The Fist King, Birds of a Feather Flock Together 1

Episode 86: The Fist King, Birds of a Feather Flock Together 1

"Brother, let's go."

After washing beneath the waterfall, Mad God and Dan Woo-sung returned to their quarters. Since they planned to depart again soon, they changed into gray robes and tidied up the place.

"Didn't the White Dragon Gate Leader say he'd come to greet you? Will that be alright?" Mad God glanced at Dan Woo-sung.

"Yeon-wol? What good would it do him to see me? If we're both in the martial world, we'll meet eventually. Those destined to cross paths will."

Still, Mad God seemed slightly bothered and left a short letter on the table before leaving.

The message was simple:

"Moonchild, see you in the martial world. —Mad."

It implied that Mad God would take action now that the Demonic Path had resurfaced, and that the White Dragon Gate should begin moving as well—perhaps they'd meet along the way.

As they descended Blue Medicine Mountain, Mad God asked,

"Little brother, any good ideas to lure out those rats? If what you say is true, they won't show themselves easily—especially after being wiped out once already at the foot of this mountain."

Dan Woo-sung replied, "There are plenty of ways. Especially with you here, we can bait them properly."

"Such as?"

After organizing his thoughts, Dan Woo-sung answered,

"My friend is the eldest son of the West Wind Escort Bureau, which has little to do with the martial world. And I'm the son of the Silver River Merchant Group. Of course, I have ties to the Murim Alliance—they helped me before. So, as a gesture of gratitude, the Silver River Merchant Group could entrust supplies to the West Wind Escort Bureau for delivery to the Murim Alliance. Naturally, since I'm the merchant group's son and my friend is the escort bureau's son, it'd make perfect sense. The shipment could contain weapons, ample funds... The escorts would be handpicked elites—among them, of course, you and me. This way, the Black Path, bandits, or the Demonic Path will take the bait. Anyone who doesn't want those supplies reaching the Murim Alliance will show themselves."

"A sweet little escort mission, eh?"

"Exactly. If no one interferes, we'll simply deliver the supplies to the Murim Alliance. I imagine Alliance Leader Yoo is in dire need of resources anyway. What do you think?"

Mad God nodded.

"Not bad. You and I can pose as the lead escorts."

"Precisely."

Mad God grinned.

Thanks to the Heavenly Peach Fruit, he had regained his youth. Even if he pretended to be the West Wind Escort Bureau's chief, no one in the martial world would recognize him.

Mad God added, "Then we should take our time with the escort—make it seem like we're sticking only to safe routes."

"I've been manipulating the Eight Dragons Sect, remnants of the Black Path. Rumors about the escort can spread through them. We'll refine the details and participants as we go."

Mad God nodded approvingly.

"Back to the martial world, then. Let's head to your home first—take in the sights along the way."

With the broad strokes settled, Mad God studied Dan Woo-sung and remarked,

"I didn't expect you to be a merchant's son. Thought you were from a martial or noble family. Impressive."

He seemed genuinely intrigued that Dan Woo-sung had grown so strong without being the heir of a sect or clan.

The two didn't rush their journey to the Silver River Merchant Group, secretly hoping the Demonic Path would intercept them along the way.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Thus, the old man and the young man began roaming the martial world.

On their way back, Dan Woo-sung deliberately stopped by the Taihu Merchant Group to check on their safety and return the Judge's Brush. By now, his standing there was practically that of an adopted son. Even without revealing Mad God's identity, they were treated with utmost hospitality during their stay.

There was another reason for the visit—the gambling money Taeho had given him had burned away when he unleashed his martial arts. With an awkward expression, he explained the situation and left with another hefty sum.

Had he been alone, he might've skipped it, but Dan Woo-sung figured he needed ample funds to properly accommodate Mad God on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their journey.

Not that the Taihu Merchant Group leader was one to skimp on such expenses.

Thanks to this, their trip back to the Silver River Merchant Group was leisurely. Mad God's mood grew brighter as his rejuvenated body relished the journey, while Dan Woo-sung spent his spare time refining the Five Spirits Divine Art.

On their way back, Dan Woo-sung paused outside Cheol Myung-ho's underground training hall.

Mad God asked, "What? Someone here?"

"Ah, there's a guy I want to bring along as an escort. Want to meet him? He's a training fanatic—my friend."

"A training fanatic, huh... Let's see."

They descended into the underground training hall.

It had been a while since Dan Woo-sung last saw Cheol Myung-ho. At the center of the hall, the man knelt with his eyes closed, looking every bit like a master swordsman in deep contemplation.

Whenever Cheol Myung-ho took breaks from training, he would meditate like this, replaying past duels in his mind. His victories against the Eight Dragons Sect had become overwhelmingly frequent—partly due to the elixir the sect leader had provided and partly because he'd mastered the Three Talents Sword Technique in actual combat. Above all, he was naturally gifted in the art of battle and competition.

So whenever he closed his eyes like this, he reveled in the thrill of his victories, drunk on his own prowess.

Hearing footsteps unlike the usual, Cheol Myung-ho kept his eyes shut and guessed the visitor's identity.

In a composed tone, he said, "You're here."

Dan Woo-sung tilted his head. "Yeah. Where's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Eight Dragons Sect Leader?"

"He had business back at the sect, so he left temporarily."

"Why so solemn today? Qi deviation or something?"

Cheol Myung-ho smirked. "Hardly."

Dan Woo-sung and Mad God stood nearby, arms crossed, studying him. Mad God suddenly asked,

"What's that guy doing?"

(Mad God was the type to voice his thoughts bluntly.)

Dan Woo-sung replied, "For starters, he's the biggest lunatic in these parts."

