Chapter 78: A Bunch of Madmen
Chapter 78: A Bunch of Madmen
Jang Ho wasn't one to seek the spotlight without reason.
However, he found the Shackled Man’s arrogant dismissal of the "right-hand man" position intolerable. He had been the first to realize that today’s entire gathering revolved around this mysterious prisoner.
—It’s possible we are only here today because of that man, he thought.
That was why he had sent voice transmissions to Lee An and Seo Dae-ryong earlier.
Lee An had been the first to act, and Seo Dae-ryong had followed suit. With his wealth of real-world experience, Jang Ho instinctively sensed that this room was a battlefield—a place where an invisible war was unfolding.
At Jang Ho’s words, the Shackled Man raised his head and stared at him. The large scar on Jang Ho’s face twitched.
“Why are you so obsessed with being the right hand?” the Shackled Man asked. “If I were you, I’d take the left and just watch the right hands tear each other apart.”
“I don’t make a hobby of watching from the sidelines,” Jang Ho replied. “Since I’ve set my sights on being the right hand, I will do whatever it takes to earn it.”
“How manly of you.”
“Thank you.”
The Pungcheon Cult Leader, who had been watching the exchange in silence, sent a sharp voice transmission to the Shackled Man.
—Manly? What a load of crap. Since when do you talk like that?
—It’s because you don’t know me as well as you think, Cult Leader. I’m a man of many words. I can be quite the smooth talker when I want to be.
—Damn it! Why are you spouting nonsense now of all times?
—You’re the one who started this, Cult Leader.
—Fine, let’s say I did. But what are these people trying to pull, swarming you like this?
—Can’t you see? They’re all working themselves to the bone for the sake of their leader.
—How cowardly! I’m sitting here all alone.
—What have you been doing with your life, then? You have plenty of subordinates.
—So? Are you saying the Second Young Master is a leader who actually cherishes his people?
—If I were to follow the Second Young Master, it would be for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with them. It wouldn’t matter if a hundred people came here to praise him. You don’t need to worry about them.
—Then for what reason would you go?
The Shackled Man offered no answer.
The Pungcheon Cult Leader turned his attention back to Geom Mu-geuk. “The Second Young Master has fine subordinates.”
“I’m sure you have many more than I do, Cult Leader.”
“No. I am a lonely man. Aside from that man over there, there is no one who truly understands me.”
“It is a great blessing to have even one person who understands you.”
“I hope that blessing stays by my side for a long time.”
Geom Mu-geuk didn't push him to release the prisoner just yet. He knew that using the shackles as leverage now would be a clumsy, disadvantageous move.
“Now, have a drink with me.”
As the Pungcheon Cult Leader poured the wine, he infused the stream with his internal energy. Pouring wine this way without shattering the cup was a feat only true masters could achieve; if the recipient lacked the strength to match, they would never be able to hold the cup steady until it was full.
Trickle.
The cup filled to the brim, yet not a single muscle in Geom Mu-geuk’s face twitched.
The Pungcheon Cult Leader was inwardly shaken. ‘No way. Does his internal energy surpass mine? That’s impossible!’
In contrast to the rattled Cult Leader, Geom Mu-geuk remained serene. He accepted the drink, finished it in one go, and held the cup back out.
“Now, allow me to return the favor.”
The Pungcheon Cult Leader’s expression stiffened. If he failed to receive Geom Mu-geuk’s cup properly, he would be humiliated in front of everyone. However, given the momentum of the night, he couldn't refuse.
“Very well. Let us taste the wine of the ascending Hidden Dragon.”
The Cult Leader accepted the cup.
This time, internal energy surged into the falling liquid. The Cult Leader struggled to maintain his composure as he caught the weight of it. It was a staggering amount of energy—just barely within his limit to withstand.
“The wine tastes excellent,” the Cult Leader managed.
“Let’s drink until we’re drunk today.”
“Fine by me.”
The Pungcheon Cult Leader triumphantly sent a voice transmission to the Shackled Man.
—Did you see that? Receiving a drink infused with the Second Young Master’s energy? It was nothing.
—The Second Young Master was saving your face. He likely didn't want to, but he went out of his way to use his energy because he thought you’d be embarrassed if he poured it normally after you showed off. He didn’t even use half his strength.
