Chapter 115: Fist King on the Hunt
Fist King on the Hunt
Episode 115: Fist King on the Hunt
Thirteenth day of pursuit.
Dan Woo-sung sat in the corner of an inn, scrutinizing a map. Marked on it were the locations where the killer had struck. Connecting the dots revealed a clear trajectory—the slaughterer was moving eastward.
Even Dan Woo-sung's demeanor was rougher than usual.
Since he had left Baek Yak behind with the Silver River Merchant Group, he hadn't bothered grooming himself. Though he wasn't prone to excessive beard growth, the stubble beneath his nose and along his jaw had darkened. His hair, already long, now made him look like a wandering vagabond.
He only entered inns when hunger gnawed at him, ate his fill, and spent the rest of his time walking, running, and scouting.
But in this vast expanse of the Central Plains, knowing the killer was heading east wasn't enough. There was no telling whether the target had taken to the mountains or hidden in bustling cities.
So Dan Woo-sung drew a straight line on the map and followed it, ensuring he didn't stray too far north or south.
At first, he had scoured the mountains, but now he focused on populated areas.
The next page of the map held a sketch of the killer's appearance.
The initial description depicted a large man with wild, unkempt hair. But reports from later attacks showed changes—different clothing, neater hairstyles. The killer had been altering his appearance as he moved.
Still, his sheer size would make him unmistakable if spotted.
Eighteenth day of pursuit.
Dan Woo-sung's days and nights had flipped. He caught brief naps during daylight and traveled mostly at night.
This wasn't a race.
For all he knew, the killer might have already slipped further east. Instead, Dan Woo-sung moved meticulously, scouring city after city.
At a crossroads in Hubei, he debated whether to head into Anhui or Jiangxi but ultimately chose Anhui.
Because when he traced the line east from the crime scenes, Mount Jiuhua—where his friends and The Youngest were stationed—lay directly in its path.
The pursuit mattered, but so did protecting Mount Jiuhua.
In that sense, Dan Woo-sung moved like a true guardian deity of the Silver River Merchant Group.
Some of the Murim Alliance's pursuit squads, alerted by Dan Woo-sung, had begun moving south. Meanwhile, the Emperor's Council, notified by the Murim Alliance, spread north and south to block the killer's advance.
But at some point, reports of the killer's whereabouts—of him attacking sects—stopped entirely.
Twenty-third day of pursuit.
Dan Woo-sung tried thinking like the killer.
Given the circumstances, it seemed unlikely the killer had bypassed Mount Jiuhua. So Dan Woo-sung retraced his steps and resumed the hunt. Yet inquiries at local sects and markets yielded no rumors of troublemakers passing through.
It occurred to Dan Woo-sung that the killer might not strike again until he ran out of money. Pondering why he'd need funds while on the move, an absurd thought struck him—what if the killer was a gourmand?
If he was indulging in fine food and drink, he might also seek pleasure in brothels.
Something about him felt instinct-driven, primal.
Around this time, Dan Woo-sung began suspecting the killer had deliberately halted his escape in Anhui.
The most influential power in Anhui was the Namgung family.
But with Blade Emperor dead, the Namgung estate still lingered in mourning.
For a strongman, Anhui—now devoid of Blade Emperor—might feel like safe ground.
So when Dan Woo-sung entered Anhui's Eokseo region, he slowed his pace. Instead, he asked around for renowned brothels and headed into the bustling districts.
That day, a strange premonition kept him from moving further.
He settled at an inn, ordered liquor and snacks, and spent the early evening drinking while observing the streets.
At first, it felt like searching for a needle in a sand dune. But after tracking the killer's psychology, the task no longer seemed impossible.
Dan Woo-sung moved between taverns, sipping drinks, until he reached a district he'd never visited—a sleepless city of neon and vice.
The streets were dazzling.
Hustlers coaxed drunk patrons into brothels, and one approached Dan Woo-sung with a sly grin.
"Looking for a drink? Need directions?"
Dan Woo-sung shook his head, but the man persisted.
"Our house has the prettiest girls in town. Let me—"
"Get lost," Dan Woo-sung muttered as he stepped into the tavern.
The man scowled, glared at him, then turned away, muttering just loud enough to be heard:
"Damn bastard."
Dan Woo-sung glanced back. The man stiffened and scurried off.
No need to waste energy beating such trash mid-hunt.
Just then, the hustler, still grumbling, bumped shoulders with a man approaching from the opposite direction.
"Hey, you fucking—"
The moment he saw the towering figure's face, his body locked up like ice.
THWACK!
The hustler's cheek caved in as he was sent flying—crashing through a tavern's window, shattering tables and chairs before rolling to a stop.
Dan Woo-sung's gaze shifted to the giant who'd struck him.
