The Judge's Arrival
"The vanguard did their job well, I hear."
Cheonma tilted his teacup casually as he spoke from the center of the neatly laid tea table. I'd expected a tough fight, but seeing how lightly he mentioned it, I could tell the battle had ended far more easily than anticipated. I raised my eyebrows sharply and opened my mouth.
"Already? Even if the righteous sects are just a ragtag bunch of mediocrities, the Fire Realm experts shouldn't have been pushovers..."
"Isn't that all thanks to you?"
Cheonma suddenly burst into laughter at my words. What the hell did I even do to deserve this bullshit?
"What did I do?"
Cheonma chuckled at my sullen head-tilt, then spoke up.
"How can your head be so thick... Aren't you afraid of me at all?"
"Afraid of what? You're on my side—hell, you're my father-in-law. If I were incompetent, maybe, but I'm not."
Cheonma stared blankly at my response before erupting into booming laughter. He caught his breath, shaking his head.
"Kekeke. You really are entertaining. Yeah, guys like you are what keep things fresh for me."
"Clears the sinuses, right? Heh."
"Damn straight! When all they want is a little swordplay among warriors, and the imperial family steps in... What a chance to size up the Geumuiwi's martial arts."
"..."
Cheonma's sudden jab hit home. I'd already explained our countermeasures against the palace, but the old man was nagging like a boomer anyway. My lips pursed in annoyance.
"Sigh... As I reported, I've already sent out the messenger birds and gotten replies back. No need to worry."
Cheonma watched my carefree rambling without a hint of tension, then relaxed his expression and nodded, as if seeing something in me.
"Fine. If you're that confident, things should play out just as interestingly as I've heard."
The mood had lightened up nicely, so as I calmly sipped my tea, I seized the chance to voice something I'd always wondered about.
"By the way, Father-in-law... Aren't realms supposed to be a chain of enlightenments?"
Who knew more about martial arts than Cheonma, now in the Manifest Realm? He smiled faintly, like he was looking at something cute, and nodded at the abrupt topic shift.
"Exactly. A chain of enlightenments—that's the essence of martial arts."
"Then what the hell kind of enlightenment does Elder Gwang-ma have?"
"..."
Cheonma pinched his brow hard, suppressing his exasperation at the sudden nasty curveball from this enlightenment-hungry junior.
"Sigh... You're asking about something even I wonder..."
"...? If you don't know, who does?"
"You think I transcended through the same embodiment of desire as Gwang-ma? That's the pinnacle of heresy and deviance."
Cheonma shook his head, then suddenly smacked his palm as realization dawned.
"Come to think of it, aren't you in a similar boat?"
"Pardon?"
"I mean, they rag on you for loving women, but you've bedded everyone from bitches to Dark Fire Sect girls and righteous sect juniors. And you're already at Superb realm? If anything, you're more than Gwang-ma, not less—that's what I think."
The facts were undeniable, but being lumped in with that ass-kisser made bile rise in my throat unbidden.
How can ass-munching be the same as harmonious yin-yang union, you fucker?
I shot Cheonma a sharp glare on instinct, but he just grinned like he'd landed a solid hit. With a deep sigh, I downed the last of my tea.
"Ugh... Since you put it that way, I'll go train my martial arts as you suggest, Father-in-law."
"Kekeke. Take it easy... Oh, right—how's the grandchild plan coming along?"
"Soon as Sis gets back, I'll deliver."
"Ho...!"
Cheonma's eyes gleamed as he fixed them on my confident face. My bold speech, extraordinary constitution, and the way I handled women—he seemed convinced of something, nodding with a sly smile.
"Of course—who's asking? I'll look forward to it."
With that meaningful tone, he dismissed me. I gave a slight bow and left his chamber.
Manifest Realm lives up to the name, huh...?
He'd never dream this world was shaped by me, but his subtle attitude hinted he'd sniffed out I wasn't from here. I smirked and turned away.
His realm must let him vaguely sense transcendence from the higher realms or something. Dumbass NPC getting all high and mighty with his guesses...
+++
In a vast wasteland scarred like a giant beast had clawed the earth, the battered remnants of the Murim Alliance leadership panted as they regulated their qi.
"We expected it, but... it's utterly bleak."
The Alliance Leader's scolding words echoed through the quiet group. But aside from him, everyone who'd stepped into the life-or-death duel was long dead. With a frustrated sigh, he tore off the flapping sleeve of his right arm—now empty—and continued.
"Amitabha... You all saw it. Forget their despicable nature— we must acknowledge their prowess."
The other faction heads nodded cautiously—all except Jeomchang Sect, slumped in defeat; Wudang Sect, faces flushed with rage; and the Leader's missing arm. They spoke up.
"Even among Fire Realm masters, that depth of difference..."
"Hm... More shocking was that kid, the young cult leader."
"True... At a junior's age, massacring elders from famed righteous sects? Nothing left to say."
The leaders marveled at Dokgo Hwaryeon's feats, but Hyeonheo Jin-in of Wudang—whose great disciple and elder had fallen to her alongside his fellow priests—glared darkly, lips clamped in humiliated fury.
But who would heed Hyeonheo, Fire Realm or not, in this hopelessly tilted atmosphere? Other sects had their own Fire Realm experts, and Wudang was decimated: elders, great disciples, even juniors lost to the plague. They'd be sidelined in righteous sects for at least 60 years, clearly decaying. Whether Hyeonheo glared or not, the famed elders fixed hot gazes on the Leader—the sole survivor who'd inflicted damage on his foe.
"Now I get why Shaolin is the Tae-san Buk-du."
"Indeed—the wisdom to win without fighting, and slicing off that demon Gwang-ma's arm? Truly awe-inspiring."
The elders buttered him up shamelessly, enough to embarrass. If things went as the Leader said, Shaolin would claim top credit for this war's victory. They wagged tails to board the shifting power structure.
How did the righteous Murim Alliance degrade like this? The Leader sighed inwardly, but a win was a win.
He gestured to tone it down, calming the mood—then whipped his head around at a faint killing intent laced through an intense aura squeezing his body.
Fire Realm and Superb masters reacted a beat later, all turning as one. The Peak-and-below warriors, reborn as elites from traps and plague, blinked blankly and followed their gazes.
There, a massive cavalry force slowly came into view. Clad in dazzling golden armor that gleamed, weapons gripped like promises to hack foes apart—they made the watching warriors gulp and murmur.
"Bro Gwak, that's the famed Geumuiwi...?"
"Yeah. First time seeing 'em, but just like the stories."
"They all look Peak realm or higher... Can we handle that?"
"Tch. Don't be stupid—who's behind them? While we scavenged shit off streets, they trained on elixirs instead of rice. Don't puff up your chest over nothing."
A few warriors who'd jokingly tensed flinched at the worldly veteran's words.
Leaders meek as deer before tigers; underlings cluelessly fidgety. The lead Geumuiwi on his huge steed reached the Leader, scanned him appraisingly, and spoke with a sigh.
"How does a monk end up looking like this? Unbelievable."