Chapter 435

Night had fallen deep enough to swallow even the last glow of sunset. A boy sat at the bow, staring into the black river, when he abruptly spoke.

“What brings you here?”

“I thought I’d have a drink while gazing at the Yangtze. Didn’t realize someone had beaten me to the spot.”

Behind the boy, an old man barely five feet tall appeared like a ghost, without so much as a whisper. He shook the gourd in his hand and grinned.

“Well? Want some?”

“Excessive drinking is harmful to the body. You should abstain.”

“Don’t be like that. Have a drink with me. The atmosphere is nice.”

“It would be even better if I were alone.”

“What a mouth on such a green little brat. An elder’s been talking to you all this time, and you haven’t even bothered to look at him.”

The boy frowned. Dark clouds gathered over his handsome face—a face bright enough to evoke a clear blue sky—and lightning flashed across it.

Then, instead of his usual clear voice, a low, sunken voice slipped between his lips.

“That’s enough.”

A pale-blue gleam shone from his eyes in the darkness.

There was no trace left of Mungyeong, the bright and cheerful young medical apprentice.

In his place stood the peerless martial artist known as the Slaughter Saint, a savage beast baring its claws.

But he wasn’t the only monster aboard.

“Oh, how frightening.”

The old man curled up the corners of his mouth without a care in the world, standing before an aura powerful enough to freeze even an ordinary Peak master stiff as a statue. Then Fire King Jeok Cheongang tossed him the gourd.

“Drop the little-brat act. It doesn’t suit you. Wet your throat.”

Mungyeong caught the gourd as it drifted lazily toward him and answered in a dry voice.

“Not interested.”

“What, are you still too young to drink?”

“I quit. A long time ago.”

“Must’ve been when you started playing medical apprentice.”

“…Don’t you sleep?”

“You get less sleep when you’re old. Like someone I know.”

Mungyeong shook his head slightly. Taciturn by nature and unaccustomed to showing emotion, he had always found Jeok Cheongang difficult to talk to. If he didn’t want to deal with the man, his best option was to leave.

“You going?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“What about the liquor?”

Mungyeong tossed the gourd into the river. The rolling waters of the Yangtze swallowed it in an instant.

“I finished it.”

“…If you didn’t want it, you could’ve at least given it back. What a nasty old man.”

Mungyeong’s gaze sharpened as he walked past Jeok Cheongang.

The Slaughter Saint no longer existed. Now he was merely an ordinary young medical apprentice, the sort one might find anywhere.

“Your tongue is too loose.”

“There aren’t any ears listening, so what does it matter? Besides, after coming all this way, why bother hiding your identity?”

Mungyeong did not answer.

No—he couldn’t.

Why had he done it?

Had it been nothing more than a momentary impulse?

Even the cold reason that had never wavered through countless acts of killing could not explain it.

“I see. You still haven’t found the answer yourself.”

Mungyeong remained silent for a moment before replying.

“We’re merely traveling together.”

“I understand. That was how it started for me too. Then I met one bizarre bastard, and he completely ruined my later years.”

Mungyeong had a good idea who this “bizarre bastard” was, and he could think of no better description.

He had encountered every manner of person and incident in the turbulent martial world, yet that bastard was unlike anyone he had ever seen.

“Jin Taekyung.”

“So you do know him. Well, how could you not?”

“He’s an unusual one. He’s reached an impressive realm for his age.”

The corner of Jeok Cheongang’s mouth twitched.

“Ahem. Impressive, my ass. He’s just lucky. In terms of pure martial talent, he can’t compare to the Sword Saint’s Disciple. The kid doesn’t seem to realize it yet, but he’s already completed all the preparations necessary to open his Middle Dantian.”

Mungyeong recalled the young man who had spent the entire journey performing tricks with a snake.

He also remembered the sight of that same young man at the Sichuan Tang Clan, scattering dazzling Sword Force despite being barely past twenty.

“That boy was impressive too. No—he did seem impressively insane. In terms of talent alone, he’s definitely a step above Jin Taekyung.”

