Chapter 196: Every Time You See That Scar From Now On
Chapter 196: Every Time You See That Scar From Now On
The ship, laden with passengers, cut through the river’s current.
The Fist Demon and I stood on the wind-swept deck, gazing out at the vast expanse of water. With every passing moment, we drifted further and further away from the Main Cult.
There are some people whose sudden deviations make you uneasy. You wonder if they’re about to cause a disaster, or if this one act of rebellion might ruin their lives. You worry if it’s all happening because of you.
But the Fist Demon’s departure from his usual self didn't feel precarious at all. Perhaps it was because of the sheer sincerity he had shown throughout his life. Or perhaps it was because I felt his current life was actually suppressing his true nature.
It was then.
Roll, roll, roll.
A ball made of yarn rolled across the deck and came to a stop at the Fist Demon’s feet.
A small child came running toward us, only to freeze in his tracks. He looked terrified by the Fist Demon’s massive, imposing frame. The Fist Demon picked up the ball and handed it to me.
“Give it to him yourself.”
“Do you want me to make the kid cry?”
“He won’t cry.”
Even though the Fist Demon held the ball out, the child hesitated to approach. Seeing this, the Fist Demon gently rolled the ball back to him.
Kid, today is the day you received a ball from the Fist Demon.
The child picked up the ball, gave a polite bow, and ran back to his parents. Watching him go, the Fist Demon suddenly spoke.
“You said we were going somewhere I would enjoy?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know what I enjoy?”
“Want to make a bet?”
“What kind of bet?”
“If we go and you’re happy, I win. If you’re not, I lose.”
“What if I’m happy but say I’m not?”
“You wouldn't do that, would you?”
“If it’s a bet, we should put something on the line.”
“Let’s bet our pride.”
It was the same thing I’d said when we jumped off the waterfall.
The Fist Demon looked at me with a strange glint in his eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Don’t you want to put the Third Volume on the line?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then why don’t you ask for it?”
“I obtained the First and Second Volumes far too easily because of your generosity. I have a conscience; I can’t keep doing that.”
I meant it, but it was also a calculated move to earn points with him.
“Now, on a man’s pride!”
I thrust my fist toward him.
“What is this? Are you challenging me?”
“Don’t warriors clash weapons when they make a promise? We’re martial artists of the fist; we should clash our knuckles.”
“I’m not clashing with baby hands.”
I looked at the Fist Demon’s massive hand, then down at my own fist.
“Frustratingly, I can’t deny that.”
The Fist Demon turned back toward the river.
In the distance, the sunset began to bleed across the water, staining the waves crimson.
“It’s nice.”
It was the first time I’d heard him look at a landscape and call it nice. He watched the river, while I leaned against the railing with my back to the sunset, watching him.
“I heard you traveled a lot when you were young.”
“I didn't stay cooped up in the Cult.”
“I heard you went out with my father often, too.”
“Did the Cult Leader tell you that?”
“Yes,” I answered softly, though I hadn't actually heard it from my father. It was information I’d gathered while investigating the Demon Lords before my regression. The place we were heading now was also somewhere I’d discovered through that research.
“Do you still see my father often these days?”
“Hardly ever. That time at the tavern was the first time we’d met in a long while.”
“Did something happen between you?”
“Nothing happened. Can human relationships always remain white-hot?”
“I suppose not.”
I turned around as well. The sunset that had colored the Fist Demon now washed over my face.
I wondered if this moment of playing hooky would one day be remembered as a "white-hot" moment between us.
* * *
Two days later, Geom Mu-geuk and the Fist Demon entered a bustling marketplace crowded with people. While the area where the Beast Faction had been was Murim Alliance territory, this place belonged to the Unorthodox Path Alliance.
As they walked, the Fist Demon’s expression shifted strangely. At times he looked stiff; at others, he seemed gripped by intense emotion.
The place they arrived at was a shabby warehouse on the outskirts of town.
Geom Mu-geuk handed some money to the man guarding the entrance. Upon receiving the payment, the man led them inside. Tucked between stacks of cargo was a passage leading underground.
After descending the stairs for a long time, they reached a massive iron door. The moment it opened, a wave of sweltering heat and a roar of cheers hit them.
In the center was a large sparring arena where two shirtless men were pummeling each other with bare fists.
“This is an underground fighting arena.”
