Chapter 4: The Fist King Strikes Down
The Fist King Strikes Down
Episode 4: The Fist King Strikes Down
Nearly twenty days had passed since Dan Woo-sung devoted himself to recovery...
What began as leisurely walks had gradually turned into runs.
His posture steadily corrected itself, and the speed at which his internal energy accumulated increased—clear signs his body was transforming for the better. The elusive roots of his illnesses were slowly being suppressed by the rebellion of his internal energy.
Martial power pacifies the world.
It suited Dan Woo-sung's temperament perfectly.
Even when he felt his body returning to normal, he didn't push himself recklessly.
Martial arts required steady, long-term cultivation.
The higher one's skill, the more important it was to avoid impatience.
A single day of frantic training would only damage the body. Moreover, Dan Woo-sung's current physique had been weakened by illness—slow recovery was the right path.
In that sense, running marked a tremendous leap forward.
It meant his body had grown sturdy enough to endure intense movement.
Dan Woo-sung adjusted his diet once more.
He supplied nutrients, then immediately followed with training to break them down.
His digestion improved steadily, and his complexion surpassed even the healthiest days of Lee Jin-eon's life.
The kitchen staff found the Grand Prince's meticulous requests odd but complied without question.
When Dan Woo-sung returned from running until hunger set in and sat down to eat, the maids couldn't tear their eyes away—he devoured his meals with such relish.
That evening, as he finished dinner, the white-haired physician visited him for the first time in a while.
"Your Highness, it's Gongson Myeong. May I enter?"
Dan Woo-sung rinsed his mouth with Dry Persimmon Water Purification Fruit before replying.
"Come in."
Unlike the maids, Gongson Myeong strode in with his head held high, scrutinizing Dan Woo-sung as he approached.
"Your Highness, it's truly fortunate to see you recovering so swiftly with each passing day."
Dan Woo-sung smiled thinly at the brazen remark.
"Thank you. Sit."
"Yes."
He had been meaning to summon the physician, but the man had come on his own.
Since Dan Woo-sung had refused tonics, moxibustion, and acupuncture, Gongson Myeong must have had little to do lately.
Only now did Dan Woo-sung truly observe him.
His gaze, expression, movements, even the balance of his body—all were assessed. It seemed the physician had trained enough in martial arts to look down on the former Grand Prince. When Dan Woo-sung stared openly, Gongson Myeong swallowed before speaking.
"...Your Highness, may I take your pulse?"
Dan Woo-sung replied coldly.
"Unnecessary."
"Hmm..."
Regardless of skill, Dan Woo-sung considered any physician without ethics a quack—there was no need to entrust his pulse to such a man.
Gongson Myeong adopted a flustered expression.
"Still, your complexion has changed beyond recognition. My apologies. My efforts until now must have seemed utterly futile."
Dan Woo-sung voiced a thought contrary to his own.
"I ruined my body myself—no need to dwell on it."
"Ah, no, that's not—"
"It's the truth."
Lee Jin-eon had damaged the body first, and the physician had worsened it. Dan Woo-sung continued.
"Though the Dragon-Phoenix Tonic you brewed acted as poison. It did aid virility—so much so I nearly died from overexertion. As a physician, you know this well. Medicine unsuited to the patient is no different from poison..."
The thinly veiled sarcasm left Gongson Myeong speechless.
Hmm...
He had only come to check on things, yet the atmosphere felt like an interrogation. Uncomfortable, he kept clearing his throat.
Dan Woo-sung asked what he had been wondering.
"Who pays your wages?"
"My wages naturally come from the family's financial—"
Dan Woo-sung shook his head.
"Not those wages. I'm asking if someone else compensates you separately."
Gongson Myeong's face flushed deeper.
"Why would I receive separate payments?"
Dan Woo-sung smiled.
"If I die, you'd receive a generous reward, no?"
"What?"
"Why so surprised? A natural death would be preferable. Even if investigators combed the estate like hunting rats, they'd find no poison. Ah, perhaps traces of Hallucination Grass—but that's not poison, so it hardly counts."
Gongson Myeong bowed his head.
"Your Highness, please refrain from such words. How could such a thing happen?"
Though he sensed things going awry, Gongson Myeong merely felt bitter.
Even if this sickly man laid hands on him, it wouldn't hurt. And no matter how thoroughly investigated, there was no evidence he had worsened the Grand Prince's health.
This was just the baseless speculation of a spoiled, reckless fool.
Dan Woo-sung laughed outright, seeing Gongson Myeong's thoughts plain as day. In the awkward silence, the physician laughed along.
"Hahaha..."
His tone carried a hint of mockery.
"Regardless, with Your Highness recovering so well, the Merchant Group's leader will be overjoyed."
"Naturally. What father wouldn't rejoice seeing his son rise from his sickbed?"
Gongson Myeong shut his mouth, offering no reply. The conversation was so unlike their past exchanges that unease crept in, making it hard to maintain his composure.
"If pulse-reading displeases you, I shall take my leave. Rest well."
"Physician Gongson."
"Yes?"
"You came unsummoned and now leave dismissed. Don't do that again. Come when called, leave when dismissed. The family pays you generously for doing nothing—the least you can do is follow protocol."
Gongson Myeong stared at Dan Woo-sung in shock. Was this truly the Lee Jin-eon he knew? The fact that he was being chastised only added to the absurdity.