—…….
In truth, the Pungcheon Cult Leader had felt it the moment the energy touched the cup. Having physically exchanged blows of internal energy, how could he not know? He had tried to boast, only to have his own inadequacy laid bare.
—Don’t be discouraged. I already know what kind of man you are, Cult Leader.
—I feel even smaller because of you. I’m usually better than this, but I keep making mistakes.
—I understand that as well.
Geom Mu-geuk noticed the two were exchanging silent messages, but he continued to drink, pretending to be oblivious. At that moment, a voice transmission from the Blood Heaven Blade Demon reached him.
—Why didn’t you humiliate him?
—If I wound his pride now, the situation will only deteriorate.
—When you have the chance to show your dominance, you should take it. You should have crushed him properly. People’s hearts are moved by simpler things than you think.
—He likely saw something more important than a display of power.
—Aren’t you overestimating him?
—Perhaps.
The drinking session continued.
Geom Mu-geuk engaged in calm conversation with the Pungcheon Cult Leader, carefully avoiding any words or actions that might seem like an attack. His strategy wasn't to target the Cult Leader directly. Instead, he focused on the real reason he had come: to show his people to the Shackled Man.
“Investigator Seo. How is your training progressing lately?”
“It’s difficult, but I’m working hard,” Seo Dae-ryong replied.
At that, the Blood Heaven Blade Demon interjected. “Difficult?”
“No, it’s not difficult at all.”
“Is that so? I suppose I should increase the training load, then.”
“No, it’s deathly difficult!”
Geom Mu-geuk laughed, joining the banter. “Trying to please the Elder is probably as hard as hitting my father’s pressure points.”
“It’s not quite as hard as the Master,” Seo Dae-ryong muttered.
“You’re calling me Master again,” the Blood Heaven Blade Demon bluntly rebuked him.
As if it weren’t a mistake, Seo Dae-ryong spoke with sudden confidence. “You haven’t officially taken me as a disciple, but I think of you as my master. Even if you kick me out tomorrow, I will remember you as my master forever.”
“Who gave you permission to remember me?”
“What, are you saying I can’t even keep my own memories?”
The One Flower Sword Venerable added her weight to the teasing. “He’s always been that way.”
The Blood Heaven Blade Demon didn’t flare up at her remark. “Do you even know me well enough to say that?”
“Vividly. I’m the one who wishes I could forget.”
The two Demon Lords engaged in a quiet war of nerves. Geom Mu-geuk didn't stop them. Showing them exactly as they were—flaws and all—was the purpose of today’s visit, even if they were being a bit too honest.
Geom Mu-geuk silently poured drinks for them. The One Flower Sword Venerable toyed with her cup, while the Blood Heaven Blade Demon drained his instantly.
The Pungcheon Cult Leader watched this scene with a strange, unfamiliar emotion. He hadn't expected the legendary Demon Lords to have a petty emotional spat right in front of him.
—What the hell are they playing at? he messaged the Shackled Man. What’s their angle?
—You already knew those two had a bad relationship.
—But to show their emotions and bicker like that in front of me? Those sly old foxes? No way. I know what they’re like.
—It’s probably not because they’re in front of you. It's because they're with him.
The Pungcheon Cult Leader bit his lip as he looked at Geom Mu-geuk and the two Demon Lords. Sitting on either side of the Second Young Master like a pair of wings, they were expressing themselves freely, completely disregarding the Cult Leader’s presence.
Even that sight felt like a weight. A wave of loneliness, like standing alone on a deserted island, washed over him.
‘This won’t do!’
When the meeting began, he felt he could face Geom Mu-geuk with overwhelming momentum. He thought he could orchestrate some grand reversal, but the reality was different. He was being outmatched in presence, in internal energy, and in sheer magnanimity. Furthermore, the people Mu-geuk brought were acting completely contrary to his expectations.
The woman had offered a drink to the prisoner, that gloomy fellow was chiming in with bold claims, and the Demon Monarch was uncharacteristically coveting the position of a subordinate. And now, the two Demon Lords were having a domestic dispute.
‘These people are a bunch of madmen.’
