Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: High-Handed (4)
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“Get up.”
“Kuhk!”
Startled, Jang Gu shot to his feet.
When he saw Murong Cheon’s eyes gleaming in the darkness, he immediately prostrated himself on the spot.
“I’m sorry!”
“Sorry for what?”
“...Pardon?”
“Cut the nonsense and carry that pig on your back.”
“Yes, sir!”
There wasn’t a hint of hesitation.
Limping on one foot, Jang Gu hoisted Ga Hang onto his back and stood ready with a determined face. His features were even more battered than when he’d been beaten in the alley, but his discipline was razor-sharp.
‘This...!’
Ga Hang, slung over his subordinate’s back, couldn’t even groan.
Murong Cheon patted the back of Ga Hang’s head and asked.
“Not far, is it?”
“...No, sir.”
“Knew it. Punks like you wouldn’t bury your loot somewhere remote.”
Humiliation upon humiliation.
But it wasn’t wrong, so he couldn’t even argue. Not that he was in a position to, even if it were.
“Let’s go, you dogshit.”
“Yes, sir!”
And so the three men slipped out a back hole from their hideout and reached a small thicket.
No people or even animals passed through here. It connected straight to the mountain behind the hideout, less than half a gak away at an adult’s stride.
“Buried it in the ground?”
“...Yes, sir.”
“What a poverty of imagination. So where?”
Ga Hang trembled as he pointed to a small tree.
“Buried it there.”
“Under that rock?”
“Yes, sir.”
What truly parahoe vision.
Murong Cheon nodded at Jang Gu.
“Dig.”
“Yes, sir!”
Jang Gu set Ga Hang down to the side and shoved at the boulder with all his might.
No matter his bulk, it was too big for an untrained layman to budge, but Jang Gu pushed as if his life depended on it—which it did.
Rumble.
Whether by heaven’s grace or not, the rock rolled aside.
Beneath it lay soil conspicuously free of weeds.
“This the spot?”
Amusingly, Jang Gu asked Ga Hang instead of Murong Cheon, too scared to address him directly.
Ga Hang glared murderously and shouted.
“Yeah, you bastard! Right there, there!”
“Yes, sir!”
Before greater terror, a superior’s authority meant nothing. Jang Gu dug into the earth with his bare hands, full of vigor.
Murong Cheon watched, arms crossed, until his brow suddenly furrowed.
‘They’re coming.’
Bzzz.
A needle-like pain stabbed one corner of his mind.
He’d endured headaches for decades, so this was negligible. But this pain wasn’t mere agony—it was the prelude.
‘It’s starting.’
Brain Gate Heart Technique.
He’d planned to complete the initiation back at the hideout in one go, but worried something might happen on the way, so he’d memorized the incantation en route.
Fortunately, initiation was easy. As a child with no knowledge, it had taken a year of brute force, but as one of the world’s top ten experts, his enlightenment needed less than half a shichen.
‘I was gonna wait till they dug it up, but it’s cultivating itself.’
This process should have happened before locating their hideout. But he’d found it too quickly, leaving him half-initiated when he subdued Ga Hang.
‘Always so willful, this technique. Cat-like temper as ever.’
Woooong!
His INdang acupoint slowly began to part.
Murong Cheon leaned back against a tree.
And then.
Twitch!
It felt like a needle in his head pierced through his brow and burst out.
Dizziness hit instantly, but he gritted his teeth and tensed his legs.
Not because eyes were watching. If he couldn’t endure even a basic heart technique initiation, he wouldn’t survive anything.
Whoosh.
Unrefined external energy flooded into his brain unchecked.
Murong Cheon’s body shuddered. An invisible ghost seemed to knead his brain with ghostly hands.
‘Damn it!’
Worse than pain: utter alienation.
The first time, it knocked him out for two days. Too much for a child to bear.
But now was different.
Fwoooong.
As rich external energy settled in his brain, the Baihui acupoint elongated, expelling accumulated turbid qi.
Draw qi in through Indang, refine internally, expel turbid qi through Baihui.
No such cultivation existed in the world. Most went mad or died just from initiation—that was why.
Yet he’d miraculously mastered Brain Gate Heart Technique, completing its flawed incantation and method, gaining perfect qi control.
‘Don’t rile it—pass through quick!’
Wung! Wung!
His ears rang deaf.
External energy poured in like an endless thread, filling his brain. Once full, Murong Cheon hastily sealed the Indang.
Acupoints opened and closed at will. His will was merging with the Brain Gate Heart Technique.
Fwaaaash!
All turbid qi gushed out through the wider Baihui.
Cold sweat poured from Murong Cheon’s body. Even a nosebleed. Sticky, dead blood oozed from his nostrils.
And finally.
Flash!
Murong Cheon’s gaze sharpened fiercely.
‘Done!’
Completion of the Soul Burning First Method, first stage of Brain Gate Heart Technique.
The Soul Burning First Method took in pure natural qi to burn away turbid qi, dilate blood vessels, and hyper-activate the brain.
Hyper-activated brain meant heightened intent and focus. Naturally, perfect qi control followed will.