As the giant strode toward him, murmurs erupted in the tavern.
"Is he dead?"
"Knocked out? Hey!"
Hearing "dead," the giant laughed incredulously.
"Pathetic. Worthless trash."
Mad Demon felt at ease upon entering Anhui.
With Blade Emperor dead, no master here could hinder him. The other Emperor's Council elites? He couldn't care less.
Moreover, Anhui was the Emperor's Council's stronghold—free from Yoo Jung-hong's Murim Alliance. Leaving regions under Yoo Jung-hong's influence had never felt so liberating.
With Blade Emperor gone, he could rampage freely before heading for the coast. If the mood struck, he might even brawl with the entire Emperor's Council.
Smirking, Mad Demon strode forward—until his eyes met a young man watching him from the tavern's edge.
Dan Woo-sung.
Found you at last.
Just as the waiter set liquor on Dan Woo-sung's table, Mad Demon snatched the bottle and downed it in one go.
GULP. GULP.
He slammed the empty bottle down and grinned.
Dan Woo-sung smirked back.
Unfazed, Mad Demon's interest piqued.
"Your liquor's weak. Don't you think?"
He had meant to walk past but paused, studying Dan Woo-sung's expression with amusement.
"You've got no fear, kid."
Most men would seethe if their drink was stolen or cower under Mad Demon's gaze. Yet Dan Woo-sung remained serene.
Mad Demon leaned in.
"Aren't you gonna ask?"
Dan Woo-sung met his gaze.
"You drank it. You tell me."
"Ha—!"
Dan Woo-sung gestured to the waiter—another bottle. Intrigued by the young man's composure, Mad Demon sat across from him.
Madmen recognize madmen.
The strong recognize the strong.
That's why Mad Demon couldn't just leave.
Fate brings together those destined to meet.
Dan Woo-sung wasn't surprised either.
He might have found the killer in a day or, like now, after twenty.
And this was the Fist King's hunt—meeting like this was inevitable.
Dan Woo-sung was certain: this man was the killer.
And a Demonic Path cultivator.
Whether he led a faction or had allies nearby remained unclear.
When the waiter brought another bottle, Mad Demon snatched it and chugged.
SLAM!
He let out a thunderous belch right in Dan Woo-sung's face.
"BURP—"
The stench of liquor and foul breath rolled over Dan Woo-sung, who waved a hand dismissively.
Mad Demon chuckled darkly, then asked:
"Kid. Emperor's Council?"
Dan Woo-sung nodded.
"Yeah."
"Which branch?"
Dan Woo-sung ordered another drink before answering.
"Namgung family."
Mad Demon nodded.
"Ah. So you're Blade Emperor's grandson."
Dan Woo-sung's presence had led him to assume nobility.
Dan Woo-sung shook his head.
"No. Just a low-ranking warrior."
Mad Demon laughed.
"Bullshit. You lie too smoothly. Anyway, my friend killed your Blade Emperor."
Mad Demon was the type to blurt whatever crossed his mind. At the mention of friend, Dan Woo-sung's brow furrowed.
Friend?
Seeing Dan Woo-sung's calm facade crack, Mad Demon burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! You're funny."
Dan Woo-sung asked:
"Sword Demon?"
Mad Demon's expression shifted instantly.
"Oh? You're full of surprises. How'd you know?"
Dan Woo-sung scanned their surroundings.
"Is he nearby?"
"Maybe. Maybe not."
Dan Woo-sung rested his chin on a hand, studying Mad Demon's eyes, face, and aura with detached calm.
This wasn't just any madman.
Not the scheming, calculating kind—but one driven by raw instinct. Dan Woo-sung weighed whether torture could extract useful intel or if plain conversation would suffice.
Then he asked:
"I want to kill Sword Demon. Can you help?"
Direct. Blunt. Dan Woo-sung had discarded subtlety—this man spoke his mind.
Mad Demon countered:
"Why?"
"Revenge."
Mad Demon nodded.
"You are Namgung-affiliated. Bold. But killing Sword Demon won't be easy."
Progress.
Dan Woo-sung cut to the chase:
"Why?"
"You really don't know?"
"No reason I would."
The waiter, trembling, delivered another bottle. Mad Demon reached for it—but this time, Dan Woo-sung's hand was faster.
Even without using martial arts, Mad Demon was stunned by his speed.
Dan Woo-sung poured himself a drink and asked:
"Then tell me. Why's it hard? Because of the guy beside him?"
Mad Demon's face was priceless.
Then he blurted something he shouldn't have:
"You're not Namgung. Are you from Ten Thousand Demon Palace?"
Dan Woo-sung stared.
Ten Thousand Demon Palace?
A name he'd never forget.