The Qilin and the Gut-Severing Wine

"Why, you little—!"

Crackle!

Lightning qi erupted across the entire body of the female cultivator with hair the color of a beast of prey.

"You use lightning qi too?!"

She roared and lunged for Cheon Woo-jin, her hand shooting out.

Her movement was fast. She was likely running a soft-body art in tandem with her lightning qi.

But precisely because of that lightning qi, her movement was laid bare to Cheon Woo-jin.

When someone accelerated with lightning qi, that qi pooled first in the direction they intended to move. This was something Cheon Woo-jin had learned through direct experience over his time here — and with senses honed to the peak of the Foundation Establishment Realm, reading an opponent's lightning qi and responding to it was well within ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his ability.

"…!"

Her hand drove toward his throat.

But Cheon Woo-jin, having already read her movement, evaded the strike with a single step. Toward her startled face, he swung his right hand.

"Ugh…!"

Crackle!

The female cultivator, swallowed head-on by lightning qi, tumbled across the floor.

Even so, a fist came hurtling toward his back. The man who had missed his first grab swung his augmented right arm again, trying to smash Cheon Woo-jin down.

He was using pure soft-body art, nothing more.

Because of that, his movements couldn't be read — but from Cheon Woo-jin's standpoint, that posed no real problem. He had known all along the man would strike from behind; all he had to do was defend.

"Graaagh…!"

Clutching his bloodied arm, the man staggered back.

"…"

Will you continue?

Cheon Woo-jin asked with his eyes alone.

The female cultivator had suffered only minor burns, and the man's shredded arm was hardly a grave wound. Both would recover quickly with the right medicine. But if Cheon Woo-jin truly willed it, he was entirely capable of putting them both out of commission.

"P-please, go in."

"Enjoy your evening, my lord."

Having grasped exactly what Cheon Woo-jin was capable of, the two hastily cleared a path. In the end, he was able to set foot inside Wolhongnu without having spent a single word.

"A rough customer as always, Cheon Woo-jin."

Na Chwi-ryang, waiting in the corridor, greeted him with a broad grin. Watching that unbothered face, Cheon Woo-jin offered a dry remark.

"If you'd just said one word — that I was with you — this wouldn't have happened."

"Hey, weren't you the one who could've said you came here with me?"

"That would wound my pride."

"And I kept my mouth shut out of respect for your pride."

If Cheon Woo-jin had announced himself as Na Chwi-ryang's companion to gain entry, it would have amounted to basking in the man's prestige. That was not what he wanted. Cheon Woo-jin had to earn recognition in this world by borrowing no one's name — because no good opportunity would ever come to a man who swaggered on the strength of another.

"Let's go in."

Following Na Chwi-ryang down the corridor, they arrived at the interior of Wolhongnu.

For all its shabby exterior, the inside of the pavilion was lavish and riotous. Gaudily colored night-luminous pearls, gaudy to the point of vulgarity, lit the darkness, and within that glow cultivators of every stripe indulged themselves. Some had cracked open bottles of liquor by the dozen for a drinking bout; others had heaped up operating spirit stones — each worth over a hundred thousand ordinary spirit stones — for a dice game. Men and women, uncaring of who watched, entangled with each other half-dressed were easy enough to find.

That said, the whole interior was not one chaotic sprawl. Deeper in, quieter seating areas were partitioned off by curtains of strung pearls.

"Over there."

"…"

Na Chwi-ryang led the way toward the inner seats — only for someone to block his path.

"Well, well, cultivator."

It was an old man, sodden and disheveled. His stooped back made his already small frame look smaller still, and a ragged blanket of an outer robe did no favors for his seedy appearance. That same old man now stuck his leg out sidelong in front of Na Chwi-ryang, barring the way.

"What face do you have left to show at Wolhongnu?"

"What's this about all of a sudden, Gal Wi?"

Dowdy as he looked, the old man was by no means someone to take lightly — at the very least, the realm displayed in his status window matched Na Chwi-ryang's.

His affiliation read as Ghost Head City, meaning he was a loose cultivator tied to no particular sect. Unrelated to the feuds between sects, he seemed to be picking a fight with Na Chwi-ryang out of pure spite.

"I heard it loud and clear."

Gal Wi grinned, baring his filthy teeth.

"A few days ago, in that brawl in the streets of Junggyeongjin, you got utterly fleeced by some Foundation Establishment cultivator, didn't you?"

"What did you say?"

"Word's already spread far and wide. Everyone's been snickering — the great Na Chwi-ryang of the Yin Scale Spirit Needle Sect is a relic of a bygone age."

