The Old Monster's Rooftop Room (2)
Jang Cheon was playing go at the parlor.
The place usually saw only a dozen patrons on a good day, flies buzzing lazily through the air, but Jang Cheon had rented it out for the entire day. Having paid the full vacancy fee, the owner was having the windfall of a lifetime.
His opponent was one of the four-man team, the only one among the five—including Phone—who knew how to play go.
One might expect the computer whiz to be the go player, but surprisingly, it was the one most skilled at body disposal and bloodstain removal who turned out to be the expert.
That said, he wasn't that good—around 7th dan level. Jang Cheon was roughly 3rd dan.
Phone watched with interest from the side, earbuds in as he listened to music, while the other three kept watch on the rooftop room and the street below from the window.
Jang Cheon spoke to his subordinate, who was furrowing his brow in deep thought.
"There's a saying: a weak player's thinking time is just playtime for the opponent."
The subordinate looked up, his expression asking what that meant.
"A 7th dan only sees moves up to 7th dan level, and a 3rd dan only sees up to 3rd. No matter how much you agonize, a brilliant play won't come."
The subordinate grinned and placed his next stone.
Phone, who had been watching, asked,
"By the way, Boss, when did you learn go?"
"From my father, when I was young."
Phone winced inwardly, regretting the question. But Jang Cheon replied nonchalantly.
"It's fine. I like to think he's in a better place than this."
"Yeah, he probably is."
"Have you met Queen?"
"No."
"Why not? You said you wanted to see her."
Phone couldn't respond. Queen was busy with SGC Company duties, but she'd never refuse if he called. Truth was, Phone was too embarrassed to face her.
"Once we catch Baek Sang-du, let's grab a drink with Queen and Night."
"Sure."
A smile tugged at Phone's lips.
At that moment, the TV mounted on the parlor wall switched to breaking news.
Jang Cheon trusted Cheon Myeong-jin to handle it well. During their last meeting, Jang Cheon had shared the key to victory: shatter An Bae-su's loyalty, and U Myeong-hwan was done.
Then, one of the four watching the window spoke up.
"It's him."
At the end of the alley, Baek Sang-du approached, hood pulled low over his face.
Only after he climbed the stairs and entered the rooftop room did Jang Cheon stand.
"Everyone, stay here."
About five minutes after Baek Sang-du entered his home, Jang Cheon descended onto his rooftop.
Even crossing between buildings in flight, his clothes didn't so much as rustle.
Jang Cheon circulated his qi, scanning the surroundings. No immediate threats.
He drew his sword.
The moment he saw the bastard, he'd cleave him in one stroke. He already knew Dae Jeong San Jang was behind him, and there was nothing left to learn from the man. Dragging it out would be far too dangerous, even if there were secrets to uncover.
Forget not: this was a century-old monster. He'd end it with a single slash before the Black Spirit Art's black aura could even manifest.
Jang Cheon quietly opened the door. It shattered open silently, powered by his inner energy.
He stepped inside, footfalls and presence utterly silent.
He'd clearly seen the man enter, yet the room was empty.
A mattress lay in the corner like a makeshift bed, a few clothes hung on the wall. The sink held a pot from instant ramen, unwashed.
But no Baek Sang-du.
And the TV was on.
Not regular programming—a paused recording.
Jang Cheon picked up the remote from the center of the room and hit play.
The footage was utterly unexpected.
Standing at the window, staring this way: himself. Beside him, Phone and the four-man team. The go parlor scene from hours ago.
Jang Cheon's gaze shifted to the window. A tiny camera nestled in the corner. They'd been filmed right here, remotely controlled via phone app or similar.
Trap!
If the bastard had seen them all, Phone and the four were in danger.
The instant Jang Cheon opened the rooftop door to leave—
Wuuuuuuuuuuuung.
A roar erupted as the Black Spirit Art activated, the scenery warping in a blink.
Jang Cheon stood in a wasteland, black-clad warriors charging from all sides, weapons drawn. Like a lone marine facing a screen-filling zergling rush.
Baek Sang-du pushed open the parlor door.
Phone and the four jumped, staring at him. The moment they saw him, they knew: something had gone wrong.
Baek Sang-du smirked, his gaze as cold as his smile.
"Hey, Jang Cheon's little minions. When you see an elder, you greet him."
Phone and the four exchanged glances. Their work was the silent type; a look said everything.
They knew who Baek Sang-du was, how dangerous he truly was. This situation was a powder keg.
Since shadowing Jang Cheon for cleanup duty, this was the worst-case scenario.
Phone said calmly,
"I'm the boss's direct subordinate, but these four are just hired hands. Send the amateurs packing, and let's settle this between pros."
Of course, they all knew he wouldn't let them go.
The key to this crisis was time. Buy time until Jang Cheon came to their aid.
One word, one move—five lives hung in the balance.
Ten years working with the four, crammed in a single car. He knew their personalities, favorite foods, fashion, first loves, ideals, family sizes, retirement dreams... everything.
Phone cared more about their deaths than his own. As their superior, he wanted to save them at least.
"The bear-looking one's got heart."
Hearing Baek Sang-du's sneer, Phone switched tactics.
"You sure we should just stand here? The boss'll come save us."
Provoking the bastard's pride might buy more time than feigned panic.
But it didn't faze Baek Sang-du.
"Heh, clever. Yeah, that's the right play. Good job."
Then, the follow-up.
"Jang Cheon won't come."
"What?"
"Your mighty boss is busy fighting the black spirit horde right now."
