As If No One Else Exists

"Yeop Pung... those bastards beat me because the warehouse didn't have the medicine they wanted... Argh!!"

The handyman disciple sprawled on the ground was still trying to explain what had happened when a kick came flying in from the side. It sent him hurtling into the wall, and he blacked out on the spot. The culprit was none other than Gi Beonjin.

"Gi Beonjin, you—!"

No one dared step forward. None of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them had imagined that a newly arrived disciple could be this utterly unbridled. Even as handyman disciples, they were his seniors by age — yet Gi Beonjin hadn't wasted so much as a word before unleashing merciless violence on one of them.

More infuriating still was that he didn't so much as blink after sending a man flying. Instead, Gi Beonjin came striding toward Yeop Pung and the others with crushing menace, his heavy footsteps pounding against every chest like war drums beating on the heart.

The crowd scrambled backward like reeds snapping in a gale. Only Yeop Pung and Yi Sang remained where they stood, facing that unbridled killing intent head-on.

Gi Beonjin halted nine feet in front of Yeop Pung. He looked down at him with eyes both arrogant and ice-cold — the gaze of a king regarding a beggar prostrate in the dirt, an absolute authority that must never be trespassed upon.

"What did you just say?"

Gi Beonjin's voice was low, and not a shred of warmth lived in it. He didn't wait for an answer, muttering on as if to himself.

"Senior Brother Yi Hwawu is a genius among geniuses of our Cheonun Sect — the goal I must surpass. But..."

He cut himself off. His eyes flashed cold, and without the slightest warning a tremendous killing intent exploded outward, crashing over Yeop Pung.

The instant the words left his mouth, Gi Beonjin's palm came slashing down toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yeop Pung's cheek — vicious, and blindingly fast.

"Brother Yeop, look out!!"

Yi Sang, standing at Yeop Pung's side, felt every hair on his body stand on end from the killing intent coiled in that hand. The strike was so fast Yeop Pung had no room even to raise a guard.

But in the next heartbeat, a single fist met Gi Beonjin's vicious palm head-on.

A dull, heavy thud rang out. Yeop Pung staggered backward — yet he had taken that insulting blow with his own body and stopped it cold.

He'd blocked it? Yi Sang and everyone else stared in shock. They had always assumed Yeop Pung's skill sat at roughly the same level as their own. That strike of Gi Beonjin's would have landed clean if it had been Yi Sang in the way. And Yeop Pung had stopped it.

Brother Yeop's skill... he's far beyond an ordinary Body Realm martial artist!

"Oh?"

Gi Beonjin looked down at his own palm, faintly surprised.

"You actually blocked my hand?"

Yeop Pung rose slowly to his feet. His right fist was trembling — but those clear eyes held not a shred of fear. For eight years he had been crushed down and worn away, yet the pride carved into his very bones had never once broken.

He met Gi Beonjin's cold, arrogant stare and spoke with a defiance that was almost calm.

"I was only guessing. But that attack of yours was truly pathetic. Eight years ago, Yi Hwawu was far stronger than you are now."

"You insolent bastard! How dare you—!"

Gi Beonjin's pupils shrank to slits. His face twisted into something ugly, almost bestial.

"My attack was pathetic? Fine. Then I'll show you the true power of the Profound Realm!"

"This is the Cheonun Sect's Herb Garden! Don't you dare run wild in a place like this!"

"And if I do? Who the hell are you supposed to be? On your knees. Now!"

Gi Beonjin's arrogance had been fed for more than a decade with nothing to check it. Even in Bongsang County Seat, no one had dared to challenge him, and he was convinced he had no equal in the Cheonun Sect's outer gate either. To a creature like that, Yeop Pung was nothing but a bug — something you crushed underfoot and forgot.

Gi Beonjin roared. At last, he unleashed the true power of the Profound Realm.

In an instant, Gi Beonjin's strikes became too fast for the naked eye to follow. He swept his hand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠through the air with a vicious whistle of wind, and the blow came screaming toward Yeop Pung's face with terrifying force.

Damn it — Profound Qi?!

Yeop Pung knew it on instinct. This was the mighty power he had hungered for all these years — Profound Qi.

He threw his arm up in desperation, trying to block. But no matter how thoroughly tempered a Body Realm martial artist he was, he could not reach the height of the Profound Realm. Gi Beonjin's palm crushed through his arm as if it weren't there and smashed into his face. Yeop Pung's body shot into the air like a worn-out punching bag, then tumbled across the ground.

"Brother Yeop!"

Yi Sang's eyes went blood-red. He lunged forward.

"Shut up!"

Gi Beonjin flicked his hand as if brushing away a nuisance. Yi Sang went flying just as Yeop Pung had. Before a Profound Realm martial artist, a Body Realm fighter was nothing but an insect.

Yeop Pung rolled several times before he finally came to a stop. There was no feeling in his left arm, and half his face was already swelling. Before he could even gather his wits, Gi Beonjin's cruel figure filled his vision. The boy planted a foot on Yeop Pung's face.

"Go on. Tell me. How do I compare to that Yi Hwawu now?"

Yeop Pung clenched his teeth until they ached, and forced the words out through the humiliation.

"What was that? Still haven't learned your lesson?"