Dan Woo-sung continued.
"Isn't that so?"
"Ah, yes. Of course."
Half-dazed, Gongson Myeong rose unsteadily—only for Dan Woo-sung to say:
"I didn't dismiss you."
Flushing crimson, Gongson Myeong sat back down.
"Yes. Your command?"
Dan Woo-sung was deliberately provoking him. He pointed to the desk.
"I need to send a letter. Bring me the writing tools."
"Yes."
A task fit for a maid.
Gongson Myeong fetched the brush, ink, and blank paper from the desk.
Dan Woo-sung spoke.
"A letter to the main family. You'll write as I dictate."
Gongson Myeong gripped the brush.
"Yes. Proceed."
Dan Woo-sung spoke as if narrating another's tale.
"The Grand Prince Lee Jin-eon's illness has worsened. He must remain at the estate indefinitely."
Gongson Myeong transcribed the words—until Dan Woo-sung continued:
"His life clings stubbornly. Advise me on how to proceed."
The brush paused, then trembled.
This was no longer a letter he could write. It read like correspondence with a conspirator.
Dan Woo-sung tilted his head slightly, observing Gongson Myeong's expression.
"Why stop? Finish it."
"The content... risks misunderstanding."
When Gongson Myeong stared stiffly, Dan Woo-sung said:
"Listen here, old man—"
"Wha—?!"
The outright insult made Gongson Myeong set the brush down, glaring—no, seething—at Dan Woo-sung.
This was no longer the Grand Prince facing his physician—just a young man and an old man locked in a death glare.
Gongson Myeong replied stiffly.
"Continue."
Dan Woo-sung spoke a truth-laced statement.
"I am not the Lee Jin-eon you knew."
"Is that so?"
"Nor am I the fool who drank your Dragon-Phoenix Tonic and cavorted with maids. Call me a wastrel who dipped a toe into the afterlife before returning."
"Hmph. I've no idea what you're saying. And the tonic is no poison."
"It is—depending on the circumstances. A physician should know that."
"It seems you hold quite the grudge against me. I am no servant of the Silver River Merchant Group. I'll let today's insults pass."
Dan Woo-sung tapped the letter.
"Enough noise. Finish writing. Then, at the bottom, add the name of whoever ordered this. I'll keep it as evidence. Refuse, and you die here."
The blatant threat drew a long sigh from Gongson Myeong.
"Huuuu..."
But as the sigh ended, Gongson Myeong's mask fell away. Smiling, he nodded slowly—Lee Jin-eon seemed utterly pathetic.
Trash. Lying sick so long has addled your mind. I tried to send you off gently, but...
The worst-case scenario would still suffice—Lee Jin-eon could return to the main family as a corpse. The maids could be silenced with their lives. Their fates mattered little to Gongson Myeong.
What baffled him was why this frail invalid was acting so boldly. He knew better than anyone that Lee Jin-eon had never properly trained in martial arts. If he were a skilled fighter, it might make sense—but Gongson Myeong recalled him as nothing more than a punching bag.
Scratching his head, Gongson Myeong glanced behind him.
"Hah, well then..."
An instinctive check for witnesses.
Understanding the gesture, Dan Woo-sung clicked his tongue.
"A physician, resorting to this..."
Gongson Myeong turned back, deciding strangulation would leave the corpse relatively intact.
"Listen here, Grand Prince—"
As he turned, Dan Woo-sung was already in motion—his right hand descending like lightning upon Gongson Myeong's skull.
THUD!
Dan Woo-sung spoke calmly.
"Plotting murder in broad daylight."
The physician's shattered skull tilted sideways as he crumpled slowly, twitched several times, then fell still.
Dan Woo-sung observed the corpse, then his own hand.
This pitiful body ached merely from striking an old man's head. He had deliberately used a knife-hand strike, having not trained his fists—yet even that hurt.
His cold gaze lingered on the lifeless Gongson Myeong.
Checking for witnesses before ambushing me...
To the Fist King, it was laughable.
He cared little about who had ordered this. Once his strength fully returned, even if the entire Silver River Merchant Group stood behind it, it wouldn't matter. He'd uncover the truth upon his return.
As Dan Woo-sung prepared to summon a maid, a sharp, unfamiliar headache struck. He grimaced, clutching his forehead.
"Hmm..."
An odd phenomenon.
Gongson Myeong had been the direct cause of Lee Jin-eon's death. With his demise, Lee Jin-eon's memories surged forth like a floodgate opening—past events flashing like a revolving lantern. These were Lee Jin-eon's memories.
A price for vengeance?
Originally, the memories of the body's true owner had been foggy, buried in obscurity.
But now, Dan Woo-sung could observe them as if detached. The headache was perhaps inevitable—such occurrences weren't common.
Faces from portraits now etched themselves vividly into his mind, paired with names. It felt as though Lee Jin-eon had finally relinquished his memories, acknowledging Dan Woo-sung's rebirth.
A single tear—Lee Jin-eon's, not his own—trailed down his cheek and splattered onto the floor.
Plink—
Dan Woo-sung reached out to Lee Jin-eon's heart.
'Jin-eon, show me. What lay in your depths? What filled your heart? What pain did you endure...? Lay it all bare. I will remember it now.'
As the memories cascaded like a waterfall, Dan Woo-sung closed his eyes quietly.