Chapter 180
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 180
Chapter Title: Promises Aren't Made Lightly (1)
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Ak Jung-pil woke his nephew. Upon regaining consciousness, Ak Hyo-sang wasn't furious at all—he was meek as a dead mouse.
Why?
With the War King of the Divine Province's Twenty-One Strongest glaring right at him, who in their right mind would dare show anger?
Ak Hyo-sang's rage evaporated like smoke, replaced by sheer terror. Anger was selective, depending on who you were facing.
But there was no need to feel ashamed.
Humans were just animals in the end. In front of the strong, you tucked your tail humbly if you wanted to live long. Holding your head high was bravado, and the result was bravado's death.
Ak Jung-pil hurriedly left the Hwangbo Clan with his nephew.
They roughly sorted out the situation and unpacked in a annex before discussing the marriage alliance. The Hwangbo Clan needed time to align their stories too.
It was a mere formality, all things considered.
The Hwangbo Clan's annex, Seongun Pavilion.
'This is getting interesting.'
Mujin recalled Ak Jung-pil and Ak Hyo-sang departing the Hwangbo Clan. Considering the series of events and the Shandong Ak Clan's tendencies, things were playing out as expected.
He would need a little help from the Hwangbo Clan.
-You planned this.
'Hey now, no false accusations. I didn't start it.'
-You sure talk big.
'Think of it as a betrothal gift.'
Before any constructive talk, he needed to gauge the Hwangbo Clan's attitude. The reception was lavish. Just the welcome for the War King alone was proof.
It made sense.
To a martial artist who specialized in fists, the insights into fist arts were worth more than gold. Especially as one's realm advanced, the value of those insights in letters grew immensely. It was a domain granted only to those who truly understood.
"What scheme are you cooking up now?"
"Why do you always jump to suspicion first? And 'now'—don't slander me. There aren't many good people like me out there."
"You had a wicked grin just a second ago. If that's a virtuous man, then there are no villains in this world."
"Not this time. If things just flow naturally, nothing will happen."
Naturally, my foot—he hadn't trusted him from the start.
Nangong Yeonhwa's eyes narrowed.
It was the determined gaze of someone who would uncover whatever it was. But she found nothing suspicious. As guests, following the Hwangbo Clan's decisions was the natural course.
That made it even stranger.
'That's not like him.'
Even if entangled in trivial matters, Mujin was the epitome of defying the natural order. He could pull off the absurd anywhere, anytime, without batting an eye.
"It's not like you."
"We'll soon be in-laws with the Hwangbo Clan, so no wild speculations or slanders."
"You're not the type to fuss over such delicate details!"
"I treat you casually, and you cross the line. Well, what would an unmarried woman without kids know? You'll feel it naturally once you become a parent."
Where does he get off spouting such nonsense!
Nangong Yeonhwa was certain this was the worst bullshit she'd heard yet. That man treating his son like a rag doll? It didn't add up at all!
'It was suspicious.'
It was an unfamiliar sight for Yukchil too.
He should've grabbed Ak Jung-pil by the ankle and beaten him like laundry right there. With the War King watching, hesitation wasn't his style. As long as they didn't treat him like some feeble old man, it was fine.
'Could it be part of a bigger picture?'
Roughly, haphazardly, just like that.
That was the Mujin they knew. The king of making his victims seethe with rage.
Yet he wasn't someone who lived without thought—looking back, things always fell into place as if he knew the future.
'No wonder the Zhuge Clan hates him.'
Roughly, haphazardly, just like that.
Everything worked out despite the carelessness, making him the natural nemesis of the headache-plagued Zhuge Clan.
'Why would he need plans anyway.'
If it doesn't work, make it work.
No need to spell it out—he could just bulldoze through with absurd force. His nickname, the Fortunate Heavenly Fist, was mere camouflage for his willful rampages.
But it was just a hunch, no hard evidence. Of course, even if there was, he'd deny it. Mujin wouldn't let it slide.
Nangong Yeonhwa and Yukchil let their suspicions fade unresolved.
Creak!
Hwangbo Jangseong arrived after finishing the clan meeting. On his way, he'd stopped by his daughter's room and witnessed something astonishing.
"Sorry for the delay, my in-law."
"Speak casually. This formal tone creates distance."
"Is that so? But my son-in-law has changed again since I last saw you."
"He's in his growth spurt. Kids grow fast, especially others' children."
Hwangbo Jangseong let out a hollow laugh at Mujin's calm attitude, as if it were as natural as birth, aging, sickness, and death. This wasn't something to brush off so lightly.
'Beating up all our kids at his age, and calling it nothing!'
The Little Dragon Tournament had ended not long ago. He was still in his growth phase, but his martial progress was astounding. Few could match him without reaching a considerable realm.
