Chapter 116: The Fist King, Called the Fist Demon
The Fist King, Called the Fist Demon
Chapter 116: The Fist King, Called the Fist Demon
Mad Demon looked Dan Woo-sung up and down, then spoke as if dismissing the idea that he could be from Ten Thousand Demon Palace.
"No way. The next successor couldn't possibly already be roaming the martial world. And my senior? Even less likely."
Seeing Mad Demon's confusion, Dan Woo-sung responded in a lighthearted tone, as if joking.
"Why do you think not?"
Mad Demon stared at him intently, like a gambler hesitating over whether to bet his last coin. Then he shook his head again.
"No. Impossible. You're not from Ten Thousand Demon Palace."
Dan Woo-sung neither confirmed nor denied it.
Instead, the words "Ten Thousand Demon Palace," "successor," and "senior" stuck in his ears. Good intel.
'Could it be that Sword Demon is from Ten Thousand Demon Palace, and this bastard is from the same generation?'
Since Mad Demon had called Sword Demon a friend, it was possible.
Moreover, the name "Ten Thousand Demon Palace" (Ten Thousand Demons) wasn't something to overlook—it sounded like an organization that bred practitioners of the Demonic Path.
Mad Demon glared at Dan Woo-sung and said,
"Anyway, your identity doesn't matter much. Know why?"
Dan Woo-sung poured himself a drink and replied,
"I do."
"Let's hear it."
"Because we're both planning to kill each other."
"Keuk-keuk..."
Dan Woo-sung studied Mad Demon. The only reason this man was blabbering about Ten Thousand Demon Palace and friends was simple—he intended to kill him.
Dan Woo-sung extended the liquor bottle as if offering a drink and said,
"Still, you're a rude junior, not even knowing basic manners. Take it. And don't be so shameless about stealing someone else's liquor when you're not even paying."
Mad Demon burst into laughter and held out his cup. The liquor splashed in with a glug-glug sound.
Dan Woo-sung filled his own cup as well. The two drank without breaking eye contact.
Mad Demon spoke first.
"How about the loser confesses everything?"
"Sounds good. Weakness is a sin, after all."
Dan Woo-sung nodded as if agreeing and poured more liquor.
"Drink up. You'll be parched after I beat the hell out of you."
"Keuhahahaha—!"
Dan Woo-sung had expertly stroked Mad Demon's pride.
"One of us will die anyway. Let's reveal our identities."
"Mad Demon (Mad Demon)."
Dan Woo-sung countered immediately.
"Fist Demon."
Mad Demon's mouth rounded in surprise.
"Oh..."
There had never been a successor with the title "Fist Demon." Whether he was a junior or senior remained unclear.
Dan Woo-sung smirked.
"Mad Demon, were you running away from Ten Thousand Demon Palace?"
Mad Demon laughed along.
"Don't be ridiculous. But for a brat like you to call yourself 'Fist Demon'... 'Demon'? You? Even a dog would laugh. You bastard. Did you bow a few times to some survivor from Ten Thousand Demon Palace, learn a couple of techniques, and then arrogantly take the title 'Demon' for yourself? You fucking idiot. Where's your master? I'll tear him apart first."
At that moment, a group of enraged men approached—the martial artists from the brothel where the tout who had been killed belonged. About twenty of them marched forward with swords drawn until someone pointed at Mad Demon.
"That's him!"
As the twenty swordsmen lined up, Mad Demon turned his head and grinned at them.
"Pathetic bastards..."
The moment they saw Mad Demon's face, aura, and massive frame, they froze, as if at a loss for words. Even to their eyes, he looked like someone they absolutely shouldn't provoke.
The men who had been puffing themselves up to strike now stood motionless...
Mad Demon gestured.
"Why stop? Come at me."
Then Dan Woo-sung curtly addressed the crowd.
"Leave."
They were far more relieved to hear "go away" than "attack."
