The Fist King Meets the Mad God 3

Episode 82: The Fist King Meets the Mad God 3

"Junior."

"Yes."

Under the night sky they both gazed upon, Mad God posed a question to Dan Woo-sung.

"Why were we born to live lives like this?"

Dan Woo-sung exhaled deeply. When he thought about it, he didn't even know why he had been born in the first place. And his circumstances were even more complicated—he had been reborn, after all.

Dan Woo-sung answered:

"Will we ever find the answer while we're alive? I think we'll only know once we're dead."

"Is that so?"

This had always been Mad God's eternal question.

Dan Woo-sung continued,

"But just because we're curious doesn't mean we can take our own lives. We just keep living stubbornly, that's all."

Mad God chuckled.

"You cheeky brat."

"Senior."

"Hm?"

Now it was Dan Woo-sung's turn to ask.

"How do I grow stronger?"

This had always been his eternal question. It was something he had wanted to ask the Three Gods.

"You're already strong enough. How much stronger do you expect to be at your age? Would you be satisfied if you became as strong as the Heavenly Demon we fought? Or do you mean to surpass even the likes of Moojin Gong or Sohan Gong? To grow stronger, you need a reason—a driving force."

"A reason?"

"You are as strong as your reason makes you. The same goes for me. Do you think I became one of the Three Gods simply because I had talent in martial arts? Of course not. What pushed me to this height was my reason—my story. The twins I lost before they could even be born, now stars in the sky. My wife. Even if I grow stronger because of these things, what meaning does it hold for life itself? I died long ago. What remains is just the rest of my existence. Do you think I became strong through mere training? No. I lived stubbornly, keeping my vows, and this is the result. And now you ask me how to grow stronger? Ridiculous. That depends entirely on your reason. No one else can answer that for you."

The idea that martial artists grew stronger because of their personal struggles was something even the experienced Dan Woo-sung had never heard before.

Under the quiet words of Mad God, Dan Woo-sung gazed at the densely packed stars above.

"Did Sohan Gong and Moojin Gong also grow stronger because of their reasons?"

"Of course. The Heavenly Demon must have had his reasons too. Even the resurgent Demonic Path followers each have their own. But in the end, all we do is clash. The only thing that bothers me is this: I became strong purely through my own struggles, while those of the Demonic Path keep trampling over the weak—even children. And what was the result? The Heavenly Demon was stronger than me, yet in the end, I tore him limb from limb. That, too, is the story of the White Path. If those arrogant fools wish to walk the same road as the Heavenly Demon, I'll teach them the same lesson. That's why a man like me—the Mad God—still lives."

Dan Woo-sung deeply resonated with Mad God's thoughts. So this was why he was called the God of Stubbornness, the King of Narrow-Mindedness. It wasn't an insult—it was a title earned by rejecting mediocrity.

Mad God added one more thing:

"And that is also why you are alive."

This madman was speaking words that came dangerously close to the truth of Dan Woo-sung's rebirth. Just as Mad God's survival was the will of heaven, so too was Dan Woo-sung's reincarnation.

From Dan Woo-sung's perspective, it felt like the first time in a long while that he had engaged in such an open, heart-to-heart conversation.

His chest felt as clear as the crisp night air.

Mad God, lost in thought, suddenly spoke as if tossing out a passing remark midway through his contemplation:

"Since you and I have met, let's create a new story. Will you grow stronger because of me? Or will I grow stronger because of you? That will become our shared tale. Whatever happens, I don't care. Aren't you a junior of the White Path? The Fist King wouldn't have taken on a worthless disciple."

Dan Woo-sung smiled faintly.

"That's right."

Mad God stood up and stared at the corpses strewn about.

"If we leave them like this, they'll rot. Animals will eat the decay, and then people will consume those animals—that's how plagues begin. We should dispose of them. There's no need for courtesy toward the corpses of the wicked."

Mad God raised a hand and glanced at Dan Woo-sung.

