Chapter 53: The Fist King Gets Annoyed When He Meets a Beauty
The Fist King Gets Annoyed When He Meets a Beauty
Chapter 53: The Fist King Gets Annoyed When He Meets a Beauty
"Hey there, champion."
Dan Woo-sung turned around as he was about to enter his lodgings after parting ways with Hwa Eun-wol.
A woman he didn't recognize stood with her arms crossed, staring at him.
Out of habit, Dan Woo-sung scanned his surroundings. A fair number of skilled martial artists were stationed at a slight distance.
He studied the woman before speaking.
"Speak."
As she stepped closer, her face became visible under the pale moonlight.
She was strangely beautiful.
She looked like the offspring of a strikingly handsome Central Plains man and an exceptionally beautiful woman with blue eyes.
Without preamble, the blue-eyed woman said:
"I'll be participating in the Phoenix Tournament tomorrow."
Her manner of speaking was peculiar—no introduction, no context. Dan Woo-sung blinked in confusion before replying.
"Ah, is that so?"
He assumed she had come to see him after watching him win.
The woman continued in a flat tone.
"I'll be the one winning."
Her tone suggested she was simply stating a fact, like retrieving a promised elixir. Absently, Dan Woo-sung let his gaze drift over her figure under the moonlight.
Not with the eyes of a man, but with those of a martial artist.
Her proportions differed from those of Central Plains women—her chest, waist, hips, even the length of her legs were superior.
As Dan Woo-sung looked her up and down, she did the same to him.
He spoke first.
"Congratulations in advance."
"Thank you."
"Did you come for some snowflake rice cakes?"
"No? I didn't know about them. Are they snowflake rice cakes?"
"That's right."
The woman smiled.
"My apologies for the late introduction. My name is Baek Yak. I was impressed by your martial duel, so I came to see you."
Dan Woo-sung met her gaze.
"Were you planning to summon me if you won the Phoenix Tournament tomorrow?"
There were times when the Dragon and Phoenix would clash to determine the final champion.
Baek Yak replied:
"I was debating it. Should I do it now, or wait for another opportunity? I couldn't decide."
Hence why she had come to meet him first. Dan Woo-sung briefly considered before making a simple decision.
"Let's settle it another time."
Baek Yak exhaled in relief.
"Alright. Where and when?"
A man and woman meeting at night, standing in front of lodgings, talking about when and where to "settle it"—passersby couldn't help but sigh. Someone eyed Baek Yak up and down before whispering to a friend:
"Damn... I'm jealous."
"Keep it down."
"Why?"
"Martial world affairs..."
Dan Woo-sung waited for the crowd to pass before glancing at the woman's guards stationed in the alley and nearby.
"If you're my enemy, we can settle it now. Them included."
Baek Yak looked startled.
"Of course not."
Dan Woo-sung nodded.
"Then let's meet another time. I have a long journey ahead."
Baek Yak studied him silently. His words—"a long journey"—didn't sound like he meant home, but rather some pressing matter. She didn't press further.
"Understood. I'll take my leave. It was nice meeting you."
As Baek Yak walked alone through the night, her guards quietly trailed behind. One of them glanced back briefly at Dan Woo-sung before disappearing into the shadows.
Climbing the stairs to his lodgings, Dan Woo-sung mused:
Baek Yak seemed unusually innocent—as if she hadn't interacted much with the world.
And as for her martial prowess...
She looked strong enough to single-handedly decimate every female participant in the Phoenix Tournament.
What about him?
The same. If Dan Woo-sung fought all the finalists seriously, he could tear them apart without breaking a sweat.
There was no reason for two such individuals to fight now—unless they were enemies.
If Baek Yak's martial arts and faction were allies, it only strengthened the orthodox forces. No need to provoke unnecessary conflict.
Back in his room, Dan Woo-sung speculated that Baek Yak might be related to one of the Three Deities—those closest to being the strongest under heaven—or perhaps the descendant of a former champion.
Otherwise, her strength was inexplicable.
As moonlight seeped into the darkened room, Dan Woo-sung exhaled softly.
Meeting such a rare beauty should have been pleasant, yet his mood soured. How to explain it? After some thought, he defined his feelings:
Because she isn't mine.
And because now isn't the time for women.
That was the conclusion.
"You awake? It's Baek Han-gyeong."
The afternoon after drinking, Baek Han-gyeong came to see Dan Woo-sung. The latter opened the door and gestured inside.
"Come in."
The moment Baek Han-gyeong entered, he spoke:
"Baekri Eon lost to Hwa Eun-seol, Hwa Eun-seol forfeited to the champion, Cheongseong Sect's Im Yun-hye lost embarrassingly, and in the finals, a young lady named Bi Yeo-rang was defeated. Ever heard of someone called Baek Yak?"
"Met her briefly last night. She was waiting outside when I came back from drinks."
"Hmm. So you met the champion beforehand... Did you figure out who she is?"
Dan Woo-sung shook his head.
"She didn't reveal herself, so I didn't ask. There were skilled fighters around her—bodyguards, maybe. All high-level."
