Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: The Weak Get Eaten (3)
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Choi Ho couldn't believe his eyes.
'No way.'
Was this a dream, or was he awake?
It had to be a dream. Right? Yeah, it was probably a dream. There was no way something this magical could happen in reality.
'How could there be such martial arts...?!'
Murong Bi's movements were simple and efficient.
He plunged into that swarm of blades without the slightest hesitation, felling the gang members in an instant with short, snapping strikes or deflections using his staff techniques.
When the distance opened up, he gripped the staff long and swung it wide. Up close, he shortened his hold and battered them repeatedly—and it all looked effortlessly natural.
But Choi Ho knew better. Those simple, easy-looking moves were the product of ten thousand repetitions of training.
Amateurs' techniques were flashy and cluttered, but true masters' were concise and precise.
'A—a staff master?!'
Did the Murong family even have staff arts? Weren't they down to just a few scraps of sword techniques?
Even if they did, why was this scrawny young master so damn strong?!
"You gonna come here or what?"
"...!"
"Fine. Guess I'll come to you."
Murong Bi slung the staff over his shoulder and started walking over.
The moment Choi Ho flinched back involuntarily,
"Hack!"
Murong Bi doubled over, hacking up a deep cough.
"Cough! Cough hack!"
It was so violent, like he'd choked on his own breath.
Confusion washed over Choi Ho's terrified face. What the hell was this lunatic doing now?
"Hack! Kyaaak! Ptui!"
A glob of bloody spittle flew out.
Murong Bi's face paled slightly.
'Huh? That?!'
Vomiting blood, face ashen, hands trembling faintly. Any fool could see it was a sign of internal injuries.
Choi Ho's face lit up instantly.
'He overdid it after all!'
Of course. No matter how skilled you were, a body like that couldn't take the punishment unscathed.
When your stamina was that abysmal, even moderate exertion could wreck you. In bad cases, it led to breathing issues and internal damage.
And that's exactly what this guy was dealing with right now.
'This is my chance!'
Strike while Murong Bi was in that state. Time to make a call.
So Choi Ho made his call.
Run.
Whoosh!
He spun on his heel and bolted into the gang leader's quarters. He planned to slip out through the secret passage he'd prepared in secret.
Why run from a guy puking blood from internal injuries?
'Like hell I can win!'
In Choi Ho's eyes, Murong Bi was on another level entirely.
Stamina? Internal energy? Those didn't matter. You wouldn't dare charge even if he suddenly collapsed or took a knife to the gut. Thinking a little internal damage meant victory was pure idiocy.
By his judgment, Murong Bi was at least on par with first-rate experts from the Ten Sword Sect or Hong Sword Clan. In the worst case, it'd take their leaders to subdue him.
'The guy's got shit stamina and internal energy, but his martial comprehension and raw power are way above mine.'
A prolonged fight would favor him. The problem was dragging it out that long.
This monster could send a grown man flying with one hit. No speed or finesse stood a chance against that brute force.
'I can escape! Just gotta run fast...!'
That was when it happened.
"G-Gang leader?!"
Choi Ho's face twisted in horror.
'You fucking idiot!'
There stood Cheong Pae, awkwardly holding a tray of liquor and snacks.
Even mid-escape, Choi Ho was floored. Hadn't this moron heard the brutal sounds echoing from beyond the middle gate?
"I didn't see you in the gang quarters, so I brought some booze..."
"You brain-dead bastard! You think booze is the problem right now?!"
"Y-Yes?!"
"Get your ass to the gang quarters and grab the valuables first...!"
That was when it happened.
Swoosh!
A chilling whoosh came from behind.
Choi Ho's spine crawled. Instinctively, he rolled across the ground.
Riiip!
Something tore through the back of his robes and slammed into the floor.
Boom!
"Gasp!"
Boom? What the hell had been thrown to make that sound?
Choi Ho whipped his head up, and his face drained of color.
