Chapter 606: I Have a Certain Gathering, You See?
Chapter 606: I Have a Certain Gathering, You See?
What had they discussed before ascending to the surface?
Prompted by the Sword King’s sudden confidence, Geom Mu-geuk had made him a proposal.
“Let’s make a bet. I bet those two are still waiting at the sparring arena.”
“And if they are? You want us to be friends?”
The Sword King assumed that was the condition, but Geom Mu-geuk shook his head.
“No. We can’t decide something that important based on what other people do.”
“Then what kind of bet are you suggesting?”
“The loser grants the winner one favor. Regardless of whether we become friends or not.”
The Sword King eyed Geom Mu-geuk suspiciously, wondering what trick the youth was playing now. But how could he possibly read the young man’s mind?
“In exchange, the favor must be granted. No exceptions.”
Normally, the Sword King should have countered. He should have asked, 'How can I make such a promise without knowing what the favor is?' He should have demanded details, set conditions, or declared certain requests off-limits from the start.
But the Sword King asked nothing.
“Fine. Let’s do it.”
This was precisely why one couldn't help but be drawn to a man like him.
“Would you like to tell me what the favor is first?”
“Are you admitting defeat already?”
“Not at all. I know I won’t have to fulfill it anyway, so I’m just curious. You won’t tell me if you lose the bet, will you?”
The Sword King snorted. “Then shall I ask for my favor in advance?”
“Go ahead.”
Geom Mu-geuk had spoken playfully, but the Sword King’s response was grave.
“Once you confirm the Demon Lords are dead, do not seek revenge. Just leave today.”
The light atmosphere turned heavy in an instant.
“Are you afraid you might have to kill me?”
The Sword King didn't answer. Instead, he changed the subject.
“Let’s head up. Oh, there’s something I need to grab first.”
The Sword King walked over to the bookshelf, selected a martial manual to give to Yeon Baek-in, and tucked it into his robes.
“You really are a man of your word. Quite impressive.”
“I wonder.”
The Sword King gave him a strangely meaningful look.
The two left the final room, leaving the secret casket behind for now; they could retrieve it after matters were settled above. They retraced their steps through the gates they had breached and the traps they had dismantled until they reached the mechanical chair that served as a lift to the surface.
“I’ll go up first,” the Sword King said, stopping Geom Mu-geuk.
“No. I’m going first.”
“Are you... worried about me?”
“I’m worried about my people.”
But Geom Mu-geuk knew the truth. The Sword King was worried about him. If the person above was a master capable of killing two Demon Lords, as the Sword King believed, he wouldn't be worried about that person. He was worried that Geom Mu-geuk might fly into a vengeful rage and get himself killed.
The Sword King activated the mechanism without another word.
“Ah, I should have gone up first. Don't fight, just say your hellos!” Mu-geuk called out.
And so, he sent the Sword King up first.
When Geom Mu-geuk finally followed and reunited with the others, he turned to the Sword King.
“Now then, shall we continue our conversation?”
At Geom Mu-geuk’s words, the Fist Demon and the One Flower Sword Venerable exchanged looks. They shared the same thought: As expected! The Young Cult Leader is truly something else!
They could sense the Sword King's formidable aura. To come up from the vault and immediately suggest finishing a "conversation" with such a master? It seemed they had spent their time downstairs fighting with words rather than blades.
Lee An voiced their feelings perfectly.
“At least our Young Cult Leader hasn't let his soul be snatched away by some old man.”
The Fist Demon and the One Flower Sword Venerable cracked faint smiles at her murmur.
Finally, the Sword King spoke, readily admitting his defeat in the bet.
“What is your favor?”
It had seemed like Mu-geuk made the bet because he had something specific in mind, but he didn't speak immediately.
“It’s a favor for a friend.”
He meant he would only ask it once they were officially friends.
The Sword King spoke as if the rapport they had built had crumbled, returning them to square one.
“Then I suppose I’ll never hear it.”
Geom Mu-geuk understood. The mood they shared while alone was different from the reality of the surface. His comrades were "dead" in his mind, and Demon Lords stood in their place. The Sword King had returned to reality.
The remaining persuasion had to happen within that reality.
Persuading him in front of the Demon Lords would be twice as difficult. It wouldn't be easy for a man of his stature to befriend a green youth while the "enemy" watched.
Geom Mu-geuk sent a Voice Transmission to the Sword King.
—I would like to send these three away and speak with you privately, but they won't leave because they're worried about me.
He was implying that they had to conclude their talk right here.
It was then that the Fist Demon turned away.
“I need to go wash up.”
Geom Mu-geuk called out to him urgently. “Master! You’re leaving me here alone?”
By using the title 'Master,' the Fist Demon was now treating Geom Mu-geuk as a disciple rather than the Young Cult Leader in this public setting.
