Chapter 80: The Fist King Meets the Mad God 1
The Fist King Meets the Mad God 1
Episode 80: The Fist King Meets the Mad God 1
After agreeing to meet again at the Mad God's secluded residence—as informed by White Dragon Gate leader Joo Yeon-wol—Dan Woo-sung returned to the Taihu Merchant Group.
During that time, the funeral of Silver Brush Master, who had watched over the Taihu Merchant Group in his stead, was held in a solemn atmosphere.
Dan Woo-sung deliberately introduced himself as the stepson of the Taihu Merchant Group's leader and assisted with the funeral arrangements. As a result, he was able to personally meet most of the figures associated with the group.
He memorized the faces of those who flocked to the funeral.
Since the Left Envoy and the Twelve Demon Blades were dead, he suspected some might attend the funeral in disguise.
Even among the mourners, whispers spread from mouth to mouth about how the stepson of the Taihu Merchant Group's leader was an overwhelmingly powerful martial artist.
Dan Woo-sung intentionally took upon himself any potential dangers that might befall the Taihu Merchant Group. Secretly, he had waited throughout the funeral period for the man in the violet robe to appear, but when the operation failed, he showed no lingering regrets—as if it had never mattered—and the funeral concluded quietly.
...
More than ten days later, Dan Woo-sung finally left the Taihu Merchant Group and headed for the Mad God's secluded residence. The only things he had gained from resolving this matter were an excessive amount of travel money and one of Silver Brush Master's Judge's Brushes. One had melted, but the other—the one lodged in Lee Geon-chang's throat—had been retrieved. Dan Woo-sung deliberately carried this Judge's Brush with him whenever he stopped at inns or lodgings.
He was intentionally leaving traces of his movements.
His philosophy was simple: matters between martial artists should be settled by martial artists.
By the third day, Dan Woo-sung found it hard to sleep comfortably.
He felt like he was being followed. Occasionally, he would stop on the road and survey his surroundings, but there were no signs of pursuers. Yet his instincts screamed at him.
Something feels off.
As he neared Blue Medicine Mountain, where the Mad God resided, Dan Woo-sung deliberately slowed his pace.
If enemies beyond his ability to handle swarmed him, he planned to drag the Mad God into the fray.
It was a somewhat sinister scheme.
But Dan Woo-sung knew that the Mad God's epithet—Mad—had been earned through his relentless battles against the Demonic Path. In this era, no one hated the Demonic Path more than this man.
After all, he had spent his entire life tearing apart its followers—hence the title Mad God.
If Dan Woo-sung led a group of recently quieted Demonic Path practitioners to the Mad God's doorstep, that alone would be the greatest gift he could offer.
So Dan Woo-sung loitered around Blue Medicine Mountain, observing the local life, drinking alone in desolate silence, and behaving like a man with nothing to do.
All the while, he kept his senses sharp.
Pursuers would tail him, vanish, then reappear.
While drinking a bottle of liquor with tangchoricheok as a side dish at the Pyeongho Inn, a middle-aged man with a long beard walked in with his hands behind his back and sat across from Dan Woo-sung without permission.
Pouring a drink, Dan Woo-sung asked:
"Care for a drink?"
The middle-aged man replied:
"Drink up. It'll be your last."
"That remains to be seen."
Dan Woo-sung downed his cup, then picked at the tangchoricheok with his chopsticks.
Between bites, he asked:
"How many came with you?"
The middle-aged man smirked.
"Enough. You killed Blade Eight, Blade Eleven, and the Left Envoy, didn't you?"
Dan Woo-sung rinsed his mouth with liquor before answering.
"We never exchanged names, but I suppose I did. Ah, and more than just those three. Their martial arts were similar—the kind that make a metallic clang when struck. Did their leaders come too?"
The middle-aged man only smiled.
"Seems like a poor time for bravado."
Dan Woo-sung pointed at him.
"Ah, I remember now. You were at the funeral. You kept awfully quiet there. Didn't realize I was the culprit? Some of you must've lost your leaders—slowed your response time."
The middle-aged man spoke in a subdued tone.
"The Taihu Merchant Group is innocent. The price will be paid by you and the Silver River Merchant Group."
Dan Woo-sung grinned.
"Ah, the Silver River Merchant Group. Did you send forces there too?"
"No. There's an order to things. I plan to visit with your head in hand. I'll behead your brothers, your father, your servants, even the damn animals you keep."