The staff was embedded in the ground at a diagonal, snapped clean in half from the middle.
If he hadn't dodged, there'd be a hole straight through his lower back.
'...What kind of insane strength is that?!'
Didn't he have crap stamina and internal energy?
Yeah, his raw power was nuts. But even so, could you really hurl a guy like that?
"Who the hell are you?!"
Shing!
Cheong Pae drew his sword with a crisp ring and glared at Murong Bi.
"Huff! Huff! Damn it!"
Murong Bi, who'd somehow chased him this far, clutched his knee.
'Goddamn it! Even for me, this is too much!'
Blowing away the entire Black Tiger Gang would've been fine with just one burst of internal energy.
The problem was his stamina, as always. Even moving as smoothly as possible had sent shockwaves through his body. With his vital energy already damaged, it triggered internal injuries.
He'd tried stabilizing his internals with Mixed Origin True Energy, but it wouldn't cooperate. It was a fundamental issue with his body.
And now, he was even feeling alcohol poisoning he'd never noticed before.
'Ugh!'
The dormant booze crept up, stretching lazily. The deeply embedded alcohol vapors leaked out through cracks in his damaged vital energy.
'How much did he drink for the booze to sink deeper than his vital energy?!'
And it didn't end there.
Hiss.
A nauseating sound accompanied a pale mist coiling around his body.
He hadn't drunk a drop, yet the intoxication hit. Even Murong Bi, who'd seen every kind of mess in martial arts, was stumped by this.
"Hack! Ugh... actually, not bad."
Surprisingly, as the old booze welled up, the pain eased.
His guts churned like they might flip inside out, but his limbs felt looser, easier to move. His eyes glazed slightly, his body relaxed, and color crept back into his pale face.
The perfect face of a drunken ghost.
"Hey, quit bouncing around already. What's with the gang leader act? Embarrassing."
Hiccups punctuated the middle—it was pure drunkard talk.
To Choi Ho, it was even more terrifying.
The guy who'd hurled a wooden staff to embed it in the ground was now swaying and grinning. His speech slurred like a drunk's.
'H-He really is insane!'
You'd believe he'd cultivated demonic arts.
Terror already had his heart on the verge of bursting; now even his last shreds of reason fled.
"Raaagh!"
Choi Ho kicked off blindly.
Murong Bi smirked and gave chase.
"You bastard!"
Cheong Pae, clueless to the situation, swung at Murong Bi.
Dumb as he was, there was a reason Choi Ho had made him third-in-command. The heavy whoosh of the blade cutting air was sharp enough.
"Whoa there!"
With an excited exclamation, Murong Bi ducked low, grabbed Cheong Pae's hands, and flung himself into the air.
"Wha—?"
Cheong Pae's hands and sword arced after Murong Bi's body.
In an instant, his vision spun.
'I-I'm airborne?'
His knee buckled under the opponent's foot, upper body arching back.
Murong Bi landed lightly, twisting his whole body using centrifugal force.
Swoosh! Crunch!
Cheong Pae, briefly airborne, smashed headfirst into the ground. His muscular frame's weight snapped his neck at a right angle.
Cervical fracture. Instant death. A pathetic end for Cheong Pae, who'd been thrilled at becoming second-in-command after Ga Suk's flight.
"Heh."
Murong Bi snatched the sword from Cheong Pae's twitching hand and spun again.
It looked like drunken dancing, but the motion was faster and more forceful than when he'd slammed Cheong Pae down.
And with the spin, the sword flew.
The target: Choi Ho.
Thud!
"Gaaah!"
Choi Ho collapsed on the spot, a hefty sword buried in his thigh.
Thump! Crunch!
He'd face-planted right onto the stairs leading up to the gang leader's quarters, nose and mouth smashed.
His nose bridge shattered, front teeth gone. The sudden shock left Choi Ho dazed.
"Ugh... dizzy."