There are many types of underground fighting arenas in the Central Plains. Some allow the use of internal energy, while others permit weapons. The place they had come to today was a pure fighting pit where men fought with nothing but their fists—no internal energy, no weapons.
“You can pay the entrance fee just to watch the matches, or you can bet on the winner. Most people come here specifically to gamble.”
“How did you know about this place?”
“I have a lot of interest in all sorts of things in the Murim. Since this is a place for pure fist-fighting, I thought you might like it.”
There was a slight tremor in the Fist Demon’s eyes.
“What is it? Do you not like it?”
Then, a surprising revelation came from the Fist Demon’s lips.
“When I was young, I was a fighter here.”
“What?”
Geom Mu-geuk acted surprised. In truth, he already knew the man was from this place.
“You mean right here?”
“Yes. I was right here.”
The Fist Demon’s life had not been an easy one.
“Then how did you become associated with the Cult?”
“I caught the eye of someone from the Cult here and was scouted.”
That was something even Geom Mu-geuk hadn't known. It must have been before he had mastered any formal martial arts, but even then, the talent of a man destined to become the Fist Demon would have been undeniable.
“Were you undefeated here as well?”
At Mu-geuk’s question, the Fist Demon countered with one of his own.
“Am I even undefeated now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I wouldn't be able to beat the Cult Leader, and the same goes for the Murim Alliance Leader and the Unorthodox Path Alliance Leader. Without even mentioning the hidden masters scattered like grains of sand across the world, I can’t even say for certain that I’d beat you.”
“But I have baby hands, don’t I?”
“The Black Demonic Sword held by those baby hands is terrifying.”
Geom Mu-geuk suddenly wondered if the Fist Demon actually disliked his title of "Undefeated."
“Who knows? If it were a true life-and-death struggle, the outcome might be different. You might even be able to beat my father.”
The Fist Demon’s gaze returned to the arena. Watching a martial artist getting beaten half to death, he spoke.
“If I fought the Cult Leader, that’s what would happen to me. Even if he didn't draw his sword.”
Geom Mu-geuk nodded.
“True. He’s the type of person who would beat his own son like that, too.”
The Fist Demon nodded solemnly at Mu-geuk’s remark.
In truth, Mu-geuk didn't know what kind of memories the Fist Demon held of this place. It was possible he loathed it and never wanted to return.
But he had brought him here anyway because he was now the Fist Demon. He had risen from the very bottom of the fighting pits to the absolute pinnacle of the fist.
Wouldn't he want to visit at least once? Wouldn't he want to feel that raw heat again?
Geom Mu-geuk and the Fist Demon stood among the crowd and watched the matches.
The atmosphere was so intense that no one paid any mind to the fearsome-looking Fist Demon standing nearby.
Mu-geuk could tell. These people weren't possessed by the spirit of the fight; they were possessed by the spirit of gambling. They were screaming only for the outcome of their bets.
After watching for a while, the Fist Demon muttered casually.
“The one on the left will win.”
Whose judgment could be more accurate?
The result was indeed a victory for the fighter on the left.
The matches continued without pause. As soon as one ended, three or four men rushed out to quickly wipe away the sweat and blood from the stage.
Meanwhile, other men held up large boards showing the records and recent performances of the fighters in the next match. The crowd used this information to place their bets.
The entire process was lightning-fast. As if time were money, and as if they refused to let the crowd’s fervor cool, the matches followed one after another.
The Fist Demon correctly predicted the next match as well. He was practically a prophet.
“We could walk out of here as rich men at this rate.”
Despite his words, Geom Mu-geuk didn't bet a single cent.
“Why don’t you place a bet for fun?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“To be honest, I’m having second thoughts. I brought you here to feel the heat of combat, but it seems the heat of gambling is much stronger.”
At Mu-geuk’s honest admission, the Fist Demon gave a bitter smile.
“It was like that back then, too. This place… is always like this.”
Just then, the Fist Demon fixed his gaze on a young man.
“That young fellow has good eyes.”
Geom Mu-geuk could feel it. The Fist Demon was projecting his younger self onto that boy.
“Fine. I’ll bet my entire fortune on him.”
At Mu-geuk’s joke, the Fist Demon encouraged him.
“Go ahead and bet. He’ll definitely win.”
“I’m good.”
However, the young man the Fist Demon said would win lost the match. The Fist Demon’s expression stiffened slightly at the result.
“If I’d bet like you said, I would have lost everything. We would have been sleeping on the streets tonight!”
