False Accusation (1)
Groooan!
He thrashed desperately to escape somehow, but he always ended up in the same spot. Not that he could resent it. No one had dragged him there at swordpoint. He'd come of his own accord and pledged himself as a subordinate. And yet, he'd run away whining that he didn't like it. He'd been acting utterly pathetic, but he just didn't have the confidence to endure it. He wanted to escape this hell and live like a human being.
But in the end, he'd become the sword his master desired, slicing through the world.
It was a nightmare, yet not quite a nightmare. When he returned to the beginning once more, the nightmare truly began. His master came for him, and without any resistance, he was dragged away. From that moment, it became hell, and ultimately, he turned into the sword of Mireok Paedo, dominating the world.
Raaaaagh!
Screaming, his consciousness snapped back.
Huh! Only then did he realize it was a nightmare. Hard to comprehend, but it felt like he'd repeated the same nightmare hundreds of times. The desperation of never wanting to go back to that moment lingered vividly.
"A dream? Reality? Why's it so damn vivid?!"
"Me too."
"Same here."
Gasp! What the hell? The Sacheon Three Heroes, locking eyes with those deranged gazes, bolted upright from their spots.
Looking around, it wasn't the dirt floor—it was a bed.
"What a sight!"
"And you?"
"Same boat."
They hadn't lost their memories from the beating. They weren't foolish enough to fail to grasp the situation. They just hadn't known their place.
They'd gullibly fallen for their brothers' talk of a chance to build fame. Floppy ears, indeed. From the start, he was a master beyond comparison. Charging in ignorant of that, their faces burned with shame. At least the darkness hid it somewhat.
"How much time passed?"
"Just open the window."
"If you know, open it yourself."
Awkwardness hung between them. No room for big fights, but resentment lingered. Their so-called brotherhood had been exposed as nothing grand. They might've shrugged it off ignorant, but now it felt deeply uncomfortable... or did it?
Staring at each other, a strange understanding bloomed. The resentment melted away instantly. Illogical, yet it felt right—a kind of camaraderie. Had we overcome hardship together? Questionable if getting thrashed by the same guy counted as hardship.
"The Dragon of Righteousness is 18, right?"
"Younger than us."
"Wasted our lives."
"Shall we start over properly?"
The Dragon of Righteousness had reached Peak Expert before even turning twenty. Whether it truly was Peak Expert was debatable. They had to admit they lacked the skill.
Lucky they hadn't died showboating for fame. Beaten pathetically, reality sank in, sparking self-reflection.
"But can we really?"
"Strength plateaus after a point."
"Lungs full of hot air."
They knew they had to train hard, yet it always fizzled after three days. Talent deficiency? No, they weren't hopeless. Not Cheonmu Seongche or Cheonryeong Jiche shaking the world, but decent.
Effort was needed, but laziness won. The closer they got to a level, the more "good enough" felt.
"We start now."
"Easy to say... Huh?"
Familiar voice, but not theirs. They whipped around, startled like convulsing.
They hadn't noticed till now, but his presence hit like a wall, silencing them. Oppressive pressure denied even breath without permission. Instinctively, they wanted to bow low.
"I'll accept you."
"Pardon?"
Gu Cheon-woo skipped the preamble. No need for flowery words when acceptance was certain. Mireok Paedo prized extreme efficiency—a habit, and his version of intimacy for the Paewang.
The Sacheon Three Heroes should've boldly asked what there was to accept. But unease flickered: one wrong word, and their lives might be forfeit.
"...Thank you!"
Why the hell was it so humbling? They couldn't fathom it. They shouldn't feel honored. Joining Jeokgeum Merchant Group wasn't cause for joy. Wrong decision—correct it now.
"...We'll give our all!"
Our all? What the fuck! Why spout what they shouldn't? Gu Clan wasn't more renowned or powerful than their sects. They'd come to leech fame off the Dragon of Righteousness, yet now groveled.
"Good."
"If our lord is pleased, it's our utmost honor."
Our lord? Flowery bullshit. Were they natural bootlickers? The more they talked, the deeper they sank, like quicksand. Even vows of silence failed. No sorcery from Orthodox Faction, yet it escalated.
"Your stagnation stems from your Torong Seongche constitution."
"Torong Seongche? First I've heard."
"Think of it as a latent dragon."
"We're dragons denied our chance?"
"Before finding me, yes."
A latent dragon of great potential. For these perennial screw-ups, it was unprecedented praise. Days of scorn flashed by like a panorama. Indescribable emotions welled; tears threatened.
"For strength, we'll do anything!"
"Even staking our lives, we won't quit!"
"We want to grow strong and serve our lord properly!"
Normally empty boasts for flattery, but sincere now. Problem was Gu Cheon-woo. The Paewang spoke no falsehoods.
"Your wish is granted."
"Pardon? We haven't started."
"I've awakened your Torong Seongche."
"When?!"
"A man's talk starts with fists."
"...Magnificent!"
Mind over matter, they say. But reality? Body dominates mind. Comparing Torong Seongche to latent dragon was flattery; unawakened, it's worthless. Without bodily upgrade, mind rots.
Superior bodies often crumble mentally—legends prove it. Rare mental titans reshape flesh, but odds minuscule.
Gu Cheon-woo handled awakening prep at first meeting. Infused Paewang Qi into fists, dominating the 260 acupoints ruling Torong Seongche.
