Chapter 747: Begin. (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 747: Begin. (3)
It was just past noon.
The sun hung high in the sky, but the heat wasn't oppressive. Autumn was already beginning to settle in, and a gentle breeze rustled my hair.
I’d never bothered with grooming, so my hair should have been coarse and unkempt, but thanks to my body’s Rebirth, my skin and hair were always in peak condition.
‘Which is exactly why it’s so annoying.’
Swoosh.
I grabbed my long hair and tied it back. It was much less distracting now. With the strands no longer obscuring my eyes, my vision cleared.
The first thing I saw was the arena, cracked and scarred in various places. The lingering marks of battles between Fusion Realm masters were etched into the stone. They’d claimed they reinforced the stage for the top eight, but I wondered what they were actually spending their money on.
What a waste of funds, I thought.
Crack.
I flexed my wrist and shifted my gaze from the arena floor to the people.
First was the judge, whose tension was at an all-time high. The reason was likely me.
‘The aftermath of the last fight, I guess.’
I hadn't caused too much of a scene in my match against Yung Pung, but my fight with the Heavenly Dragon… the trouble I’d caused there had been significant. That was undoubtedly why the judge looked so high-strung.
‘I feel a little bad, but…’
What could I do? You have to do what you have to do to earn your keep. I knew from experience that the Murim Alliance paid its officials quite well. Judging by his armband, he seemed to be at the Vice-Captain level, so he was likely drawing a hefty salary.
Well then, he’d better be worth the money.
‘And.’
There was another reason for the judge’s tension. I shifted my gaze slightly to see the man responsible.
Gooooo.
A giant of a man, nearly eight feet tall, came into view. He possessed a massive frame with broad shoulders packed with dense, heavy muscle.
It was the Dao King, Peng Jeowoo.
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring me down. I could clearly sense that something was different about him compared to our last encounter.
‘That old man. He’s stopped playing around with his Qi?’
Last time, he’d been radiating energy like a leaky faucet, putting on a pathetic show of force. This time, he was perfectly still. The subtle fighting spirit of a master still emanated from him, but that was unavoidable, so I let it slide. The overflowing energy he’d been leaking before was now completely contained within him.
Yes. This was much better. It was a good look on him, not wasting effort on pointless displays.
However.
“Who do you think will win this time?”
“I don’t know. Still, wouldn’t it be the Dao King?”
“Nonsense. The Lesser King of Hell is the one who defeated the Heavenly Dragon. Do you really think he’d lose to the Dao King?”
“Even so, the Dao King is one of the Six Seats. For someone like him to lose to a young prodigy is a bit…”
“Are you saying the Dragon Warrior wasn’t a young prodigy?”
“…Well, the Dragon Warrior is the Dishonored Venerable’s…”
All sorts of chatter stabbed at my ears. Listening to the gossip, a dry laugh escaped me.
‘How utterly pathetic.’
How had the Dao King fallen so far? To think people were actually debating the outcome of a fight against me. This was partly because my own stock had skyrocketed, but it was mostly because the Dao King’s reputation had plummeted.
‘Tsk.’
Perhaps aware of the whispers, the Dao King’s expression soured by the second. It was a shame, but what could I do? He should blame the Dishonored Venerable for beating him to a pulp.
Besides, to be honest, the public’s interest wasn’t just on the outcome of this match. It was focused elsewhere.
Namely: who would win if the Dragon Warrior and I fought?
That was the question on everyone's mind. The Dragon Warrior, who had defeated the Dao King. The Lesser King of Hell, who had defeated the Heavenly Dragon—the so-called youngest to ever reach the Fusion Realm. Since the match between the two of us had been canceled, their curiosity had only intensified.
Who was the stronger of the two? Who was truly the supreme talent among the young generation?
‘Hmph.’
I was sick of this ridiculous ranking game. Why did it matter so much?
‘That damned old man.’
I scowled in annoyance. For such talk to draw this much attention, the performance the Dishonored Venerable had put on must have been truly shocking.
‘Thanks to him, things got complicated.’
My position had become troublesome because he’d shown off too much. It was even more annoying because the Dishonored Venerable had forfeited, even if it was due to the internal injuries he'd sustained. In the end, the world would never know, would they?
Who was stronger: the Lesser King of Hell or the Dragon Warrior? The people would never get their answer. And that meant all that lingering curiosity would be directed right here.
That was what I regretted.
‘I should have taken all the spotlight for myself if I could.’
It felt like I had to share the stage with the Dishonored Venerable.
‘Don’t tell me… he did it on purpose.’
The Dragon Warrior leaves while the applause is loudest, receiving all the praise. Could the Dishonored Venerable have calculated this?
‘…I can’t be sure.’
He was a surprisingly cunning man. It was entirely possible he had planned the whole thing. The problem was, I couldn't even question him about it.
