Venturing into the Martial World
Whew, what a shock. When So-wol suddenly blurted out something about the Johwa Realm, I seriously felt my heart drop.
Even Ryeo-ah reacted like this. But what followed was just So-wol swinging her fists like a madwoman, beating someone to a pulp.
"Aaaargh! Spare my life, Great Hero! Argh!"
There was only a shattered sword and a man being turned into mincemeat in real-time. After the brief commotion settled down:
"So, you're saying there is a realm called Johwa, but it's not the actual Johwa Realm?"
"I-I only know of one Johwa Realm, so I do not know which one you are referring to, but..."
The man, whose face was swollen like a balloon after being beaten to a bloody pulp by So-wol, was surprisingly the Grand Chief of the Green Forest.
Feeling utterly dumbfounded, I tapped the Grand Chief's sword with my foot. What he had just told me was simply absurd.
"So this cold lump of rock is Myriad-Year Cold Iron?"
"Y-yes, that is correct."
"And you haven't actually reached the Hwagyeong, but by borrowing the power of this weapon and some kind of formation, you can reach a state similar to it?"
"That is correct, Great Hero!"
"Wow."
I honestly didn't know what to say. The romanticized martial arts fantasy in my head instantly withered away.
"Then, can you do that? You know, Blade Qi—the stuff Hwagyeong masters use."
"Yes. I can."
"Show me."
"Right away!"
The Grand Chief, who had been kneeling politely, scrambled to his feet. Borrowing the power of the Myriad-Year Cold Iron fragment and his formation, he unleashed a shimmering energy.
"How is it! See, I can still be of use to you!"
It was a brilliant starlight that seemed to swallow the glow of the surrounding lanterns. Yet, it didn't completely extinguish them, instead harmonizing with them in a semi-transparent, radiant luster.
"Wow..."
So-wol hadn't noticed it during the fight, but seeing it now, she seemed to appreciate its sheer aesthetic beauty. Actually, her eyes looked a bit entranced. Did she like it that much?
"It is pretty," I remarked.
"..."
"What? Are you going to stab me with that?"
For a split second, the eyes of the man channeling the Blade Qi flared with a murderous glint, only to instantly die down. Having the Blade Qi sparkling in his hand had briefly given him a surge of confidence, but the memory of being beaten like a dog just moments ago quickly brought him back to reality.
"Hehe. Of course not. I would never dream of such a thing, Great Hero."
"If only you could maintain it permanently, it would have been quite popular as a material for ornamental dharma treasures. What a shame."
I closely observed the Blade Qi for a moment before losing interest. Its limitations were far too obvious. I offered a dry, blunt assessment of these martial artists.
"That's what happens when you try to refine pure natural energy through some trashy core and mix it up haphazardly."
A monster's core converts natural energy into demonic energy. It was far more efficient than blindly flinging raw natural energy around. But the internal energy and Blade Qi of these martial artists were different. For us dokkaebi, our process felt like absorbing natural energy and processing it into a destructive force called demonic energy.
Jeongha, who had finished bathing at some point, clicked her scabbard and shook her head.
"They filter pure energy through things like a dantian and meridians, so of course it becomes several times harder to control and ends up riddled with impurities."
Using human meridians and cultivation methods that couldn't properly absorb natural energy, they forced it into a dantian that wasn't meant to hold it in the first place. It was only natural that its efficiency and power would plummet. If you contaminate car fuel with all kinds of random junk, of course the engine isn't going to run smoothly.
"..."
Having received such harsh criticism from the three of us, the Grand Chief's face flushed red before he hung his head. No matter how much of a bandit he was, he was still a martial artist at the absolute peak of the Chojeoljeong, capable of reaching a state similar to the Hwagyeong by borrowing external power. He possessed the pride of a master, and veins bulged on his hand gripping the hilt of his broken saber.
"...Haha. Indeed. I do not know what kind of martial arts you esteemed ones have mastered, but... yes."
But what choice did he have? He could only swallow his pride. The shimmering Blade Qi on the Grand Chief's broken blade flickered out. I tilted my head and raised my fist. Now that I had heard everything I wanted, I planned to snap his neck cleanly so he wouldn't bleed and stink up the place, then toss him down the slope. Judging by his pathetic state, he didn't have anything worth stealing anyway. Besides, this bastard had dared to cut So-wol's hand. What if we hadn't had a recovery talisman and our precious So-wol had been left with a scar?
