Chapter 19: Jo Seong-won (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 19: Jo Seong-won (2)
Unlike other martial artists, I can use not only my lower Dantian but also my middle Dantian.
In terms of internal energy alone, I was only slightly above a first-rate master, but my Innate True Qi changed the equation entirely.
Just a month ago, I had reached the fourth stage of the Life Bright Divine Art.
Now, I had surpassed the wall that defined a first-rate master.
Swish!
Startled, Jo Seong-won scrambled to his feet and unfolded his footwork.
That staggering, drunken movement was likely the Beggar’s Sect’s Drunken Eight Immortals Step.
I closed the distance rapidly.
“Urgh.”
He must have been feeling the pressure.
No matter how great a master of palm techniques one might be, facing a sword barehanded was no easy feat.
Furthermore, the gap between us was clear.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh!
My sword movements were fluid and ever-changing.
It was the third formation of the Life Bright Sword Technique: the Illuminating Shadow Sword.
As my blade snaked in as softly as a willow branch, Jo Seong-won unleashed his own palm techniques.
Pa-pa-pa-pa-pak!
To counter the shifting blade, he abandoned the typical ferocity of the Descending Dragon Eighteen Palms, instead adding variations to his strikes to deflect the sharp edges of my sword.
He skillfully parried the blade, striking near the flat of the sword to block the technique.
He was certainly talented.
However...
“Gah!”
My sword was faster than his hands, and my internal power far exceeded his.
The sheer force behind the blade must have left his palms stinging.
After blocking eight consecutive strikes, Jo Seong-won’s face grew flushed with exertion.
‘An opening.’
Unable to bear the pain, a small gap appeared in his defense.
I thrust my sword exquisitely into that opening.
As the tip of the blade lunged toward his right collarbone, he panicked and tried to swat the sword away with a palm strike.
“I knew you’d do that.”
“What?”
At that moment, I executed a variation.
I twisted the direction of the sword upward, aiming to bring it down and split his head in two.
‘!!!’
Sensing imminent death, he flinched and squeezed his eyes shut.
I brought the sword down toward his head without mercy.
Clang!
“Aaargh!”
He screamed.
However, his head didn't split open.
Had I used the edge, he would have died instantly without a sound, but I had intentionally turned the blade to hit him with the flat side.
“Uuugh...”
Groaning in pain, he clutched his head, checking to see if it had been split open.
Realizing he was still in one piece, he looked up at me with bewildered eyes.
“...Why?”
“I wasn't going easy on you.”
Thud!
“Gah!”
I kicked him square in the stomach.
Whether you're an ordinary person or a martial artist, a blow to an unprotected abdomen is agonizing, making you feel as if your breath has been cut off.
Since I had infused the kick with Innate True Qi, it would be even more painful.
His face turned a deep, explosive red as his body curled up like a shrimp.
I immediately sealed his pressure points.
Tap-tap-tap-tap!
Now he wouldn't be able to use his internal energy.
Paralyzed by the pressure point seal, he spoke to me urgently.
“W-wait... let’s talk first...”
“I tried to talk. But someone decided to throw a palm strike at me.”
“T-that was...”
I grabbed Jo Seong-won by the hair as he tried to make an excuse.
Grip!
“W-what are you doing?”
“I’ve had a lot of pent-up frustration over the past year because of a certain crazy old man. Thank you, truly.”
For giving me such a great opportunity.
My reflection, fist clenched, was mirrored in his trembling pupils.
I slammed my fist into his face without an ounce of mercy.
Thwack!
“Squeee!”
A sound like a stuck pig escaped his mouth.
Feeling the satisfying impact of my fist, I finally understood why Hae Ak-cheon enjoyed beating people so much.
*
After venting my frustration, I felt as if a decade’s worth of congestion had finally cleared.
It was incredibly refreshing.
– You really turned the kid into a pulp.
The Sodamgum clicked its tongue.
Jo Seong-won lay there gasping for breath, his face a mess from the beating.
Still, I had been somewhat considerate.
I hadn't used internal energy; I’d beaten him with pure physical strength.
‘Hmm.’
I looked down at the battered man.
There were more than a few suspicious points.
Spies trained for infiltration, whether from the Orthodox or Evil factions, usually have one thing in common.
They commit suicide to prevent information leaks if caught.
Yet this guy had begged for his life multiple times while being beaten.
– Maybe he just didn't want to die when faced with it.
Well, that was possible.
There are rare cases where spies, clinging to life, beg for mercy even if it means leaking information.
Even so, he had broken too easily.
I hadn't even started real torture, like pulling out fingernails.
Furthermore, from the moment he felt his identity was at risk, he immediately resorted to threats—he was quite clumsy for a spy.
‘It’s strange.’
– What else is strange?
‘The Descending Dragon Eighteen Palms.’
This martial art was famous throughout the entire martial world.