At Dan Woo-sung's words, the brothel's martial artists scattered like a spell had been broken. These were men who lived by the sword, but this time, running was the right answer.
Mad Demon wasn't about to let them go so easily.
"Keuk-keuk..."
He planned to hurl the liquor bottle, kill one, then use the shards to take out the others.
But as he watched them flee, he grabbed the bottle—only to find he couldn't lift it.
When he turned, Dan Woo-sung was pressing it down with two fingers.
Mad Demon's gaze shifted from the bottle to Dan Woo-sung's face.
Dan Woo-sung spoke.
"Why flex on weaklings? Is that the Demonic Path? What a joke."
When Mad Demon released the bottle, Dan Woo-sung withdrew his fingers.
Perhaps due to the internal energy both had infused into it in that instant, the bottle crumbled into dust on the table, like sand slipping through fingers.
Mad Demon flicked the table with a finger, sending the dust particles floating into the air.
He pursed his lips as if exhaling hidden projectiles, while Dan Woo-sung swept his hand through the air.
The dust shards surged toward Dan Woo-sung before abruptly reversing direction and embedding themselves in the ceiling with a thud-thud-thud.
Not a single speck fell back down, leaving even Mad Demon inwardly impressed.
Mad Demon stood.
"Fist Demon, do you want to die here, or shall we find a quieter place?"
Dan Woo-sung read his expression. Stubborn, as if he'd do the opposite of whatever answer he got. Unwilling to let innocents die, Dan Woo-sung gambled with his reply.
"Go somewhere quiet just for you to run away again?"
"Don't be absurd, you idiot. Let's go—somewhere open. This old man's third favorite thing is a good fight."
Mad Demon strode ahead as if complying, while Dan Woo-sung glanced at the innkeeper. He was impersonating the "Fist Demon" on a whim—no way he could pay now.
After drinking for free, he followed Mad Demon.
Given the ominous atmosphere, no one dared to stop them.
Only then did the innkeeper step out with a rag, staring after the departing Mad Demon and Fist Demon before muttering curses while cleaning the table.
"Mad Demon, Fist Demon, fucking bastards. Trash who can't even pay. Ruin the mood and leave without settling the bill, goddamn sons of bitches... Fucking lunatics. Even their titles are trash. Can't even pay for drinks, 'because we're planning to kill each other'... Jesus, what a circus. Thought I was watching Zhang Fei and Lü Bu reenact an opera."
Just as they were about to fight, Mad Demon stopped walking some distance away. His sharp ears had caught every word.
He turned back.
"I'll kill him and return. Wait here."
As Mad Demon brushed past him, Dan Woo-sung spun around and struck his head with a mid-air kick. Startled, Mad Demon blocked with his left hand—thud!—before his massive body was sent flying horizontally.
His momentum slowed mid-air before he kicked off the ground and lunged back at Dan Woo-sung, throwing a right fist.
Dan Woo-sung caught it with his left hand, and a sound like tearing leather echoed through the area.
Their bodies were enveloped in energy waves as the ground beneath them cratered.
They probed each other, gradually increasing their internal energy while waiting for an opening—until Mad Demon raised his left hand. Dan Woo-sung kicked his abdomen and pushed him back.
Thud!
Mad Demon staggered back a few steps but grinned as if unharmed.
Dan Woo-sung hadn't used the White Lightning Ten Stages, and Mad Demon hadn't unleashed the Ashen Dust Demon Art yet.
The Ashen Dust Demon Art was the martial art Ten Thousand Demon Palace's elders had bestowed upon Mad Demon, tailored to his temperament.
"Ashen" referred to the ashes left by calamity, while "Dust" symbolized the chaos of heaven and earth overturned—a fire-based demonic art.
In short, Mad Demon burned everything to ashes in battle. Combined with his regenerative abilities, he could hold his own even against Sword Demon's blade-immunity and mock Heavenly Demon for avoiding fights.
Mad Demon spoke.
"Let's go somewhere open."
