Chapter 74: The Fist King, Rebirth Comes with Responsibility
The Fist King, Rebirth Comes with Responsibility
Chapter 74: The Fist King, Rebirth Comes with Responsibility
Dan Woo-sung glared at the signboard that read "Divine Martial Inn."
Divine Martial Inn.
An absurd situation—an inn with the word "Divine" attached to its name.
Yet, considering the former Strongest Under Heaven figures drinking inside, no name could have been more fitting.
Dan Woo-sung observed the past legends before him.
Now, both Baek Mujin and Jin So-han were staring directly at him.
Dan Woo-sung asked,
"Can you two see me?"
Jin So-han opened his mouth to speak, but Dan Woo-sung couldn't understand a single word. No sound reached his ears.
Frowning, Dan Woo-sung pressed,
"What the hell are you mumbling, you Black Path bastard? Ah, nagging again? Cut the crap and let's fight."
Jin So-han smirked, pointed a finger at Dan Woo-sung, then provocatively lowered it.
Somehow, Dan Woo-sung understood the gesture perfectly.
[You're unworthy to stand here.]
Jin So-han stretched out his right hand, and the signboard flew into his grip. He then drove it into the ground beside the drinking table.
Lost in thought for a moment, Jin So-han suddenly seemed to realize something and spoke to Baek Mujin.
Still, no words reached Dan Woo-sung's ears, but as he strained to listen, a few fragmented phrases slipped through.
"The caliber of your past life... Rebirth..."
Baek Mujin nodded in understanding. He smiled and extended a hand toward Jin So-han as if conceding something.
Jin So-han downed a drink, set aside his white fan, and stood. His infamous twin blades were nowhere to be seen.
He walked toward Dan Woo-sung with casual steps and stopped before him.
His stance was ambiguous—was he here to teach or to fight? He simply stared intently, perhaps assessing Dan Woo-sung from the perspective of a Divine Martial Artist.
Jin So-han seemed... disappointed.
His eyes swept up and down before he let out a sigh.
Dan Woo-sung scowled.
"What's so disappointing?"
Jin So-han pointed at his own shoulder and lowered his hand. Somehow, it felt like an instruction to relax his shoulders. A silent conversation between martial artists.
Dan Woo-sung scoffed. It was just a dream—why hold back?
"Relax my shoulders? The undefeated Strongest Under Heaven has nothing better to teach than—"
Jin So-han chuckled softly and began stepping backward, spreading his arms and loosening his stance.
Dan Woo-sung snorted and lunged.
You think I'm at that level?
He accelerated, pouring everything into his assault—fists, kicks, blade-like lightning, shockwaves, palm strikes, and raw force.
Yet Jin So-han danced effortlessly, arms still spread wide, evading every attack. Fists grazed air, kicks met emptiness. It was less a duel and more a futile game of tag.
Too vivid for a dream...
Dan Woo-sung pushed harder, leaping, shifting stances, employing movement techniques—anything to land a hit.
Jin So-han only laughed and dodged.
Frustration burned in Dan Woo-sung's chest.
Then, abruptly, he stopped, exhausted.
Jin So-han walked past and pointed at his shoulder again.
The message remained: Relax.
He gestured sharply, as if scolding an unruly student.
The Fist King, reduced to being lectured about shoulder tension?
Absurd. Humiliating.
Then—
Jin So-han halted mid-step.
A whistle pierced the air.
Two blades shot through the darkness and slammed into his waiting hands.
His signature weapons—Twin Moons.
Curved mid-length blades with a deceptive elegance. The very weapons that popularized dual-wielding across the martial world.
Dan Woo-sung stared.
With blades in hand, Jin So-han's demeanor shifted entirely. Gone was the playful air—replaced by lethality.
As he turned—
Darkness seemed to coil around him like a pillar.
Not mere dominance.
Something deeper. A will surpassing mortal limits.
Even the Fist King felt its oppressive weight.
Instinctively, Dan Woo-sung surged his White Lightning Ten Stages to its peak. Lightning-charged energy erupted from his body—
Jin So-han smirked—
And moved.
Dan Woo-sung threw a punch, a colossal fist of condensed force hurtling forward—
But Jin So-han was already airborne, twisting past the strike with impossible grace.
His twin blades flashed—
Dan Woo-sung blocked with his gauntlet, but—
Too slow.
Jin So-han showed no mercy.
A gap appeared—
His blade severed Dan Woo-sung's right arm.
Splurt!
Then his shoulder.
Schlick!