“I haven't washed in days while waiting for you. I’m starting to feel grimy.”
With that, he began to stride away. The One Flower Sword Venerable followed suit.
“Young Cult Leader, I shall head to the safe house first. Join us once you’ve finished up here.”
“What if someone else shows up while I’m alone?”
Lee An, following behind, chimed in. “Then that someone is in for a very hard time.”
As she passed by, Lee An gave the Sword King a polite bow. “You’re working hard, Senior.”
The Sword King nodded silently, his expression saying, At least you understand what I'm going through.
Geom Mu-geuk shouted after her, “You should be saying that to me!”
Lee An ignored him and followed the others.
The Fist Demon, the One Flower Sword Venerable, and Lee An knew exactly what kind of person Geom Mu-geuk was. If he said he wanted to finish a conversation, they knew that giving him space was the best way to help.
“Bring some liquor and good snacks when you come!”
With Lee An’s final shout, the three of them disappeared into the distance.
Watching them go, the Sword King spoke. “Whether they would leave or not... that’s what I should have bet on.”
He said it jokingly, but the Sword King saw the truth. Those people knew the Young Cult Leader better than anyone. They truly, sincerely cared for him. How could he not see it? He had witnessed the overwhelming momentum the Demon Lords displayed earlier and the loyal, familiar way they greeted Geom Mu-geuk.
Thus, only Geom Mu-geuk, the Sword King, and Yeon Baek-in remained.
In truth, the person most relieved by the Sword King’s appearance was Yeon Baek-in. He had waited so long for this moment, even forsaking his own kin. Even though the Demon Lords had left, Yeon Baek-in stood awkwardly, glancing between the two. His Yellow Dragon Martial Arts Hall was in ruins, and he had made enemies of the Demonic Cult—he was barely sane. His only remaining hope was the manual.
Because he now knew Geom Mu-geuk was the Young Cult Leader, he didn't even dare to meet the youth's eyes.
The Sword King pulled the manual from his robes and tossed it to him.
“Here is what I promised!”
Yeon Baek-in lunged to catch the flying book. His mouth split into a wide, greedy grin. I endured everything for this. Once I master this peerless divine art, I will repay this humiliation. You’re all dead meat!
But the moment Yeon Baek-in saw the title, he flinched. He hurriedly flipped through the pages, his face hardening.
“This... this is a spear manual, isn't it?”
“That’s right. Once you achieve Great Achievement in those spear techniques, no one will dare treat you lightly, Hall Master Yeon.”
It was an impossible task. Someone who had practiced the sword their whole life could not simply start over with the spear, especially at his age.
“You! Are you mocking me?!”
The Sword King didn't even spare a glance for the man. He looked at Mu-geuk.
“I am a man who breaks his promises. Do you really want to be friends with someone so untrustworthy?”
When the Sword King asked the probing question, Geom Mu-geuk gave an enigmatic answer.
“Well, I’m not exactly a saint myself.”
Flash!
Spurt!
In an instant, a burst of Sword Qi erupted. Yeon Baek-in collapsed, blood spraying from his heart.
“What do you think? Of a heartless friend like this?”
In truth, he hadn't killed him out of heartlessness. Yeon Baek-in had committed many sins, but the one that enraged both Geom Mu-geuk and the Sword King was his final plan: he had intended to hire assassins to silence his own martial artists who had survived the underground, fearing they would spread rumors about the vault.
The moment he made that decision, his fate was sealed.
Now, only two remained. Geom Mu-geuk and the Sword King stood alone on the sparring arena.
Whoosh.
A breeze brushed past them. Geom Mu-geuk thought that perhaps facing him like this on a stage was their destiny.
If this is destiny...
But he wouldn't simply accept destiny as it was handed to him. He would knock on it, pull at it, push it. He would shout that this wasn't right. Only after doing everything in his power would he accept the outcome.
“As expected, I end up standing alone with you on this arena, Instructor.”
The Sword King nodded. Just as he was thinking that the outcome of a fight would determine their friendship—
“Let’s use this arena in a way that suits us,” Mu-geuk said.
He was desperately pushing against the massive wheel of destiny rolling toward him. He knew better than anyone that even a slight change in direction here would lead to a completely different destination in the future.
“In a way that suits us?”
“Yes. In our own way. Didn't we meet as instructor and student?”
To the Sword King, who still didn't understand, Geom Mu-geuk said something startling.
“Please, teach me swordsmanship.”
The Sword King was stunned. He had accepted the previous lessons as part of a class, but he never expected the youth to ask for a personal lesson here.
“You’re insane to the very end.”
“Why else would the Demon Lords have run away and left their Young Cult Leader behind? My heart is in it, too.”
The Sword King stared at Geom Mu-geuk in silence for a long moment.
“Fine. I shall teach you one move.”
