Isekai Murim In The Apocalypse

"Are you kidding me? That old man had no problem giving me one, yet not a single other person would? There has to be some kind of requirement…"

Aziel had no idea what it was, but at this point, he had no choice but to accept reality—he needed to go back to that old man.

With no other options, he retraced his steps, returning to the alleyway where they had first met. This time, he found the old man sprawled out on the ground, snoring peacefully. The sight of him lying there so carefree only deepened Aziel's irritation. After all, if not for the old man's request, he wouldn't have stumbled upon a clue to finding his way home. Annoying as it was, he couldn't bring himself to get too mad.

With a sigh, he walked over and gave the man a light nudge.

"Old man, I'm back," Aziel announced.

"Huh?" The man groggily opened one eye before sitting up. "Ah, the kid. What do you want?"

"I'm back after completing your request," Aziel replied, his forced smile barely hiding the frustration brewing beneath. A vein bulged on his forehead.

"Request? Oh, right, that. Good job, kid," the old man said nonchalantly, snatching up all the pouches in one swift motion.

However, as he counted through them individually, his expression darkened.

"I believe I told you to bring me ten pouches. Why are there only nine?" he asked, his tone sharp.

Aziel crossed his arms. "You said you wanted ten pouches from ten different people. The pouch you stole from me originally belonged to someone else. If you count that one, you have exactly ten."

The explanation didn't seem to improve the old man's mood, but after a moment of silence, he let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Very well, you pass. From now on, you're my disciple."

As grand as those words might have sounded, they did nothing to excite Aziel. He just wanted to get this over with.

"Great. Now hurry up and tell me what's next," Aziel said impatiently.

"Oh? Quite enthusiastic, aren't you?" the old man chuckled. "Follow me."

Slowly, he pushed himself off the ground and began making his way out of the alley.

"Where are we going?" Aziel asked, trailing behind.

"You'll see when we get there. But I'll say this—the money pouches you brought will be quite useful."

Aziel's eyes narrowed slightly. What kind of place needed this much money? Judging by the serious look on the old man's face, it had to be important.

As they strolled through the city, Aziel quickly noticed something odd. Though the old man was merely walking, his strides somehow matched Aziel's own, as if he were moving faster without any effort. Aziel practically had to jog just to keep up.

Where could he possibly be going in such a hurry?

After several minutes, they arrived at a part of the city Aziel had never explored before.

The entire district was bathed in crimson light, with vibrant red lanterns swaying gently from the eaves, casting flickering shadows along the narrow streets. The air was thick with the fragrance of incense, mingling with exotic perfumes that drifted lazily through the atmosphere. 

Towering buildings lined the street—some grand multi-story tea houses, others pleasure houses with elegantly dressed courtesans lounging on balconies or peering through latticed windows. The haunting melody of bamboo flutes mixed with the plucking of pipa strings, creating an enchanting, almost otherworldly ambiance.

Aziel felt uneasy.

Here and there, he caught glimpses of shadowy figures engaged in hushed conversations, their exchanges laced with secrecy. This was the red-light district—a place no boy, especially someone his age, had any business being.

Even without prior experience, he instinctively knew he didn't belong.

"Old man, are you sure we're in the right place?" he asked, glancing around warily.

"Relax, boy. We're almost there," the old man replied without a hint of concern.

Moments later, they arrived in front of an opulent establishment. From the entrance alone, it resembled a high-class restaurant, with finely decorated tables arranged neatly inside. Around the room, beautiful women attended to patrons, serving them drinks with delicate, practiced gestures.

Aziel's expression twisted into one of barely concealed judgment. His irritation only grew as he turned to face the old man.

'Are you serious? This is the reason you made me gather all those pouches?'

Before he could voice his displeasure, a tall, pale woman with long, flowing brown hair approached them. Her hair was adorned with a delicate ornament, glinting softly in the dim light.

The moment she spotted the old man, her face lit up with a warm smile.

"Master Xun, welcome back to our establishment. It's always a pleasure to see you."

"Ah, Peng Wei, the pleasure is mine," the old man—Xun—responded smoothly.

Her gaze shifted to Aziel, studying him curiously. "I see you've brought someone with you this time?"

"Yes," Xun said before pausing. He blinked, then turned toward Aziel with an expectant look. "Ah… what was your name again?"

Aziel's eye twitched. A second vein bulged on his forehead.

They had spent all this time together, and the old man still hadn't bothered to learn his name?

"Aziel," he muttered through clenched teeth, exhaling sharply. "That's my name."

"Aziel, huh? That's a rather unusual name," Peng Wei mused, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Also, disciple? I didn't know you were a martial artist, Master Xun! That's amazing."

Xun chuckled and scratched the back of his head, struggling to hide the blush creeping onto his face. "Well, it's nothing that impressive…"

Aziel shot him a scowl, unimpressed by his flustered reaction. She was clearly just buttering him up because he was a regular.

Rolling his eyes, Aziel crossed his arms as the two continued their idle conversation. Eventually, Peng Wei led them deeper into the establishment, guiding them through lavishly decorated halls before bringing them to a private room.