Gi Beonjin laughed, cruel and delighted, and pressed down harder. Yeop Pung's crushed cheekbone felt as if it would shatter.

"Say one more word. I'll make sure you never open your mouth again."

"Brother Yeop, please stop! That's enough—"

"There's no shame in losing to Young Master Gi Beonjin!"

The surrounding handyman disciples couldn't bear it any longer and rushed to hold Yeop Pung back. They could not stand to watch him suffer this humiliation another moment. But Yeop Pung's fists ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were clenched so tight the knuckles had gone white. His eyes were wide, almost starting from his head, and rage boiled through every inch of him. Better to die than bow — that unyielding will rolled off him in waves.

"You little—!"

Killing intent flashed in Gi Beonjin's eyes. He was about to stomp down on Yeop Pung's face.

That was when a cold voice cut through the air. At last, the instructor had arrived.

"Whew... we're saved..."

The handyman disciples let out a collective breath of relief and scrambled toward the instructor, tripping over one another to explain what had happened, begging him to save Yeop Pung. Gi Beonjin glanced over his shoulder at the man. He looked as if an ordinary instructor were beneath his notice — but with things having gone this far, he could not keep using force.

"Lucky you, trash."

Gi Beonjin ground his heel into Yeop Pung's face, then walked off without a backward glance. He approached the instructor as if nothing at all had happened and said something in a low voice. The handyman disciples dared not utter a word.

The instructor merely flicked a glance at Yeop Pung from a distance and said nothing. Then, as if the whole affair had never taken place, he gathered the other disciples and left.

Yeop Pung lay on the cold earth, his face caked with dirt. An icy chill seeped into his heart.

Two hours later, Yeop Pung walked alone through the back mountain of the Cheonun Sect.

Half his face was still swollen, burning as if it had been set on fire. But harder to bear than the physical pain was the humiliation he had just endured. He had been crushed by Gi Beonjin. Against a Profound Realm expert, he had not been able to resist at all.

Worse — Gi Beonjin had attacked a man and received no punishment whatsoever. A few words of scolding, and that was the end of it. No accountability at all. One of them was a handyman disciple on the verge of being expelled; the other was a rising star. Anyone would have taken Gi Beonjin's side.

Yeop Pung was furious.

There had been a time when he, too, had been a genius with dazzling talent — the kind Gi Beonjin now wore like a crown. Even Yi Hwawu, the foremost youth of the Cheonun Sect, had not been able to match him in the speed of his physical cultivation. And now he was being trampled by a young master who relied on pills. Injustice and rage shuddered through him.

Even so, Yeop Pung would not despair. He would not let himself be swept away by anger and frustration. For eight long years he had endured contempt and bullying without number. If he had given up each time it happened, he would already have thrown himself off this mountain a thousand times over. He did not even have the luxury of wallowing.

He had climbed the back mountain to vent the fury in his chest — but also to find one last chance at breaking through the wall of the Profound Realm.

Spirit Origin Grass...

Yeop Pung had been combing the back mountain for wild Spirit Origin Grass, scraping together what little Profound Qi he could. For a handyman disciple, that herb was the last hope he had left.

Just five more roots... no. Three. Three roots, and I can break through to the Profound Realm. I know I can.

Gritting his teeth, he pressed on toward the depths of Mangun Peak, where no one else dared set foot. He had already stripped the outer slopes of the back mountain of every herb they held. That was why he had no choice but to push into the treacherous heart of the range.

But heaven was not on his side. He wandered for half a day without finding Spirit Origin Grass — without finding so much as a single blade of grass.

"The heavens really are too cruel. At this rate I'm actually going to die..."

Six hours later, Yeop Pung collapsed, utterly spent, upon a mountain ridge. A bitter smile touched his mouth.

The most painful thing in life is not failure. It is pouring in ten times, a hundred times the effort of everyone around you, only to watch it all come to nothing — like pouring water into a leaking jar, until nothing remains but emptiness. That pain, that despair, defied words. Yeop Pung's heart felt as if a giant hand had closed around it and squeezed, and the blood of that agony dripped, drop by drop.

The inner sect examination is tomorrow. Is every path truly closed to me?

Yeop Pung squeezed his eyes shut. Even someone as stubborn as he was wanted, in that moment, to throw back his head and roar his injustice at the sky. He pushed himself up from the ground, stretched both hands toward the heavens, lifted his face, and opened his mouth wide.

But before a sound could leave him, he saw it — a massive ancient tree towering directly above his head.

Huh? This tree... why does it look so familiar?

He turned his head left and right, taking in the surroundings. A strangely familiar feeling settled over him.

This place... have I been here before?

A gentle breeze stirred. Leaves drifted down from the tree, and as if fate itself had chosen it, one of them landed on Yeop Pung's head.

That's it — I saw this in last night's dream!

The strange dream from the night before rose in his mind, vivid and complete. He had followed a mysterious voice deep into the mountains. And the ancient tree he had seen when he arrived at the cliff... had been nothing but a sapling. Not large. Not thick with leaves. Nothing like the giant standing over him now.

Yeop Pung slowly picked up the fallen leaf. And in his heart, an absurd thought took shape — absurd, and utterly, irresistibly captivating.