The Fist King Grants Special Treatment

Chapter 48: The Fist King Grants Special Treatment

Dokgo Han descended from the dueling platform and approached the area where Hwa Eun-wol stood. Naturally, he was curious—after all, the man who had accepted his bet was standing alongside another participant. Moreover, the servants had already informed him of the Fist Guest's true identity. Yet, Dokgo Han could only tilt his head in disbelief.

'No way. Did he really bet thirty thousand nyang because of that guy?'

As he drew closer, Dokgo Han stared at Dan Woo-sung and Hwa Eun-wol with an incredulous expression before speaking.

"Young Master Hwa."

"What?"

"Don't tell me you wagered a fortune on the merchant's son?"

Hwa Eun-wol deliberately cupped a hand to his ear as if he hadn't heard properly.

"What was that?"

Seeing that he was being blatantly ignored, Dokgo Han shook his head in exasperation.

"They say you're the next Chief Strategist of the Emperor's Council, but this is just ridiculous."

When Dokgo Han openly mocked Hwa Eun-wol's judgment, Cheol Myung-ho—fearless as ever—muttered under his breath.

"What the hell is this bastard babbling about?"

Cheol Myung-ho's crude words echoed Dan Woo-sung's thoughts. Given the setting, he remained silent, but Cheol Myung-ho had no such reservations about etiquette.

Though they were some distance apart, Dokgo Han's sharp hearing caught the remark. He froze mid-step, and an icy silence settled over the area.

"......"

Not only the Hwa siblings but even Dan Woo-sung stared wordlessly at Cheol Myung-ho.

That had definitely crossed the line.

In a way, it was impressive—Cheol Myung-ho was truly the Poison Fox. A man who couldn't go a day without stirring up trouble.

Cheol Myung-ho glanced at the people staring at him and shrugged.

"What? I didn't say who the idiot was. Got a problem with that?"

His tone suggested he hadn't specified anyone, leaving Dokgo Han to snort in disbelief.

Cheol Myung-ho glared at Dokgo Han before his gaze landed on the heavy black sword in the man's grip.

'Huh. Looks familiar.'

Somehow, the weight and aura of the blade resembled his own Black Iron Umbrella.

Before tensions could escalate further, a White Dragon Faction martial artist stepped forward, blocking Dokgo Han's path with a composed expression.

"Young Master Dokgo, please refrain from causing disturbances during the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament. If you anger the elders, you might find yourself disqualified. Didn't you come here to win?"

The White Dragon warrior's intervention was smooth—subtly flattering Dokgo Han while diffusing the situation.

Dokgo Han glanced toward the judging platform.

As expected, Elder No-sim and the other Murim Alliance elders were watching with displeased expressions.

Suppressing his anger, Dokgo Han reluctantly backed down. For a fleeting moment, Cheol Myung-ho seemed to stand on equal footing with him.

As Dokgo Han retreated to his tent, he spat out one last remark.

"See you on the dueling platform."

Cheol Myung-ho muttered back in an even quieter voice.

"Yeah, well, I'm not participating. Dunno where this bastard gets off acting all high and mighty."

Then, with surprising politeness, Cheol Myung-ho clasped his fists toward the White Dragon warrior who had intervened.

"I'll be more careful."

The madman could be courteous when it suited him.

The White Dragon warrior smiled faintly. Since the Emperor's Council and the White Dragon Faction weren't on good terms, he had no intention of pressing the matter further.

Dan Woo-sung sighed and looked at Cheol Myung-ho.

"You... really are something else, Fox."

"Yeah, well."

Their eyes met. With nothing else to say, Dan Woo-sung simply gave him a thumbs-up.

'Good job, you little bastard.'

That was the general sentiment. Cheol Myung-ho returned the gesture with his own thumb.

'No need to thank me.'

Watching this exchange, the Hwa siblings burst into laughter.

"Hahaha...!"

The two men looked utterly mismatched, yet it was clear they were friends.

"Namgoong Wi, the 'First Blade of the Namgoong Clan,' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and Woo Ja-saeng, step onto the dueling platform."

Dan Woo-sung watched as the swordsman ascended the stage.

Who the hell gives themselves such an arrogant title?

Namgoong Wi was the rising star representing the Namgoong Clan. The moment Dan Woo-sung saw his face, one thought crossed his mind.

'Ah. The Blade Emperor's grandson.'

This was a man who had declared his grand ambitions through his tournament epithet.

