Chapter 314

I stared blankly at the scene before me.

The spacious room had been reduced to a wasteland. Amid the wreckage stood two young men facing each other. No—three, if I counted the middle-aged man whose face had gone deathly pale.

What am I looking at here?

The answer came quickly.

What else? The same sight I saw practically every day.

An argument and a fight. At this point, I was starting to think they were essential virtues for any martial artist.

After taking stock of the situation, I muttered, “You’ve really laid out a full-course feast.”

Baek Museong quietly lowered his sword and gave me an awkward smile.

“You came.”

“You told me to come, so here I am. Now I already want to leave.”

“It’s been a long time. But where are the others…?”

His gaze swept over my shoulder. He couldn’t possibly be looking for Gung Gibang or Hyuk Mujin. He was obviously searching for the Martial Uncle who was the bane of his existence.

But Cheongpung and the rest of the Bermuda Triangle had vanished without a trace.

I thought they were following me quietly.

Please, just don’t cause any trouble.

I rubbed between my eyebrows. Never mind the Bermuda trio—the immediate problem was right in front of me.

“Is that what matters right now? Is causing trouble a Huashan specialty?”

“There was a minor complication.”

“You don’t need to explain. Anyone can see that.”

Suppressing a click of my tongue, I looked at the young bastard facing Baek Museong.

Sharp eyes and a shovel chin. Every young prodigy I’d met around here had been handsome or beautiful, which had left me feeling relatively deprived. But this guy was on the ugly side, so I immediately felt a certain kinship with him.

“Hello.”

They said you couldn’t spit in a smiling face.

The bastard responded to my friendly greeting.

“Get lost. A beggar like you has no place here.”

I turned to Baek Museong.

“Young Hero Baek, who the fuck is this bastard?”

“He is Hyuk Sopyung, the Zhongnan One Dragon.”

“This bastard is a dragon too? Why the hell are there so many dragons?”

“He is known throughout the martial world as the Zhongnan Sect’s greatest prodigy and one of the Ten Dragons and Phoenixes.”

“He looks more like an earthworm.”

An ugly bastard with an ugly personality. That pissed me off twice as much.

At my mutter, Hyuk Sopyung’s eyebrows shot up.

“Well, look at this son of a bitch…”

“Better than being worse than a dog. And think carefully before you swing that sword. This is the greatest crisis of your life.”

Hyuk Sopyung’s hand twitched. The blade that had been inching toward me stopped and slowly lowered. He looked me up and down with blazing eyes.

“You’re no ordinary man.”

“Yep. I’m pretty extraordinary.”

“I thought you were merely a hide peddler… But then again, Huashan’s Lone Crane wouldn’t bother with someone like that.”

“Unlike you, Baek Museong gives everyone the time of day. And look at these beautiful muscles. Do you think you can build muscles like this by selling hides?”

Admittedly, I looked like a mess.

I had charged straight ahead for more than seven days and nights without stopping at an inn even once. My hair was slick with oil, and the martial uniform that had once been clean had long since become coated in dust.

The finishing touch was the wooden pack frame piled high with hides. Jeok Cheongang’s small figure was hidden inside it.

Looking shabby is one thing, but I do smell a little.

It was about time I washed.

Hyuk Sopyung glared at me as I pressed my nose to my uniform and sniffed.

“Stop fooling around and state your sect and name.”

“God, it’s always ‘sect this, sect that’ with you people. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“I can promise you one thing. Unless you belong to the Nine Sects and One Gang or the Five Great Families, you won’t walk out of here in one piece.”

“Really?”

I made a show of shuddering.

“What am I going to do? My sect belongs to neither the Nine Sects and One Gang nor the Five Great Families. Can’t you just let me walk out anyway?”

“You should have watched your mouth. Remember that your paltry three-inch tongue has placed both you and your sect in danger.”

“My sect is actually in a bit of trouble already. There are only two of us, including me.”

“Two?”

“Yep. My Master and me. That’s it.”

A sneer tugged at Hyuk Sopyung’s lips as he turned to Baek Museong.