He had learned the peerless palm technique that only the Chief of the Beggar’s Sect and his direct disciples were supposed to know.
– Then is this guy the successor to the beggar boss?
I couldn't rule out that possibility.
But why would the Beggar’s Sect use their successor as a spy?
Common sense dictated that spies were people considered disposable.
Sending a successor as a spy? It was nonsensical.
– Hey, but if you know the future, don't you know who the successor of the Beggar’s Sect is?
I do.
That’s why it’s even stranger.
Before my regression, the successor of the Beggar’s Sect was a man named Hong Geol-gae, the Hall Master of Nokhyeon Hall.
I had even seen his face.
‘Hmm.’
What exactly was this guy’s identity?
– Why worry about it? Just ask him.
‘I should.’
If he clung to life enough to beg for it, he might open his mouth.
And if he didn't, I had another way.
“Hey, beggar.”
“Eek!”
Perhaps it was a reflex from the beating, but he flinched instinctively.
“I’m not hitting you.”
He looked at me with suspicious eyes.
I leaned down to meet his gaze more closely.
Having been thoroughly thrashed, he was incredibly tense.
He spoke in a trembling voice.
“W-who... who are you? How did you know my...”
He couldn't finish the sentence, but I knew what he meant.
Since I knew his identity, it was only natural for him to be curious.
After all, the only information he had on me was that I was the trashy third son of the Yikyang So Family.
I snorted and said to him, “That’s none of your business.”
He grit his teeth at my words.
I was the one in control; there was no need for me to explain anything to him.
“I’m the one asking questions. You just answer what you’re asked.”
He shut his mouth tight and frowned.
Keeping it shut wouldn't be good for his health.
I had already decided what to ask, so I got straight to the point.
“If you’ve learned the Descending Dragon Eighteen Palms, you must be a direct disciple of the Chief... Who are you?”
When I mentioned the palm technique, his eyes flickered slightly.
It shouldn't have been that surprising.
Even without the Namcheon Iron Sword’s help, many people would recognize that technique if he used it.
I suppose that’s why he tried to hide it using Haomen martial arts.
“It would be best to talk if you don't want to die.”
At my threatening tone, he bit his lip hard.
It seemed the fact that he shouldn't leak information was at least somewhat ingrained in his mind.
“Whew.”
Grip! Slam!
I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the ground.
He let out a groan of pain.
“Uuuugh...”
“The tighter you keep your mouth shut, the more your body will suffer.”
Despite the groan, he grit his teeth.
So, he thought he could endure this better than the beating?
Then let’s change the question.
“Fine. Then what is your relationship with the Junior Chamber Leader, Hong Geol-gae?”
If he had learned the Descending Dragon Eighteen Palms, I guessed they were at least fellow disciples.
But at my words, his expression twisted.
He had been acting like he would hold out forever, but he suddenly reacted.
I asked him again.
“What is your relationship with Junior Chamber Leader Hong Geol-gae...”
‘Huh?’
Suddenly, his eyes turned red.
It wasn't so much sadness as it was a surge of resentment and anger.
– What’s wrong with him?
How should I know?
“What are you doing?”
At my question, he spoke while trembling violently.
“Are you certain?”
“Certain about wha—”
“Is it... is it true that fellow became the Junior Chamber Leader?”
My eyes narrowed instinctively at his words.
I could feel the rage in his voice.
I had assumed they were just fellow disciples, but it seemed that wasn't the case.
– Then what?
‘Somehow, I think this guy... was a rival of Hong Geol-gae for the succession.’
– A competitive relationship?
‘Perhaps.’
It seemed I had unintentionally touched upon something that would make him talk.
The picture was starting to form, but I wasn't certain yet.
– But is that guy still the Junior Chamber Leader?
‘I don't know.’
– Huh? Then you just lied?
Should I call it a lie?
I didn't know exactly when Hong Geol-gae became the Junior Chamber Leader.
Since Hong Geol-gae was over thirty before my regression, I figured he would have been chosen as the successor by now, ten years ago. I had just happened to hit the mark.
“What’s wrong with Hong Geol-gae becoming the Junior Chamber Leader?”
“That damn, wretched old man!”
Jo Seong-won spat out a coarse curse.
His tone was so natural that it seemed this was his original way of speaking.
Then again, the way beggars spoke—Hong Geol-gae included—was usually vulgar.
“He couldn't even wait a single year...”
Tears even welled up in Jo Seong-won’s eyes as he fumed.
He must have been incredibly angry.
I might be able to coax him now.
Pat, pat!
I let go of his hair and patted his back, speaking in a soft, comforting voice.
“It seems you didn't know who became the Junior Chamber Leader.”
“Dammit.”
He cursed as tears began to fall.
With his emotions this heightened, I could try nudging him a bit more.
“Did you compete with Hong Geol-gae for the succession?”
At my question, he snapped at me.
“Who competed with whom? It’s ridiculous that that damn brat was made the successor just because he’s the grandson, even though he’s shit at martial arts...”