"Stand back."

"Yes."

Dan Woo-sung distanced himself, but he couldn't help but keep his eyes fixed on Mad God—he was too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠curious about his martial arts.

Light gathered in Mad God's sleeve. Before long, it condensed into a sphere, and upon its surface, the starlight Mad God had been gazing at flickered.

This was the Stellar River Divine Art, Mad God's signature technique—a unique martial art born from the sorrows and worries that surged within him as he gazed at the night sky. Moreover, since it was created after he became one of the Three Gods, Dan Woo-sung was the first person besides Mad God himself to witness it.

Mad God formed the Demonic Annihilation First Form: Vortex Annihilation in his palm.

The moment he hurled it to the ground, he lightly leaped back and extended his right hand. The shockwave from the Vortex Annihilation rebounded, sending ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Mad God flying backward.

Pushing against the shockwave with one hand, Mad God soared toward Dan Woo-sung in an instant.

Dan Woo-sung looked up at the night sky.

The moment the colossal shockwave struck the earth, it erupted into the heavens with such force that the night sky momentarily brightened.

The Vortex Annihilation, landing amidst the piled corpses, obliterated everything at its center with a deafening roar.

A moment later, a massive crater had been carved into the ground.

Dan Woo-sung's mouth hung slightly open as he shook his head in disbelief.

Ah, truly a calamity.

No wonder he stood at the pinnacle of the White Path. Mad God approached him and said,

"Come along. I'll give you a change of clothes."

"Yes."

Dan Woo-sung's upper garments had been completely torn apart. The two ascended to Mad God's dwelling.

Suddenly, Mad God declared,

"Whoever arrives last prepares the meal."

"Huh?"

"I'm hungry, you brat."

Mad God's figure shot toward the mountaintop like an arrow. Dan Woo-sung, given no time to retort, immediately gave chase using his Lightfoot Technique. This was absurd—of course, as the junior, he should have been the one to prepare the meal.

Though it wouldn't taste good, naturally.

Dan Woo-sung, now clad in the ash-gray robe Mad God had given him, stared blankly at the kitchen hearth.

His expression was sour. The old man's Lightfoot Technique had been just fast enough to beat him by a hair's breadth, leaving him in no mood to be pleased. The gap at the start had been impossible to close.

And so, the Fist King boiled noodles.

Even during his time as the Fist King, the Three Gods had been elders far his senior—even predecessors to Alliance Leader Yoo Jung-hong. So there was nothing strange about Dan Woo-sung boiling noodles here, sweeping the courtyard, mopping, or dusting.

As he lifted a strand of noodles with his chopsticks, Dan Woo-sung finally understood another of Mad God's epithets:

Master of Bullheadedness.

Mad God was truly Mad God.

A short while later, Dan Woo-sung placed two bowls of noodles on the table before Mad God, made from whatever ingredients he had found in the kitchen.

"Senior, please eat."

Mad God, now dressed in fresh robes, stood with his hands behind his back, eyeing the noodles.

"Is it good?"

"How would I know?"

Mad God burst into laughter. With a guest visiting after so long, he seemed livelier than usual.

"You're telling me to eat something when you don't even know if it's edible?"

"No, Senior..."

Dan Woo-sung swallowed the words Where did the man who lectured me about life under the stars go? and instead gestured politely.

"Just try it."

"Fine."

Mad God picked up his chopsticks and began eating. After a couple of bites, he set them down again.

"Should I remake it?"

Mad God shook his head.

"No, it's fine. I'll just go hungry."

Crossing his arms, Mad God stared at the noodles and gave a slight shake of his head. Dan Woo-sung, undeterred, began eating himself.

"Then starve. I'll finish it all."

Under Mad God's sharp glare, Dan Woo-sung slurped the noodles. Both Mad God and Dan Woo-sung had equally foul tempers. Strangely enough, Dan Woo-sung was utterly incapable of catering to others' moods—even if that other person was Mad God.

