Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Synchronization
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"And who the hell are you bastards?"
"……."
The masked men simply stared at each other blankly in silence.
The man suddenly exploded in anger.
"You scum who can't even reveal your identities dare to question an elder's name? I don't want to dirty my hands, so get lost. This is your last chance."
The man turned his back to them as if they were a nuisance.
The four masked men exchanged glances in an instant.
Then, in sync with their leader's hand signal, they all lunged at the man at once.
Their swords moved in perfect unison, slashing toward him simultaneously.
It was far more disciplined than expected.
They encircled him as if deploying a formation.
There was no doubt they had undergone professional martial arts training.
The man muttered upon seeing this.
"Now you've gone and made this annoying."
At that moment.
A fierce light gleamed in the man's eyes.
Or rather... if he had to describe it, a light of darkness.
A bit paradoxical, but...
His eyes were entirely black, as if the whites had vanished, emanating an eerie aura.
'Gasp.'
Han Ibi, witnessing this, involuntarily swallowed and rubbed his eyes.
Yes.
He wasn't seeing things.
If the devil were depicted in the flesh, it might look like this.
The man's veins turned pitch black in an instant.
And rising on the back of his hand and forehead...
'That's... a lotus flower?'
Indescribable geometric patterns resembling flowers bloomed across his body.
He suddenly swung his staff upward.
Flash!
As if lightning had struck, or flames had flickered—an illusion.
The man's movements were swifter than the four masked men combined.
Crack!
One man's face whipped around from the staff's impact, teeth scattering like dice.
But it didn't end there.
Amid the striking sounds, another man's face spun in the opposite direction... blood sprayed everywhere.
Before that man could even collapse.
The man grabbed his throat with his left hand and hoisted him into the air.
"Gurk!"
The man foamed at the mouth briefly.
Snap!
With a crunch, his neck vertebrae shattered. His eyes rolled back, dangling lifelessly.
If he was still alive, it would be a miracle.
The man hurled him at the remaining masked men.
But before they could catch him, the man's form descended upon them.
A wretched scream escaped another man's lips.
The man twisted his body slightly, swinging the staff diagonally upward.
The man's jaw and skull shattered simultaneously, eliciting a agonized cry.
In an instant, he became unrecognizable as human or mere meat.
It soon fell silent...
That brutal handiwork left only extreme tension and silence at the scene.
The man's pitch-black eyes.
His mouth was now slightly agape, his expression ambiguously a smile or a scowl.
Utter terror.
Even amid it, the masked leader mustered his courage and bellowed.
He too was a vicious survivor of the martial world.
"You filthy dog!"
The remaining two masked men attacked in unison as if by prior agreement.
One was a giant whose head alone seemed three times larger than the others.
He swung a massive blade single-handedly with ferocious power.
The giant aimed high, the leader low.
Blades thrust from above and below simultaneously.
But the man spun in place, whipping his right leg to hook the giant's ankle.
The hulking figure lost balance as if snagged on a hook, airborne.
But only for a moment.
Thud!
The staff mercilessly smashed into the airborne giant's abdomen.
The immense shock pierced through fat layers.
He crumpled like wrung laundry, slammed to the ground.
His spine was undoubtedly shattered, even unseen.
Now desperate, the masked leader's eyes rolled back as he roared and slashed.
"Die!"
The man flashed a sharp smile.
"Heh heh. You die."
Stepping forward, he closed the distance in a flash, thrusting the staff through the sword path.
Into the screaming masked leader's mouth...
His body flew, impaled on a pine tree, dangling.
Skewered with a blunt staff, not even a blade...
Han Ibi's jaw dropped involuntarily.
It all happened in a blink.
As the man yanked the staff free, the pitiful kebab of a leader plummeted and sprawled.
Watching silently, the man shook off the staff. Blood dripped steadily.
Simultaneously, the black veins and patterns faded from his body like ink dissolving.
Then a feeble voice sounded.
"Benefactor."
The man turned.
The tortured middle-aged man had limped close, unnoticed.
Bleeding profusely, his right hand severed entirely, left fingers gone.
The man spoke again.
"My benefactor."
The man's face twisted harshly.
"When did you ever see me to call me benefactor?"
The middle-aged man bit his lip against agony.
"I am... Jong Ri-gang of the Zhongli Clan."
The man replied indifferently.
"So?"
Jong Ri-gang continued.
"Ah! Our clan patriarch and my uncle, Jong Ri-mundo... he fell protecting us from those fiends. And... the remaining household, who fled on my decision, were all slaughtered by them."
His eyes reddened gazing at the mutilated corpses.
But the man remained expressionless.
Still, Jong Ri-gang pointed at Han Ibi with his mangled hand.
"This child is... my nephew, Jong Ri-mae. Ri-mae, greet the benefactor properly."
'Gasp!'
Hearing "Jong Ri-mae," Han Ibi jolted.
He remembered the name from the novel.
Jong Ri-mae.
The half-brother of protagonist Jong Ri-hyeok.