Dan Woo-sung followed while scanning for nearby experts.
He had to be cautious.
They moved to a secluded spot as if taking a stroll together. Along the way, Mad Demon rolled his head and stretched his arms—his clothes tore as his muscles bulged under the Ashen Dust Demon Art's influence.
Dan Woo-sung asked quietly,
"Mad Demon."
"Speak."
"I didn't learn martial arts from Ten Thousand Demon Palace."
"I know."
"I'll kill you and burn Ten Thousand Demon Palace to the ground. Before you die, tell me its location."
"Denied."
"Why? Feels like you ran away from there."
Mad Demon had no intention of revealing it.
He didn't love Ten Thousand Demon Palace, but it was the only place that took in, fed, and sheltered the Demonic Path's remnants—lost souls with nowhere else to go. To this madman, Ten Thousand Demon Palace was his last bastion, the only faction worth protecting.
Mad Demon spoke like a sane man.
"Unfortunately, even if I die, you'll never find Ten Thousand Demon Palace. Torture won't work—I've endured worse."
Dan Woo-sung placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Mad Demon, what's so precious about Ten Thousand Demon Palace?"
Mad Demon looked at his hand—no internal energy or force in it.
'Strange man.'
For a brief moment, Dan Woo-sung gazed at him like an old friend.
"Killing you alone means nothing to me. Do you understand human hearts?"
He meant to spare lives and make use of them, but Mad Demon's twisted mind couldn't comprehend it. Still, the sincerity got through, and Mad Demon responded gravely.
"We've gone too far. I won't deny my entire life for words like that. I'm from Ten Thousand Demon Palace. I learned martial arts there, ate, killed, fought comrades, was imprisoned, and grew stronger to crush them. And soon, Ten Thousand Demon Palace will unleash the Demonic Path—you won't even need to search."
Dan Woo-sung looked up at him.
"Whatever your life was, I won't pity you."
Mad Demon grinned.
"If there's life after death, let's share a drink there."
The moment he finished speaking, Mad Demon slammed both fists down on Dan Woo-sung's head. His upper garment burst apart, revealing an ashen-gray body as his face twisted—the Ashen Dust Demon Art surged to its peak.
His attacks were brutal, each strike a suicidal exchange. With his regeneration, he didn't care if blades pierced him—making his assault even more terrifying.
Dan Woo-sung dodged while analyzing his physique and psychology.
He quickly realized ordinary strikes wouldn't work—even Forbidden Hand Combat might fail. Weapon users would land hits only to be torn apart by counterattacks.
The Fist King's assessment was spot-on.
When Dan Woo-sung threw a punch, Mad Demon reacted bizarrely—like a beast swiping with its paws, deflecting the blow before striking with his left hand.
His movements were feral.
Combined with deep internal energy and speed, most orthodox or demonic experts would've been shredded instantly.
Hand-to-hand combat relied on reading psychology, but Mad Demon was pure instinct—techniques barely worked.
He tanked sophisticated strikes head-on, rendering feints useless.
Forced to match strength with strength, Dan Woo-sung summoned the White Lightning Ten Stages, transforming into a lightning-wreathed Bright King.
Crackle—zzzt!
The tie holding Dan Woo-sung's hair snapped as he caught both of Mad Demon's fists bare-handed, enveloped in white energy.
Mad Demon roared, lifting his hands and unleashing explosive force to hurl Dan Woo-sung skyward—a primal yet effective counter.
Then Mad Demon's thighs bulged as he leaped after him—only to freeze at the sight of a colossal fist descending from above. Panicked, he wreathed his hands in hellfire and tore through it, shattering the fist like a massive snowball.
From the debris of the Lightning Fist, Dan Woo-sung emerged, gripping Mad Demon's head as they plummeted straight down.
Mad Demon reached for Dan Woo-sung's wrist, intending to endure the lightning energy and crush his arm—a madman's response.
This was why even Sword Demon and Heavenly Demon hesitated to fight him to the death.