“What!”

“…?”

“Ah.”

Mungyeong stared at Jeok Cheongang for a moment, then clicked his tongue.

“You certainly dote on your Disciple.”

“Disciple?”

Jeok Cheongang paused before clearing his throat.

“Ahem. Well. He might be my Disciple, or he might not…”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

“No, well… The circumstances are somewhat complicated. You see, what happened was…”

Mungyeong suddenly felt a headache coming on.

It had been only a few days since an unheard-of group called Dark Heaven had dyed Sichuan red with blood.

His thoughts were tangled enough already. Listening to a story about this bizarre master and disciple threatened to give him seasickness he had never suffered before.

“If you have no further business with me, I’ll be leaving. I hope nothing like this happens again.”

Mungyeong tossed out the words and started toward the cabin.

“Thank you. For saving the kid.”

“…”

“I mean it.”

Mungyeong did not answer. He opened the cabin door and went inside. Jeok Cheongang grumbled behind him about what a prickly old man he was, but Mungyeong ignored him and sat on a hard wooden berth.

On the berth a few paces away, a passenger who had claimed the spot long ago was fast asleep.

Mungyeong stared at the motionless Jin Taekyung and thought,

He really is a bizarre one.

Perhaps that was why even the way he slept was strange. At first, his breathing had been so faint that Mungyeong wondered whether he had used the Turtle Breath Technique.

And that wasn’t all. Jin Taekyung possessed a Heavenly Martial Physique, a constitution that appeared perhaps once every few hundred years.

Jeok Cheongang had even made the unbelievable claim that Jin Taekyung’s body was steadily becoming more perfect.

Absurd.

Why was the Heavenly Martial Physique called the Heavenly Martial Physique?

Because it was the most perfect body for learning martial arts—a martial constitution bestowed by heaven itself.

The word perfect meant there was nothing to add and nothing to take away. Jeok Cheongang had surely misjudged the matter because his eyes were clouded by his foolish affection for his Disciple.

Still, there’s no denying he’s an impressive bastard. Or should that be bastards?

Cheongpung lay asleep on the berth right beside Jin Taekyung, drool running from his mouth.

His lips moved as if he were eating. On closer inspection, Mungyeong discovered that Cheongpung was sucking on the head of the snake he always carried beside him and mumbling in his sleep.

“Dumplings, roast duck, and mooncakes¹ too, please…”

“…”

“Lots and lots, please…”

What in the world had happened while Mungyeong was away?

Mungyeong looked back and forth between Jin Taekyung and Cheongpung with an awkward expression.

These are the ones destined to illuminate the future of Murim?

Even in Mungyeong’s eyes, the pair had already gone far beyond the level of mere young prodigies.

They were peerless geniuses who had broken through the wall into Supreme Peak despite being barely past twenty.

If either of them opened their Middle Dantian before turning thirty, then…

This is…

Mungyeong’s eyes twitched as he studied Jin Taekyung and Cheongpung more closely.

When? No, how?

He sprang to his feet like lightning and hurriedly took Jin Taekyung’s pulse.

The instant he sent internal energy through the Mingmen acupoint, an utterly unbelievable reality unfolded before him. His thoughts ground to a halt, leaving only one fact circling endlessly through his mind.

His Middle Dantian… is open?

Even the Unshakable Mind he had cultivated over many years failed him.

And just as Mungyeong stared blankly into space, a voice spoke.

“What are you doing?”

Mungyeong lowered his gaze and found a pair of eyes looking up at him.

Jin Taekyung’s gaze moved from Mungyeong’s hand against the Mingmen acupoint on his back to the other hand resting against his chest, directly over his Middle Dantian.

Then he opened his mouth.

“What the fuck?”

Mungyeong answered with complete sincerity.

“It’s a misunderstanding.”

“More like, ‘Oh yeah.’”

“Calm down and listen to me…”

Jin Taekyung responded to his sincerity with a shout loud enough to wake everyone aboard the swift ship.

“Old Master!”

Boom!

The cabin door exploded into ash, revealing Fire King Jeok Cheongang.