Mad God nodded as if it all made sense. "I see."

Dan Woo-sung called out, "Fox, how's training?"

Cheol Myung-ho opened his eyes. "Same as always—day after day, painfully repetitive."

"You sure you're not overdosing on pills?"

Ignoring the jab, Cheol Myung-ho studied Mad God. "Who's this, sir?"

Mad God blinked, at a loss for words.

Cheol Myung-ho spoke as if he already knew. "Since the Grand Prince brought you, you must be from the martial world. Come up. Let's spar."

Mad God asked, "Just like that?"

Cheol Myung-ho smirked. "Scared?"

Suddenly, Mad God burst into laughter like a man who'd inhaled too much air, collapsing to the floor and clutching his stomach. After a while, he pointed at Cheol Myung-ho and declared,

"Ah, I like you! Good. Truly a friend worthy of my mad little brother. Birds of a feather flock together!"

Cheol Myung-ho snorted, glancing at Dan Woo-sung. "What's with the theatrical speech?"

Dan Woo-sung sighed. "You idiot, watch your mouth. Brother, would you humor him? This is Cheol Myung-ho, the Poison Fox, training the Three Talents Sword Technique."

Mad God frowned. "Training what?"

"The Three Talents Sword Technique."

"Why would he—"

Cheol Myung-ho cut in. "Ah, here we go again—the Three Talents Sword Technique getting disrespected. I, Cheol Myung-ho, the martial world's most diligent fool, have swung this sword precisely thirty-one thousand six hundred and fifty times. Let's fight."

Even Dan Woo-sung was stunned by the absurdly high number. True to his nickname, the man had trained like a madman.

Mad God grinned. "Alright. Let's go, kid."

Dan Woo-sung asked, "Why are you so hyped up? Did you beat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Eight Dragons Sect Leader?"

Cheol Myung-ho wagged a finger. "Not yet. My internal energy's still lacking. Ha Jeon-ik's gotten competitive lately—running around trying to find me elixirs. Even he's realized that with enough internal energy, I'll grow stronger. And I've realized it too. That I, Cheol Myung-ho, am a born warrior. I've already crushed the Eight Dragons Sect's experts with just the Three Talents Sword Technique. Frankly, I scare myself. This must be what they call genius."

Dan Woo-sung scratched his forehead with a sigh.

"Certifiable lunatic."

This was a common phase among martial world fanatics—one step beyond the usual obsession. Winning streak after winning streak inflated their egos. They convinced themselves they were geniuses, blaming every loss on insufficient internal energy. If they won, it was because they were strong; if they lost, it was because their energy wasn't enough. A flawless, self-serving logic.

Mad God climbed onto the sparring platform, hands behind his back.

"Fascinating fellow, I'll give you that."

He kept tilting his head, wondering if Cheol Myung-ho had reached the Pure Blue of Furnace Flame—a state where one could conceal their energy like a true master. But no matter how he looked at it, that wasn't the case. The man was just posturing.

Worried, Dan Woo-sung warned Mad God,

"Brother, if you hit him wrong, he'll die."

Mad God nodded reassuringly. "Got it."

Cheol Myung-ho shook his head vigorously, stood up, grabbed his Black Iron Umbrella, and picked up a wooden practice sword from the floor, handing it to Mad God.

"Here, sir."

Mad God accepted it. "Thanks."

Cheol Myung-ho twirled his umbrella with practiced ease, the weapon humming through the air.

"Honestly, at this point, the only ones around who can challenge me are that friend of mine and the Eight Dragons Sect Leader."

Dan Woo-sung interjected, "Hey, Fox. You're in way over—"

Cheol Myung-ho raised a hand, cutting him off. "We'll see when we fight."

Dan Woo-sung fell silent, watching closely.

Circling the platform, Cheol Myung-ho pointed his umbrella at Mad God.

"Ready?"

His gaze was steady. Against most opponents, his Black Iron Umbrella would shatter their wooden sword—then he'd strike while they were defenseless. It had always worked before, so he was calm.

Mad God held the wooden sword loosely. "Come."

Cheol Myung-ho channeled his energy, stepped forward, and swung downward—aiming straight for Mad God's head.

THWACK!

The umbrella stopped dead in the air just before Mad God's face. It never touched him.

Mad God nodded approvingly. "Spirited, I'll give you that."

Cheol Myung-ho attacked again with the Three Talents Sword Technique, but the umbrella still couldn't reach Mad God. Yet the old man wasn't dodging frantically—he moved as casually as someone taking a stroll, yet remained untouchable.

After dozens of strikes, Cheol Myung-ho finally glanced at Dan Woo-sung.

Dan Woo-sung said simply, "Wake up yet?"

It was a warning to get serious—his opponent was no ordinary fighter.

Swallowing hard, Cheol Myung-ho lunged again. This time, Mad God didn't move at all.

As the umbrella descended, Cheol Myung-ho thought,

At least make him block with the wooden sword.

WHOOSH!

The umbrella came down with brutal force—only for Mad God to flick his wooden sword like he was swatting a fly.

BANG!

A deafening crash echoed as Cheol Myung-ho was sent flying, umbrella and all, slamming into the wall before collapsing unconscious.

Mad God examined the undamaged wooden sword.

"Persistent training, I see. Interesting fellow. Let's take him as an escort. He can run errands for me."

"Understood."

Dan Woo-sung hauled the dazed Cheol Myung-ho up, channeling a bit of energy into him. The man shook his head groggily, coming to.

Cheol Myung-ho blinked. "Am I dead?"

"Not yet."

"Damn. Almost died."

"Fox, you just gained an opportunity."

"Opportunity? What?"

Dan Woo-sung smirked.

"An errand-running opportunity."