Laughter rippled from around them. Gal Wi's pack of hangers-on were sneering at Na Chwi-ryang openly.

This is getting awkward.

The Foundation Establishment cultivator who had supposedly fleeced Na Chwi-ryang was, of course, Cheon Woo-jin himself. In truth, Cheon Woo-jin hadn't subdued him alone — he had only fended Na Chwi-ryang off for a time with the aid of Seo Seol-ryeong, Wi Ju-seon, and the others. So the claim that he'd been "utterly fleeced" was an overstatement, but for Cheon Woo-jin to step forward and correct the record himself would have looked no better.

"Hey, Gal Wi."

Na Chwi-ryang spoke, his expression barely changing.

"The real relic here is that limp noodle hanging between your legs. Why do you insist on projecting your own inferiority complex onto everyone else?"

"What was that, you lizard bastard— ghk!"

CRACK!

Na Chwi-ryang stomped down on the leg Gal Wi had used to block his path. The withered shin shattered like a stalk of sorghum, and an agonized scream tore through the hall.

"You stinking demon, how dare you…!"

Gal Wi's face twisted as he spread both arms wide. From beneath his ragged robe, a countless swarm of mechanical arms burst forth. Some bore axes. Some bore saws. Some even had nozzles for spraying poison mist.

"I'll kill you!"

With that reconstructed body, Gal Wi lunged to smother Na Chwi-ryang — but a short exhale and a punch drove forward were faster.

KRAK!

The fist, plowing through the mechanical apparatuses, slammed dead into Gal Wi's solar plexus. His chest caved in, and he went flying back to slam into the wall.

"I told you last time, didn't I — your midsection is the weak point. Reinforce it before you come at me again."

"Son of a…"

Gal Wi spat a stream of vomit onto the floor along with a string of curses. His hangers-on hurriedly hunched down and avoided Na Chwi-ryang's gaze.

Truly overwhelming in close quarters.

Cheon Woo-jin marveled anew at Na Chwi-ryang's reaction speed. The gatekeeper at the entrance hadn't even been in the same class.

Gal Wi must have had some confidence in himself to attack like that. If he'd been given an opening, he could surely have dealt real damage. But Na Chwi-ryang moved faster and drove in the decisive blow — that's what neutralized him.

Na Chwi-ryang's reaction speed wasn't something his innate physique alone could produce. His body had been tempered through soft-body arts — that was what allowed such speed. And on top of that, he was still concealing his trump card, the Liuji Tiangang Divine Art. If he had counterattacked with that as well, Gal Wi wouldn't even have left bones behind.

The reason I could briefly subdue him last time was because Seo Seol-ryeong and I launched coordinated attacks. In a straight one-on-one, I'd have struggled to beat him.

He needed to properly master the soft-body arts — if only to stand against monsters like Na Chwi-ryang. At the very least, he'd have to train them to the point where he could answer that reaction speed.

"Let me make one thing clear."

At that moment, Na Chwi-ryang thumped Cheon Woo-jin with a fist.

"That Foundation Establishment cultivator you're all gossiping about is this man. He didn't fleece me, so stop spreading your nonsense."

"…!"

Every eye in the vicinity locked onto Cheon Woo-jin.

"Then could that possibly be…"

"The Foundation Establishment cultivator who supposedly beat Baek Shin-yeong of the Ten Thousand Nights Ice Palace one-on-one?"

"There are rumors he even held off Baek Gang-ryeon, the Palace Lord of the previous generation…!"

None of them knew Cheon Woo-jin's face, but every one of them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knew of the Foundation Establishment cultivator who had made his name in the Ghost-Summoning Spirit Banner Incident. And now that very cultivator had appeared at Na Chwi-ryang's side — they were all beside themselves with astonishment.

"Why would a man like that run around with Na Chwi-ryang?"

"Did they acknowledge each other and hit it off?"

"So neither of them actually got fleeced, huh!"

Before the murmuring crowd, Na Chwi-ryang gave Cheon Woo-jin a sly wink. Watching him, Cheon Woo-jin caught on.

He's using my existence to clear his own stained name.

From Cheon Woo-jin's perspective, that suited him fine — it meant being branded as a man who walked shoulder to shoulder with one of the power brokers of the Sixth Layer.

"Say, weren't you that Daoist?"

Just then, a woman sidled up and looped a hand around his waist.

"I've had my eye on you since you walked in. How about a drink with me and my friends?"

Trailing her fingertips along his side, she pointed to the right. There, women of every manner sat, casting coquettish glances his way.

"I'll decline."

But Cheon Woo-jin refused in a voice cold as ice — because he had sensed from the moment she approached that she was someone he ought not to associate with.

