Chapter 97: The Fist King Will Not Allow Such a Thing
The Fist King Will Not Allow Such a Thing
Chapter 97: The Fist King Will Not Allow Such a Thing
At Dan Woo-sung's words, Yoo Jung-hong responded with a complicated tone.
"If only it had been someone I was close to who died—that would still be unbearable, but at least... You know, don't you, senior? Blade Emperor hated me immensely. And I probably hated him even more. What does the position of Alliance Leader even mean to—"
Even to Dan Woo-sung and Mad God, Yoo Jung-hong's expression looked bitterly sorrowful.
Mad God clicked his tongue.
"The Murim Alliance Leader, sighing like this—how pathetic."
"Indeed."
Despite his words, Mad God still acted as a senior and tried to console him.
"Jung-hong."
"Yes."
"If he didn't die from a cowardly ambush in his sleep, then that's a warrior's fortune. Killing five Blade Immunity practitioners—he must have fought without regret. I once saw a junior of mine tear apart two Blade Immunity experts near my residence. They were no pushovers—successors of the Sword Demon's Demonic Path. If Blade Emperor killed five of them, then he didn't live carelessly. You know better than anyone how formidable the Sword Demon's martial arts are."
"Yes."
"Instead of wasting time lamenting, mobilize every intelligence network and special task force to track down their base. Inform the Sword God and that quack physician that I've arrived at the Murim Alliance. Who knows if those two old men are even still alive?"
"They are well."
"Even without the Demonic Path's resurgence, they're all at an age where they could ascend any day. One slip in the bath, and they'd be dead. That's how it is for us Three Gods."
As Mad God rambled, Yoo Jung-hong's expression finally eased slightly.
But deep down, Yoo Jung-hong was far from fine. Regret was like that—it came too late. The foolish thought of "What if I had shared a drink with Blade Emperor just once, speaking openly?" gnawed at him.
Yoo Jung-hong spoke again.
"Blade Emperor's death is largely my fault as well. Though it may sound like an excuse to the Alliance members, I must ask them to endure this crisis with me."
"Endure? That's just how we live. Find them before the Three Gods ascend—at least before I do. I'd rather die with my body shattered fighting monsters like the Heavenly Demon than waste away in bed."
When Yoo Jung-hong couldn't respond, Dan Woo-sung interjected.
"Forgive my bluntness, senior, but I won't allow such a thing to happen."
Yoo Jung-hong and Mad God turned to look at him.
Dan Woo-sung met their gazes and thought:
'I wasn't reborn just to witness such an ending.'
Swallowing the words he couldn't bring himself to say, he reassured them instead.
"This Demonic Path resurgence—I will crush it under the name of the Fist King."
The old masters had fought long enough.
They had entered the martial world younger than Dan Woo-sung and fought until their hair turned white.
This was a problem for the reborn Dan Woo-sung to solve—that was his conviction.
Only then did Yoo Jung-hong fully grasp the depth of Dan Woo-sung's aura and blinked in surprise.
"Junior, you've changed since the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament."
Dan Woo-sung smiled.
"Yes. I have."
The unspoken addition was: Compared to my past life, I'm entirely different.
Yoo Jung-hong, the Alliance Leader, spoke again.
"Senior, may I finish my duties today and share a drink with you?"
Mad God nodded.
"Let's do it."
"Would it be possible for my Alliance members to join us as well?"
Mad God frowned slightly.
"The entire Alliance?"
Yoo Jung-hong replied:
"Yes. Senior, do you know how old our youngest member is?"
"Hmm?"
"Twenty. They were born when we were shedding blood in the Five Peaks War. Now they're joining the Alliance. They've heard rumors of the Three Gods. Though it may trouble you, for them, it would be an unforgettable day. Just a drink or two would suffice. If you permit it, I'll arrange it by tomorrow."
Normally, Mad God would never agree—but today was different.
Especially seeing how Yoo Jung-hong regretted never sharing that drink with Blade Emperor.
Mad God relented.
"Fine. Why not? Especially if they're just twenty-year-old brats."
Yoo Jung-hong bowed slightly.
"Then this unworthy junior will return to his duties."
Mad God and Dan Woo-sung stood. For the first time, it truly struck them—the Alliance Leader is indeed the Alliance Leader. As they left, Yoo Jung-hong called out to those outside.
"Prepare for a gathering. Inform all members—there's someone they should meet. Let them come freely. Chief Strategist, report to me."
"Understood."
Ten Thousand Demon Library
The Ten Thousand Demon Library was a vast archive, its countless bookshelves stretching across multiple floors. Its most unusual feature was the central arena—a space reserved for martial duels and instruction. The rest of the library was packed with texts: not just those of the Demonic Path, but also lost orthodox, unorthodox, and even heretical martial arts.
Two men entered.
The Heavenly Demon, for the first time in recent memory, bowed deeply and addressed the library with his true name.
"Wi Ji-cheon pays his respects to the seniors and the Great Master."
Here, even the Heavenly Demon was impeccably formal. He had no choice—his teachers resided within these walls. Dry voices responded from all directions.
"Welcome."
"Patriarch Wi, it's been a while."
The Sword Demon also bowed.
"Yeon Ja-heun greets the masters."
The sound of flipping pages ceased. From the third floor, an aged voice called down.
"Yeon Ja-heun—are you blind?"
The Sword Demon answered.
"Yes."
