Chapter 91
“Master~!”
“Hm?”
It happened while I was deep into my meal, having shoved the still-unconscious Fist King into a corner with no sign of waking up anytime soon.
Fist Dragon, Blade Dragon, and Sword Phoenix—the three of the Nine Dragons Five Phoenixes who'd reserved spots at the inn and the tournament stands before agreeing to meet up in front of the government office. For reference, Poison Dragon was off separately, assisting his older brother Poison King in the Sichuan Greatest Martial Arts Tournament.
“You guys are early.”
What's going on?
Blade Dragon wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and explained hurriedly.
“The moment we heard there was someone here who'd beaten the Fist King and kidnapped Mi-bong, we rushed over!”
“Aha!”
“Looks like... everyone's safe. What a relief.”
Fist Dragon started examining the Fist King's body, shoved in the corner of the restaurant.
“His life's not in danger, but for my master—who pacified the entire greenwood bandit alliance with a single fist—to have his wrist broken...”
“Looks like he let his guard down.”
“His jaw and teeth are broken too. I wonder if he'll even be able to chew the meat he loves so much...”
“Maybe this is a good chance for him to try going vegetarian.”
I patted Fist Dragon on the back to console him over something so trivial.
Thwack!
“Young Master Kang. Thank you for saving Fist King and Mi-bong. I thought I'd lost a precious friend.”
Sword Phoenix politely cupped her fists and bowed her head.
'Huh?'
I'd felt like our conversation was slightly off-kilter since they arrived, and it seemed I was right.
“Young hero Kang. We'll repay the favor of saving our master for sure.”
“...It's fine.”
“Young Master Kang. Did you see the face of the one who beat the Fist King—the man who pacified the greenwood with a single fist?”
“...No, I didn't. Right?”
I turned to Mi-bong with a smile, seeking agreement.
“Pardon?”
“We didn't see the guy who turned the Fist King's face into rice cake dough, did we?”
“Uh...”
“Looks like I'll have to tag along with you for a while, Miss Mi-bong.”
She needed watching to make sure she didn't spill the truth.
“T-Together?!”
“No choice, even if you hate it. Until the threat's gone—”
“Sure...”
“What a relief. I was sweating bullets thinking you'd say no.”
If she refused, I'd have to resort to something drastic like kidnapping. If she came willingly, I'd be grateful.
Now, what was left?
“Fist King! Are you okay?!”
“Master! Master~!”
“Fist King, sir! Sir~!”
“......”
Just needed to seal the lips of this shameless adult who'd tried to steal a young man's hard-earned cash.
'Negotiation's my specialty.'
Compared to the Ranubel patients trapped in their dreams, this was nothing.
* * *
“You wouldn't want rumors spreading that the Fist King—who pacified the greenwood with a single fist—got beaten trying to steal some kid's money, right?”
The chance to speak privately with the now-awake Fist King came sooner than expected. The moment he saw my face, his expression hardened, and he shooed the Nine Dragons Five Phoenixes out of the inn room.
The Fist King slowly worked his swollen jaw as he replied.
“Don't get cocky, brat. This old man was just testing the punk eyeing Mi-bong, whom I cherish like a granddaughter...”
“You wouldn't want that, right?”
“...I was going to let it slide for the sake of Mi-bong, whom I cherish like a granddaughter, but you—ignorant of the heights of heaven—kept mouthing off—cough cough?!”
Grab!
The Fist King flailed his limbs as I seized his throat.
“I learned how high heaven is back in elementary school—ten years ago.”
“Gack?!”
The limit of these martial artists who think they know the heavens they've never even seen. The level gap made it feel like talking to a kindergartener.
“What'll it be?”
“A-Alright, I get it!”
“Excellent judgment.”
Swish.
The moment I released my grip, the Fist King collapsed in a heap.
“Cough cough!”
“From now on, we'll get our stories straight. The Fist King—who cherishes Mi-bong like a granddaughter—was ambushed by an assassin while approaching her.”
“W-Wait! You trying to bury this old man socially?!”
“Hm. Fine, then. The Fist King—who cherishes Mi-bong like a granddaughter—was ambushed by an assassin on his way to her.”