But somehow, their personalities clicked.

Seeing Dan Woo-sung act this way actually put Mad God at ease. He had grown tired of people fidgeting nervously in his presence.

Dan Woo-sung shamelessly swallowed noodles as he spoke.

"Senior, teach me that technique you used to erase those corpses earlier."

Mad God scoffed.

"You lunatic. Asking me to take back what I've already discarded? You don't need to learn it. It's too flashy—only ends up harming allies. I mastered it as a hobby."

"What's it called?"

"Stellar River Divine Art."

"I'll teach you the White Lightning Ten Stages in return."

"No need. I'm not lacking in offense."

"Then how about the Black Dog Rebound Technique?"

"Not interested. I have plenty of defensive arts."

Dan Woo-sung sipped the broth before offering again.

"I'll teach you the Flower-Shifting Divine Art."

"What's that?"

"Telekinesis."

Mad God stretched out his hand and, using telekinesis, snatched a rag lying far away, waving it in front of Dan Woo-sung's face.

"You mean this?"

"Not bad."

"That's it? I expected more from a disciple of the Fist King."

"That's not all. There's also body techniques."

"How would body techniques block my Vortex Annihilation?"

"What about the Divided Mind Art?"

"Any martial artist worth their salt can perform two different techniques simultaneously. That's basic."

"Fair enough. Then how about the Dokgo Nine Swords?"

"Stop bluffing."

"Yes."

Mad God suddenly burst into laughter.

"Ahahahaha—!"

After laughing for a while, he glanced at the noodles.

"What? You finished them all?"

"Yes."

"Make another batch. The broth was too bland. Check the cabinet—there should be some wild ginseng."

"Ginseng in noodles?"

"Why do you think I chose to stay on Blue Medicine Mountain? This place is a ginseng field. There's also lingzhi mushrooms, and the peaches here are different from elsewhere. Even the animals living here consume elixirs, making the ingredients incomparable to anywhere else. You think my white hair turned black again for no reason?"

Dan Woo-sung crossed his arms and stared at Mad God.

"So you monopolized Blue Medicine Mountain."

"Remember this: becoming the strongest isn't just about consuming the finest elixirs—it's about devouring an entire mountain. Not by stripping it bare, but by coexisting with it. First, you breathe the mountain's air. Then you drink its water. The grass nourished by that water, the animals that graze on that grass, the land fertilized by their waste, and finally, the elixirs born from that land—either sprouted anew or formed by nature's harmony. It's not something solved by consuming a single elixir. You must breathe with the mountain and consume it whole. The key is ensuring your presence doesn't disrupt the mountain's balance. So one meal a day is enough. Now go boil more noodles. Your cooking skills are pathetic."

Dan Woo-sung smirked.

It was absurd—yet strangely convincing.

No one could have guessed this was how Mad God had grown so strong.

As he went to prepare ginseng noodles, Dan Woo-sung remarked,

"Senior, you're not the Mad God—you're the Mountain God."

"Most elixirs come from mountains. It's far more ridiculous for those who don't understand mountains to consume elixirs. And only by knowing the mountain can you discover elixirs unknown to the world. You've been taking the martial world too lightly."

Dan Woo-sung, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heading to the kitchen, replied sincerely:

"Hmm. Senior, I've learned something today."

And he meant it. The entire conversation had been a lesson in itself. Techniques like the Stellar River Divine Art or the White Lightning Ten Stages weren't what mattered.

As Mad God waited for his ginseng noodles, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he examined his reflection in a mirror.

After unleashing his martial arts, his complexion seemed to have improved. More than that, he felt fortunate that this junior who had visited him was someone he could talk to.

Though the young man had a cocky streak reminiscent of his own youth, there was no reason to turn him away.

Lost in thought, Mad God suddenly laughed.

Who would've thought someone would offer to teach me martial arts?

At any rate, he decided this junior wasn't just somewhat crazy.

He was exceptionally crazy.