"I make a point of not dealing with the Joy Union Sect."

"Ugh…"

Her face soured at his frigid refusal.

The Joy Union Sect practiced dual cultivation arts that achieved attainment through relations between men and women. Dual cultivation itself was nothing inherently evil, but as its classification under the demonic path made plain, the sect taught techniques for unilaterally draining a partner's power. The Changhwa Pavilion that Cheon Woo-jin had burned down back on the Third Layer had been a pleasure house run by people from that very sect.

"There's no need to be frightened just because I'm from the Joy Union Sect, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠handsome Daoist."

Seo I-hwa, daughter of the Joy Union Sect, pressed her seduction persistently.

"We're not exactly planning to eat you. We just want to get along — surely there's no need to be so cold about it?"

"Well, you see—"

Just as Cheon Woo-jin was trying to pry her off, Na Chwi-ryang burst out laughing beside them.

"Hey, it's no use witches like you batting your eyes at this one. He's already taken — he goes around with an absolutely peerless beauty."

"What?"

"And she's a snow woman with a monstrous possessive streak. Lay a finger on him carelessly and you'll freeze to death in the chill of her jealousy."

"…!"

The woman hastily peeled her hands off Cheon Woo-jin's body. Had she known something about Seo Seol-ryeong?

"Hey—"

He meant to say something to Na Chwi-ryang, but the man paid him no mind and walked on ahead. Falling into step behind him, Cheon Woo-jin lodged a protest.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread rumors of your own."

"Rumors? That you have a peerless beauty? I ought to let that woman know you denied it so strongly."

"That's not what I meant."

"Well, didn't I save you from those clingy witches thanks to that? If I hadn't said it, they'd have swarmed you every time we meet from now on."

"…"

It was certainly true that he owed Na Chwi-ryang for that — but somehow the feeling was a strange one.

"Hm, there you are."

The inner seating, partitioned off by pearl curtains. Before it, Na Chwi-ryang paused to straighten his disheveled clothing. That the blustering Na Chwi-ryang would show such deference could only mean someone formidable lay beyond.

"Pardon the intrusion."

Na Chwi-ryang pushed aside the pearl curtain and stepped through, and Cheon Woo-jin followed.

"It's been a while, Daoist Master Gong."

"Na Chwi-ryang, is it."

In the inner seats, a man sat alone, drinking spiritual wine. The mere aroma drifting from the bottle was heady enough to make the mind swim. It must have been a rare vintage that no pile of spirit stones could buy — yet an ordinary person's spirit meridians would rupture and kill him from a single sip.

So that's it. This is the man Na Chwi-ryang hoped to get information from.

Cheon Woo-jin studied the man carefully. To the eye, he was simply a lean, wiry figure — but atop his head sat a pair of deer-like antlers.

He was not of the Dragon Clan, like Oh Hwi-seong of the Heavenly Dragon Tower.

The Qilin race. Like the Dragon Clan, they were auspicious divine beasts blessed with lifespans far longer than those of humans. A human Core Formation cultivator rarely lived past four hundred years, but for the Qilin, exceeding a thousand was commonplace.

Gong U, a Core Formation cultivator of that Qilin race, could be counted among the very top heavyweights of the loose cultivators on the Sixth Layer of Ghost Head City.

In the game as well, he appeared as a major NPC of the Sixth Layer and was deeply involved in the story's progression. Na Chwi-ryang had come here today because he believed that a man like Gong U would know about the Iron Calamity Mob.

"I've come today because there's something I'd like to ask you, Daoist Master. First of all—"

"Na Chwi-ryang."

He had been about to ask about the Iron Calamity Mob, but Gong U raised a hand and stopped him.

"We meet after so long, and to dive straight into business like that — it wounds an old man's heart."

With a smooth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠motion, Gong U reached out and took hold of the wine bottle. Then, drawing two empty cups near with his spiritual power, he poured.

"It seems one friend here is new to me as well. Let's begin with introductions."

Sliide.

The brimming cups slid across the table to stop before Na Chwi-ryang and Cheon Woo-jin.

"Drink up, now."

"Daoist Master Gong!"

Na Chwi-ryang's eyes flared.

"This is Bowel-Severing Five Strange Herbs Liquor! Perhaps you could manage it, being of the Qilin race — but if the likes of us drink this…"

"Would you die, then?"

"We could die!"

"A grown man with so little nerve."

Gong U scoffed at Na Chwi-ryang and turned his gaze to Cheon Woo-jin.

"And you, young Daoist — will you show me your courage?"

In the twin eyes of Gong U, who so insistently pressed the cups upon them, a violet light flickered and swayed.