"Black spirit horde? What's that?"
As if he were curious. Phone wasn't one for chit-chat, especially with enemies. This was just stalling.
"No matter how great this black spirit horde is, the boss'll wipe 'em out and come."
"Ten thousand of them."
"What?"
"Ten thousand. Pretty skilled too. Gotta kill every last one to open the gate. Leave even one, and you're trapped forever."
Phone's face hardened. Baek Sang-du lounged in leisure.
"Think how long it'd take just to count to ten thousand."
Baek Sang-du had unleashed his prized ultimate technique.
Black Spirit Grand Formation.
The final move of the Immortal Spirit Art, usable only once in a lifetime.
A lifelong rival deserved his one-shot secret weapon: Jang Cheon.
"Jang Cheon won't come out alive."
He hadn't planned to use it originally.
But after meeting Ri Han, he changed his mind. Decided to deploy the Black Spirit Grand Formation on Jang Cheon. Survive this crisis, achieve Immortal Spirit Art great completion.
Immortal eternal life? He could forgo the formation. No need anymore—anyone could be killed at will.
"Now, let's wrap this up."
Baek Sang-du unleashed his killing intent. To slaughter them all.
Black haze rose from his right hand. Clearly, a deadly technique was brewing.
Phone stepped in front of the four.
"You'll have to kill me first."
"Don't worry. You'll all go together."
Phone glanced at the four. They exchanged looks, then donned sunglasses and headsets from their belts.
Buddhist chants emanated from the headsets—not ordinary sutras, but Anti-Demonic Sutra Relics warding off sorcery.
The sunglasses weren't normal either; vision mimicked special forces night-vision gear. Phone ditched his shades for one too.
Sorcery preyed on sight and sound.
These controlled both, designed for fighting under illusion. Purchased from The Bullet on Jang Cheon's orders.
Regrettably, Baek Sang-du recognized them.
"Anti Black Art Set. Three million two hundred thousand won a pop. Sorry, wasted cash. Might work on half-assed learners, but not me."
He flicked his hand. Black mist whipped between Phone and the four.
"Urk!"
All five screamed, ripping off headsets and shades. Chants twisted to shrieking demons; blinding light seared their eyes.
As their prep failed, Phone launched a surprise straight punch.
Bwooooosh!
He'd been channeling inner energy into his right fist the whole time. All or nothing—right as the enemy let his guard down.
The lightning-fast strike hit Baek Sang-du square.
Normally, a thud or crunch. Instead—
Whoooosh.
Black energy rippled over Baek Sang-du's body, absorbing the blow like a shield.
Phone pressed forward, fist extended.
But the black energy formed a transparent barrier between them.
"Run! Get out now!"
Phone yelled at the four.
But they didn't flee. They valued Phone as much as he did them.
"Phone."
Phone turned at one of their voices.
The man who called wore a look of total resignation, bidding final farewell.
"Thanks for everything, Phone."
The other three mirrored the expression. They synced lips for the last time.
"We'll never forget the favors you've done us, even in death. Thanks, Phone."
No resentment or regret in their gazes. They'd known this day might come. It just happened to be today.
"Shut up, you idiots! It ain't over!"
Phone surged more inner energy, charging the barrier.
Thwung! Bwoosh! Thung!
Desperation yielded nothing; the black veil held.
Baek Sang-du raised his hand for the finishing blow. Like a mage's fireball, a swirling black orb coalesced in his palm.
"You'll die in agony."
Shrieeeeeek.
It hurtled toward Phone and the four.
Sensing the end, they squeezed their eyes shut.
The next instant—
Swoosh!
A sharp wind sliced through; the orb burst midair, a hole punched clean through. It hovered, then scattered.
It had flown through the window, annihilated, and embedded in the wall.
A single sword.
Jang Cheon's sword.
Baek Sang-du and the five turned to the window.
Across the way, in the yard of Baek Sang-du's rooftop, Jang Cheon stood.
"You mad bastard!"
Black energy surged over Baek Sang-du—not for attack or defense, but escape sorcery.
Jang Cheon leaped, flying this way.
Baek Sang-du panicked.
Faster, faster!
His insides churned, blood rising. Overforcing the escape art had wounded him internally.
Crash!
Jang Cheon shattered the window, bursting in.
"Boss!"
Phone and the four's joyful cries echoed together.
Even in desperate flight, Baek Sang-du had to ask.
"You! How'd you escape the Black Spirit Grand Formation?"
Jang Cheon smirked.
"Still just an old man's musty rooftop room."
He extended his hand; the wall-embedded sword yanked free, flying to his grasp.
The moment Jang Cheon gripped it, Baek Sang-du vanished in black smoke. He'd fled, vomiting blood at the last, but Jang Cheon didn't pursue recklessly.
Couldn't.
Breaking the formation had wounded him too, through sheer overexertion.
He'd feigned unscathed to unnerve the enemy. Had Baek Sang-du stayed cool and fought, it might've been a grueling battle.
"Guard me."
Jang Cheon sat, regulating his internal injuries with Sohyeon Ilgi-gong.
Phone and the four drew the curtains, locked the door.
They understood the toll Jang Cheon had paid to save them.
A single tear traced down under Phone's sunglasses.
Grateful beyond words for Jang Cheon pushing this far, thrilled the four were safe.
The four, faces etched with emotion, exchanged looks with Phone.
Worry gnawed too. First time seeing Jang Cheon this bad.
And so, perhaps—
The daily Sohyeon Ilgi-gong felt subtly different today.