"No slacking from now on."
"We're men too. One word, no takebacks!"
"Fortunate."
"But is the Torong thing really awakened? No doubt in our lord."
"A taste."
"Taste...?"
Torong Seongche peaks at midnight, when stellar energy surges, spreading Torong Qi to hinder bodily bloom. Crush it with Paewang Qi, redirect flow. Inspired by worms wriggling when stepped on.
Minor flaw: step before it wriggles.
Effects immediate.
Brrrrr! Kraaaagh!
One might step on people for fun; worms burst inside. Agony matched ruptured organs. More Torong Qi thrashed for survival, more pain doubled. Who said a moment feels like three autumns? Mouths tore open in screams.
Pain lasted a moment, but felt eternal. Time stretched infinitely. Weak humans flailing in abyss.
"...Done?"
"For today."
"...Today? You mean...?"
"Midnight to half shichen, for half a year."
This agony—not a moment, but half shichen (one hour)—daily for half a year? Just a taste? Better to die.
"No other way?"
"No achievement without pain."
True, but too extreme. Spoken like it wasn't his burden. Unimaginable without experiencing.
Wrong. Gu Cheon-woo's path to Paewang Qi was constant torment, yet never deemed pain. For Mireok Paedo, it was nothing. Even death for progress? Welcomed smiling.
"If training's too harsh, leave."
"Not what we meant!"
"We'll endure even unto death!"
"Don't abandon us!"
Last chance to flee. They cursed their tongues. Why sound like loyal retainers? Shocking they weren't such men.
Loyalists die young! They hated hastening their end. Strangely, lord's presence birthed loyalty. Above all, abandonment felt like true death.
Just feeling? No. Paewang Qi brooks no betrayal. Sudden death from rampage, unbeknownst. Instinct for survival kicked in.
Paewang's specialties: short life, sudden death, lonely demise. No choice given. Accept sweetly—or die ugly.
Gu Cheon-woo assigned a task.
"Return to sects, get permission, spread rumors."
"Yes, my lord."
• Dok Du-sam-gwi claimed commissioned by Hwajeong Merchant Group.
• Hwajeong Merchant Group: Cease slander and assassins, confess sins.
Mid-tier Sacheon sects Gold Star Fortress, Great Sword Clan, Bluesong Sect raised the issue too. They'd sought Jeokgeum's young master on Hwajeong's word.
Tak Jung-il, biding time in shadows, was dumbfounded.
"What nonsense is this?"
"He warned no more assassins. Cross the line, no mercy."
"Gold Star, Great Sword, Bluesong—what?"
"Not official sect stances. Direct lineage juniors, sidelined, challenged Dragon of Righteousness, failed, dumped blame on us."
Tak Jung-il gaped at his son's report. Warned for uncommitted acts. Secret warning preferable, but publicized.
Past deeds fueled world's "Of course" assumption.
"You didn't send any, right?"
"Post-calm, maybe. Now? I'd be mad!"
"True, you're not that brainless. Why's this bastard hounding me?"
"No frequent chances—he's dead set on crushing us!"
Simplistic, but Jeokgeum wouldn't pass it up. Fading attention; prolong via rumors.
"Ignore rumors, just watch."
"Yes."
Son gone, Tak Jung-il stewed. Bokho Merchant Group's commission, surely. Dragon's death pins blame on him, not them. Knowing that, they'd sent assassins.
Damn, using me as shield!
Unjust frame-up, but unprovable now. Expose Bokho? Aid dries up. War with Jeokgeum unfinished, Bokho enemy seals doom.
Fucking bastards!
He knew Bokho's motive: predict his choice. Options fixed. Cut Bokho ties? Collapse. Barely holding; bear the frame-up.
Haa. Sigh escaped. Knows culprit, can't reveal. Bokho ledgers useless now. Pray it fades quietly.
I won't die like this!
Hard-built group crumbling? Humiliating, but endure. Jeokgeum's one-sided claim; Bokho avoids more risk. World being world.
Passivity solves nothing.
• This was Bokho Merchant Group's instigation.
• Hwajeong Merchant Group acted under Bokho pressure, unwillingly.
• We're victims of Bokho's plot for Sacheon top dog status.
Elaborate excuses. Not mid-tier colluding with great house, but coerced, discarded. Plausible novel, detailed. Source untraceable.
Obviously Hwajeong, yet denial fueled suspicion.
Thud! Tak Jung-il surged up, decorum forgotten. No counter to frame-up; wait-and-fade hopes shattered. Storm fiercer, unexpected direction.
"Who spread this crap?"
"Can't trace source."
Hwa Chief Manager and Tak So-pyeong answered despite suspicion. Details aside, Bokho backing unknown outside tiny circle. Only lord knew beyond them.
Tak Jung-il same. Bokho involvement hidden till end. Not like this exposure—paints victim tale. Fits Hwajeong too neatly.
"Bokho cuts funds/clients, we collapse."
"Who doesn't know?! No counter!!!"
Too late to deny. Now? Proof of Bokho submission. Situation pathetic; excuses worsen quagmire.
"Jeokgeum knowing, countering?"
"Ridiculous!"
Jeokgeum ignorant of Bokho. Even knowing, such precision hard. Unless another great house.
Slight plausibility, tiny gap.
What now?
Tak Jung-il cornered. No direct clarification? True intent lost. Confirm, negotiate—meet for accord.