I compromised.
“No, let's do it this way. Instead of Mi-bong, whom I cherish like a granddaughter, this old man got hit by the assassin.”
“Greedy much? That's my role.”
“You didn't even get hurt...”
“You think Mi-bong'll buy that?”
She'd seen me snap his arm and kick his jaw and face to bits.
At my flawless logic, the Fist King looked utterly wronged.
“I really was just testing him. What would this old man want with a young punk's money? I'm no beggar.”
“Felt like malice to me.”
“That was because... this young master stole Mi-bong from my disciple Fist Dragon, whom he'd set his eyes on... ahem!”
“Yup, malice confirmed.”
“Urk!”
Did he know how childish it sounded even to himself? The Fist King avoided my gaze, pretending otherwise.
'Fist King, huh...'
Fist King. The man who pacified the greenwood bandit alliance with a single fist. A pitiful state compared to his mature portrayal in the wuxia novel Is This Heavenly Demon Real?, but his reputation endured.
'Might be useful.'
With no clue where Mao Zai was or what he was up to, allying with a power player couldn't hurt.
“Fine.”
“What?”
“I'll convince Mi-bong. We'll tailor it as much as possible to suit you, Fist King.”
“Oh! Young Master Kang! I'll never forget this debt!”
“Sure.”
Forget it, and it's the death penalty.
“...Ah, right. You seem pretty obsessed with money, young master. How about entering the martial tournament?”
“Too late. Gave up on that.”
I'd wanted to join like the protagonist, but registration for the Sichuan Greatest Martial Arts Tournament had closed two days ago. And I wasn't affiliated with any Sichuan martial faction anyway.
The Fist King pressed on.
“What's your sect?”
“Don't have one.”
“You must have a master at least? No way a powerhouse like you just dropped from the sky.”
“......”
Dropped from the sky, actually?
“If you can't reveal it, the name of your martial art will do.”
“Not some big secret.”
I'd already told the Nine Dragons Five Phoenixes, so everyone would know eventually.
“I'm the Heavenly Demon's grandson. That's why no master.”
“......”
“Nice doing business.”
I'm a naughty shaman who enjoys toying with sticky-fingered adults.
* * *
The wuxia novel Is This Heavenly Demon Real? spans 215 volumes, but the protagonist only enters three tournaments: the Nine Dragons Five Phoenixes Tournament, the Imperial Palace Tournament, and the World's Greatest Martial Tournament.
The author, hating the protagonist's predictable wins, threw in powerhouses from the preliminaries for excitement—tossing plausibility out the window...
'Not tossed?'
Thanks to the Fist King, I'd secured entry into the Sichuan Greatest Martial Arts Tournament. One look at the bracket had me chuckling dryly.
Poison King, Rogue King, Fist Demon, Emei Divine Sword, Emei Fairy, Sword Demon, Qingcheng's Sole Sword.
Jiancheng Demon Lord, Sichuan's Greatest Sword, Color Monk, Dark Emperor...
Plenty of names from powerhouses hiding their true strength or surviving till the novel's end.
“Young Master Kang! We'll cheer for you!”
“I trust the young master who saved this old man!”
Mi-bong made sense, but why was the Fist King tagging along? His eyes gleamed with greed.
“Fist King. Did you bet on me?”
“Hoho! No one else did, so I added a little.”
“Aren't you loaded?”
“Turned it all over for charity to the poor farmers suffering bad harvests—even covered my treatment costs.”
“Ah, I see.”
Speechless at the hypocrite's brazenness.
“This girl bet on Young Master Kang to win too.”
“You too, Miss Mi-bong? Didn't you say you had no money?”
“Borrowed from a pawnshop.”
Pawnshop. A place to borrow money using valuables or bonds as collateral.
“What'd you pawn?”
“The underwear I was wearing.”
“......”
I wanted to ask if the pawnshop owner was sane, taking underwear as collateral.
What about the others?
“I bet on last year's winner, Sichuan's Greatest Sword.”
Blade Dragon picked the lowest payout.
“This year, Emei Fairy wins after her long training!”
Sword Phoenix beamed with overconfident secret knowledge.
