The King's Disciple
“Damn hot out there.”
The young man who muttered the complaint as he stepped into Inhwaru was impressively large.
He stood well over six feet, nearly seven, with a sleeveless tiger-hide tunic that left his thick, powerful arms bare. Black bandages wrapped tightly from his palms up to his forearms, a clear sign he trained in fist techniques. His closely cropped hair and fiercely glinting eyes gave him the air of a wild beast.
Everything about him was rough. Beyond his appearance, the savage aura he made no effort to conceal was overwhelming.
That beast-like presence silenced the entire first floor of the spacious tavern.
The young man looked at the waiter.
The waiter’s face went deathly pale. It felt as though a tiger were glaring at him from inches away.
“Hey.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“What are you doing? Take me to the top floor.”
The top floor of Inhwaru was famous for its view and required reservations in advance.
The waiter swallowed hard and asked, “M-may I ask your name…?”
The young man frowned. It looked like the bridge of a tiger’s nose wrinkling. Cold sweat poured down the waiter’s body.
“You don’t recognize me after all these years? Are you new here?”
“Y-yes, I am.”
The young man snorted.
“I’ll let it slide since you’re new. Call the owner.”
“……Pardon?”
“I said call the owner!”
In an instant, everyone on the first and second floors covered their ears in shock. It was a thunderous voice, like a lion’s roar from a Buddhist temple—except this one was filled only with savagery and irritation.
Thud.
The waiter collapsed on the spot. Gasping for breath, he fainted outright.
The young man’s aura was so aggressive that even peak experts would hesitate. An ordinary waiter with no inner energy had no chance of withstanding it.
The young man clicked his tongue.
“Useless trash.”
Just then—
“Y-young Master Jeon?!”
The man hurrying down the stairs was a middle-aged gentleman in luxurious robes.
Jeon Hong, the young man, smirked.
“Been a while.”
“Indeed, it has. I trust you have been well?”
“Same as always.”
“Haha, it is truly a relief to see you in good health.”
The middle-aged man rubbed his hands together and bowed repeatedly.
“If you had sent word ahead, I would have prepared a seat immediately.”
“So there’s no seat?”
“Heavens, no! I will ask the other guests to make room. Who would dare refuse when Young Master Jeon wishes to sit?”
If flattery had any dignity, this man’s lacked it entirely. Yet it seemed to work. Jeon Hong chuckled.
“Lead the way.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Ah, and my subordinates will arrive in about half a day. Around thirty of them—prepare separate seating.”
“Of course.”
“By the way, where’s the old owner?”
“Haha, my father retired a year ago and returned to his hometown. I am the owner now.”
“Oh? Then I should congratulate you. Make some time later. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“It would be my honor.”
The middle-aged man, now the owner of Inhwaru, bowed repeatedly as he guided Jeon Hong to the top floor.
Once Jeon Hong disappeared up the stairs, the silence on the first floor finally broke.
“That was terrifying. Who the hell is he?”
“Didn’t he say Young Master Jeon?”
“Shh! Watch your mouth. One wrong word and your head might fly off.”
“Do you know who that young man is?”
“Of course. I’m a local.”
“Then who is he?”
“Jeon Hong. One of the King of Combat’s disciples.”
“What?! The King of Combat—as in one of the Holy Thirteen Seats?”
“That’s right. Now keep your mouth shut. They say martial artists have sharp ears.”
Jeon Hong heard every whisper as he climbed the stairs.
It was the kind of talk he could ignore, though a more temperamental man might have glared. Jeon Hong let it pass without reaction.
Someone destined to stand above all others had no need to respond to the muttering of powerless commoners. Those who dared to rebel or refuse to lower their eyes deserved punishment, but there was no reason to answer every idle tongue.
Jeon Hong genuinely believed this. His hardened personality was unlikely to change.
Yeon Hojeong, seated on the third floor with a drink in hand, smirked.
“Seems we have quite the connection with the Black Dragon Coalition. Yang Cheon’s third disciple, is it?”
“So it appears.”
“Do you know him?”
“I’ve heard plenty. He and the first disciple were said to be the most talented among Yang Cheon’s students.”
“Really? I didn’t know.”
“He’s fairly well-known in the dark factions.”
“I see.”
Kang Liang’s voice was steady, but his eyes were sharp.
Yeon Hojeong asked quietly, “You felt his aura too, right?”
“Of course.”
“What do you think?”
Kang Liang licked his lips.
“It’ll be a close fight.”
Surprisingly, Jeon Hong’s aura had reached the very edge of breaking through the wall to the Limitless realm. Though called the third disciple, he was the same age as the second, Bu Seon. He had simply been accepted as a disciple five years later, making him third in rank.
In other words, he had trained five years less than Bu Seon. Yet he was already on the verge of shattering that wall.
Considering how the Martial Alliance’s experts had viewed Yeon Hojeong after he broke through, Jeon Hong’s talent was truly worthy of high praise.
Yeon Hojeong shook his head.
“His personality leaves much to be desired, but his skill is real. And not just ordinary skill—he’s clearly experienced real combat.”