Unlike the hero, born to the legitimate wife who died young, he was the son of concubine Geum Na-ryeon.
Han Ibi thought.
'Of course. No way I'm the protagonist...'
Yes.
Jong Ri-mae was the epitome of "scum," trash among trash.
A walking cancer of a human.
From childhood, scheming with wicked stepmother Geum Na-ryeon to torment Jong Ri-hyeok was basic.
Leveraging his status as the patriarch's son, he committed every petty, vile act—the clan's official "waste" and "nuisance" character.
Possessed into that idiot character?
Even in a dream, this was too much!
"Hurry up and greet him instead of standing there dazed!"
Eek.
Jong Ri-gang bellowed. Han Ibi bowed reflexively.
"Ah, hello, sir?"
The man said nothing and turned away.
Then.
Thud thud thud!
Loud impacts echoed.
Jong Ri-gang was kowtowing bloodily, forehead slamming the ground.
"What are you doing?"
Han Ibi startled, supporting his shoulders to lift him.
But Jong Ri-gang wouldn't budge.
Squeezing out his last inner energy.
Jong Ri-gang said in a grief-stricken voice.
"Benefactor, witnessing your peerless martial arts, you must be a hidden hero of the martial world. This child is the last bloodline of the Zhongli Clan. Please take this unworthy boy as your disciple."
Overwhelmed, tears streamed down.
Han Ibi thought.
'This uncle's lying... The protagonist Jong Ri-hyeok must still be alive.'
But the man strode toward the cabin, back turned.
Utter disinterest.
Han Ibi felt choked by the coldness.
"Ri-mae. Are you... alright?"
"Ah... yes."
Like hell he was. In this absurd mess.
Jong Ri-gang continued.
"I don't know if he's good or evil... But now... the only one who can help you and our Zhongli Clan is that hidden master."
'I know. The Zhongli Clan are martial world outcasts.'
Then Jong Ri-gang vomited blood.
Clearly forcing himself.
Han Ibi said.
"Uncle... ah, no, Uncle. Are you okay?"
Jong Ri-gang's face paled rapidly.
Bleeding everywhere, blood loss was obvious.
Han Ibi rushed to embrace him.
Jong Ri-gang said.
"I... think it's over for me."
A dying man's cliché.
Han Ibi panicked slightly but mimicked a historical drama.
"What are you saying! You'll recover, Uncle. Don't say that."
Not bad.
Jong Ri-gang gasped, eyes closed, breath ragged.
"Huff, huff. Ri-mae. Entrust yourself... to him. You'll live. And definitely..."
The last words faint; Han Ibi pressed his ear close.
"...Uncover the fiends' identities... huff huff. Avenge the Zhongli Clan... huff huff."
Ugh. Avenge us? What the hell.
But you can't ignore a dying man's wish.
Han Ibi said firmly.
"Yes. I understand, Uncle."
Jong Ri-gang's ashen face softened kindly.
"Good boy. Finally... finally... listening to your uncle..."
Han Ibi waited, but silence.
Dead? He held a finger to Jong Ri-gang's nose.
No breath.
Unbelievable.
Another death before his eyes.
No, novel character? Still too real.
If a dream, wake up already!
Han Ibi sat dazed for a while.
Jong Ri-gang never stirred.
He rose amid the chaos, skirting corpses to a quiet grass patch.
'What do I do now...'
Suddenly recalling the woman's voice by his ear.
"Lady?"
No response.
Some special access code?
"Hey, woman!"
Nothing.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
Then, a ding! as if waiting.
Whoa. So it ignores "woman" but responds to other calls?
Oh ho. So even silent mental speech works.
'Woman.'
No response, as expected.
'Hello. What should I call you... like... System?'
Hmm. As expected.
'Who the hell are you?'
Huh. Fine.
'Where is this place?'
What? Nothing works.
'Fine, got it. Basics. Just tell me about the rewards you mentioned.'
Ding.
Hmm... Sync with this trash character?
As a reward? Still...
Better than nothing.
'Yes.'
Suddenly, his vision brightened. The world seemed engulfed in light.
'W-what is this? Something wrong?'
A voice sounded.
A deep thud resounded.
His vision normalized.
And moreover...
'I feel... power surging through me.'
That wasn't all.
'Jong Ri-mae's' memories and consciousness crashed like a tsunami.
The flood of knowledge was as uncomfortable as force-fed food.
And...
This scum's memories held no pleasant recollections, even scoured clean...
Then another ding!
Ah! The legendary status window.
A staple in web novels everywhere.
Of course, 'Yes.'
A translucent scroll unfurled before him, brush-script letters appearing.
'Oh ho. Kinda fresh. A bit tacky and inconvenient... but they overdo the historical flair...'
Han Ibi focused on the 'Status Window' icon.
It responded.
Player Information
Internal Arts
- Zhongli Pure Heart MethodLv. 2
External Arts
None
Techniques
- Zhongli Pure SwordsmanshipLv. 4
(To be continued in the next installment)