Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Chapter 6. The World is Vast, but You Meet the People You’re Meant To (2)
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Cho Yeon-un rose from his seat.
He had parents too, people worthy of respect. In truth, Cho Yeon-un held his parents in the highest regard.
Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s insults hadn’t stopped at him—they’d dragged his parents down to the level of dogs. Even for Cho Yeon-un, who prided himself as the world’s greatest romantic wanderer of the jianghu, it was an insult too bitter to swallow.
Cho Yeon-un sauntered toward Hwangbo Yeongcheon. The aura radiating from him was far from ordinary.
Paeng Manyeong, seeing this, bowed his head deeply.
“Damn it all!”
Hwangbo Yeongcheon had gone too far.
Jianghu folk lived by their pride. To hear one’s parents called dogs? No one with any self-respect could endure that.
Even now, Hwangbo Yeongcheon was snorting and fuming, showing no signs of calming down.
With no other choice, Paeng Manyeong stepped forward.
“I apologize.”
“You have no business with me.”
“He’s my comrade. That makes it my business too.”
At Paeng Manyeong’s words, Cho Yeon-un furrowed his brow slightly. The energy emanating from Paeng Manyeong felt unusual.
But he was Cho Yeon-un. He might call himself the jianghu’s foremost romantic, but he wasn’t soft enough to back down after taking an insult.
“Then should I make your comrade apologize instead? No matter how angry you are, calling someone’s parents dogs is just wrong.”
“I apologize.”
“I already said it’s not for you to apologize.”
Cho Yeon-un’s gaze turned to Hwangbo Yeongcheon.
His eyes burned with fierce intensity. Paeng Manyeong let out a low groan. Even the look in his eyes revealed an opponent far beyond the ordinary.
In that moment, Hwangbo Yeongcheon bristled.
“What?”
“Apologize! Not just to me—to everyone here.”
“What nonsense is this? You’re telling Hwangbo Yeongcheon to apologize?”
“Doesn’t matter if you’re Hwangbo Yeongcheon or his old man. Wrong is wrong, and you apologize for it. That’s how the world works.”
“That’s some top-tier bullshit right there.”
“Ha! From dog bastard to dog shit? You really know how to treat people like dogs.”
Cho Yeon-un glared at Hwangbo Yeongcheon.
In an instant, a blazing light erupted from Cho Yeon-un’s eyes. For the first time, Hwangbo Yeongcheon flinched. But only for a moment—soon he bellowed in rage.
“I am Hwangbo Yeongcheon of the Huangbo Clan. Who the hell are you to spout such insolence at me?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter. And being from the Huangbo Clan? That doesn’t mean much either.”
“Then what does matter?”
“What matters is that you insulted everyone here.”
“You playing word games, you punk?”
Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s face flushed beet red.
Snorting like an enraged bull, he looked ready to charge.
Paeng Manyeong stepped in front of Hwangbo Yeongcheon.
“Yeongcheon, apologize.”
“What?”
“You crossed a line. Anyone would’ve snapped at that kind of insult—not just him.”
“Tch! Even you’re siding against me?”
“It’s something that can blow over with an apology. I’d like you to do it.”
Paeng Manyeong’s eyes flashed. A savage glint flowed from them. Hwangbo Yeongcheon flinched again.
Fearless as Hwangbo Yeongcheon was, Paeng Manyeong made him uneasy.
It wasn’t just because he was from one of the Five Great Clans. Paeng Manyeong was strong—strong enough to unsettle Hwangbo Yeongcheon. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to be pushed into apologizing.
Hwangbo Yeongcheon shook his head.
“I absolutely won’t apologize.”
“Yeongcheon.”
“This is about my pride.”
Hwangbo Yeongcheon raised his voice. Cho Yeon-un muttered under his breath.
“Is that pathetic excuse for pride really that important? What an unmanly coward. The Huangbo Clan’s unleashed a big dumb dog on the world.”
His voice seemed soft, but it rang strangely clear in everyone’s ears.
Hwangbo Yeongcheon shoved Paeng Manyeong aside and strode toward Cho Yeon-un.
“How dare you insult the Huangbo Clan.”
“I didn’t insult the Huangbo Clan. I insulted you, you overgrown mutt.”
“You bastard!”
Enraged beyond reason, Hwangbo Yeongcheon swung a wild fist at Cho Yeon-un, heedless of anything.
Whoosh!
A fist wind fiercer than the punch itself surged toward Cho Yeon-un.
It was the Thunderclap Blood Heaven stance, the first form of the Thunderclap Divine Fist—one of the Huangbo Clan’s signature techniques.
“Ah! Dangerous!”
“What the—?”
Onlookers cried out in alarm, but Cho Yeon-un, the target, remained utterly calm.
His upper body shifted lightly, deftly deflecting Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s fist.
But if left unchecked, the unleashed internal energy would cause massive damage.
In that instant, Cho Yeon-un’s hand coiled around Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s forearm like a serpent.
“Hmph!”
Hwangbo Yeongcheon snorted and tried to shake him off. But as he moved to unleash his energy, Cho Yeon-un’s fingers struck the Xiaohai acupoint at his elbow.
“Urk!”
Hwangbo Yeongcheon groaned. Pain radiated from the point, sapping strength from his entire arm.
“What sorcery is this…?”
“Only an idiot like you would call the Eight Desolations Divine Fist sorcery.”
“What?”
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Suddenly, Cho Yeon-un’s fists hammered Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s body at blinding speed.
It wasn’t mere brute force pounding flesh.
Every strike targeted vital points.
“Urk!”
Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s body shook wildly, like a reed in a storm.
“Yeongcheon!”