“Bet on Fist Demon, master's eternal rival. Hate rooting for a villain, but...”
“Disciple.”
“Yes, master!”
“Thanks so much.”
“Huh?”
The Fist King smiled warmly at Fist Dragon, who'd boosted his payout. A true master's look.
'Mao Zai must be here spectating the tournament too, right?'
If he'd possessed the protagonist's body, he couldn't enter—not being from Sichuan.
Me? No sect, no affiliation, so I could join the Sichuan tournament.
In exchange, no other regional tournaments for me—except the open Nine Dragons Five Phoenixes (under 30) and World's Greatest (no age limit).
Anyway, “Gotta give it my all.”
To catch Mao Zai's eye while spectating in someone else's body.
* * *
Tournament brackets aren't random. Last year's winner, top contenders, sponsors, celebrities, their disciples, imperial figures... Proven powerhouses are placed to avoid clashing in prelims, minimizing injury variables.
Thus, “Kang Moon-soo.”
“Sichuan's Greatest Sword.”
Facing last year's champ in prelim round 3 wasn't odd.
'Weird.'
The organizers knew I'd gotten the Fist King's recommendation. Yet they pitted me against him as cannon fodder before his main bracket.
“You don't know me?”
“I do.”
The scar slashing his face came from his first Sichuan Greatest Martial Arts Tournament. Over a decade later, it defined his look.
“You know me and still challenge instead of forfeiting?”
“Yes.”
Shing—
The crescent blade the Fist King—who pacified the greenwood with a single fist—took as spoils. Borrowed it 'cause it looked good.
Greenwood Eighteen Blades. The name engraved on the crescent-shaped blade.
“That...?”
“Borrowed it.”
“Hmph. A good weapon doesn't make you a good fighter.”
He sneered, scanning my unscarred skin top to bottom.
“Bet I've been through way worse than you.”
Having limbs ripped off without anesthesia? Priceless.
“Ridiculous.”
“You'll see.”
Hummm—
I slowly drew up the inner energy taught by my bone master.
“...I'll teach you a lesson.”
Whoosh—
Talking big, but Sichuan's Greatest Sword eyed Mi-bong and the Fist King cheering nearby. Tough to bait him into carelessness with those two around.
'Time to gauge last year's champ.'
Whoosh!
I slashed the air with the Greenwood Eighteen Blades, closing distance fast.
“Hup!”
White flames of inner energy erupted from Sichuan's Greatest Sword's blade.
“Sword wind in the prelims?!”
“The champ's using sword wind?!”
“What magnificent sword wind!”
Onlookers who knew a bit cheered in awe.
Sword wind. Names and settings vary by wuxia novel, but in Is This Heavenly Demon Real?, it's just called wind. Fist wind, finger wind, sound wind, staff wind, palm wind... Why the Heavenly Demon's the world's strongest? He spams natural-disaster-scale palm winds.
Seeing his sword wind, I grimaced. 'Serious.'
Simple swordplay powered by raw inner energy.
Whoosh~
I slipped in faster than his sword wind could hit.
“Hup?!”
Sichuan's Greatest Sword gaped in shock. His post-sword wind moves were turtle-slow from inner energy drain; I was pure wind.
Slash—!
Blood sprayed.
'Like fighting a kid with a machine gun.'
All martial arts in this Buddhist/Taoist wuxia world run on 'inner energy'.
Starts with inner energy, ends with it!
In other words, “Easy.”
Martial arts reliant on inner energy? Flashy but flawed. No practicality.
“H-How...?”
Thud.
Sichuan's Greatest Sword clutched his split side, dropping to his knees.
Match over? Not yet.
“Don't be too disappointed. I'm the Heavenly Demon's grandson. Your loss is as natural as breathing.”
“Ah?”
“Too hard to follow?”
“No, but...!”
“If you get it, spread the word quick. Say you couldn't even pass prelims 'cause you picked the wrong opponent.”
“......”
“Got it?”
“...Meeting the Heavenly Demon's grandson in prelims. Bad luck. Or should I be grateful I'm alive...”
“Exactly.”
Good job! Sichuan's Greatest Sword, sir!