The Pungcheon Cult Leader was plagued by worry. He felt like flipping the table and screaming.
‘You bastards! Get the hell out! Do you know who I am, coming here in a pack to pull this shit? Do you want to start a war with the Outer Rim? Come at me if you dare!’
But he couldn't. If he had that kind of courage, he wouldn't be in this position to begin with.
Still, the Pungcheon Cult Leader didn't give up. He poured a drink for Geom Mu-geuk and spoke pleasantly. “The Cult will spare no effort in supporting your path to becoming the next Heavenly Demon.”
“Thank you. I, too, will actively assist the Pungcheon Cult’s expansion into the Central Plains.”
“Thanks to your help, my disciple has become a Demon Lord. You asked for no reward for that, but I must repay the debt.”
The Cult Leader acted as if he no longer cared about losing a sacred relic. He wanted to show the Shackled Man that he had changed—that he wasn't just a narrow-minded, greedy man.
“Choose,” the Cult Leader said.
“Will you truly give me whatever I want?”
“Indeed. I will give you anything that is in this room.”
Everyone looked at Geom Mu-geuk, anticipating his choice. Finally, he spoke. Words that no one in the room could have imagined flowed from his lips.
“Give me those shackles.”
The room went still. Everyone was stunned by the request.
Among them, the Pungcheon Cult Leader’s shock was of the expected kind—the feeling of ‘it finally happened.’ Because of that, he was even more furious.
‘How dare he make such a demand after I said he was my right hand?’
The Cult Leader’s gaze turned cold. “I absolutely cannot give you that man.”
“I am not asking for the man,” Geom Mu-geuk clarified. “I asked for the shackles made of Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron.”
The Pungcheon Cult Leader blinked, startled. It was a truly unexpected statement. “What do you intend to do with them?”
“I plan to bind anyone who doesn't listen to me,” Geom Mu-geuk said, glancing jokingly at Seo Dae-ryong.
Seo Dae-ryong pouted. “Shackles are for people who listen well! You shouldn't bind someone who doesn't listen like me. That’s when real trouble starts.”
It was a joke, but the Pungcheon Cult Leader was visibly shaken. It was a perspective he had never considered.
Then, Geom Mu-geuk revealed his true intent. “I want to melt down that Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron and forge something more valuable. It would be hard to find a treasure of this caliber even among sacred relics.”
He could always bind the man with different chains if he had to. Thus, this was a symbolic request—an expression of his desire to set the man free.
“So, please. Give me those shackles.”
The Pungcheon Cult Leader fell into deep thought. ‘What should I do?’
He hoped the Shackled Man would send a voice transmission, but… ‘There’s no way he’d say anything when it’s about his own freedom.’
Just then, a message arrived from the Shackled Man.
—Refuse.
—What?
—For your sake, Cult Leader, it is a request you must not grant.
—Why are you telling me this?
—Didn’t you ask me to be fair?
The Pungcheon Cult Leader let out a heavy sigh. He hadn't expected Geom Mu-geuk to ask for the iron, nor had he expected the prisoner to tell him to refuse.
‘Everyone is smarter than me; I can’t even keep up with my own head.’
He really thought he could handle this… but the gap between his ideals and reality drove him to despair. He became acutely conscious of the eyes on him.
“A promise must be kept,” the Cult Leader said.
It wasn't because of pride or face. He had judged that the Shackled Man would find him more impressive if he released him now.
The Pungcheon Cult Leader took the key hanging from his necklace. He walked over slowly and unlocked the man’s shackles. Neither of them said a word. They didn't even exchange voice transmissions. He simply unlocked the heavy iron, and the man just watched.
Clang.
The Pungcheon Cult Leader brought the shackles and the key to Geom Mu-geuk and set them down. “Take them.”
“Thank you.”
The Shackled Man remained sitting in the same posture, head bowed, though his limbs were now free.
Geom Mu-geuk turned to him. “Is there anything you would like to make out of the melted iron?”
Surprised gazes snapped to Geom Mu-geuk. They hadn't expected him to offer the metal back to the man who had been bound by it.
The Pungcheon Cult Leader felt a wave of dizziness and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt that the only thing left for him to do against these people was to flip the table and walk out.