Chapter 20: The Fist King Raises the Bar
The Fist King Raises the Bar
Episode 20: The Fist King Raises the Bar
After listening to his brother's request to the end, Lee Ja-eon finally responded.
"...A martial arts training manual, huh? Should've done this sooner."
There was a hint of scolding in Lee Ja-eon's muttered words, and Lee Hwa-eon nodded in agreement.
"Exactly."
Lee Ja-eon nodded as if accepting the request.
"I'll look into it."
Lee Hwa-eon stared intently at his younger brother. To be honest, this was the first time in his life he had ever felt reassured by him.
Clearing his throat, Lee Hwa-eon spoke.
"Thanks. Do your best."
For a brief moment, the brothers locked eyes before simultaneously turning away.
'Damn it...'
'Tch.'
It was an awkward moment—so awkward it nearly sent them spiraling into qi deviation.
"I'm going."
"Go ahead."
As Lee Hwa-eon hurriedly disappeared, Lee Ja-eon, now left alone, rested his chin on his hand with a grave expression and muttered to himself.
"The situation is getting more urgent by the day."
Truthfully, it wasn't that urgent. Regardless, Lee Ja-eon planned to personally investigate the martial arts manual and implement it within the merchant group. He figured entrusting such a task to merchants who only knew how to sell goods would be too difficult.
Dan Woo-sung sat motionless in his moonlit room, immersed in his breathing technique. His clothes were damp with expelled impurities, and the room reeked of a pungent odor.
There was a story behind this stench.
The alcohol he had consumed in the past, the lingering toxicity of poorly digested food, and the tainted blood—all of it was part of that story.
As his body ascended from the fourth stage to the fifth, it underwent a thorough cleansing—a true felling of hair and washing of marrow. The negative remnants accumulated by the Grand Prince were being completely purged.
So what did it matter if his surroundings became filthy in the process?
Dan Woo-sung opened his eyes and gazed at a world that now seemed sharper than before. As if his body had leveled up, his senses had heightened as well.
He clenched his fist and channeled lightning energy into it.
The lightning, originating from his palm, surged forth in a clearer, brighter white than before, wrapping around his knuckles before extending through his fingers. When he spread his fingers, the lightning flickered like heat haze, emitting an eerie hum as it spun obediently to his will.
This was the fifth stage of the White Lightning Ten Stages.
Dan Woo-sung smirked.
"Done."
The sixth stage meant being able to envelop not just the hand but any part of the body in lightning energy. The seventh stage, as commonly described, was a realm where one's very breath changed—because by then, the entire body could be cloaked in lightning.
The eighth and ninth stages referred to the degree of mastery when projecting lightning energy outside the body. The ultimate tenth stage was symbolic—a state of enlightenment where one could wield lightning energy with absolute freedom.
This was precisely why mastering lightning-based martial arts was so difficult. Each stage demanded years of accumulated internal energy or an endless supply of rare elixirs.
But Dan Woo-sung had walked this path in his past life. No one utilized elixirs more efficiently than he did.
Now, even his facial features had subtly shifted.
The growing reserves of Extreme Yang energy gradually transformed his once-delicate face into something exuding dominance. The softness had vanished, replaced by an aura that now shaped his very expression. Anyone would agree—he now carried a bold, vigorous demeanor. After all, a person's face inevitably changes with their mindset and experiences.
Dan Woo-sung stood and opened the door.
Despite the late hour, the Double Report Brothers were still awake, arm-wrestling to stave off sleep.
They straightened up as soon as they saw him.
"Are you finished, sir?"
"You've worked hard. Did you eat?"
"No, we haven't."
"I'll wash up quickly. Let's head to the communal dining hall and eat together."
"Yes."
As Dan Woo-sung left to wash, the Double Report Brothers sniffed the air before stepping into his room to tidy up the bedding. These were men utterly unaccustomed to ordering others around. They stripped the sheets, opened the windows, and began cleaning. Then, mid-task, they froze and exchanged glances.
A simultaneous growl—like thunder rumbling in their stomachs—echoed between them.
Without a word, they resumed cleaning as if nothing had happened.
The three of them ate with occasional smiles.
Simply enjoying a good meal without worry was happiness in itself. Yook Jin-bo glanced at Dan Woo-sung and spoke.
"Brother, your aura's changed. Have you grown stronger?"
Dan Woo-sung nodded. By now, he was accustomed to the Double Report Brothers' blunt way of speaking—their words delivered like punches. He responded in kind.
"Much stronger."
Yook Myung-bo chimed in.
"Congratulations. And thank you, truly. Our beds are more comfortable, the food is excellent—everything is thanks to you. Most of all, my brother and I have grown far stronger than before."
Dan Woo-sung smiled.
"We're not there yet. You'll grow stronger than you can even imagine now. Both of you—and me."
The atmosphere shifted slightly as he added words unlike his usual remarks.
"Every day we grow stronger, the food tastes even better."
Yook Myung-bo nodded.
"Even training has become enjoyable now."
Dan Woo-sung agreed. More than innate talent, he valued this very mindset. The brothers were now finding joy in the process of mastering martial arts.
He deliberately held back his words. These two were true talents. He would teach and support them as much as possible—but beyond that, he would let them forge their own paths. There was no telling just how strong they could become.