Just as I channeled my demonic energy to strike:
"Please wait, Master."
"Why?"
"Could you perhaps spare his life?"
"Seriously, why?"
There was absolutely nothing to gain from keeping him alive. I wondered if So-wol's useless inner compassion was acting up, but her next words left me even more bewildered.
"Martial arts. I want to learn them."
"...What?"
Did she actually suffer some kind of qi deviation? Even Jeongha grabbed So-wol's cheek and pinched it hard.
"Maid. Have you lost your mind?"
"I hafn't loht it."
"I get that you're stuck in your cultivation and want to try other things. If you said you wanted to become a puppeteer or an artifact craftsman, I would've cheered you on."
"Thahnk you."
"But this is just... not it, right?"
Jeongha tapped the Grand Chief's solar plexus with her scabbard.
"We dokkaebi reach the Middle or Late stage of Yeondan just by breathing by the time we grow old. Even the ordinary ones."
"Ye-es."
"And an ordinary Middle Yeondan dokkaebi could easily go toe-to-toe with a guy like this. What are you going to do with his trashy techniques?"
"She's right, So-wol. This isn't it."
Under our desperate persuasion, So-wol's eyes wavered. Since the only people she could call family and friends were stopping her, her resolve began to shake. I loved martial arts novels, but I was also a pragmatist who knew how to look at reality. That was why, for the sake of So-wol's future—and my personal desire to enjoy a long life together with her—I pulled her into a tight embrace and gently coaxed her.
"So-wol. We have plenty of time."
"Master..."
"I'm going to get stronger and rise to a high position. And over that long span of time, you will grow too. In the first place, even pure-blooded dokkaebi your age can't reach the Late stage of Yeondan. You're plenty fast. Jeongha and I are just anomalies."
"If you say so, Master..."
"Just forget about martial arts or whatever that children's toy of a system is. We're adults; we don't play with toys anymore, do we? Let's look at reality."
Just as So-wol trailed off and was about to nod:
"W-wait..."
"What?"
"..."
"What is it, punk?"
It was the Grand Chief's voice. A corpse-in-waiting who should have died earlier, only having his life extended by a few minutes thanks to So-wol's intervention. He shrank back slightly under my gaze, but then he glared back with wide eyes, speaking in a barely audible, trembling voice.
"It is... not trash."
"Uh-huh, sure."
It was a pointless objection that didn't even warrant a counterargument. Quite cliché for a mere martial artist, really.
"I am going to die today, aren't I?"
"Yep. Pretty much."
"Ah, fuck. I don't want to die."
"And here I was wondering what you were going to say."
Was it a survival instinct kicking in before death? Just trying to strike up a conversation to prolong his life even by a second? The Grand Chief lowered his head.
"I thought I had enough pride as a martial artist, but in truth, I knew. It wasn't pride, but a different kind of stubbornness."
His loose grip tightened.
"Sure, at first it was just a means to satisfy my greed, but martial arts became the biggest part of my life. Sometimes even closer and more alluring than plunder, women, or alcohol."
"So what?"
"At the very least, it is not something you can just call trash right to my face!"
I had seen plenty of people like him. The desperate struggle of a human who knew death was certain, with nothing left but sheer spite. Maybe it was because I had killed so many, but he seemed to have realized rather quickly that no matter what he did, he was dying today. Instead of striking him dead in a single blow, I stroked my chin for a moment and picked up a liquor bottle rolling on the ground. It was completely full, with the seal still intact.
"I've done my fair share of killing, so I know. Usually, that kind of stubbornness or spite is just a desperate struggle because a person is so incredibly stressed out that they have to do something."
I shook the bottle. The distinct sloshing sound of the liquid felt exceptionally vivid today.
"You're so terrified that you have to get angry. You have to scream at the top of your lungs and let the veins bulge in your neck in rage just to forget the fear. Because if you don't, you feel like you'll burst into tears right then and there."
Pop! With a crisp sound, the cap flew off. A fragrant, strong aroma of alcohol wafted through his broken nose. It was a scent so sweet that dying after having a cup of this would actually be considered a peaceful passing.
"And you hope that by doing this, the opponent who showed you some interest might kill you a little quicker. But you see, that's a losing deal."
Splash. A splash of alcohol dripped down, wetting the ground.
"Drink this and die cleanly. Why are you acting like some great hero? If you're a bandit, die like a bandit with a drink in your hand."
"I..."