Though he released his aura without restraint, the flexibility and probing intent hidden within that rough presence was something only gained through countless life-and-death struggles.
Kang Liang shrugged.
“Well, no matter how strong he is, what does it matter? Let’s just drink.”
“You’re right.”
They had come to send an invitation to Yang Cheon, not to make acquaintances with his disciple.
Yeon Hojeong glanced at Jeong-an.
“You should calm down too.”
“Yes?”
“That young man is only Yang Cheon’s disciple, not Yang Cheon himself. No need to pay him any mind.”
Without realizing it, Jeong-an’s energy had begun to probe the upper floor. She had heard that Yang Cheon might be the root of the chaos at Botam, and now his disciple had appeared in this very tavern.
It was only natural to feel uneasy. Still, Yeon Hojeong wanted her to settle.
Jeong-an sighed and withdrew her inner energy.
“I’m sorry.”
“No need. Your reaction is understandable.”
Yeon Hojeong refilled his cup as he spoke.
“Don’t be hasty. This place may look peaceful, but it’s enemy territory. A rash move could put the entire group in danger.”
“Understood.”
Kang Liang teased, “That’s rich coming from the man who boldly infiltrated the Black Dragon Department and fooled its lord.”
“Shut it, you. Have another drink.”
“Gladly.”
The group clinked cups again and continued their conversation.
Time passed once more.
A little less than half a day later, as the sun set and twilight fell, over thirty men entered Inhwaru.
The already lively tavern grew even noisier.
“If I may have your attention.”
The owner of Inhwaru, who had come down from the third floor, bowed to the guests. His flushed face suggested he had drunk quite a bit.
“I apologize for interrupting your pleasant conversations. Esteemed heroes of the martial world have arrived at our establishment, but unfortunately we are fully booked. I must ask for your understanding.”
His expression was filled with regret. Whether sincere or not, his courtesy was impeccable.
“We will not charge for the drinks and food you have already consumed. Please accept our apologies.”
For an owner with little power, this was the best he could do.
Everyone on the third floor rose from their seats. Word of Jeon Hong’s identity had already spread throughout the tavern. Even without the offer of free drinks, they would have left.
Kang Liang muttered under his breath, “Damn it. Why the third floor of all places?”
He turned to Yeon Hojeong.
“What shall we do, Brother?”
Yeon Hojeong shrugged.
“No need to cause trouble. We’ve eaten our fill anyway. Besides, they said we don’t have to pay.”
Kang Liang couldn’t help but laugh. It was amusing to hear the commander of the Martial Alliance’s special forces joking about free drinks.
Jeong-an asked in surprise, “You’re just going to leave like this?”
“Why? Do you want to stay?”
“Not particularly… but I don’t think this is right.”
It was an honest statement.
Yeon Hojeong nodded.
“True. The guests are already here, and even if drinks are free, the situation is uncomfortable.”
“Then…”
“Either way, the owner will bear the responsibility—for better or worse.”
“Is that so?”
“The tavern made its choice and acted on it. Even if they tried to resist, the owner would be the one to suffer.”
“Suffer how?”
“People are sensitive to rumors. If a fight broke out here—especially one involving the King of Combat’s disciple—far more would stay away to avoid trouble than would come out of curiosity.”
“Ah…!”
“Well, that’s not the only reason. There are many considerations, but at least by my standards, there’s no need to complicate things.”
Standards.
Jeong-an felt the word “standards” resonate most deeply in Yeon Hojeong’s words.
“Everyone’s getting up. Let’s go too.”
The group rose from their seats.
The Mad Dragon Axe was too large and conspicuous, so they had left it with the Myeolsa Army. They had brought the Black and White Twin Dragon Axes, but they were hidden beneath their robes and easy to miss unless one looked closely.
Kang Liang and Jeong-an carried swords, but many people carried weapons for self-defense.
Just as they were about to descend the stairs—
“You three. Stop right there.”
Kang Liang looked up.
Jeon Hong sat on the stairs leading to the fourth floor. Though not as flushed as the owner, his cheeks were slightly red—he had clearly been drinking as well.
Kang Liang asked, “Talking to us?”
“Yeah. You.”
The casual, disrespectful tone made Kang Liang frown.
“Do you have something to say?”
“……Impressive. Even facing me, your tongue is quite nimble.”
“If you have nothing to say, we’ll be on our way.”
“Well, with that kind of nerve, you managed to crawl all the way here. Isn’t that right, young master of the Guicheol Sword Sect?”
Kang Liang’s face hardened instantly.
Jeon Hong grinned.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know?”
Yeon Hojeong scratched his cheek, thinking, So much for staying unknown.
Jeon Hong’s eyes flashed.
“The remnants of a rebel sect have crawled back into Hunan…… We must look awfully pathetic to you.”
“……”
“Rebel sect, huh?”
Kang Liang’s eyes turned cold.
“Someone like you is pathetic enough.”
Jeon Hong’s grin widened.
It was a smile filled with killing intent.