“To think you would waste your time on some nobody from a Third Rate sect. You must have far too much time on your hands. Wouldn’t you be better off spending it practicing your martial arts?”

“I’m not so sure. I believe there are several problems with what you just said.”

Baek Museong continued with a pleasant smile.

“First, Jin Taekyung’s sect is not Third Rate, nor is he a nobody. Second, you are one step beneath me. That has remained true from the day we first met until now.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said you are one step beneath me. Seeing you cause a drunken disturbance like this, I suspect that will remain true in the future as well.”

His lips were smiling, but his eyes were not.

There was something in Baek Museong’s gaze that had nothing to do with martial arts.

The aura—or perhaps the dignity—that belonged to him as a person.

That seemed to be part of the reason Hyuk Sopyung could only grind his teeth without daring to answer.

And people like him always try to settle things with their fists when they run out of words.

Just like now.

The tip of Hyuk Sopyung’s sword trembled. Before he could make his move, I spoke.

“I’m pretty sure I already warned you. Think carefully before you swing that sword.”

Whoosh.

Hyuk Sopyung whipped his head toward me, his eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

“You…”

“I believe all things are equal, so I don’t usually split hairs over this stuff. But you should be grateful you’re a Disciple of the Zhongnan Sect. If you weren’t, you’d already have been carried out of here.”

Dark Heaven was gathering like a storm cloud in the distance.

At a time like this, when the Murim needed to unite just to stand a chance, starting a dispute with the Zhongnan Sect was obviously a terrible idea.

Though it might already be a little late for that.

I already had bad blood with the Zhongnan Sect.

As Three Hands of Zhongnan—and as the Roaring Fury Swordsman.

Old Master thoroughly thrashed him and sent him packing a year ago.

The Roaring Fury Swordsman wasn’t some nameless nobody rolling around in the street. He was an Elder of the Zhongnan Sect and the Senior Brother of the Sect Leader, the Wind-and-Cloud Sword Lord. From what I’d heard, the fallout had been considerable.

Apparently, the Roaring Fury Swordsman had entered secluded training for some reason, while the Three Hands of Zhongnan had been slapped by their Sect Leader.

That’s already a perfectly good grudge. There’s no need to take it any further.

The smell of the oil Jeok Cheongang had poured all over the Zhongnan Sect hadn’t even faded yet. I had no desire to set it on fire.

Especially not while Jeok Cheongang was unconscious.

“So put your sword away and go quietly. Okay?”

Good job. This is how you become an adult.

It was such a calm response that I wanted to praise myself.

But Hyuk Sopyung, the Zhongnan One Dragon, disagreed.

His teeth ground together, and his eyes flashed.

“Then let’s see whether your skills can match that mouth of yours.”

Hissssss!

The sword in Hyuk Sopyung’s hand tore through the air at blinding speed.

At the same moment, a net of Sword Energy swept toward me.

It was the same martial art that the Roaring Fury Swordsman, Song Il, had unleashed a year ago.

Heavenly River Thirty-Six Swords.

The Zhongnan Sect’s signature technique.

Jeok Cheongang had told me that once someone reached the ultimate level of the Heavenly River Thirty-Six Swords, a single swing could fill heaven and earth in every direction with Sword Energy.

But…

“You know what?”

Whoosh!

Flamefire Path.

The Fire Gate Clan’s signature movement technique, passed down for hundreds of years, became a single streak of flame.

I tore through the net of Sword Energy and reached my target without hesitation. Staring into Hyuk Sopyung’s wide eyes, I whispered, “You and I are on completely different levels.”

“……!”

Hiss—grab!

Hyuk Sopyung hurriedly altered his sword’s path, but I caught him by the wrist.

The Extreme Yang qi concentrated in my hand made a sizzling sound as his flesh burned.

“Gaaah!”

A single scream burst from his lips.

The sword slipped from Hyuk Sopyung’s grasp and rolled across the floor with a metallic clatter.

Before it could even hit the ground, my palm connected with his cheek.

Smack!

Once more.

Smack!

And one more time.

Smack!