Baek Han-gyeong continued:
"Martial arts make gender irrelevant. If you're strong, that's all that matters—but her beauty rivals Baekri Eon and Hwa Eun-seol. People are buzzing about her identity. The Imperial Assembly and other factions are shocked too. The Alliance Leader was intrigued—asked if she'd challenge the Dragon and Phoenix. She said they'd settle it another time. Thought you might know her, so I came."
After glancing around the room, Baek Han-gyeong asked:
"Planning to leave already?"
Dan Woo-sung nodded.
"The Silver River Merchant Group has hostages. Can't afford delays. I'll stop by Mount Jiuhua where my brother is staying before heading back. Need to depart soon."
He couldn't take Cheol Myung-ho with him—he had to move fast.
This trip had been fruitful.
He'd forged new ties with Hwa Eun-wol, Baek Han-gyeong, and the Murim Alliance Leader. The Hundred-Year Pure Snow Ginseng had elevated his White Lightning Ten Stages technique and granted poison immunity. He'd even obtained a rare gauntlet.
But he couldn't abandon the merchant group to stay in the Murim Alliance.
After brief farewells with Cheol Myung-ho and the Hwa siblings, Dan Woo-sung set off for Mount Jiuhua.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Not far from Mount Jiuhua, in a quiet roadside inn, a man was surrounded by drunk third-rate martial artists, taking repeated blows to the head. One pressed a blade to his throat, threatening him.
"That face of yours—like you've seen it all, huh?"
A dispute, it seemed.
Yet the man being struck showed no expression at all—as if devoid of emotion.
Occasionally, he tilted his head to avoid flies or stared blankly at the noodles in front of him. The blade didn't even register in his eyes.
Who could guess his thoughts?
To him, these attackers' lives were no different from the flies buzzing around.
Two bowls of noodles sat before him—perhaps he was waiting for someone. His face remained impassive as he endured the blows without protest.
A drunkard roared:
"Is this guy insane?!"
Another heavy strike landed, but the man merely adjusted his disheveled hair and kept staring at the noodles. The attackers grew uneasy.
'He really is crazy.'
'We messed with the wrong guy.'
Just then, another man rushed in, alarmed. He glared at the assailants before turning to the one who'd been taking the hits—The Youngest.
"The Youngest, they hit you?"
The man who'd endured the beating finally spoke.
"Yes. You told me not to cause trouble. No fighting recklessly."
"So you just took it?"
"Yes. Brother, eat your noodles. They're getting cold."
The one called "brother" sighed deeply, shooting a sharp glance at the attackers before sitting down.
"You didn't have to just stand there."
"I had to take it. It didn't even hurt."
The two ate in silence.
The inn grew eerily quiet. Some patrons had already left when the Black Path members started causing trouble.
The instigators retreated to their seats when the second man arrived, but their unease lingered. They whispered among themselves:
"Let's get out of here."
"But we still have alcohol left—"
"Let's go, you idiot."
When they glanced back, the two were slurping their noodles loudly.
The trio quietly paid and slipped out, avoiding the noodle-eaters.
Once they were gone, the older man spoke between bites:
"Black Path scum. Go kill them."
The Youngest hesitated.
"Are we allowed to during a mission?"
"I'll take responsibility. Go."
"Understood. What should I do with the bodies?"
"Don't worry about it. We'll move as soon as you're back."
"Yes, I'll return shortly."
The Youngest plucked three chopsticks from the holder and stepped outside.
As he approached the fleeing trio, he called out:
"Hey."
They turned, sensing danger—but saw no one.
Thunk! Thunk!
Two chopsticks embedded themselves into skulls as The Youngest landed. The last man bolted in terror.
The Youngest drew back the remaining chopstick, staring intently before murmuring:
"Dodge? Can't dodge? Dodge?"
Then he shouted:
"Dodge this!"
Whizz—THUNK!
The chopstick pierced the fleeing man's skull and kept flying. He collapsed face-first.
The Youngest surveyed the corpses.
"Huh. Couldn't dodge. Black Path is weak. Is the White Path stronger?"
Unlike when he was being beaten, he talked to himself a lot now.
"Nah, this isn't right."
On his way to Mount Jiuhua, Dan Woo-sung found three corpses. All wore swords at their waists. Two had died where they stood; the third had been killed while fleeing.
All felled by chopsticks.
Further down the road, a quiet inn came into view—a small establishment serving travelers and porters.
On a hunch, Dan Woo-sung entered.
Not a single guest remained.
The dead swordsmen hadn't given him pause, but when he checked the kitchen, he found the elderly innkeeper slumped against the wall, neck snapped.
'Was this necessary?'
Dan Woo-sung closed the man's wide, staring eyes, his expression darkening.
Stepping outside, he listened carefully before scanning for traces left by the killers.
'Black Path infighting?'
Unlikely. Two had died standing side by side; the third had fled quite a distance before being killed. Their skill levels wouldn't vary so drastically.
Meaning they'd been toying with their prey before killing them.
Finding no other clues, Dan Woo-sung activated his Lightfoot Technique, moving swiftly. His mind raced, accelerating his pace.
'This is the Demonic Path.'