‘It’s a shame, but what can I do?’
It was spilled milk, and besides…
‘There’s a way to solve it to some extent.’
That was a relief. As I was nodding to myself…
“Where are you looking?”
The Dao King’s voice forced my gaze back to him.
“Are you daydreaming while I stand before you?”
“Ah, my apologies. My mind wandered for a moment.”
I apologized honestly. However, the Dao King’s expression didn't soften in the slightest.
“…You truly are the height of arrogance. Then again, you’re his son. It’s only natural you’d take after him.”
“Hmm.”
I counted my fingernails in my head before speaking.
“It’s only natural for a child to resemble their parent… In that sense, Lord Peng, you’re quite fortunate.”
“What?”
“Your son doesn’t resemble you at all, does he? In many ways. Isn’t that a true blessing?”
Honestly, from my perspective, Peng Woojin was only marginally better, but that didn't matter right now. As I spoke with a smirk, the old man’s brow furrowed even deeper.
“It seems I’ll have to rip that little mouth of yours to shut you up.”
“My, what a scary thing to say.”
“Does the world’s praise make you think you own it? How truly conceited.”
Thud.
The tip of the Dao King’s great sword hit the floor. It was just as enormous as I remembered.
“Don’t be mistaken. I made a mistake against the Dragon Warrior. But no such miracle will happen for you.”
“Hmm…”
Hearing his words, I scratched my cheek.
“Lord Peng, you keep pretending not to know.”
“Pretending not to know?”
“Why do you keep calling it a miracle? You, of all people, should know better.”
I saw the corner of the Dao King’s eye twitch. He knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Why do you keep trying to sugarcoat the fact that you got your ass kicked? Does it make you feel better?”
“…!”
Grind.
A harsh, grating sound came from the Dao King’s clenched teeth.
“You got fucking wrecked, didn’t you? Did you hit your head too hard back then? Why do you keep spouting such nonsense?”
As I spoke, I scanned our surroundings. At the same time, I imbued my voice with Qi. It wasn't a telepathic message; I just controlled the sound so it wouldn't spread to the crowd.
“Cut the crap and hold your sword properly. You’re weak as shit, so why do you keep running your mouth? How badly do you want to get beaten?”
“This son of a bitch…!”
Krrrrk—!!
The Dao King’s muscles swelled as if he were about to charge at any second. Even as I watched him, my eyes were still scanning the area.
‘Time… about fifteen minutes.’
That was how much time I had left. With that thought, I glanced behind me toward the pavilion where the great merchant associations and the supreme figures who sponsored the Central Plains were gathered.
I gave it a quick look and nodded.
‘Not bad.’
That should be enough. With that judgment, I looked at the judge.
“I think we’re ready. Let’s get started.”
“…Pardon…?”
The judge let out a flustered sound. He was well aware that the Dao King was on the verge of an explosion.
“It doesn’t matter, you can start,” I said, waving my hand.
Even as I spoke, the Dao King’s fighting spirit grew thicker.
“I swear.”
My attitude must have truly snapped his patience, because the hand gripping his sword began to tremble violently.
“I swear on my name. I will crush you right here, right now.”
I let out a smirk.
“That’s one of the things I hear most often… but I’ve never seen anyone succeed.”
Usually, guys who said that to me ended up in one of two ways: either crushed beneath my feet, or dead with their necks snapped by my hand. So, which would it be for the Dao King?
“I won’t get my hopes up. I just have one request.”
Squeeze.
I clenched and unclenched my fist a few times.
“Fifteen minutes.”
Clench.
I balled my hand into a fist and spoke.
“Just try to last that long.”
That was all I asked of the Dao King.
* * *
The Dao King’s days as a young prodigy.
This was from a time when he was not called by his current title, but by the name Ink Dragon.
Now they were called the Six Dragons and Three Phoenixes, but back then, there were only two Phoenixes and five Dragons. The era of the Five Dragons and Two Phoenixes. This was a story from the days when Peng Jeowoo was one of them.
The season was not autumn, but winter. It was the height of the Dragons and Phoenixes Tournament.
The Ink Dragon of that time was a man with even more rage than he had now. It was a time when he was less mature, having been doted on by the Dao King of that generation. It was also a time when he was at his most rebellious, deeply insecure about his own talent.
Supported by the noble Four Noble Clans, he had enough skill to rise to the rank of Dragon, but it was a position he had barely managed to attain. The young prodigies from minor clans were nipping at his heels, and the bloodlines of the other noble clans stood before him like an insurmountable wall.
When everything was closing in on Peng Jeowoo, he suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the Sword Dragon, Namgung Jin.
“That fuuuuucking…!!!”
CRASH—!!
Peng Jeowoo roared a vulgar curse and smashed a table.
“How could I… how could I lose to a mere pretty boy—!!!”