For proof, the clan's young hopefuls who charged in out of curiosity were swept away like fallen leaves.
And not with a sword—with fists.
Like father, like son. A swordsman, yet his fists flowed naturally.
It was the ideal path for any fist art practitioner to observe and learn from. The insights into fist arts he'd given his father were simple yet profound.
-You're stuck because you're bound by the essence of the insights. Why prize them so? The pinnacle of fist arts lies in the steadfast foundation of one strike, one fist.
-Inevitable attainment, one mind one intent, one strike one fist.
Those not at the level might dismiss it as nonsense. But to one who had transcended realms, it was a chance to look back.
It reawakened in those who only charged forward. Powerful fists, flashy fists, swift fists—all began from that one fist.
'He knew what he was saying.'
Or maybe not. Doubts lingered that he might've just spouted whatever. His nature was impossible to pin down.
"He's growing fast, but not everyone becomes like your son."
"I taught him a bit. He followed the simple training well."
Nangong Yeonhwa and Yukchil bristled at Mujin's false modesty. They barely held back their curses.
'Simple, my ass!'
'Taught what!'
They'd seen countless near-death brushes and life-flashing memories on the way. It had become so routine they were numb to it. Was reliving the past this often even allowed? Strangely, it made old memories vivid—even ones they'd rather forget.
'Why am I remembering shitting myself at one year old!'
'I can see my lost parents' faces!'
For Nangong Yeonhwa, it dredged up painful memories; for the orphan Yukchil, faces he'd never recalled. No normal training could explain it. Humility from him after that was worthless.
But his next words had them nodding. That was Mujin.
"He's my son, so he must at least reach the Absolute Realm to avoid tarnishing my reputation."
"...Reputation matters, indeed."
"I'll teach him slowly to enter the Absolute Realm before thirty."
"...?"
Hwangbo Jangseong was speechless.
Was the Absolute Realm something to toss around lightly? Even reaching the Flower Realm made one a regional overlord in murim. The Absolute Realm ranked at the top even among the Divine Province's Twenty-One Strongest.
'Not sure if I should be pleased.'
For some reason, it soured his mood. "Before thirty, slowly" crossed common sense. Even among geniuses, there were levels, and it required effort plus heavenly luck. That's why it was called the Absolute Realm.
'How hard does he plan to drill the kid!'
'Taejin, please survive!'
Nangong Yeonhwa and Yukchil shuddered at Mujin's ambition to forge an Absolute Realm master before thirty. They could already feel their legs weaken imagining how he'd treat his son like a mouse.
But it wasn't their problem.
They prayed for Taejin's fortune.
Yet...
'Why's he looking at me?'
'Isn't it someone else's issue?'
Mid-conversation with Hwangbo Jangseong, Mujin subtly turned his head, gazing warmly at Nangong Yeonhwa and Yukchil. It was so brief it could've been missed.
But both had honed sharp senses and insight through Mujin's scoldings.
'I wish I hadn't seen it!'
'Why look?'
Taejin's yoke extended to them too. Denial wouldn't change reality.
Even if they refused outright, would Mujin back off with an "Oh, alright"? From what they'd seen, no.
The uneasy Hwangbo Jangseong changed the subject. It hardly seemed serious. Anyone else overhearing would've smacked him for talking nonsense.
"You stirred up quite the mess in Jiangsu Province."
"I unintentionally pressed those nobodies. When trash acts uppity, you just want to crush them. But I have my reputation—can't dirty my hands personally."
"Ah, I see."
"The world's so strange. I stayed put, but people wouldn't leave me alone."
"...What a cruel world."
That bastard was blabbering from his loose mouth.
Shut that trap, smack it shut!
Nangong Yeonhwa and Yukchil, knowing the full story, itched to speak. The world deserved the truth.
'Wait, is this planned?'
'No way, this madman!'
Fortunate Heavenly Fist—a nickname perfect for picking fights. It seemed harmless enough; touch it, and you might steal the fame. Full of hopeful bait.
So moths flew in blindly.
Provoke rage, then backstab—the classic Mujin ploy. Yet he played the innocent victim, staying put. What about all the sects and folks ruined by his schemes?
The harsh truth: even the victims could hardly claim innocence. There were reasons aplenty. He'd manufactured justifications to beat them down, infuriatingly.
'There must be more to it.'
Hwangbo Jangseong wanted details. Publicly, it ended as a spat between the So Family Manor and Guo Family Manor, but he needed the hidden truth.
"The So Family Manor aside, what about the Peng Clan of North-of-the-River?"
"They ambushed at night, so I killed them all. Some direct lineage included, but no word yet means they were the Peng Clan's hidden weapons."
"All of them?"
"I spare if needed, but the Peng Clan isn't."