Dan Woo-sung chuckled.
"They've got some decent experts there, you know."
"You think the Eight Dragons Sect can stop us all? If you flee here, you'd better rush straight to the Silver River Merchant Group. Otherwise, our forces will get there first."
The Silver River Merchant Group had experts even Dan Woo-sung couldn't handle immediately. His presence there was no different. Moreover, he knew better than anyone that Baek Yak's subordinates were formidable enough that nothing major would happen.
Dan Woo-sung downed the last of his liquor, set the cup down, and said:
"Terrifying. You bastard."
"Come out."
The middle-aged man stood and exited the inn. He was none other than Gongson Bok, the leader of the Gold-Silver Assassin Society, who had been operating in the shadows until now—accompanied by the Society's elite and the elite swordsmen of the Heavenly Sword Alliance.
With the Left Envoy dead, he had no choice but to step forward personally.
When Dan Woo-sung didn't follow immediately, Gongson Bok frowned and looked back.
Dan Woo-sung was paying the terrified innkeeper for his drinks.
Gongson Bok's expression twisted in disbelief.
"That crazy bastard..."
Only then did Dan Woo-sung step outside, responding to the insult:
"Had to settle the bill first, you crazy bastard."
In the vicinity where the God of Madmen resided, madmen clashed.
Dan Woo-sung stepped outside—then froze in shock.
Golden Masks and Silver Masks were everywhere, mixed together in overwhelming numbers. Of course—they had all but mobilized their entire force. Among them, black-clad swordsmen of the Heavenly Sword Alliance, unmasked, glared at him.
With an utterly relaxed expression, Dan Woo-sung slipped on his gauntlet, gripped the Judge's Brush in his right hand, and opened his mouth to address the army before him.
"Hey, you motherf—"
Mid-sentence, he turned and bolted.
His speed was monstrous. Though surrounded, Dan Woo-sung's figure shot into the air, kicked off a tree, landed on a branch opposite, and then employed the Woodland Flight technique to escape. A thunderous clamor rose as assassins and swordsmen surged after him.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Hidden weapons shot up from below.
Dan Woo-sung kicked off another tree mid-leap, landed in the forest, and sprinted away.
His destination, of course, was Blue Medicine Mountain.
He intended to draw out the Mad God.
As he burst into laughter, his voice stretched like taffy from the sheer speed of his movement.
The sight of his pursuers was a spectacle in itself.
Their varying levels of skill in the Lightfoot Technique soon caused their formation to resemble a mountain's silhouette. At the very front, Golden Masks and Heavenly Sword Alliance swordsmen jostled for position.
Dan Woo-sung deliberately let out an energy-infused whistle.
"Wheeeeeee—!"
Gongson Bok, chasing alongside his subordinates, roared with internal energy:
"Watch for ambushes!"
The sheer force of the Gold-Silver Assassin Society's charge made the earth tremble.
Tiny hidden weapons embedded themselves incessantly at Dan Woo-sung's feet.
Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip—!
Every time Dan Woo-sung abruptly changed direction with his Instantaneous Leap, the projectiles sliced through the air past him.
Despite the horde of experts chasing him, none could catch up.
Dan Woo-sung's Lightfoot Technique, a chaotic fusion of internal and external energy, had its flaws—but speed was not one of them. And this time, he was deliberately fleeing with earth-shattering noise.
...
Blue Medicine Mountain—the Mad God's seclusion.
The residence prepared for the Mad God, built with the Murim Alliance's resources under Leader Yoo Jung-hong's direction, stood pristine. Not a speck of dust lingered—because the Mad God cleaned it himself.
He was the very incarnation of obsessive cleanliness.
The Mad God shaved his beard while peering into a mirror.
As he scraped away with a small razor, he examined his cheeks from different angles. His hair had recently begun regaining its black hue.
At a glance, he appeared to be a lonely man in his fifties.
Yet his expression brimmed with an unsettling tension, as though he forcibly suppressed his own volatile temperament.
The Mad God had confined himself to this residence.
He lacked the confidence to reenter the world and live normally.
Countless times, he had suffered Qi Deviation while training his martial arts—yet he never died.
His hand, usually steady, trembled slightly as he shaved. Taking a deep breath, he continued.
Scritch, scritch, scritch...
He trimmed his hair next.
His hearing, far surpassing that of ordinary men, made his nerves razor-sharp.