Murong Bi staggered, then spotted a half-broken liquor bottle on the floor.
It still held a good amount of the viciously strong brew.
Licking his lips, Murong Bi guzzled it without hesitation.
"Kahaa!"
Fire scorched from throat to stomach. Burp, and he'd breathe dragonfire like some mythic demon dragon.
Tempted to try, Murong Bi snapped to his senses.
'What the hell are you doing, you madman!'
No wonder they called him the Mad Demon.
He slapped his own cheeks a few times and circulated his Mixed Origin True Energy.
Woooong.
It wouldn't restore his stamina or heal the injuries right away, but it could expel the old alcohol poisoning and the fresh booze vapors.
That was the Brain Gate Heart Technique's effect.
Fwoosh!
Sweat drenched his body in seconds.
"Huuuugh!"
As the alcohol cleared, his body slumped.
Exhaustion doubled, crashing down. Pouring rotgut into an internally injured body felt like his organs were aflame, sour blood stench rising in his throat.
'Ah, perfect.'
If the drunken haze had let him forget the pain before, now the agony sharpened his mind.
First martial artist in history to use booze this efficiently.
"Nngh."
Clutching his head, Murong Bi approached Choi Ho.
Choi Ho, panting, froze mid-breath.
A dark shadow blanketed the stairs.
"W-Wait a sec!"
"Hm?"
"...!"
"What's to wait for?"
"...Pardon?"
"Oh, the sword?"
Murong Bi gripped the hilt.
Schlup.
"Aaaagh!"
Blood gushed from his leg as the blade came free.
Choi Ho crawled up the stairs without thinking. He had to escape this spot now.
Murong Bi chuckled and jabbed Choi Ho's back in several spots with his fingers.
Pok! Pok! Pok!
Numbness spread from each point struck.
In seconds, his entire upper body was paralyzed.
Choi Ho couldn't even scream.
"N-No way... Acupoint Strike?!"
"Oh? You've been hit with it before?"
A monster.
Staff mastery was one thing, but he wielded Acupoint Strike—something even elite family warriors struggled with. Hitting three pressure points in a flash? No beginner's luck.
What the hell was this guy's deal?
Had he been playing the drunken fool, biding time for his moment like some hidden dragon?
"I usually like eye contact, but with a gang leader worthless as a kid? Can't even look at you."
"P-Please spare me!"
"We haven't even settled accounts yet. Why kill you now?"
"Pardon?"
"What? Don't wanna pay up?"
In that moment, Choi Ho understood Ga Hang.
"N-No need to repay!"
Murong Bi scowled.
"Black Tiger Gang tradition? Lend money and not collect? Why haven't you gone bankrupt sooner?"
"It's fine! Take it all! I'll give you every tael we've saved! Just please spare my life...!"
"Your savings hit a hundred thousand taels?"
"...Pardon?"
"You owe a hundred thousand taels."
"......"
"I loaned out 1,800. It's been a day, so... call it 2,000 even. No need to nickel-and-dime it."
"Y-Yes!"
"So we collect about 98,000 total... Hey, you gonna cheap out on 98,000? You a real man or what?"
"A hundred thousand! A hundred thousand taels!"
As he wailed pitifully, Choi Ho realized.
'Ga Hang got skinned like this too!'
Now he got why Ga Hang looked ready to lose his mind in grievance. The embezzler had no right to that face—Choi Ho had beaten him mercilessly for it, calling him scum of the earth.
Never dreamed he'd sympathize with Ga Hang one day.
"True Black Tiger Gang Leader. A cut above field managers in magnanimity."
Murong Bi plopped down on the stair beside Choi Ho's head.
"But hasn't it been a while since your goons threw their shit?"
"...?"
"Meaning interest is due. I'd love cash, but after a hundred thousand, what's left? We'll take something else."
Murong Bi's face grew languid.
"Where's that stack of IOUs?"