With quiet determination, Dan Woo-sung murmured,
"Let's get stronger. I want to be stronger. Desperately."
The Double Report Brothers absorbed his words, his gaze, even his expression—etching them into their hearts as if learning a sacred lesson.
Now that their stomachs were full, motivation surged within them. Yook Jin-bo asked eagerly,
"Brother, shall we train until dawn today?"
Dan Woo-sung shook his head.
"No. We'll rest."
The brothers blinked in surprise, prompting him to explain.
"You should sleep after digesting your meal. Training is up to us, but recovery is up to our bodies. Especially since you're mastering the Black Dog Rebound Technique—you need rest more than ever. Training until dawn is excessive."
"Yes, understood."
After sending the brothers back to their quarters, Dan Woo-sung exhaled deeply. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was one more person in the household who needed harsh training.
The youngest—Lee Ja-eon.
Judging by his temperament and personality so far, it was clear he wouldn't last in the upper echelons. Frankly, he didn't even have the capability. The upper echelons weren't a playground, after all.
Dan Woo-sung rubbed his temples, lost in thought.
Lee Ja-eon didn't have the physical advantages of the Double Report Brothers, nor did he possess greater endurance. If he had to pinpoint any outstanding trait, it was his fanatical obsession with the martial world—nothing more. In every other aspect, he was lacking.
Then, a memory surfaced—something Lee Ja-eon used to boast about as a child.
'The sword is the king of all weapons! Hahaha!'
Dan Woo-sung muttered under his breath as he entered his quarters.
"Little bastard."
A passing servant jumped in surprise.
"Huh?"
"Ah, nothing. Just talking to myself. Go rest."
"Yes, Grand Prince. Sleep well."
The training regimen Dan Woo-sung followed was something only the Double Report Brothers could endure. If Lee Ja-eon tried to keep up, he'd likely run away within days, whining that it would kill him.
'How the hell do I turn this useless brat into a proper man?'
Lost in thought, Dan Woo-sung gazed at the moon outside his window.
'If I give up easily, I'm no Fist King.'
Lee Ja-eon was a mere mimic when it came to swordsmanship, and unlike the heirs of prestigious clans, his body wasn't honed for combat. Still, Dan Woo-sung planned to exploit his obsession with the martial world and play psychological games.
He briefly outlined his plan in his mind before assigning it a name:
'A destined encounter disguised as coincidence.'
For a moment, a pang of self-doubt struck him—Is this really necessary?—but he quickly dismissed it. He was determined to take care of his family, brothers, and friends.
The next day, three young martial artists stood before the main gate of the Silver River Merchant Group, staring intently. Their expressions ranged from displeased to awkward.
'This merchant group really does look filthy rich, huh?'
The trio consisted of Guyang Clan's second young master and swordsman, Guyang Myeong; the third young master and blade practitioner, Guyang Woon; and Shin So-baek, the strongest outsider affiliated with the clan.
Along with the absent first young master, Guyang Hyeok, they were known as the Four Talents of Guyang.
Their common trait? They were roughly the same age as the Grand Prince of the Silver River Merchant Group.
Since this wasn't a confrontation with a martial sect but merely a merchant group's heir, sending the clan's top masters—or even the first young master—would've been like adults bullying a child. That was the stubborn pride of the orthodox factions—face came first, no matter the situation.
The eldest, Guyang Myeong, spoke first.
"Father demanded that all three of us defeat the Grand Prince of the Silver River Merchant Group—one after another. We must hand him three consecutive losses. So don't kill him outright. That won't restore our pride. Understood?"
Guyang Woon nodded lightly.
"Yes, Brother."
Guyang Myeong glanced at Shin So-baek, who hadn't responded. Shin So-baek spat out the blade of grass he'd been chewing and replied curtly.
"Got it. But are you two planning to use weapons? I specialize in palm techniques, so it's no concern for me."
They knew the Grand Prince relied on fists. Since the Guyang young masters naturally trained in both palm and fist techniques, it was worth considering.
Guyang Myeong grinned.
"Bare hands make the beating more satisfying, don't they?"
Guyang Woon tilted his head.
"I'm not confident, so I'll just use my sword."
Guyang Myeong frowned.
"Not confident?"
"Yes. He defeated Guyang Hoo, didn't he? Even if Uncle Yang-hoo was a distant branch family member who had fallen behind in the main clan's hierarchy, he had plenty of experience in the martial world."
Guyang Myeong scoffed.
"That nonsense about experience... He lost because he was weak. What use is age or experience in the martial world? The strong win, period. We've been training since we could walk—our training duration isn't shorter than his."
Guyang Woon smiled.
"Yes, let's go in."
As the Guyang brothers entered the merchant group's premises, Shin So-baek lingered outside, surveying the sprawling walls and surroundings.
"They live well."
Even someone from a prestigious clan couldn't help but be impressed. Unlike the brothers, Shin So-baek took his time warming up outside the gate. He neither underestimated his opponent nor overestimated him.
To Shin So-baek, this would be his last task under the clan's orders. He planned to break free from their interference and join the Murim Alliance.
He had separately summoned a witness of the previous duel to recount the details. No matter how he looked at it, the Grand Prince was no easy opponent.