The memory of being defeated by the Sword Dragon and eliminated from the Dragons and Phoenixes Tournament played on loop. Recalling it, Peng Jeowoo spewed his rage.
The atmosphere in the inn was frigid. Others cowered in fear, and the martial artists present dared not step forward. Peng Jeowoo was a young prodigy, but he was also the heir to the Peng Clan. If they harmed him, there was no telling how the current Dao King would react. It was common knowledge in the Central Plains that the Dao King cherished Peng Jeowoo dearly.
“What do I lack—!!”
CRASH—! CLANG—!!
The memory was agonizing. He had lost count of the liquor bottles he’d downed, but as a martial artist, he couldn't get properly drunk. Broken glass lay scattered on the floor. Peng Jeowoo’s mind was as chaotic as the shards. The image of himself rolling on the ground, overwhelmed by the Sword Dragon’s Sword Intent, flashed in his mind.
“Aaaaaaaargh—!!”
CRASH—! CRASH—!!
In the midst of his destructive rampage, something caught Peng Jeowoo’s eye. The women who had been fawning over him had fled long ago. While everyone else was either terrified or clinging to the walls…
Just one person.
Only one person in the inn was eating as if nothing was wrong. He had ordered a small bowl of noodles and was eating without a sound. He was so quiet that Peng Jeowoo hadn't even realized he was there.
Gulp.
As the faint sound of swallowing echoed…
“…What are you, bastard?”
Finding it displeasing, Peng Jeowoo decided to pick a fight.
“You can still swallow in this situation? Can you!”
Peng Jeowoo threw a liquor bottle, making an unreasonable demand.
However.
Whoosh—! Thud.
The person eating caught the flying bottle and placed it on his table without a second thought. It was a natural, fluid movement. Just as Peng Jeowoo’s expression soured, the man looked at him.
“…!”
Peng Jeowoo’s body trembled slightly. He didn't know why, but the moment he saw the young man’s eyes, his body froze.
The stranger was about the same age, with black hair and intensely red eyes. A familiar face.
“Ha… I was wondering who it was. So it’s you.”
A blood relative of the Gu Clan. He was a member of the bloodline who had appeared for the first time at this Dragons and Phoenixes Tournament, and he was putting up a good showing in the tournament. He’d heard the guy got lucky and beat that annoying brat, the Little Dragon of Wudang.
His name was, probably…
“Gu Cheol… Gu Cheolun?”
“Gu Cheolun.”
Peng Jeowoo clicked his tongue at the voice that corrected him. The voice was deep and carried an incredible weight.
“Right, Gu Cheolun. That damned bastard. What the hell are you?”
At the irritable question, Gu Cheolun tilted his head and gestured with his chopsticks.
“Can’t you see? I’m eating.”
“Who the hell do you think I am to ask something like that!?”
Thump—! Thump—!
Peng Jeowoo approached Gu Cheolun and grabbed the table. He tried to flip it over, but…
Screech.
“…!?”
The table wouldn't budge. Instead, Peng Jeowoo’s hand, straining with force, just trembled. What was happening? As Peng Jeowoo looked on in confusion, he finally understood. Gu Cheolun had his hand resting on the tabletop.
Could that be the reason? He couldn't believe it. This made it seem as if he was being overpowered. It was impossible. He might lack in other areas, but in terms of raw strength, he was the best among the young prodigies. There was no way he could be outmatched by a guy like this…
WHOOSH—!
“Hup!?”
The table was suddenly lifted and shot into the air. Peng Jeowoo, thrown off balance by the recoil, stumbled and fell ridiculously.
Splat—!
The noodles rained down on Peng Jeowoo’s head.
CRASH—! CRACK—!
The table then fell to the floor and shattered.
“Oh dear,” Gu Cheolun uttered. “What a waste of good food. It’s been a while since I had something that suited my palate.”
He said it calmly, as if genuinely disappointed.
“…Ha… hahaha…!!”
At this, Peng Jeowoo burst into laughter. Those around him recoiled in horror. It was clear to anyone that he was not in his right mind.
“You bastard… Do you have any idea who I am! Do you really want to die? I am of the Hebei Peng Clan…!”
“Not interested.”
Gu Cheolun’s words momentarily silenced Peng Jeowoo.
“You son of a bitch…?”
Creeak.
Gu Cheolun slowly rose to his feet. Watching him, Peng Jeowoo’s eyes widened. He was huge—a massive frame that was even slightly larger than his own.
“I have no interest in your name.”
Thump.
Peng Jeowoo's heart pounded heavily. It had started the moment he saw Gu Cheolun’s eyes. Those red eyes that looked down on him. The instant their gazes met, Peng Jeowoo felt his body instinctively shrink back.
“What… what did you say?”
Not interested?
“How dare you, you mongrel—!!”
GRAB—!
“Gack!?”