Hyuk Sopyung staggered after taking three slaps without the slightest chance to resist.

Even without putting any internal energy into the blows, my physical abilities had long since surpassed human limits. His eyes were already half-unfocused, as though his soul had fled his body.

“What was it you said earlier? You wanted to see whether my skills could match my mouth?”

“Ghh… Ghhhhh…”

“Listen, you idiot. If you’re from the Zhongnan Sect, then I’m from the physical school. Next time, choose where you’re going to lie down before you stretch out your legs. Got it?”

Tap, tap.

I patted Hyuk Sopyung’s cheek. Only then did his eyes finally regain their focus.

“H-how could you overcome the Heavenly River Thirty-Six Swords at seven-tenths mastery so easily…?”

“You’ve only mastered seven-tenths of it? No wonder it felt so half-assed. Get it to at least nine-tenths before you come at me again. I’ve already faced it once, so the result will probably be the same, but still.”

“You’ve faced the Heavenly River Thirty-Six Swords at n-nine-tenths mastery?”

“I have. I even dodged it.”

“That’s impossible! Fewer than five people in our sect have reached nine-tenths mastery!”

“I’m talking about one of those five. I heard he’s one of the top three masters in Zhongnan.”

I let out a quiet laugh and continued.

“The Roaring Fury Swordsman, Song Il. I wonder how the old man is doing these days. He didn’t look too well when he was humiliated and sent packing last year.”

That was answer enough.

Hyuk Sopyung was a Direct Disciple of Zhongnan’s main lineage, as well as the man called the sect’s greatest prodigy. There was no way an insider wouldn’t know a rumor that had even reached outsiders.

Hyuk Sopyung’s bloodshot eyes widened, and his body began to tremble.

“Then could you be…?”

“About what I said regarding my sect—every word was true. It isn’t one of the Nine Sects and One Gang, and its only members are my Master and me. I don’t know what possessed them to make the sect rules that way, but with only one successor per generation and a ban on teaching the unworthy, they’re damn strict.”

“The Fire Gate Clan…!”

“Disciples! There are two of them!”

“Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi—you’re Jin Taekyung!”

“Jin Taekyung! That’s right!”

I yanked him closer by the collar and shouted. Hyuk Sopyung’s face turned deathly pale.

After watching his expression for a moment, I grinned and gave his crumpled collar a few brisk pats.

“You know what our Master’s temper is like, right? Let’s end this here without any hard feelings. What was the phrase? Right. Let’s bury this matter forever.”

“……”

“Strange. No answer. Maybe you’ll be able to hear me after about ten slaps.”

I slowly raised my palm.

Hyuk Sopyung flinched reflexively and clenched his teeth.

“I… understand.”

“Hm? What was that? I can’t quite hear the voice of a loser who’s only mastered seven-tenths of the Heavenly River Thirty-Six Swords.”

“……I said I understand.”

“Good. Watch yourself on the way out. I won’t see you off.”

Crack.

The bones in Hyuk Sopyung’s tightly clenched fist creaked.

After glaring one last time at me, Baek Museong, and the middle-aged martial artist whose identity I didn’t know, he strode toward the door of the private annex.

Just as he was about to leave, Baek Museong spoke.

“I’m reminded of a boy I met at a Huashan–Zhongnan gathering ten years ago.”

“……!”

“Take care, Sopyung.”

Hyuk Sopyung froze at Baek Museong’s calm voice. Then he left the private annex without another word.

Hyuk Sopyung’s presence receded into the distance.

At the same time, someone began creeping toward us.

“Come out.”

At my words, someone sucked in a startled breath.

A moment later, Cheongpung poked his head out, his cheeks puffed up like a squirrel’s.

He gulped down the food in his mouth, glanced around nervously, and bowed to Baek Museong.

“I’m really sorry about last time, Martial Nephew Baek…”

I suddenly remembered what had happened a year ago.

While Cheongpung was being forcibly escorted back to Huashan, he had beaten Baek Museong and the Three Plum Blossom Elites before escaping.

So this is a meeting between the perpetrator and the victim.

That bastard is guilty, no question.