing with delight.

Minho scolded Jisung for being a distraction after seeing the kids' wide-eyed, flustered expressions.

So everything about swords, magic, and talismans was cool. There were other things to consider.

Minho was quite popular around here. Now, it was clear from the start that the guy was insanely good at self-control, from the way he held that posture perfectly and walked with no wasted movement to the way he rarely opened his mouth, and when he did, it was with the gravity of an emergency announcement.

But outside the room, it seemed like he was unreachable. Untouchable. An emperor who walked among the peasants, greeting them with a nod whenever a disciple passed by, and bowing in an expressly reverent manner to their Master Lee Minho, arms circled and eyes cast.

Jisung had to keep his mouth shut out of respect. He wasn’t good with hierarchies and this place was a social nightmare for him.

He guessed the hierarchy: elders and the main family, to which Minho belonged, followed by other cultivators, and finally non-cultivators and one time/dimension-traveller.

His luck was in that it was indeed the seemingly highly esteemed Lee Minho by his side. Regardless of how loud he was or how many too fast steps he took, none of the Lee disciples did anything but stare at him, mouths slightly open.

No one dared to criticise Minho Hagwan’s guest.

“Do not disturb others,” the man reminded quite coldly after Jisung had managed to fluster a disciple.

Who could blame him! The young man had not spared Jisung a glance when greeting Minho, so Jisung had walked into his personal space to offer his own greetings with a bright smile. The guy had left swiftly after a red-faced, stuttered answer.

“How am I disturbing them, Minho?” His grin widened. “Wasn’t I just being polite?”

“Jisung acts familiarly,” Minho replied, not giving an inch. The strict propriety was giving Jisung the creeps.

“I would personally call it friendly.”

“Maybe Jisung should not be so friendly, then.”

“Ah, ah, ah! In the rules rock, there was a rule about being nice to people. Jisung retaliated, taking pleasure in the twitch in Minho's mouth as it moved downward.

He had seen the rules etched in stone near the entrance a few times by now, but he had somehow missed them the first night he was there. It is a terrifying thing. It was kind of funny when he considered going up there and carving his own rules.

After a while, it appeared that Minho was not going to respond at all.

“Come on, Minho. I do not think my greeting was particularly friendly. Do you know that in my world, many people will greet each other by shaking hands?" He carefully examined Minho's profile, which showed no sign of having even heard him. "In some places, people kiss each other on the cheeks. Twice, maybe even three times."

“Is that what Jisung wants to do?” Minho asked, abrupt.

"It seems like a very sophisticated thing for me to do," Jisung gave a reply, but his gaze was not on him.

"Frivolous," was the scornful response, but Jisung had already started to sprint toward what was obviously a practice area. Under a tree, a variety of swords and bows were arranged, most likely anticipating the start of a lesson.

Jisung's eyes were drawn to a freshly polished black-hilted sword, transporting him back to his happier childhood days. His brother, Jeongin wiping sweat off his forehead with a sleeve, Felix on the sidelines smiling at them, eyes twinkling. Jisung was smiling, but there was a burn of tension in his legs and arms.

“Minho, Minho, won’t you fight with me?”

Jisung dashed to grab the sword and tested its weight. It felt good in his hands. He swung a little, enjoying the fact that his muscles remembered exactly where he had left off in the past.

"It is not wise," Minho said, watching his movements with caution. "My golden core gives me a clear advantage."

Jisung guessed that it was not all about the magic thing. Jisung assumed Minho was a sword genius based on the way he had been treated with such respect and admiration, as well as his status as a high-class cultivator.

Despite this, he gave the other a challenging smirk, his eyes gleaming.

“Ah, Minho! Forget about the golden core.”

“Jisung has fought with a sword before?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

Minho paused for a moment as he assessed him. Jisung's smile widened slightly, but he refused to back down from his stare, and Minho nodded after a while.

He took the sword from its scabbard, elegant and white, just like the man himself.

Minho did not warn Jisung before attacking, but he did not need one. He had spent his entire childhood fighting Jeongin in their private gym, which was one of the few pastimes his adoptive family had allowed them to engage in.

His adoptive parents hated that Jisung was so good at it and have defeated their son Jeongin.

When Jisung parried with ease, Minho's eyes did not show loathing. It was possibly a surprise, or something more pleasant.

"No need to go easy on me." Jisung said with a laugh.

Minho responded with another attack, and Jisung had to work hard to dodge this time. Jisung took a step back, Minho followed easily. An unseized opportunity resulted from a detour, as Hanguang-jun was swift—possibly quicker than Jisung, if not faster. He responded to Minho's swings with some of his own, giving as strongly as he took.

He hadn’t fought with a sword in over a year. Not after getting kicked out by his adoptive parents when his brothers were away.

Minho was-- he was insanely good. Better than anyone Jisung had ever fought with. He was so confident in his abilities that he had once believed no one could be like that. So immature.

Minho didn’t even seem to sweat. As though all of the graceful parries, swings, and swirling was effortless. Like he had also learned to fight before doing anything else. And then Jisung got mischievous, as he often did.

With a quick swerve he managed to change directions mid-move, and instead of moving away from Minho, he was suddenly in Minho’s personal space, kissing the air next to his cheek.

Minho’s eyes– in a fraction of a second Jisung managed to glance at him– were widened. Then, almost in a panic, he saw the sword swing instinctively out of the corner of his eye. Without even noticing, Jisung's own sword moved to block it, but the angle was strange. He was sent flying.

Like, seriously flying. As in, he collided with a tree, and air was forced out of him. The sword had slipped out of his hands, and for a while, Jisung saw nothing but stars.

“Jisung!”

Minho's voice could almost be described as scared. Jisung felt nothing but back pain and dizziness at first, but then strong hands slid into the small of his back and behind his head.

Strange sensation as if electricity was easing the pain where Minho was touching him. He sighed with relief, blinking away the stars and noticing the frown on the handsome face before him.

"Ouch," he said, despite the fact that the pain had almost completely subsided. The frown deepened.

"Jisung." Minho's voice sounded odd. "You mentioned that in your world, there are no cultivators."

It was a little difficult to think because Minho’s hands were still on him, doing that weird fuzzy thing. Still, Jisung nodded. “Yeah. There are no demons or monsters either, so everything is fine.

Minho's expression was once again unreadable. "We should visit brother."

“Sure, why?”

“Jisung. You have a golden core.”

Jisung snorted, but Minho's face remained serious. Jisung blinked. “I….wait, what? I have a what now?”
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Why isn't anyone checking out the story even with daily- without fail- updates? :')