Gathering the loose ends of his hair, he adjusted the length before tying it back again.
Now, he looked less like an old man and more like a handsome middle-aged one.
Finally, he tidied his eyebrows with the razor. After another deep breath, he muttered in a calm tone:
"Why are they fighting here? So noisy."
Of course it was noisy.
Dan Woo-sung had started the battle at the mountain's base. Moreover, his martial arts were like thunderclaps—to the Mad God's ears, the sounds of lightning, screams, shouts, and thrown projectiles rang clear.
The Mad God lowered his head, fists trembling slightly.
It was an absurd sight—more fitting for a temperamental child than an elder.
Then, turning his head, he squeezed out an energy-infused roar toward Blue Medicine Mountain:
"SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!"
...
"—UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!"
Both Dan Woo-sung and his attackers felt as though a dagger had been driven into their eardrums.
A truly chilling sensation.
Gongson Bok jolted, whipping his head around in alarm. But neither the Gold-Silver Assassin Society nor Dan Woo-sung halted their assault. Seizing the moment of distraction, Dan Woo-sung unleashed blade-like lightning energy, leaping and crushing assassins underfoot with Lightning Stomp.
Two black-clad swordsmen from the Heavenly Sword Alliance lunged, releasing sword energy toward him.
SCREEEEE—!
The moment Dan Woo-sung neutralized it with Lightning Barrier, he deliberately amplified his voice with internal energy:
"TWELVE DEMON BLADEEEEEEES!"
Among the Heavenly Sword Alliance forces stood two men with Blade Immunity—the Seventh and Ninth Blades. Dan Woo-sung couldn't care less about their ranks. These two had waited for him to tire before finally making a single move.
As assassins swarmed from all directions, Dan Woo-sung struck them down while shouting again:
"WHERE'S THE SWORD DEMON?!"
He stomped the intact ground with Lightning Stomp.
KABOOOOOOOOOM—!
Silver Masks charging at him were swept up in the shockwave, sent flying in wide arcs.
Dan Woo-sung's eyes darted around. At this point, the Mad God should have appeared—yet there was no sign of him. Already, thirty Silver Masks lay dead with shattered skulls, and over a dozen Golden Masks had been impaled by his Judge's Brush.
The real problems were the Gold-Silver Assassin Society's leader and the two swordsmen from the Twelve Demon Blades.
...
Something shot out from the mountainside mid-slope, arcing through the air before landing silently just outside the battlefield.
It was the Mad God, clad in a gray robe.
Countless martial artists chased and fought a single man, corpses already littering the surroundings.
The Mad God approached Gongson Bok, who stood alone as if observing the situation, and asked:
"Where is the Sword Demon?"
Only then did Gongson Bok draw his sword, pointing it at the Mad God. Words failed him. Of course, he didn't know this was the Mad God—he only felt overwhelming pressure. Though no words were exchanged, the man's sheer madness was palpable at a glance.
The Mad God clicked his tongue.
"Tch."
He was about to kill Gongson Bok outright when his gaze shifted to Dan Woo-sung, fighting like a lone madman in the distance.
"So it's you. Making all this noise..."
The source of the disturbance was right there—the one who had interrupted his shave. After briefly watching Dan Woo-sung's battle, the Mad God's lips rounded in surprise.
"Oh."
He fought well. The Mad God nodded approvingly.
'This youngster knows how to fight.' With that thought, he forgave the noise.
Then, abruptly, he turned back to Gongson Bok.
He had asked where the Sword Demon was, yet this man refused to answer.
At the very least, I don't know would have been the polite response.
The Mad God stepped closer and said:
"When your elder asks you a question, you answer. Whose disciple are you? Speak quickly."
Despite being locked in a fierce battle with the two Twelve Demon Blades members in the distance, Dan Woo-sung swiftly replied:
"Senior, that man leads the assassins. All of them belong to the Demonic Path."
The Mad God stared at Gongson Bok—then vanished.
Gongson Bok gritted his teeth and swung his sword backward. He froze mid-swing. The Mad God's hands rested on his shoulders. The moment terror flooded Gongson Bok's face, his body was torn in half.
SPLORTCH—!
Tilting his head skyward, the Mad God blankly watched the blood spray—a spectacle he hadn't seen in a long time. A moment later, a gush of blood splattered across his face.
Wiping the blood away with both hands, he muttered:
"Ah... So the Demonic Path has appeared."
Alongside a madman of his own.