Paeng Manyeong shouted belatedly, but it was too late.
Boom!
The final blow landed on Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s temple.
“Gah!”
Hwangbo Yeongcheon screamed and collapsed.
His pupils were unfocused as he sprawled on the deck. He wasn’t dead, fortunately—just out cold.
Cho Yeon-un muttered, looking down at him.
“Some people just don’t get it unless you spell it out with your fists.”
“Eight Desolations Divine Fist… You’re the Drunken Cloud Dragon, Cho Yeon-un.”
Paeng Manyeong’s voice cut in.
Few knew the name Eight Desolations Divine Fist. It was a technique personally devised by Hundred Battles Sect Leader Jang Il-san.
Jang Il-san, bearer of the title Demon-Subduing Immortal, had mastered the pinnacle of Taoist arts. Yet the technique he created was this bare-handed combat art called the Eight Desolations Divine Fist.
It embodied every insight he’d gained from battles against the Demonic Cult. Techniques that hijacked the opponent’s energy to seize their nerves or burn their meridians were hallmarks of the style.
Jang Il-san had taught it only to his sole disciple, Cho Yeon-un. Aside from the master himself, Cho Yeon-un was the only one who knew it.
“That’s right. I’m Cho Yeon-un.”
“Does this reflect the will of the entire Hundred Battles Sect?”
“No. This is purely personal. Tolerating someone insulting my parents? That’d make me the real dog bastard.”
“You don’t hold back on the dangerous words.”
Paeng Manyeong’s gaze turned icy.
Cho Yeon-un’s words were right in principle. The problem was their statuses. One was the Hundred Battles Sect’s young leader; the other, direct kin of the Huangbo Clan.
If the Hundred Battles Sect heir crippled Huangbo Clan bloodline, it wouldn’t stay a personal grudge—it could spark a clash between sects.
The Huangbo Clan was formidable, but so was the Hundred Battles Sect. Lacking the same history and accumulated might, they compensated with the Hundred Battles Legacy Flag.
That flag symbolized the awe and trust jianghu sects placed in them. Threaten it, and hordes of sects would rally to the Hundred Battles Sect.
A war between Hundred Battles Sect and Huangbo Clan.
The mere thought was dizzying.
The silver lining: Cho Yeon-un framed it as personal.
Not sect against sect, but man against man.
“Then I can act on personal feelings too.”
Paeng Manyeong’s words made Cho Yeon-un frown. Paeng Manyeong glanced at the unconscious Hwangbo Yeongcheon.
“Reason doesn’t matter—my friend’s down. I can’t just stand by.”
“Avenging your friend?”
“On the surface.”
“What’s the real reason?”
“A chance to experience Hundred Battles Sect’s ultimate technique doesn’t come often.”
“Tch!”
Cho Yeon-un laughed.
Paeng Manyeong smiled back at him.
They were creatures of the jianghu.
Personal grudges were just excuses. Deep down, the thrill of victory boiled in their hearts.
The instinct of warriors ruled them.
Eon Su-hwa shook her head at the sight.
“Men, honestly…”
At times like this, they were no better than children.
The fight had started over Hwangbo Yeongcheon, but he was already forgotten.
“Speaking of which, the Hundred Battles Sect’s Drunken Cloud Dragon.”
Curiosity lit Eon Su-hwa’s face.
A dragon wandering drunkenly through the clouds.
Not one of the supreme prodigies known as the Nine Dragons, but a peak jianghu talent nonetheless.
A perfect chance to witness Cho Yeon-un’s true power.
Cho Yeon-un patted his waist. Then his face twisted.
“Damn!”
He was out of liquor.
Only then did he realize he’d set his bottle down.
That was when it happened.
Whoosh!
A liquor bottle flew toward him. Dam Ho had tossed it.
Cho Yeon-un snatched it midair with a grin.
“Haha! Friends are all that matter.”
He chugged it down in one go. Liquor spilled from his lips, but he didn’t care. In a single gulp, he emptied the bottle.
“Friends?”
Paeng Manyeong and Eon Su-hwa’s eyes turned to Dam Ho, standing off to one side on the deck. They’d only just noticed him.
‘He has a friend?’
A friend of Cho Yeon-un’s wouldn’t be ordinary.
They peered at Dam Ho closely.
At that moment, Cho Yeon-un’s voice rang out.
“No need to drag this out, right?”
Cho Yeon-un hurled the empty bottle toward the river and leaped after it. His body soared over tenzhang before plummeting toward the water—just as the bottle arrived.
Thud!
He kicked off the bottle, launching himself farther. Covering another five zhang or so, he landed gracefully on the opposite bank.
“A challenge?”
Paeng Manyeong wrinkled his nose and scanned around. He spotted stacked wooden planks by the deck’s edge.
Thud!
Paeng Manyeong kicked a plank and took to the air.
Like Cho Yeon-un, he flew to mid-river, stepped on the plank for extra lift, and reached the far shore.
Eon Su-hwa shook her head at the display.
‘Men, honestly.’
But she was no different.
She kicked off a plank and soared across, her form like a water strider skimming the surface.
“Whoa!”
“Incredible!”
Cheers erupted from those watching on deck.
Dam Ho watched for a moment.
The trio on the bank exchanged a few words. Then Cho Yeon-un and Paeng Manyeong began their bout.
Smiles played on their faces, as if they were having the time of their lives.
‘Is this the romance of the jianghu?’
Dam Ho’s world left no room for such idle sentiments.
He turned his attention away from them soon enough.
Whoever won, whatever the outcome—it had nothing to do with him.
In one corner of the deck, the passed-out Hwangbo Yeongcheon lay forgotten. No one spared him a glance.