His demeanor was unmistakably reminiscent of the Blade Emperor's lineage—broad-shouldered, solidly built, with a particularly thick jawline. As a contender for the title of the strongest clan under heaven, his skill was impressive despite his youth.

Martial prowess wasn't something determined by age or status alone.

In the past, legends like Jin So-han and Baek Mujin had reached the pinnacle of martial arts in their twenties. Compared to them, Namgoong Wi's level wasn't surprising.

Dan Woo-sung noted that Namgoong Wi's expression bore a striking resemblance to Dokgo Han's. Perhaps that was why the two didn't get along.

'You two... I'll give you special treatment.'

Dokgo Han's earlier attitude only reinforced this thought. Simply defeating them wouldn't be enough—he'd make sure they understood the gap between them.

Moreover, since the Blade Emperor wouldn't have raised his successor carelessly, relying solely on the 'Iron Wall Technique' to suppress their internal energy would be inefficient.

Perhaps influenced by Dokgo Han's earlier duel, Namgoong Wi charged forward the moment the match began, shattering his opponent's weapon in a single strike and sending him flying.

Namgoong Wi planted his massive blade—engraved with blue dragons—into the ground and glared at his opponent.

It was a clear statement: If Dokgo Han ended his match in one move, so will I.

Yet, Namgoong Wi wore a condescending smirk—one most couldn't see, but Woo Ja-saeng noticed all too clearly.

'Damn it!'

Refusing to yield, Woo Ja-seng gritted his teeth and lunged again with his broken sword.

That was his mistake.

Namgoong Wi dodged a few strikes before sweeping Woo Ja-saeng's left leg, disrupting his balance. Before the man could even fall, Namgoong Wi mercilessly slammed the hilt of his sword into his forehead.

Thud!

As Woo Ja-saeng collapsed, Alliance Leader Yoo Jung-hong spoke in a voice infused with internal energy.

"That was excessive. Namgoong Wi, is this how the Blade Emperor taught you?"

Namgoong Wi swiftly clasped his fists toward Yoo Jung-hong and replied calmly.

"My apologies, Alliance Leader. I overstepped."

The announcer hesitated, glancing at Yoo Jung-hong for approval before declaring,

"Namgoong Wi, the First Blade of the Namgoong Clan, wins."

Namgoong Wi descended from the platform with an impassive expression.

'What kind of childish nonsense is this?'

Hwa Eun-wol watched Namgoong Wi with disdain.

'Arrogant bastard. Pray you meet either the Grand Prince or Dokgo Han next.'

If Namgoong Wi faced Dokgo Han, it would inevitably escalate to a life-or-death duel—especially over Baekri Eon. And if he faced Dan Woo-sung, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arrogance hidden beneath his veneer of courtesy would be laid bare for the world to see.

Though Hwa Eun-wol was originally affiliated with the Emperor's Council, he had never cared much about factions. That was how he had been raised.

Thanks to the organizers' maneuvering, the first-round matches proceeded swiftly.

With experienced judges overseeing the bouts, there were no major upsets.

Dan Woo-sung, Dokgo Han, Namgoong Wi, the Golden Sand Sword, Plum Blossom Wanderer, and the Swift Brush of Diancang all concluded their matches in short order.

Since the Wudang Sect had abstained once again, the tournament favorites narrowed down to these six. The disparity between rising talents was stark—some were leagues above the rest.

This was why the great martial clans were renowned—they weren't called the elite of Murim for nothing.

In that regard, the merchant's eldest son was the anomaly among anomalies—an outlier who had emerged in the martial world.

After the names of the advancing contestants were announced, a brief intermission followed.

Namgoong Wi sat alone in his tent, surrounded by martial artists from the Namgoong Clan. Given his status as the most likely future clan leader, everyone tread carefully around him.

Occasionally glaring in Dokgo Han's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠direction, Namgoong Wi muttered,

"Where does that bastard keep looking? Is Baekri Eon here? No."

Following Dokgo Han's gaze, he spotted the Hwa siblings—and then locked eyes with the so-called Fist Guest.

"Why is the merchant's son sticking so close to Hwa Eun-wol?"

"I'm not sure. They must have known each other beforehand. Young Master Hwa isn't participating in the tournament."

Namgoong Wi nodded.

"One less strong opponent, then. I only need to face Dokgo Han in the finals."

At that moment, the crowd's attention shifted toward Alliance Leader Yoo Jung-hong. Rising from his seat, Yoo Jung-hong picked up the nameplates of the advancing contestants and, in full view of everyone, reached out to adjust the bracket.

