Chapter 60: The Fist King, A Man Resistant to Temptation
The Fist King, A Man Resistant to Temptation
Chapter 60: The Fist King, A Man Resistant to Temptation
Dan Woo-sung and Baek Yak were locked in a fierce contest of strength, gripping each other's collars.
Numerous unspoken rules had formed between them, leaving little room for sudden reversals. As a result, their grappling grew even more intense. They sought opportunities to disrupt each other's balance with external techniques, legs tangling mid-air, throws and joint locks unfolding in rapid succession.
Though Dan Woo-sung was naturally stronger, he matched Baek Yak's level, limiting himself to skill alone.
Baek Yak pushed against him, then suddenly dropped low, attempting a leg lock. Dan Woo-sung rolled free, yanked her shoulder as she lunged forward, and flipped her onto her back, locking her in a chokehold.
Baek Yak, panicked, struggled to break free.
'Huh? Dangerous.'
Dan Woo-sung shifted her weight beneath him, pinning her arms down—a perfect victory within reach. Perhaps due to how fiercely they had wrestled, something unexpected happened.
At that moment, the center of Baek Yak's martial robe gaped open—
Revealing the snow-white curve of her chest, tightly bound in layers of bandages.
Both froze, eyes widening, before abruptly springing apart.
While Dan Woo-sung stared at the partition screen, Baek Yak hastily adjusted her robe.
He crossed his arms.
"It wasn't intentional."
Dan Woo-sung tilted his head slightly.
'Hmm. Did I just get played? Never had this happen before.'
Baek Yak's face burned crimson as she suddenly blurted:
"I'm going to eat. I'm hungry."
"Ah, sure. I also have somewhere to be today. Let's end it here. May I turn around?"
"No."
Baek Yak flicked the screen aside and vanished in an instant. Once she was gone, Dan Woo-sung snorted and turned away.
'What kind of excuse was that?'
The Fist King, who had nearly fallen prey to temptation, swallowed dryly and folded his arms tighter.
It had been a dangerously close moment.
Stepping outside, Dan Woo-sung addressed the Double Report Brothers.
"Let's eat."
They blinked.
"But you just ate."
"Already?"
He nodded firmly.
"I have somewhere to go later. Need to eat early."
"Understood."
He had nothing else to do. Yook Jin-bo tilted his head slightly.
"Just now, Lady Baek's face was all red—"
"Shut up."
"Yes."
"I'm here to see your sect leader."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Tell him the Silver River Merchant Group sent me."
After filling his stomach, Dan Woo-sung set out, arriving only when night had fully fallen. He stood before a massive plaque inscribed with bold characters.
Eight Dragons Sect—did the name mean eight dragons resided within this martial faction?
It sounded childish.
Yet, despite that, the Eight Dragons Sect had built considerable prestige in the underworld. Their headquarters was vast, grand enough to house high-ranking officials, and they flaunted their influence openly. The plaque bearing their name looked unnatural, as if forcibly placed on a structure not originally theirs.
"Come in. I'll guide you."
Dan Woo-sung's reason for visiting was simple.
Though Murim Alliance members were stationed here, he appreciated that the Eight Dragons Sect had refrained from harassing the Silver River Merchant Group's weaker members.
Of course, the long journey had soured his mood.
"This way."
Following the guide, Dan Woo-sung scanned his surroundings.
"Why's this place so big? Did you steal it?"
The guide shot him a sidelong glance, grimacing.
'Is this guy insane?'
When Dan Woo-sung met his gaze, the man quickly looked away and kept walking.
"I'm just a laborer. I wouldn't know."
The guide led him to the main hall.
"He's inside. I've announced you—he'll come out."
Dan Woo-sung rolled his neck, loosening stiff muscles.
His body ached from the prolonged spar with Baek Yak. Today's victory had been decisive—though he now harbored reasonable suspicions that she had deliberately loosened her robe.
Given their high skill levels, pinning each other's shoulders had been difficult. Countless techniques had been exchanged under unspoken rules, but neither could easily overpower the other.
Rebounding from a shoulder roll or countering with core strength was common. Thus, Dan Woo-sung had nearly mastered Baek Yak's grappling, while she, too, was adapting perfectly to his techniques.
They were pushing each other to greater heights.
'Chokes are definitely effective—but will I get to use one again?'
He surveyed the hall.
At the far end stood the sect leader's seat, flanked by chairs for his subordinates.
Soon, men entered—some through the doors, others emerging from deeper within.
In moments, the Eight Dragons Sect's leadership filled the hall.