An old man descended from above, landing softly in the center of the first floor. Dressed in scholar's robes, his expression was gentle, his aura devoid of any killing intent—just an ordinary elder.
The Heavenly Demon and Sword Demon bowed in unison.
"Great Master."
The Great Master of the Ten Thousand Demon Library was, in function, similar to the Scripture Hall Master of Shaolin. He managed the texts, studied martial arts, and ensured the Demonic Path's techniques were preserved.
The Great Master asked:
"Patriarch Wi, have you come to train as well?"
The Heavenly Demon shook his head.
"No. I've brought Patriarch Yeon, whose eyesight has failed him."
"You've done well."
A dismissal.
The Heavenly Demon bowed again and exited without another word.
The Great Master turned to the Sword Demon.
"Sit, Patriarch Yeon."
"Yes."
As the Sword Demon crossed his legs, the Great Master continued.
"You need a martial art to compensate for your blindness."
"Correct."
"There is a technique called the Abyss Art. It expands sensory perception through qi—a method only the blind master. An exceptional art. Your senses will sharpen to the point where you forget your lack of sight."
The Sword Demon's face flushed with excitement.
"Can I learn it?"
The Great Master's voice grew solemn.
"The choice is yours. The Abyss Art is intertwined with inner demons—it invites Qi Deviation. The stronger your opponent, the worse the visions. Your senses will conjure images based on qi, and if those around you surpass you, those images may twist into monsters. Many who mastered this art went mad, imprisoned or dead. If you're near the pinnacle of martial arts, you may attempt it. Or if your mental discipline is profound. Otherwise, you'll drown in nightmares until death."
The Great Master chuckled, though the Sword Demon couldn't see it.
The Sword Demon answered without hesitation.
"I'll learn it. Nothing could be worse than this despair."
"Ja-heun, listen well. The Abyss Art is, in essence, an imaginary eye—shaped by your mind. It may not reflect reality. Those you fear will appear even more terrifying—"
"I'll learn it. No matter what."
The Great Master studied him.
"Hell may unfold before you. Every shadow born from your mind."
"I'm already in hell."
The Great Master gazed at the blind swordsman. What does a child like you know of hell? The true hell the Sword Demon imagined hadn't even begun—but such foolishness was the essence of the Demonic Path.
The Great Master nodded.
"Very well. I will teach you the Abyss Art."
The Sword Demon hesitated, then cautiously asked:
"Great Master, my Blade Immunity seems imperfect. My subordinates were sliced apart like tofu by Blade Emperor's blade. How can I overcome this?"
"Your Blade Immunity borrows the Demon Sword's hardness—it's not forged through training like Shaolin's Indestructible Vajra Body. That's enough. Push further, and you risk losing yourself to the Demon Sword's lingering souls."
The Demon Sword's souls referred to the trapped spirits within the blade—merged into a single, chaotic consciousness. The Sword Demon's techniques always danced on the edge of Qi Deviation.
"It's insufficient. If I've resolved to walk into hell, why fear the Demon Sword's souls? Is there another way?"
The Great Master's voice turned cold.
"Have you forsaken your humanity?"
"Were we ever human?"
The Great Master clicked his tongue.
"Why ask me? That's for you to decide. No matter how others see you, if you don't lose your humanity, you remain human."
"But our actions stray far from human principles."
"That was your choice—not our failure as teachers."
The Sword Demon roared, his voice shaking the library.
"Then why did you raise monsters like the Heavenly Demon and me?!"
The masters burst into laughter, their mirth rustling the countless books.
The Great Master grinned.
"You came to us as children, filled with hatred, begging for knowledge. We are old men obsessed with martial arts—we study, we teach, without limits. If the ultimate martial art is born here, our purpose is fulfilled. Wi Ji-cheon's father was a rare genius—he ignored our warnings, left for the martial world, and vanished without a trace. Young disciples must know their limits. Wi Ji-cheon, and you—you're still far from mastery. Throwing tantrums at your teachers? No wonder Wi Ji-cheon kept you leashed. His eyes are intact—yours are gone. That wasn't a defeat of skill, but of character and wisdom. Pitiful disciple—always demanding techniques without refining yourself."
They were truly bizarre villains.
Perhaps these masters embodied pure evil itself.
If enlightenment led to immortality, then those who transcended the Demonic Path became like this—utterly detached.
The Sword Demon suddenly grew calm.
"This disciple understands."
The Great Master nodded.
"If a young disciple like you becomes a Grand Demon Master, it'll bring some joy to our dull lives. Reflect on yourself first. Meditate for three days—then I'll teach you the Abyss Art."
"Understood."
As if aware of everything beyond the library's walls, the Great Master added:
"Sword Demon Yeon Ja-heun."
"Yes."
"With that temperament, you'll remain Wi Ji-cheon's plaything. The Demonic Path is rebellion. If he devours you, we'll call it fate. But if you devour him one day—we'll rejoice in our shock. Because it defies expectation. That is the essence of the Demonic Path. Train well."
As the madmen's conversation concluded—
Outside the Ten Thousand Demon Library
Hidden, suppressing his presence, the Heavenly Demon Wi Ji-cheon had listened to every word.
He stood, dusted himself off, then faced the library and clasped his fists—like an orthodox martial artist paying respects.
His attitude was almost...
"Today, I've learned something new."
With his hands behind his back, he glided away like a ghost, nodding slowly.
"Truly wise words."