Dan Woo-sung retaliated wildly—
Jin So-han parried with a blade's flat, locked eyes, and—
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Splurt!
Dan Woo-sung's body split into dozens of pieces. Blood geysered.
A ruthless man. No quarter given.
Time slowed—or were Jin So-han's blades simply that fast?
As Dan Woo-sung's knees buckled—
The Twin Moons crossed—
And his head flew.
Thwack!
Even as his vision tumbled, Dan Woo-sung glared at Jin So-han and Baek Mujin.
Jin So-han flicked blood from his blades.
Baek Mujin watched silently.
Then—
Jin So-han tossed the Twin Moons skyward, letting his embroidered robe flutter as he returned to the table.
"Ghk—!"
Dan Woo-sung bolted upright, clutching his throat.
A dream.
Just a dream.
Yet his eyes burned crimson with fury. The urge to demolish the room clawed at him.
He forced calm, grabbed an outer robe, and stormed out of the Silver River Merchant Group's compound.
The crescent moon hung in the ink-black sky.
Peace wouldn't come easily.
If someone provoked him now, he'd kill without hesitation.
He walked the night streets, wrestling his temper down.
The phantom sensation of blades slicing through flesh lingered—horrifyingly vivid.
A damn nightmare.
The moment he left the merchant grounds, he ran.
A sprint under moonlight.
Foolish, perhaps—but pride didn't operate on logic.
Losing in a dream shouldn't matter—yet it did.
Especially when the lesson was relax your damn shoulders.
He reached Yangping Lake in one breath and plunged his head into the icy water.
Only then did his chest loosen slightly.
Breathing deeply, he stared at the moonlit ripples.
This wasn't just any dream.
Whether Jin So-han's critique was real or his subconscious manifesting flaws—it signaled a problem.
His rationality delivered one cold verdict:
"Fix it."
If there's an issue, correct it. That's the solution.
He'd lectured Cheol Myung-ho about the Three Calamities Sword Method—how could he ignore a flaw pointed out by someone even stronger?
But relax your shoulders was frustratingly vague.
Admitting faults wasn't easy—especially for prideful men.
Dan Woo-sung faced the lake, inhaling the frigid night air like a hermit in meditation.
I'll fix it. No matter what.
His martial style could be summed up in four verbs: Rend. Shatter. Crush. Dominate.
Pure, unrelenting force.
His personality shaped his techniques—and tonight, they'd been shredded by Jin So-han's blade path.
The memory of Jin So-han dancing with spread arms taunted him. A deliberate provocation, exploiting his nature. Psychological warfare woven into combat.
He replayed the exchange.
Not a single hit landed.
Was I that predictable?
Jin So-han moved as if he'd spent millennia dodging—reading Dan Woo-sung perfectly.
Relax your shoulders—perhaps it meant conceal your intent.
He revisited Jin So-han's expressions, gestures, lip movements—
[Your attacks are transparent. Stubborn fool.]
Suddenly, an illusion unfolded—
Jin So-han dancing across the lake's surface, clashing with the Twelve Demon Blades.
A vision conjured by Dan Woo-sung's imagination.
Having fought both, he could simulate it.
Jin So-han toyed with them.
Despite their relentless assault, he weaved effortlessly, blades flashing—
Then—
Two precise strikes.
The Twelve Demon Blades collapsed, blinded.
Jin So-han laughed, kicking them into the depths one by one.
Alone on the lake, he turned—
And locked eyes with Dan Woo-sung.
This time, the words came clear:
"Fist King... Rebirth comes with responsibility."
Of course a Divine Martial Artist would know.
That Dan Woo-sung had been reborn.
Perhaps death granted access to the Divine Martial Inn in dreams.
Dan Woo-sung scooped lake water and hurled it at the fading illusion.
Ripples spread—
Just like the unrest in his heart.
A thought crystallized:
If the Divine Martial Artists are concerned...
Then the events unfolding must be dire.
Otherwise, why would he have been reborn?
If relaxing was the lesson, he'd learn it.
Even if it meant losing his head in dreams—he'd challenge Jin So-han again.
Stronger. Always stronger.
And if rebirth came with responsibility—
He'd bear it.
Whether protecting the world, the Silver River Merchant Group, or innocent lives—he'd shoulder it all.
Dan Woo-sung stood.
The pointless pride of being called the Fist King—discarded.
He voiced his resolve to the empty night:
"I'll purge the Demonic Path and reclaim the title of Strongest Under Heaven. I'll do whatever it takes."
A pause.
"...Even relaxing my shoulders."
His domineering nature would first be used to shatter his own limitations.