Slap!
Before he could finish, I slapped him across the cheek.
Then, I put a finger to my lips.
“Speak quietly. You’re too loud.”
My words seemed to calm him down, and he took a deep breath.
Then, in a much quieter voice, he said, “That guy... he’s not fit to be a successor or anything. How can someone who barely learned ten of the eighteen palms after five years be the Junior Chamber Leader?”
“And you’ve learned them all?”
He fell silent at my question.
Judging by his scowl, he hadn't learned them all either.
“Then aren't you the same?”
I prodded him gently.
He snorted, his nose flaring with indignation.
“...That wretched old man intentionally didn't teach me because he wanted to favor his grandson. If he had just taught me the final forms, I would have mastered the palm technique long ago.”
A little scratching, and he was telling me everything.
He must have really wanted that Junior Chamber Leader position.
– He’s still just a beggar, isn't he?
– It is human nature to want to be the leader, no matter the group.
The Namcheon Iron Sword was right.
Even when only three people gather, they decide on a leader.
Since he had received martial arts directly from the Chief, he must have dreamed of becoming the Chief himself.
Having heard this much, the pieces were falling into place.
I said to the man who was still struggling to contain his anger, “So you played the spy so clumsily just to earn some merit?”
‘!!!’
The huffing and puffing man’s expression froze instantly.
It seemed I had hit the bullseye.
To the silent man, I laid out my deduction.
“Unable to stomach being pushed aside by blood ties, you probably thought you’d infiltrate the Blood Cult to expose their base or dig up major intel. Isn't that right?”
“........”
“The Martial Alliance is wary of the Blood Cult’s resurrection. An achievement like that would surely get your merit recognized.”
He just stared at me with a hardened expression.
As if staring intensely would change anything.
“But what now? The Junior Chamber Leader has already been decided. How do you plan to get your merit recognized and become the successor now?”
“........”
“And do you really think the Chief or the Junior Chamber Leader will just leave you be after you’ve earned such merit?”
“...What do you mean by that?”
The silent man asked, his eyes widening.
I gave him a smirk and replied, “Didn't you say the Chief was desperate to hand the Beggar’s Sect over to his grandson? Do you think he’d just let you be recognized by the people of the sect for your achievements?”
“If... if he doesn't leave me be, what would he do?”
His pupils were trembling.
You already know what I’m talking about.
Why play dumb?
“For instance, what if the Chief leaked your location as a spy to the Blood Cult?”
I made a throat-slitting gesture.
His face turned pale.
“He could get rid of you without getting a single drop of blood on his hands. Right? Then all the merit you earned would vanish into thin air. Ah, no. Not entirely. You might be remembered as a mere disciple who acted as a spy under the Chief’s orders. The credit would belong solely to the Beggar’s Sect itself.”
His gaze became complicated.
He was likely extremely confused.
– Wow... you’re incredible. You’re even craftier than that crazy old man.
The Sodamgum was amazed.
– How did you think of that? Look at the earthquake in his eyes.
‘Actually, it might be exactly what’s going to happen.’
– What’s going to happen?
Thinking back, Jo Seong-won had been hunted down and killed far too easily in my previous life.
The Beggar’s Sect, despite everything, had significant influence in the martial world, boasting a hundred thousand disciples.
Would such a sect really let a spy die so easily?
Especially one who had been taught the Chief’s own martial arts.
– You mean they intentionally let him die?
‘If my guess is correct.’
He had definitely been abandoned.
Once a clear successor is decided, any other contenders are bound to be cast aside.
It’s cruel, but the world we live in is a thin sheet of ice.
Thud!
“Urgh!”
He slammed his fist into the ground.
It seemed my words had struck him as a very real possibility.
– So what are you going to do? Are you going to squeeze some useful info out of him and tell that old man? You’d get some credit for that.
‘No.’
– Huh?
Why would I do that?
That was the plan before I understood his situation.
If he was a piece the Beggar’s Sect was throwing away, it was a waste to use him just for that.
Why give him back to the Blood Cult?
– Then?
I gave a small smirk and spoke to the despondent Jo Seong-won.
“Wouldn't it be frustrating to end it like this?”
He looked up at me, bewildered.
“That Hong Geol-gae fellow will become the Junior Chamber Leader while you die here.”
A shadow fell over Jo Seong-won’s face.
He was beyond despondent; he was likely in despair.
I said to him, “I’ll give you a chance.”
“...What do you mean?”
“I’ll give you fifteen minutes. Organize your thoughts until then.”
“Organize my thoughts? What...”
“If you swear to follow me, I’ll act as if this conversation never happened.”
‘!?’
Jo Seong-won’s eyes widened.
I was giving him a choice.
I threw the final gambit at the wavering man.
“Will you die as a nameless spy for the Beggar’s Sect? Or will you seek revenge with me?”
A true storm erupted in his eyes.