I'll Eat the Soup, You Lick the Bowl
"Who is it?"
Every head turned. A procession of men in black and white was advancing toward them at an unhurried pace.
There were four or five hundred of them, yet every last one radiated a crushing pressure of Profound Qi. With each step they took, it was as if storm clouds were gathering overhead. A weight settled over the grounds so heavy that even drawing breath became a labor. These were the people of the Gi Clan.
Elder Han Un, standing at the head of the Cheonun Sect party, narrowed his eyes. Something was badly wrong. The middle-aged man leading the Gi Clan was none other than Gi Yeo-hae — a name that carried real weight throughout Fengsang Commandery.
Gi Yeo-hae was already a Spirit Realm expert, a man who held Fengsang Commandery in his grip. For him to appear in person at the head of a force like this, his intentions could not possibly be good.
The two figures at his back were pouring out formidable Profound Qi of their own. One of them had a long, horse-like face and a killing intent so sharp it seemed to cut the air. He was the one who had just called out in that cold voice.
Those who had not yet pieced the situation together found themselves burning with curiosity. Just who was Yeop Pung, that the patriarch of the Gi Clan would come looking for him in person?
Even those who had been gazing at the Cheonun Sect with envy now found themselves frowning without quite meaning to. They knew perfectly well that the Cheonun Sect of today lacked the strength and the prestige to stand against the Gi Clan. Whatever was about to unfold here would not be settled easily.
By then the Gi Clan's party had already reached the foot of the flying ship, and the pressure they brought to bear on the Cheonun Sect was merciless. Gi Yeo-hae's gaze carried the weight of a mountain. The experts arrayed behind him made the very air feel too thick to breathe.
Han Un could retreat no further. He stepped forward and offered a respectful greeting.
"Hero Gi. I am Elder Han Un of the Cheonun Sect. I offer you my respects."
Only a cold silence answered him.
Gi Yeo-hae's eyes rested on Han Un for a moment, then slid past him as if he were of no consequence whatsoever. His attention had already moved on to the Cheonun Sect's disciples.
The horse-faced expert at his back snorted in open contempt.
"An elder of the Cheonun Sect dares offer greetings to our Patriarch? Get lost. We came here for Yeop Pung. Drag that bastard out. Now."
The insult drained the color from Han Un's face. Several of the Cheonun Sect elders behind him wore expressions of barely contained fury. But the terrifying pressure rolling off Gi Yeo-hae left them no choice but to clench their teeth and endure it.
Just what is the Peak Master doing? How is Elder Han supposed to hold a situation like this by himself?
Han Un forced a smile.
"Might I ask why your esteemed clan is seeking Yeop Pung?"
"Don't play dumb."
The horse-faced warrior's voice grew even more insolent.
"Your Cheonun Sect disciple Yeop Pung crippled our clan's Young Master Beon-jin. Did you think your sect could simply let a debt like that slide? And then you had the gall to send that insolent whelp to the Autumn Hunt — as if the Gi Clan were nothing to be afraid of. Today our Patriarch will personally cripple Yeop Pung and take Young Master Beon-jin's revenge. Enough talk. Hand him over."
The Gi Clan's manner was arrogant to the point of contempt. They paid not the slightest mind to the Cheonun Sect's thousand-year reputation. To make a demand like this in public was to grind the sect's dignity underfoot.
Han Un could not possibly surrender Yeop Pung. He smiled once more and addressed Gi Yeo-hae directly.
"Hero Gi, regarding your young master's affair, our Cheonun Sect has already given its answer. If you remain dissatisfied, it would be best to come to Mount Tianyun and discuss the matter in person. But today is, I fear, a somewhat inappropriate—"
Han Un had not even finished. Gi Yeo-hae's eyes flashed with a killing frost. From where he stood, he swept his hand through the air, and the strike came for Han Un.
A palm of condensed fire, forged in an instant from Profound Qi. Terrifying heat tore through the air as it hurtled toward Han Un — a killing art that only a Spirit Realm expert could project beyond the body.
The onlookers were stunned by the sheer ruthlessness of it. Disagree with a single word of his, and he attacked — the violence of the man was breathtaking. They were equally stunned by the technique itself: a divine art that only a Spirit Realm master could wield.
"Elder Han, look out!"
The blast hit before Han Un could even react. The Flame Palm caught him square, and his body lifted off the ground.
"Out of the way!"
The Cheonun Sect's disciples were standing right behind him. His qi and blood boiled through every meridian as he was flung backward, and still he fought to keep from crashing into them.
But Gi Yeo-hae's Profound Qi was as vast as a mountain and as boundless as the sea. The disciples could not move in time. Han Un was about to drop among them with the flames still detonating around his body — and if they did, dozens of disciples would be caught in the blast.
Then a heavy crash rang out from the flying ship. The sturdy cabin wall burst apart from the inside, and a streak of blue light appeared like a bolt of lightning, arriving at Han Un's back in a single breath.
The blue light unfurled into a soft, yielding wall of cloud, catching Han Un as gently as a falling leaf. The clouds then scattered, and a firm palm settled against his back, holding him steady.
Every eye followed that hand upward. An old man in Daoist robes stood between Han Un and the disciples — unkempt beard, haggard face, the look of a man who had not slept in a proper bed in years. His complexion was flushed a deep red, and his eyes were glazed and swimming, as if he were thoroughly drunk.
"Peak Master?"
A ripple of shock ran through the Cheonun Sect ranks.