Even geniuses needed weeks to a month to sense qi, years to control, store, circulate, and emit it.
But Brain Gate Heart Technique practitioners controlled it instantly, shaving off years.
And more.
Whoosh!
Murong Cheon snatched a falling leaf mid-air.
His shoulder ached, but his speed had clearly increased. Brain Gate Heart Technique enabled superhuman bodily control.
“Hoo.”
Wiping his nosebleed, Murong Cheon glanced at Jang Gu, who stared blankly back.
“What?”
“Y-you suddenly groaned... and your nose started bleeding.”
“That’s why your concentration’s shit? Move it!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Hey, your hands. Not tired yet?”
“No, sir!”
Jang Gu dug with glee, like a dog pawing earth—fast.
Murong Cheon watched indifferently, then looked down at Ga Hang.
Ga Hang’s face mixed resignation, terror, rage, and worry.
Murong Cheon smirked.
“What? Feeling wronged?”
“...No, sir.”
“Doesn’t matter to me if you do.”
Ga Hang bit his lip. The reality that he couldn’t even curse drove him mad.
But he had a question burning since earlier.
“May... may I ask you something, milord?”
“Told you I won’t kill you. Keep pushing and I might.”
“N-not that!”
“Then what?”
Ga Hang mumbled awkwardly.
“The technique that did this to me... what exalted method is it...?”
“Planning to learn it later and use on me?”
Speechless!
“W-why would I?”
Murong Cheon turned back to Jang Gu.
“It’s called Acupoint Strike.”
“Acupoint Strike?”
“Yeah.”
Ga Hang’s jaw dropped.
Not from ignorance—everyone had heard of Acupoint Strike, even without proper training.
His shock was that Murong Cheon had used it.
‘He’s insane?’
Acupoint Strike wasn’t easy, even for prestigious martial families.
Masters understood bodies deeply, so basic Acupoint Strike was mere basics among them.
But for someone without internal energy or proper forms, it was no simple trick. Even skilled dullards couldn’t wield it freely—that’s Acupoint Strike.
A ‘mere’ Murong eldest son couldn’t possibly know such an exalted art.
‘Beaten by this lunatic.’
Probably poison.
Tears of injustice welled. If not for the booze, this wouldn’t have happened.
Then.
“Hah! M-milord!”
“What? You got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
Jang Gu grunted and pulled out a hefty bundle.
Ga Hang felt the sky spin. He’d resigned himself, but seeing their painstakingly buried fortune unearthed crushed him.
Thud!
It was heavy—over ten geun, easy.
“Open it.”
“Yes, sir!”
Jang Gu untied it obediently, eyes bulging.
“Wha... what?!”
Murong Cheon peeked over Jang Gu’s shoulder and grinned wide.
“Ga Hang, was it?”
“...Yes.”
“Not bad at all. I’m thoroughly pleased!”
The bundle brimmed with silver ingots and gold chunks, plus stacks of fifty 100-nyang banknotes.
‘No!’
The fortune he’d amassed with his brother and Black Tiger Gang second-in-command Ga Suk was flying away. He couldn’t tell if the liquid in his eyes was tears or blood-tears.
Murong Cheon shoved Jang Gu aside and inspected the notes and ingots himself.
“All legit. Notes bundled neatly in small sums. Aside from a few gold bars and trinkets, it’s all clean money.”
Straightening, he told Jang Gu.
“Drag your boss here.”
“Yes, sir!”
Jang Gu hauled Ga Hang to the pit.
Ga Hang paled.
“Y-you said you’d spare me!”
“I will.”
Thwack!
Struck on the head, Ga Hang blacked out.
Murong Cheon said to Jang Gu.
“I promised to spare him. What about you?”
Jang Gu prostrated.
“Spare me, milord!”
“You saw everything.”
“I’ll never breathe a word! Hell, I’ll leave town entirely!”
“Yeah?”
Murong Cheon pressed three silver ingots into Jang Gu’s hand.
“Need traveling money to leave.”
Jang Gu gazed at him gratefully. Beaten repeatedly, yet magnanimous with road money.
“You have to leave anyway.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m sparing him. When he wakes? Won’t he come after you first?”
“...!”
“Even if Ga Hang dies, trouble. Black Tiger Gang investigates later? You think you’ll survive?”
Jang Gu blanched, finally grasping his plight.
“Run if you want to live. Don’t come near this town—or Huguk Province.”
“Thank you!”
Jang Gu bolted like his life depended on it—which it did.
Chucking, Murong Cheon rummaged the bundle again.
“Let’s see.”
He dropped a few gold trinkets and jeweled valuables into the pit.
“Came for a few thousand nyang, but this is some windfall!”
Tying the bundle decisively, Murong Cheon smashed Ga Hang’s jaw with a sharp rock.
Crack!
Even unconscious, Ga Hang twitched in pain.
Would’ve been better passed out. Shattered jaw and ruptured mute acupoint—he’d never speak again.
“Take care.”
Shouldering the bundle, Murong Cheon waddled away.
A chill wind brushed the hem of the unconscious Ga Hang’s clothes.