Finally, sect leader Ha Jeon-ik appeared from the inner chambers. Seeing the crowd, he ordered:
"Those standing—leave."
"Yes."
A mass of people exited.
Once seated, Ha Jeon-ik left Dan Woo-sung as the only one standing.
Dan Woo-sung studied the presumed sect leader.
Surprisingly young—a swordsman in his mid-thirties, wearing a straight-bladed dao at his waist.
As expected of a man leading a major sect, his expression carried hints of irritation, cruel eyes, and an overall air of quiet menace.
"I am Ha Jeon-ik of the Eight Dragons Sect."
When he introduced himself politely, all eyes turned to Dan Woo-sung.
Noticing no one offered him a seat, Dan Woo-sung approached a man at the far end and looked down.
"Move."
The underworld fighter silently stared up—until Dan Woo-sung grabbed his head and hurled him toward the door.
CRASH!
The man slammed into the doorframe before collapsing.
The sect's leaders gaped at this brutality—but Ha Jeon-ik remained expressionless.
Dan Woo-sung dragged a chair to the center, facing the sect leader, and spoke.
"You summoned me. Speak. I'll listen."
Ha Jeon-ik watched his unconscious subordinate before ordering:
"Remove him."
"Yes."
A seated man stood, opened the door, dragged the unconscious man out by the scruff, and tossed him outside. After closing the door, he glared at the back of Dan Woo-sung's head before quietly returning to his seat.
Ha Jeon-ik spoke.
"You killed Jeokye—"
Dan Woo-sung cut in.
"I did. So what? This is the underworld—you have your methods. Get to the point. I'm listening."
Ha Jeon-ik's eyebrow twitched before he fell silent. Dan Woo-sung scanned the room.
"Who's Jeokye's master?"
All eyes shifted toward the upper seats. A middle-aged man on the left turned his head—revealing hollow eye sockets, carved out by blade marks. A truly gruesome sight.
Dan Woo-sung addressed him.
"Want me to kill you too?"
The blind man smiled faintly and asked those around him:
"What does he look like? Describe him—I want to imagine."
Given his commanding tone, he held high status within the sect.
A man described Dan Woo-sung:
"Early-to-mid twenties. Height similar to Elder Won, build like Elder Pung but more muscular. Trained in external arts. Face like a scholar's."
This detailed explanation suggested the blind master had taught martial arts to many disciples, memorizing their physiques.
Jeokye's master smiled approvingly.
"Ah, good. I can picture him. No weapons?"
"None."
Another unnamed man spoke to Dan Woo-sung:
"Young man, I don't know where you get this audacity. It's baffling. The Silver River Merchant Group isn't a martial faction. You've expanded your business everywhere—we could make your partners disappear overnight. You'd be last. There are countless ways to ruin merchants."
Dan Woo-sung scratched his ear as if bored, cutting him off.
He turned to Ha Jeon-ik.
"Sect Leader, got anything more creative? Some shocking plan to paralyze me with fear? Use your imagination. Or do you lack strategists here? If you've got one, let him propose something worthwhile."
The man who had spoken was the sect's strategist. He scowled and shut his mouth.
Jeokye's master advised Ha Jeon-ik:
"Sect Leader, there's no clever method. Just kill the Grand Prince and be done with it. Cleanest solution."
Ha Jeon-ik pointed at him.
"That's not the right way. Jeokye was just your disciple, raised to amass wealth—not our sect's member. If he were, I wouldn't be listening to this tedious talk. Handle it yourself. If you die, we'll avenge you."
"Sect Leader, how cold. My disciple's money was mine—I paid tributes to the sect and taught martial arts to many. How is this not your concern?"
Ha Jeon-ik replied:
"Elder Maeng, we never asked about the money's source. Don't care. Summoning him under our name was help enough—"
Listening, Dan Woo-sung muttered:
"These insane underworld bastards—"
"......"
He stood, walking slowly under the sect leaders' hostile glares—deliberately stepping into their encirclement.
Reaching the end, he stared at Elder Maeng.
"You blind fool—"
Then he climbed the steps, locking eyes with Ha Jeon-ik.
"—and you, with eyes—can't you read the room?"
Behind him, ten blades slid free in unison. As steel rang out, Ha Jeon-ik studied Dan Woo-sung's expression—still murderous.
Dan Woo-sung turned his head, eyeing the drawn blades. The moment he moved, the swords halted inches from his neck.
THUD!
Gripping Ha Jeon-ik's blade, Dan Woo-sung channeled lightning energy through it, glaring at the sect's leaders.