It wasn't that the Fist Demon had misjudged their skills. The match had been fixed.
“Should I call for the owner of this place?”
It seemed like the kind of situation where the Fist Demon would go and give the owner a piece of his mind.
“The fixing probably has nothing to do with the arena itself. If anything, the arena tries to catch fixers. They make a fortune just by letting things run; they have no reason to cause trouble by fixing matches.”
It meant the interference was coming from the outside.
“Memories should just be left as memories. I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I brought you here to enjoy the fights, but I’m worried I’ve only ruined your mood.”
“It’s fine.”
“Times have changed. I suppose pure fighting like in the old days is gone.”
The Fist Demon gave a strange laugh and looked at me.
“Why do you think there was no fixing back then?”
“There was?”
“Of course there was. And that’s what changed my life.”
As the Fist Demon watched the young man leaving the arena, his mind naturally drifted to the past.
“It was a day when I was on a long winning streak. The leader of the local Black Path gang came to see me at night with his subordinates. He told me to throw the next match. Since I was on a streak, he could make a massive amount of money if I lost. He offered me a cut, too. It was a significant sum.”
“What did you do?”
“I refused.”
“I bet those bastards didn't take that well.”
The Fist Demon nodded and closed his eyes. The memory of that moment was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
He remembered throwing punches at the Black Path thugs, dodging and weaving through the fight.
He had knocked down all the subordinates, but he was no match for the leader. The leader was a man who had formally learned martial arts, while he had yet to learn any. In the end, he was pinned down, unable to move.
“If you don’t listen to me, you die.”
“You pathetic Black Path piece of shit! If you’re a man, stop using internal energy and fight me in the arena!”
“Words won’t work on you, I see.”
The leader ripped open the front of the Fist Demon’s clothes.
Sliiiice!
The man drew a long line across the Fist Demon’s chest with a dagger. The Fist Demon grit his teeth, determined not to scream.
“Since you have to lose anyway, I suppose it’s fine if you’re in a bit of pain, right?”
Eventually, unable to bear the agony, the Fist Demon screamed.
“Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll lose the next match!”
“You should have said so from the start and saved yourself the trouble. Every time you have a stupid thought, look at this scar.”
The man left, laughing.
After hearing the whole story, Geom Mu-geuk asked.
“So, what happened?”
“What do you think? I won the next match spectacularly. I made that idiot lose every cent he had.”
Geom Mu-geuk burst into laughter. Yes, this was the man who became the Fist Demon.
“That’s amazing!”
“It wasn't amazing; I was just reckless and fearless back then. I was far more fearless than I am now, even though I’m a thousand times stronger.”
The Fist Demon pulled open his shirt to show me the scar again.
“This is how I got the scars on my body. They aren't from some grand master; they’re pathetic, humiliating marks left by a common Black Path thug whose name I can’t even remember. Scars I didn't even receive when fighting the Elders of the Murim Alliance.”
I had a feeling the Fist Demon had never told anyone about this scar. It wasn't just a wound on his body; it was a wound on his heart.
“Doesn't that make it a scar to be even more proud of?”
“Proud?”
“You must have been much more terrified than when you fought the Murim Alliance Elders, yet you endured it, didn't you?”
“You might want to sugarcoat it, but to me, it’s just a disgrace I want to erase.”
“Don’t say that. I actually like that scar even more now. From now on, every time I see it, I’ll think of the Fist Demon who stood tall and proud even before he had a drop of internal energy. I think it’s a much cooler scar than any strike left by the Murim Alliance Leader or any wound from the Unorthodox Path Alliance Leader.”
The Fist Demon was momentarily stunned, having never thought of it that way or heard such words before. He had always felt a surge of bitterness whenever he saw the scar, but he felt that perhaps, starting today, that unpleasantness might fade just a little.
Geom Mu-geuk knew. To heal a wound of the heart, the words of another are essential. Rather than thinking the same thoughts a hundred or a thousand times alone, a wound truly begins to heal when someone says something like this.
“Please show me that scar often.”
Feeling a warmth deep within his chest, the Fist Demon didn't know what to say and simply stared at Geom Mu-geuk in silence.
Whether he noticed the man’s inner turmoil or not, Mu-geuk asked again.
“Tell me the rest. I assume that Black Path bastard came to kill you then.”
The Fist Demon nodded, recalling the day his destiny changed.
“That night, he came for me with every single subordinate he had.”