Peng Jeowoo, incensed, tried to move, but an arm suddenly shot out. Gu Cheolun grabbed both of Peng Jeowoo’s cheeks and pried them open. The massive hand gripped Peng Jeowoo’s large face with ease, and then he shoved his other hand into the man's mouth.
At first, he tried to struggle. But strangely, his body wouldn't move. His acupoints weren't sealed; he was just being held by the face, yet his body was frozen solid. He would later realize he had been crushed by pure killing intent, but by then, it was too late.
At that moment, Peng Jeowoo could do nothing against the aura emanating from Gu Cheolun.
CRUNCH—!
“Grk…!? Guuuuhk!!”
A molar was ripped out. Even then, he couldn't resist. Then, a finger touched the raw spot where the tooth had been.
And then.
Tsssssssss—!!!
“Guuuaaaaaaaargh—!!!!”
Heat seared the wound. Peng Jeowoo screamed in agony, writhing in pain, unable to fight back. Only after he had struggled for a long while did Gu Cheolun let him go.
Flick! Thud—!
He threw the molar at him, then casually wiped his saliva-drenched hand on his clothes with an indifferent expression.
“We’ll call this payment for the noodles.”
He said it calmly. At those words, Peng Jeowoo started to convulse.
“Huk… guh… you…. this…. you son… of a bitch….”
As Peng Jeowoo spat out curses along with ragged breaths, Gu Cheolun moved closer and met his eyes.
“What.”
“…!”
“Do you have something more to say?”
“…Guh… ugh….”
“Say it. I’m listening.”
He wanted to curse him out. To scream, Do you know who I am? I am Peng Jeowoo of the Peng Clan. He wanted to scream it and tower over this bastard. But Peng Jeowoo couldn't move his lips. His instincts were screaming at him.
“I said, try saying more.”
If he uttered another word, he might die. No, he would definitely die. Gu Cheolun’s eyes and Peng Jeowoo’s instincts were telling him so.
“…Hk… guhk.”
Pride and rage rose to his throat, but in the end, Peng Jeowoo kept his mouth shut. His pride was not more important than his life.
“Huu… hu….”
And so, Peng Jeowoo could only let out whimpers instead of words. Gu Cheolun watched him for a moment before straightening up.
“Good thing I didn’t hear your name.”
As he slowly walked away, Peng Jeowoo heard him clearly.
“You weren’t worth remembering.”
Gu Cheolun’s whisper haunted him. His pride crushed, Peng Jeowoo ground his teeth, but he couldn't utter a single word until Gu Cheolun had left the inn.
Grind.
He balled his hands into fists. He made a vow. I will kill that bastard. Somehow, I will kill him. Whether by returning to the clan and borrowing the Lord’s power or by his own hand, he would not forget this humiliation.
That was his resolve, but Peng Jeowoo’s wish would never come true. Not long after, Gu Cheolun soared to a place far beyond his reach.
‘Gu Cheolun…’
The blade of resentment he held in his heart was deep. That resentment was so profound he had even tried to use his own daughter in an engagement scheme. Even that had gone awry. Peng Jeowoo had never forgotten that moment for an instant.
That was why it was even more personal now.
“Peng Jeowoo of the Hebei Peng Clan versus Gu Yangcheon of the Shanxi Gu Clan.”
He was right in front of him. A young whelp who resembled that damned bastard. The son of that son of a bitch, with the same eyes as back then. A cursed bloodline that, just like his father, was blessed with brilliant talent. Though his appearance might not be a perfect match, his unique aura provoked Peng Jeowoo’s emotions.
‘If he had at least groveled on the floor, I might have let it slide a little.’
Just like his father, he had an arrogant, disgusting personality. He was also clueless enough to talk back to the Lord of the Peng Clan.
I don’t like it. I don’t like that mongrel called the Dragon Warrior, and I certainly don’t like this son of Gu Cheolun.
Squeeze.
“Begin—!”
I will break him. Somehow, I must tear him apart.
Dark Steel.
Giiiiiiing—!!!
Black energy gathered and reinforced the great sword. Gripping it, the Dao King leaped with all his might. The distance between the two closed in an instant. The moment the great sword, laden with all his rage, descended upon Gu Yangcheon…
CLANG—!
WHOOSH—!!
THUD—!
“…Huh…?”
Peng Jeowoo thought. For some reason, his hand felt light. His eyes darted around. He checked his right hand. It was empty. The great sword that should have been in his grasp was nowhere to be seen.
Where did it go? Suddenly, where did it…
“Ugh, for fuck’s sake. Seriously.”
A curse pierced his ear.
WHIRL—!
In an instant, the Dao King’s vision violently shifted.
CRUNCH—!
“Gack!”
His face was stomped by a foot, breaking through the arena floor and burying him in the stone.
“Gyaaaaaaaah!!”
A scream of agony erupted from the Dao King.