The Sword King walked slowly toward Geom Mu-geuk. He approached until he was just within striking distance and slowly drew his sword. Then, at a speed that was neither fast nor slow, he thrust his blade forward.
Swish.
There was no artifice, no complex technique, not even a flashy form. It was a movement found in the most basic manuals for beginners. The Sword King had simply drawn his sword and thrust.
Watching the blade fly toward his heart, Geom Mu-geuk cried out in his mind.
It’s a perfect thrust!
It was a move containing the very essence of the Sword King’s path. That single strike seemed to say: All forms of swordsmanship begin and end with this.
Flash.
The Sword King’s blade stopped a hair's breadth from Geom Mu-geuk’s heart.
A moment of silence followed. Mu-geuk didn't ask why he hadn't killed him. They were past that. Geom Mu-geuk bowed politely.
“I have learned much.”
It wasn't empty flattery. This single move would have a profound impact on his future mastery of the sword.
Clink.
The Sword King sheathed his steel sword.
“Becoming friends with you... is a losing trade for me.”
Finally, the word 'friend' came from his lips first.
“Between friends, what does profit or loss matter?”
“That’s not what I meant...” The Sword King sighed. He didn't mean that Geom Mu-geuk was lacking. “One is a Master and the others are Demon Lords. But I’m just a 'friend'? I’m at too much of a disadvantage.”
He was comparing his status to the Fist Demon and the Sword Venerable. A surge of emotion rose in Geom Mu-geuk’s heart. The man was telling him—just a little more, hold onto me just a little tighter.
“The Demon Lords are the ones at a disadvantage,” Mu-geuk countered.
“Why?”
“Because they can never be friends with the Young Cult Leader, no matter how long they live. They will probably be very envious of you, Instructor.”
Geom Mu-geuk took a step forward and looked him in the eye.
“If destiny pushes us this far, shouldn't we accept it?”
“It wasn't destiny... you were the one pushing.” Then, in a small, nonchalant voice, he said: “...Let’s do it.”
“Pardon? What did you say?”
It was a bit louder than before, but still barely a whisper. “I said let’s do it. Let’s be friends.”
Having finally heard the words he wanted so badly, Geom Mu-geuk asked even louder. “I can’t hear you! What was that?”
Finally, the Sword King shouted, “I said let’s be friends, you brat!”
Geom Mu-geuk grinned brightly. “Thank you. Truly, thank you.”
He knew how difficult a decision it had been. He was jumping for joy, so happy that one might wonder what he would have done if the man had refused.
“In exchange, even if you become the Cult Leader, we are still friends.”
“See? When you think of it that way, it’s not a losing trade at all, is it?”
The Sword King nodded. “Being friends with the future leader of the Demonic Cult... I suppose it’s not a bad deal.”
“You’ll have to live a long time, though. My father is quite healthy.”
“I’ll make sure to be friends with the Demonic Cult Leader, even if I have to undergo rejuvenation to stay alive.”
With a pleasant smile, the Sword King bid him farewell. “I’ll be going now. I have debts to settle.”
“You’re not going to tell me where, are you?”
“No.”
“And you won't take me with you.”
The Sword King nodded and began to walk away. “I’ll retrieve the secret casket on my own later.”
He didn't say he would return. He didn't say they should meet again. Looking at the shoes dangling from the man’s waist, Geom Mu-geuk brought up the words the Sword King had forgotten.
“Now that we’re friends, I’ll use that favor I’ve been saving.”
The Sword King stopped in his tracks, answering as if he already knew. “I won't die. Don't worry.”
Whoosh.
A solemn wind blew between them, but—
“That’s not the favor.”
The Sword King turned around with an awkward look. “Why not? Isn't this the perfect situation for a request like that?”
“My friend is this strong, how could anyone kill him? Just don't go around killing people just to spite them.”
At that, the Sword King finally laughed. It was a statement of absolute trust.
“Then what is the favor?”
The favor he had promised he could never refuse was this:
“I have a certain gathering of friends, you see? When it opens later, you must attend! It’s mandatory. It’s a gathering where we drink, sing, and even dance.”
Before he knew it, the Sword King had a shoe in his hand, ready to throw it. “Just you try inviting me to something like that!”
As he walked away, the Sword King looked back at Geom Mu-geuk. Had he ever looked back at someone like this? His new young friend stood there silently, watching him go.
Was it because he was standing alone on the sparring arena? Those clear, deep eyes looked lonely.
The Sword King shouted at the top of his lungs.
“My name is Ak Gun-hak!”
Those lonely-looking eyes crinkled into a bright smile.
It was a name Geom Mu-geuk already knew. Ak Gun-hak, the First King of the Twelve Zodiac Kings. That was the Ak Gun-hak he had known in his past life.
But in this new life, Ak Gun-hak would live with a different meaning.
As Ak Gun-hak, the friend of Geom Mu-geuk.
“It’s a truly wonderful name.”