"I'm feeling generous. I'll even throw in this grilled skewer as a bonus to send you off nicely."
His eyes wavered. He had been beaten so badly earlier that his flesh was torn and his bones were broken. At a time like this, taking a cool, deep swig of that strong liquor would undoubtedly feel amazing. Moreover, if he accepted the drink, there would be no risk of torture. I was offering to let him keep a shred of his pride, promising not to humiliate him like a bug before he died just because he had acted cocky with his pathetic skills. His mind told him that since he was going to die anyway, this was a good enough deal.
"I..."
His eyes, staring at the saber in his hand, grew dull for a moment, but then he suddenly pointed it at So-wol.
"Just once."
"?"
"Just give me one chance. I will teach you what martial arts are. If you don't like it, you can tear me apart and kill me in the most horrific way possible."
So-wol nodded and stepped forward. I was about to stop her, but then I figured this would be a good learning experience for her, so I let her go. The gap between them was too vast for him to pull anything funny anyway. As a distraction, I freed the women the bandits had locked up in cages like sex toys and enjoyed their services.
"You're curious about martial arts?"
"Yes."
"What I am about to show you is but a fraction of martial arts. Watch, listen, and learn well."
The Grand Chief began his lecture.
"Martial arts, by nature..."
It was a sham. No matter how high the Grand Chief's realm was, how could he possibly explain the vast world of martial arts in such a short time? At best, he would just spout a few vague, high-sounding phrases to look like a master.
"The Three Talents are divided into Heaven, Earth, and Man..."
His breathing grew heavier as he went on. The more he spoke, and the more sweat beaded and dripped from his cheeks and forehead, the more the fear of death—which he had briefly forgotten in his excitement—began to creep back up on him.
"...Therefore, first-class martial artists only need to know this much, and the difference between the Peak and Transcendental Peak realms is..."
Regret washed over him. I should have just drunk the liquor and died earlier. What if that horned dokkaebi tears me to shreds? What if he turns me into a wandering ghost? No, in the first place, does an afterlife even exist?
"Since your meridians seem to have a different structure from ours, I will only explain the essentials..."
Yet, despite his inner panic, his explanation remained fluent. He was still a martial artist who had reached the absolute peak of the Chojeoljeong. The martial arts he had painstakingly accumulated since his days as a wretched orphan were always honest, regardless of the character of the one wielding them.
"...Thus, Blade Qi, of which I have only tasted a manufactured glimpse..."
Martial arts were honest. Though talent and luck played a part, they still accumulated. As long as one diligently refined them, they would at least never regress.
"Controlling the joints and muscles of the moving body, and if necessary, even the blood vessels and optic nerves, utilizing the reaction force..."
Ah, I don't want to die. But because the fear of death was so overwhelming, his explanation inevitably faltered at times. The neat, puzzle-like structure of his lecture became crude and disorganized, dragging on as he desperately tried to stretch out his remaining moments of life.
And So-wol, nodding, swung her hand. Her smooth, human-like hand, lacking the sharp claws of a pure dokkaebi, struck and cleanly snapped his neck.
Screeech— At the same time, a wisp of blue Blade Qi shimmered from her fingertips. As the Grand Chief's body collapsed, So-wol didn't bother to close his wide-open eyes, as if she didn't want to lose sight of that starlight. Instead, she coaxed the Blade Qi to grow slightly larger, letting it flutter before him.
"I killed you before you could become too pathetic. If we let this drag on, you would have left this world as a nobody."
The severed head could not answer.
"But thank you. Regardless of everything else, I quite like this Blade Qi. It is beautiful, after all."
As a woman, So-wol was not exceptionally talented.
"Master said time would solve everything, but I know my own talent. My comprehension is already lacking, and with this half-breed body, there is no way cultivation methods meant solely for dokkaebi and monsters would work properly on me."
If one wears clothes that do not fit, the result will never be right. The best So-wol could do as a monster was to desperately hold onto her Late Yeondan stage so her realm wouldn't regress. When she barely had enough strength to prevent regression, how could she even dream of the Ungi Realm? It was clearly out of the question. In that case, shouldn't she look for an entirely different path?
Martial arts, which could be considered a mere half-measure of immortal cultivation. It was a perfect fit for someone like her, who was also a half-measure.
"Mmh. I am currently making up for this Blade Qi with my overflowing demonic energy, but it seems this is not the right way to do it. I will have to take my time and modify it."