40. Fate (2)
As a father, he didn't want his son dragged into this. But the fight had already begun. They couldn't survive without seeing it through to some kind of end, one way or another. Besides, his son wasn't just drawing attention from the merchant world—he had the entire martial realm watching. Gu Seo-jin quietly admitted he could no longer shield his son from involvement.
It was impossible now to tell him to hole up in his room and rest indefinitely. Keeping him locked away wouldn't solve anything anyway.
"Any ideas?"
"Nothing difficult."
"You're already lording over your old man, huh."
"My apologies."
"Enough of that—out with it."
"Give them back exactly what they dished out."
Cheon-woo's response seemed straightforward, but it was a solid plan. Gu Seo-jin marveled at his son's clear reasoning and analysis. He hadn't realized the boy could read his enemies' psychology so precisely. The sharp, intuitive insight sent chills down his spine.
Is this really my son?
The scheme looked simple on the surface, but it carried the weight and polish of hard-earned experience. The sudden transformation in his son felt alien. This wasn't the kid he knew, and he'd never expected maturity to come with age anyway.
"It won't be that easy to pull off. If it backfires, you could be in real danger."
"Didn't you just say the Dragon title is harder to earn than stars in the sky? I can't stay your sheltered boy forever."
"Your mother might kill me if she finds out."
"Mother wouldn't do that."
You have no idea, kid! A wife's and child's perspectives were worlds apart. He hadn't imagined his son pulling something like this to torment him, so no countermeasures had come to mind. And right now, it was the best option available.
If only I'd left him alone.
His parental urge to drag the shut-in out for some social seasoning had backfired spectacularly. In trying to shape the boy, he'd turned him overly aggressive and proactive. It was hard to believe this was the same introverted son who'd never left his room.
"If it gets dangerous, pull back immediately."
"Understood."
He planned to, if it got dicey. But for the Hegemon of Heaven's Domination, true peril was rare. Even in the 100th round, danger had only brushed him early on—everything else was a one-sided beatdown.
Just stay out of danger, then.
Cheon-woo had no intention of following his father's wishes to the letter. Their standards differed wildly; the same questions and answers would yield different conclusions.
As he moved to wrap up and stand, his father grabbed him.
"Cheon-woo, your dad feels neglected."
"What do you mean?"
"You're only fussing over your mother. Raising kids is pointless, huh."
"Even I can't boost you to Hwagyeong overnight. Give me time, and I'll sort it out."
...?
The kid caught everything else just fine, so why miss this? What martial arts at my age? He wasn't asking to learn techniques. Jumping from mid-Transcendent to Hwagyeong through "enlightenment" was just empty merchant talk.
Spiritual herbs. Elixirs. Something tangible, not vague promises. He wasn't demanding Peerless Spirit Fluid or Grand Return Pills—just a modest Health-Boosting Harmony Pill for vitality would do. Lately, his body wasn't what it used to be. Youth hid it, but age made health his true wealth. Why squander it as a merchant? And it wasn't selfish; proverbs like "No filial son after prolonged illness" and "Guard your health while you have it" weren't empty. It was fatherly consideration so his kids wouldn't suffer.
"I've been dense. Please accept this humble gift."
"Er, a father's heart is content with the gesture."
What Cheon-woo offered was a pill that looked and smelled like cow dung. What the hell was that foul stench? Was his son mocking him now?
"It's a Marrow Cleansing Pill."
"I'm fine, so... I'll take it!!"
He could stomach worse. This was an elixir endorsed by the Beggar Clan itself. Pinching his nose like with stinky tofu, he swallowed the pill in one gulp.
Wait—could he just pop it like that?
His eyes had glazed over at the elixir, greed overriding caution. Regret hit too late. It didn't sit like dung; true to form, it melted like snow, then agony exploded through his organs like they might burst.
"...I'm dying!!"
"Don't worry. I'll open your meridians with Pursuing Acupoint Strike."
No breath for reply. Refusing might let the pill's energy rupture him. Cheon-woo had received this Marrow Cleansing Pill from the Iron Cane Hero as thanks after granting enlightenment and the Way. Not needing it immediately, he'd kept it scent-free in his robes.
Father's greed aside, no need for concern. Opening the meridians would let even a mortal absorb the spiritual power evenly.
Cheon-woo channeled Paewang Qi into his fist. For someone with minimal impurities from daily ablutions and smooth meridian flow, Pursuing Acupoint Strike was simple. But years of buildup had clogged his father's channels. Blasting them open demanded immense power.
Rumors rarely spread beyond provinces, let alone across the entire continent. The land was vast; cross a village, and folks were clueless. For a rumor to propagate meant the matter was gravely significant.
Yet rumors twisted after one retelling, their truth hinging on the teller's background. Nicknames, tied to fame, were especially sensitive for martial artists—never to be trifled with.
Nicknames weren't self-bestowed or rejected at will; third parties coined them, sticking regardless. Thus, they were a martialist's tender spot. Not everyone obsessed, but the young hung on them fiercely.
Some dismissed nicknames as trivial—mere boasts from the titled. The martial world was a scramble for them. But without world-shaking feats, even minor ones eluded you. Feats, righteous or vile, didn't matter; undeniable ones birthed nicknames naturally. Greater feats meant greater risk—martial history brimmed with lives claimed as "payment."
For young warriors, the jianghu was brutally unforgiving. Journeys were essential for growth, yet many youths perished pointlessly. Novices needed utmost caution, avoiding grudges if stepping up.
But sidestepping grudges meant no fame, no nickname. Only risking life earned the right.
"Righteous Dragon? Doesn't suit him."
"Exactly. Righteous Dragon from some no-name mid-tier merchant group? Absurd. Not unless it was us."
"Don't judge unseen. Who knows if it's real."
Three men in fine robes visited Jeokgeum Merchant Group, faces brimming with youthful bravado. Failure? Unthinkable.
"We're the Sacheon Three Heroes."
They arrived not requesting entry, but demanding it. Sacheon Three Heroes sounded off—they lacked the feats, just a self-applied tag. That alone revealed their aim: crush the Righteous Dragon, steal his fame.
Easiest path to a nickname. Forge your own? Grueling journeys and feats. Topple a titled weakling? Instant gain.
"Welcome. I'll guide you to the young master."
"Sharp one, eh."
The self-styled Sacheon Three Heroes hailed from Jinseong Fortress, Taegeom Sect, and Cheongsong Gate—mid-tier sects with sway in Sacheon, if not matching Sacheon Tang, Qingcheng, or Ami.