Chapter 37: The Fist King Changes His Stance Quickly
The Fist King Changes His Stance Quickly
Chapter 37: The Fist King Changes His Stance Quickly
Dan Woo-sung waited silently until Baek Han-gyeong had calmed himself before asking about the man across the street.
"...Could he be here because of Guyang Saeng? If he's affiliated with the Imperial Society and holds the title of young master."
Baek Han-gyeong replied, "I don't know him. The Imperial Society has been expanding rapidly lately. I'm not sure which family's young master he is. He's probably not here because of Guyang Saeng—more likely, he's here for the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament. Some arrive early to build connections. It's rare for so many rising stars to gather in one place."
"Ah, the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament."
Dan Woo-sung chuckled dryly.
Baek Han-gyeong glanced at the building opposite them. Fortunately, Autumn Wind Falling Leaves and his group had dispersed. Still, he lowered his voice as if cautioning himself before speaking again.
"He might be here for the tournament... or he might just be here to see the 'Phoenix.'"
The 'Dragon' referred to male rising stars, while the 'Phoenix' referred to female ones. In other words, he could have come just to admire beautiful women.
Dan Woo-sung laughed.
"Either way, it's clear the Murim Alliance and the Imperial Society don't get along."
"That's nothing new."
Dan Woo-sung had heard about the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament once before—from Guyang Saeng himself. The man had suggested he join the Imperial Society and participate in the event.
Baek Han-gyeong studied Dan Woo-sung.
"I didn't summon the Grand Prince just for the tournament. The preparations are proceeding smoothly regardless. But... are you interested in participating? You're young, and your martial prowess is exceptional—you'd be a perfect candidate."
Dan Woo-sung answered without hesitation.
"No."
Baek Han-gyeong tilted his head.
"You have no interest in fame?"
Dan Woo-sung sipped his tea and nodded. In his opinion, fame wasn't something one chased deliberately.
If you were strong, reputation would follow naturally.
There was no need to beat up fledgling martial artists just to build a name. If he were to duel, he'd prefer facing true masters.
Baek Han-gyeong sounded surprised.
"Of course, not everyone participates just for fame. Some rising stars—like yourself—couldn't care less about reputation. So why do they come? Simple: the elixir awarded to the winner. The Murim Alliance doesn't skimp on prizes, especially for an event of this scale. The victor receives a top-grade elixir personally approved by the Alliance Leader. He's never been one to cut corners when investing in the next generation..."
He took a sip of tea, watching Dan Woo-sung as if to ask, Still not interested?
Dan Woo-sung responded bluntly.
"I'll participate."
Baek Han-gyeong spat out his tea.
Pfft—!
It was a close call—he nearly sprayed Dan Woo-sung's face. Flustered, he wiped his mouth and apologized.
"Ah, my apologies."
"It's fine."
"You changed your mind so quickly, I—"
"No need to blame yourself. Everyone makes mistakes—I'm no exception. Anyway, you should've mentioned the elixir first."
Baek Han-gyeong sighed.
"I suppose spectacle really is everything. Even you, who cares nothing for fame, agreed so readily once you heard about the prize. Though, I suppose no martial artist can resist the allure of a powerful elixir. I understand."
Dan Woo-sung glanced around the street.
Now that he thought about it, there were many martial artists milling about—along with plenty of young men and women. Seeing the Grand Prince of the Silver River Merchant Group gawking like a country bumpkin, Baek Han-gyeong added,
"You don't actually believe you could easily defeat every rising star here, do you?"
"You never know who'll win until you fight. I'm not making assumptions."
Baek Han-gyeong smiled faintly and offered advice.
"The Dragon-Phoenix Tournament is also a proxy war between the greatest masters. Their disciples often participate. Though it's limited to rising stars, the level of competition is anything but low."
Dan Woo-sung nodded.
"Noted. Let's go."
The two walked side by side, chatting more freely now. Still, their titles remained stiffly formal—Grand Prince and Martial Artist Baek—as if they weren't yet ready to address each other as brothers.
After a short walk...
They spotted the Imperial Society group again up ahead.
Baek Han-gyeong frowned and turned to Dan Woo-sung.
"Grand Prince, we're not far from the Murim Alliance now. Since we're heading back anyway, why don't we dash the rest of the way using Lightfoot Technique?"
Dan Woo-sung nodded.
"Agreed."
Baek Han-gyeong extended a hand.
"You go first."
Dan Woo-sung waved him off.
"No need for courtesy. Go ahead—I've never lost in a Lightfoot race."
Baek Han-gyeong smirked and scoffed.
"The only reason I was assigned to escort you back was because the Alliance knows my speed is unmatched. You go first."
"Let's just start at the same time."
"Fine."
Baek Han-gyeong and Dan Woo-sung activated their Lightfoot Technique simultaneously, darting past the Imperial Society group on either side.