In the dead of night, the peaceful silence of the Yangtze was shattered.

Mu Song, known as Ship-Fire Boy, was the Disciple of the Seafaring King—the Alliance Leader of the Yangtze River Channel League—and the Stronghold Lord of Water Dragon Stronghold, which ruled the rivers of Sichuan. He cried out with a face as though the sky had fallen.

“No! My swift ship!”

I quietly looked away, while the Slaughter Saint—no, Mungyeong—suddenly announced that he had medicine to prepare and left.

Jeok Cheongang, who had burned one of Mu Song’s swift ships to ashes, patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s fine. You can always build another ship.”

“No! Noooo!”

“Come now, I said it’s fine. With enough people and gold, a ship can be thrown together in no time.”

“It isn’t that simple! That wasn’t an ordinary ship. It was a special swift ship that only our Yangtze River Channel League can build! To make another, we’d have to contact headquarters, bring in craftsmen, and pour a thousand gold into it…”

Mu Song’s furious voice gradually faded.

Jeok Cheongang was watching him with an ominous smile.

Scorching Yang Qi already blazed around his fist.

“You’d pour a thousand gold into it, and then what?”

Mu Song closed his mouth.

He was clearly weighing whether to pour a thousand gold into rebuilding the swift ship or pour his own blood into the Yangtze.

In the end, it came down to money or his life. The choice wasn’t difficult.

“…I was about to say that even after pouring a thousand gold into it, we’d still have money left over, Great Hero Jeok.”

“Right? Business is good around here, isn’t it?”

Mu Song’s ferocious face twisted. The sight would have made ordinary people piss themselves down to their innards, but despite appearances, that was his smile. As befitted a pure-blooded river bandit, he simply had a vicious face.

Despite his size, he rubbed his palms together ingratiatingly.

“Oh, don’t even ask. We’d rob more if there were anything left to take.”

“Yes, yes. Good to hear. Since it came to mind, let me say this: don’t rob people too much. It’s none of my business, but they need to make a living too.”

“Yes, yes.”

“I apologize again for this incident. I made a small mistake while training.”

“Of course. Such things happen. Were you hurt anywhere?”

“No. But my qi has felt weak lately. It would be nice to have something to chew on…”

“We recently acquired a few fine specimens of He Shou Wu.² It seems they’ve finally found their rightful owner.”

“The owner is you. This old man is merely a guest. Ha ha. Still, if you insist on giving them to me, I’ll gratefully accept.”

Jeok Cheongang patted Mu Song’s shoulder a few more times, then turned and scowled at me.

“Damn it. Why did you cause such a commotion in the middle of the night?”

I answered calmly.

“Imagine waking up and finding some man touching your chest and back.”

“I’d burn him down to bone ash.”

“Yes. That’s what happened. How was I supposed to think straight in that situation? Besides, you smashed everything to pieces before I could stop you.”

The result had been fiery.

True to his title as the Slaughter Saint, Mungyeong had evaded Jeok Cheongang’s attacks with ghostlike movements, while the Flame Divine Palm’s searing heat had set the swift ship ablaze.

Jeok Cheongang frowned and muttered,

“I thought that bastard hadn’t kicked his old habits.”

“Well, they say a habit formed at three lasts until eighty.”

“He passed eighty a long time ago, didn’t he?”

“Then let’s say a habit formed at three lasts until a hundred.”

Mungyeong, who had been rushing around checking on everyone who had fallen into the water, whispered as he passed us.

“If you don’t want to die, shut your mouth.”

Instead of shutting my mouth, I shouted loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Mungyeong, what did you say?”

“Yes, yes?”

“No. Didn’t you just say something to me?”

“That couldn’t… possibly be. You must have misheard me.”

“Right?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Then keep doing your work. Thanks for your hard work.”

“Thank… you.”

This was what happened when you committed too hard to the bit.

Anyway, it sure was a spectacle immediately after coming back.

This is Murim.

I shook my head as I gazed out over the Yangtze stretching endlessly into the distance.