Maeng Chang-haeng's entrance had a certain grandeur to it. His appearance left a great deal to be desired, but it was more than enough to snatch them out of disaster and put some steel back in their spines.
The next instant, Yeop Pung's face crumpled. He shut his eyes.
He was not the only one. Complicated expressions spread through the crowd; nobody quite knew how to react.
Han Un turned, ready to offer his thanks — and then he caught it. He sniffed. A powerful reek of garlic sauce filled his nose.
He looked down, and—
Oh, for heaven's sake. The old man had just saved his life with a bowl of food still clutched in one hand.
And what a bowl it was. Lamb, tender duck offal, scallions, cilantro — a rich, savory steam was still rising off the thing.
He was eating soup. In the middle of this. Was that not taking it a bit far? At a moment like this?
"P-Peak Master." Han Un had nothing else to say.
"Hn?"
Maeng Chang-haeng had not the faintest idea he had done anything wrong. He peered at Han Un through half-lidded, drunken eyes, struggling to bring him into focus, and slurred,
"You brat. How d'you have two heads?"
Two heads? The man was so drunk he looked ready to keel over on the spot.
"Peak Master!"
Han Un lunged to steady him. Maeng Chang-haeng shoved him aside and went staggering toward the Gi Clan's ranks.
"Just now… you lot were makin' a racket down there. An' you were gonna beat our Cheonun Sect people?"
He could barely stay upright in front of Gi Yeo-hae. A powerful fluctuation of Profound Qi rolled off his body, but nobody paid the slightest attention to a drunk.
The horse-faced expert had never even heard of the Cheonun Sect possessing a Peak Master this wretched. He took one look at Maeng Chang-haeng's threadbare appearance and barked a laugh.
"Hmph. And just what the hell are you supposed to be?"
Maeng Chang-haeng let out a tremendous belch.
A nauseating blast of garlic and liquor slammed into the faces of Gi Yeo-hae, the horse-faced expert, and the third man beside them.
The grounds went dead silent. Everyone froze.
What in the world was this? Where had manners gone? Where had common sense gone?
Gi Yeo-hae — overlord of a region, a champion of Fengsang Commandery — when had anyone ever dared throw liquor-breath in his face? His expression went black in an instant. A Spirit Realm expert's Profound Qi erupted, and a terrifying whirlwind tore across the ground.
The two experts at his back were Spirit Realm cultivators as well. The horse-faced man in particular was a creature of pride and temper, and a stench like that was more than he could bear.
His stomach turned. Rage boiled up through his chest. Wind-attribute Profound Qi gathered in his palm, condensing into a blade of air that looked ready to shred anything it touched — and he swung it straight at Maeng Chang-haeng's face.
A crescent of tearing wind, sharp enough to unmake whatever it met, carved through the air toward Maeng Chang-haeng's face.
"You want to die?!"
"Hrm. You hit my people, an' now you wanna hit me too?"
Maeng Chang-haeng's drunken eyes creased in a smile.
"Heh-heh-heh. That angry, are you? I'll help you blow off a little steam."
A flash of blue light. The horse-faced man's Wind Blade carved through empty air. In the next heartbeat Maeng Chang-haeng was standing in front of him like a ghost, their faces barely a foot apart.
"You—!"
The horse-faced man went rigid with shock.
Another belch rolled out of Maeng Chang-haeng.
That smell. Nobody present could have imagined it.
The horse-faced man could not draw a breath. A small bowl painted with a blue floral pattern came flying at his face so fast he had no time to react.
A thunderous crack split the air. The bowl in Maeng Chang-haeng's hand detonated against the horse-faced man's face, dumping its entire contents over his head and body.
The force behind it was monstrous — like being struck with a mace. The man went tumbling through the air, spinning several times before he slammed into the ground with a bone-jarring crash.
"Gah—!"
Only when he hit the dirt did the scream finally tear out of him.
Lamb, scallions, and cilantro were plastered across his face, mixed with a fresh stream of blood pouring from his nose. It was a sight too ghastly to look at for long.
That was when it dawned on the crowd: this shabby, drunken old man was an expert of a terrifying caliber. The power in that single blow left them stunned.
Old Man Maeng… is incredible.
It was the first time Yeop Pung had ever seen Maeng Chang-haeng fight in earnest. That strike had moved beyond the limits of what his eyes could follow.
The result was thoroughly, gloriously satisfying. Han Un, the other elders, and a great many of the Cheonun Sect's disciples felt their spirits surge. They wanted to clap. They wanted to cheer.
And then, right beside them, a terrifying surge of flame Profound Qi condensed into a longsword of fire — a blade that looked as though it could melt gold and reduce stone to ash. It came down without mercy at Maeng Chang-haeng's unprotected back. Gi Yeo-hae had entered the fight.
A sword of living fire, hot as the sun itself, carved a merciless arc toward Maeng Chang-haeng's back. Even Han Un, standing well clear of it, felt as though his skin were beginning to burn.
Gi Yeo-hae was every inch the overlord of Fengsang Commandery. That single stroke was enough to make it plain: his cultivation stood far above that of an ordinary Spirit Realm expert. There was every chance he had already reached the Spirit Spring — perhaps even its peak.
Maeng Chang-haeng, facing that roaring blade, simply turned his head and smiled. The yellowed teeth showing between his lips, together with the reek of liquor still hanging on his breath, left the onlookers with nothing to say.
In the next instant, brilliant starlight burst from his body. Even in broad daylight the radiance was so fierce that people could not keep their eyes open. Maeng Chang-haeng seemed to vanish from the spot as if he had never been there at all.