Naturally, a small cloud of dust rose in their wake.
The young master of Autumn Wind Falling Leaves, who had been lazily fanning himself, clicked his tongue.
"How irritating. You all follow slowly. I'll teach those two what real Lightfoot Technique looks like."
"Young Master, put them in their place!"
"The audacity! They kicked up dust on purpose!"
With a sharp snap, he folded his fan and gave chase.
Soon, the three of them raced down a quiet road beyond the bustling streets.
It was already an uncommon sight—a young master of the Imperial Society, a warrior of the Murim Alliance, and the Grand Prince of the Silver River Merchant Group sprinting at full speed.
But the truly unusual part?
The merchant's Grand Prince was winning.
Dan Woo-sung maintained a comfortable lead, cutting through the wind at the front. He deliberately kept the gap small—if he widened it too much, the other two might lose heart.
Hurry up and catch me, you two...
Still, he couldn't help but wonder—why was that Autumn Wind Falling Leaves guy putting himself through this? His Lightfoot Technique was decent, but Baek Han-gyeong was just as fast. The two were locked in a fierce battle for second place, pouring everything they had into the race.
They had no choice.
What had started as a casual challenge had turned into a desperate struggle to avoid last place. Both had long since given up on overtaking the merchant prince.
The competition wasn't over—but their goal had shifted to claiming second.
Finishing last would render their earlier rivalry meaningless. With the pride of the Imperial Society and the Murim Alliance at stake, they ran as if their lives depended on it.
Around the time Dan Woo-sung departed for the Murim Alliance...
Cheol Myung-ho, the Poison Fox, was lurking near the Silver River Merchant Group's estate. Fortunately, he managed to intercept Chief Administrator Lee Hwa-eon—along with an unfamiliar guard—returning from an external assignment.
Though it had been years since he last saw his friend's younger brother, Cheol Myung-ho boldly called out to him.
"Hey, Chief Administrator!"
Lee Hwa-eon furrowed his brow.
"Who are you?"
He didn't seem to recognize him. Cheol Myung-ho pointed to the scar on his cheek.
"You don't remember? It's Cheol Myung-ho."
Lee Hwa-eon's expression remained unimpressed.
"Ah, Brother Fox. What brings you here?"
"'What brings me here?' I came to see your brother. Tell him I'm here—I've got urgent business."
Lee Hwa-eon sighed.
"He's not home."
"Impossible. We had an agreement—why would he leave?"
"What agreement?"
Cheol Myung-ho blinked.
...You little bastard.
He didn't feel like explaining.
"Is his whereabouts a secret?"
Lee Hwa-eon replied flatly, "Not exactly. He had business with the Murim Alliance, so he left."
"What?! The Murim Alliance?! Why?! Since when?! For what?!"
Cheol Myung-ho's outburst made Lee Hwa-eon respond even more calmly.
"He had urgent matters to attend to. If it's important, you should catch up and discuss it with him directly. Now, if you'll excuse me, Brother Fox—I'm quite busy."
Lee Hwa-eon gave a slight bow before entering the estate. The guard accompanying him briefly studied Cheol Myung-ho before silently following.
Emblazoned on his back was the character for Alliance.
The Murim Alliance?
Cheol Myung-ho roared,
"When is the Grand Prince coming back?!"
"No set date!"
Cheol Myung-ho smacked his own forehead. Glaring at the estate, he muttered,
"Hey! You! Didn't your brother tell you? If he doesn't give me the next step, I swore I'd take a shit at the front gate! Did you hear that? No? You little—!"
He turned away, grumbling.
"...Who am I even talking to?"
With a heavy sigh, he muttered,
Did I take too long with those 100,000 strikes? Damn it.
Resigned, he whispered to himself,
"Fine. I'll just storm the Murim Alliance."
His curiosity left him no choice.
His plan was simple: go to the Murim Alliance, find that bastard, and demand the next step. His stubbornness was as relentless as his nickname suggested.
He'd ride horses, board ships, take carriages—whatever it took to catch up as quickly as possible.
Out of habit, Cheol Myung-ho raised his iron umbrella and slashed downward through the air. A sharp whoosh followed. His movements were far smoother and more refined than before.
"...100,203."
His expression was deadly serious.
"The people I hate most in this world are the ones who start saying something and then stop. They think I'm a joke. No—I'm not a joke. I'm the Poison Fox."
Having completed his 100,000 strikes, Cheol Myung-ho set off for the Murim Alliance—determined to track down the Grand Prince who had left without a word.
The Murim Alliance? The Demon Cult? The Shaolin Temple? None of it mattered.
He'd chase Dan Woo-sung to the ends of the earth if he had to—just to ask one question.
What's next after the strikes?
If Dan Woo-sung carelessly told him to do another 300,000 or 500,000, Cheol Myung-ho might just explode from sheer frustration.