The announcer explained,

"Due to a withdrawal caused by injury, the match order will be adjusted. The Fist Guest, originally granted a bye, will take the withdrawn contestant's place."

Though this was standard procedure, Yoo Jung-hong suddenly turned and fixed Dan Woo-sung with a long look.

'Do your best.'

There was no malice—if anything, he expected Dan Woo-sung to be the stronger fighter.

After defeating an unknown opponent in the second round using only bare-handed techniques, Dan Woo-sung rested until his name was called for the next high-profile match.

"Dokgo Han and the Fist Guest, step onto the dueling platform."

Originally granted a bye, Dan Woo-sung had been slotted in as Dokgo Han's opponent following another contestant's withdrawal.

Glancing between Dokgo Han and Alliance Leader Yoo Jung-hong, Dan Woo-sung smirked.

'Well, thank you. Perfect.'

If he defeated the Fist Guest, Dokgo Han's next opponent would unfortunately be Namgoong Wi. He had hoped to face him in the finals, but fate had them meeting in the semifinals instead.

Hwa Eun-wol frowned as he studied the updated bracket.

"Grand Prince, this means your next opponent will be Namgoong Wi. I thought you'd advance by default."

With the Swift Brush of Diancang already eliminated by Namgoong Wi, the Golden Sand Sword and Plum Blossom Wanderer only needed one more win to reach the finals.

Dan Woo-sung replied succinctly as he headed toward the platform.

"Good. I'll be back soon."

Cheol Myung-ho added with a hopeful tone,

"Mind crushing him for me?"

Dan Woo-sung didn't respond. The Emperor's Council's young masters would already be giving their all to defeat him—Cheol Myung-ho's request was redundant.

On the dueling platform, Dan Woo-sung and Dokgo Han faced each other.

The announcer spoke.

"Salute."

After exchanging formal bows, Dokgo Han smirked and added a taunt.

"Hwa Eun-wol's luck just ran out."

Dan Woo-sung, uninterested in banter, replied curtly.

"...Shut your mouth."

A vein bulged on Dokgo Han's forehead—and in the next instant, his heavy sword shot toward Dan Woo-sung's face.

Whoosh!

'I'll smash that mouth of yours shut.'

Dokgo Han wielded the massive Dokgo Heavy Sword as effortlessly as if it were a light rapier. His movements were far more fluid than anything he had shown in the tournament thus far.

Even the sound of the blade cutting through the air was different.

He was going all out from the start. Since this was the merchant's son who had defeated Guyang Saeng, Dokgo Han had no intention of holding back—whether his opponent lived or died. Only by giving his all would he stand a chance against Namgoong Wi.

His heavy sword danced with a ferocious, exhilarating grace.

Dan Woo-sung retreated, planting his feet before thrusting his left palm skyward.

An invisible fist force shot diagonally upward before colliding with Dokgo Han's barely retracted blade with a sharp crack!

'Huh?!'

Dokgo Han's grip stung. He hadn't expected Dan Woo-sung to unleash a fist force—one he hadn't used until now.

'So he's been holding back.'

That meant he had to be wary of other techniques. Dokgo Han charged again, swinging his sword—but the blade could barely keep up with Dan Woo-sung's movements.

His speed and agility were nothing like what Dokgo Han had anticipated.

Dropping low, Dan Woo-sung slipped inside Dokgo Han's guard, effortlessly deflecting the heavy sword with his left hand while his right shot forward to seize Dokgo Han by the collar.

Startled, Dokgo Han kicked off the ground, flipping backward through the air to create distance.

The evasion was excessive—almost panicked.

Unconsciously, Dokgo Han found himself gasping for breath. It wasn't the depth of his opponent's internal energy that frightened him, but the sheer fluidity of his combat reflexes.

The thought that a merchant's son—not even a martial artist's descendant—could move like this was unnerving. When Dan Woo-sung grabbed his sword, Dokgo Han had planned to counter with a surge of internal energy—but the follow-up attack was too fast.

'No wonder Guyang Saeng lost.'

Dan Woo-sung smirked, still holding his hand in a mock choking gesture as he stared at Dokgo Han. Closing the distance again, he spoke as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if the fight had only just begun.

"Young Master Dokgo, the dueling platform is too small for running."

Dokgo Han's brow furrowed. Namgoong Wi wasn't the problem—the man before him was the real challenge.