Chapter 42
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Wealth Disparity (2)
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As they crossed the mountain and reached the midway point, the sun was beginning to set. A red sunset bathed the surroundings in its glow.
Mujin secured a secluded spot and pressed Cheol-ho for a firm commitment. People could change before and after using the outhouse, after all. He nailed it down to prevent any backtalk later.
"A man's word... you get it, right?"
"Of course."
"Good to hear."
"Father knows a man's word too... right?"
"Naturally."
This kid... suddenly feels like kin.
-These 'king' types are all so damn ignorant.
'You're one too.'
War King, Iron King, Demon King.
The gathering of the Three Kings of Stupidity was impregnable. How could he be the only one left out? Mujin included the Demon King for the greater good.
-Who decided that!
'Me, obviously.'
Mujin turned to his son.
"Here, take this."
"Yes, Father."
Cheol-ho jumped at the real sword Mujin handed over. The Little Dragon Tournament required wooden swords.
"We're using a real sword for a spar?"
"Scared?"
"I'm bare-fisted here."
"So? Who said anything about fist techniques?"
"At least some gauntlets or shin guards?"
"You got any? Even if I did, I wouldn't give 'em."
Cheol-ho trembled with rage.
He realized this man was as sly as he was skilled in martial arts. But he couldn't argue. Since their arts diverged into fists and sword, refusing a real blade would be unreasonable.
'But you don't just take it like that!'
He'd expected Tae-jin to decline, but when the boy swung the sword experimentally, Cheol-ho shuddered with betrayal. Still, it was nothing new. The world was never fair.
Cheol-ho steeled his fighting spirit. He'd shove a massive humiliation right back at this sly rich bastard.
Having slain the bandits, Cheol-ho had awakened once already. The gap between those who'd killed and those who hadn't was vast. That alone elevated him to true warrior status.
"First, I'll tell you that guy's weakness."
"...?"
Stagger!
Cheol-ho's ignited spirit faltered at the knees. This was too much—even for him—but to stoop this low!
"You're going this far?"
"Far with what?"
"Teaching me his weakness? That's unfair!"
"Unfair between father and son? Arms bend inward, that's how it works. Every parent wants their kid to win."
"Still!"
"Think the Little Dragon Tournament will be fairer? It'll be worse than this, if anything."
The tournament tested raw potential, sure. But assuming they'd just let you show your skills was naive. Those clinging to power pulled every dirty trick in allowed zones. The higher the stakes for reputation, the harder they fought defeat.
"So, what'll it be? Give up?"
Cheol-ho snapped to his senses. Infuriating and petty as it was, he had no retort. The murim world was brutal and merciless. It was only a matter of degree—show weakness, and it'd bite.
"A match is a match. Don't get sentimental."
Hwabo Se-ryeong sensed Mujin wasn't all lightness. He seemed insincere, yet no one pierced the murim's harsh reality better. Expecting righteousness and fairness from the orthodox sects was a fool's dream.
'No ordinary guy. How's he flown under the radar?'
You had to experience it to know. Life's hard-earned grit shone through. Understandable, yet oddly magnetic.
'Fun to watch.'
Tae-jin and Cheol-ho faced off against the sunset.
Thud!
Mujin sliced a boulder with his hand for a seat. It split cleanly into a flat chair.
"Sit."
"Not even hiding it anymore."
"Leak it, and you're dead."
"At least pretend to hide it before threatening."
"Exactly."
When the rock cleaved, not just Se-ryeong but Cheol-ho and Tae-jin got chills. A qi master could do it with internal energy, but Mujin hadn't used any. How did he slice it so smoothly barehanded?
"Curious?"
"Who wouldn't be?"
"Everything has a grain. Find it, cut along it—simple."
"Not simple at all!"
"True enough."
"You know you're obnoxious?"
"Yeah."
Expecting humility from the strong? That was the real annoyance. Bluff weakness, it's hypocrisy; flaunt it, arrogance. To the weak, the strong were an unclimbable wall—and bar gossip fodder.
"Enough talk. Get to it. No holding back—fight like you mean to kill."
Son and Cheol-ho clashed.
Hefei.
Anhui Province's capital, a transport hub with Huai River to the north and Yangtze to the south, drawing crowds aplenty.
Deeper into the city, commerce boomed, swelling with visitors from every fortress. Always bustling, now it teemed for the Nangong clan's Little Dragon Tournament.
Inns and eateries overflowed. The closer to the Nangong estate, the tougher prime spots were to snag. Even backwater dives saw decent business today.
"What's to see in a kiddie talent show?"
"Your son's in that talent show."
"Why you always gotta mouth off? I didn't ask for a reply."
"Talking to myself, really."
Insolent minx.
Mujin tired of Se-ryeong's unflinching retorts. Young folks these days had no respect for elders. Just nod and agree.
-Boomer.
'Hey now! Back in my day...'
-I may not know the world, but I know your sins. Never seen anyone more disrespectful than you.
'Those punks ate their age out their asses!'
-So you've eaten everyone above and below, huh?
This bastard!
Even in words!
Imagine eating food by mouth and ass. Fit for the dinner table? He tried not picturing it—and nearly puked.
So damn vivid.
"Whoever ends up with her will have their hands full."
"No need to look far, Father."
"...?"
A chill made Mujin shudder. Must've misheard. Common sense said don't utter that. Yeah, getting too strong—ears picking up nonsense.
"Don't even joke like that."
"Not a joke."
"Why?"
"I think I'd be fine entrusting my future to True Dragon here. I've made up my mind."
"...Who said so!"
"We'll be family soon—don't stand in our way. And he's no slouch anywhere."
As Se-ryeong eyed Tae-jin and licked her lips, Mujin's temples throbbed. Young, but no pushover. Her "Divine Mountain" moniker wasn't for show.
'She didn't chase me!'
-Kekekeke, grandkids soon!
This jerk talks reckless—ain't his kid.
Mujin couldn't curb Se-ryeong's clingy boldness. Thick-skinned, sure, but backed by a lifetime of polish. Compared to that, his son was a model kid. If they clicked on experience or arts, maybe—but if they liked each other, who was he to deny fate?
-Prime chance to snag a Divine Mountain.
'That's why I'm torn.'
Harness her mercenary savvy right, and it'd supercharge Pine Tiger Sect. But standing by felt like pimping his son.
'For the jianghu.'
-Mijoo'll grow into a fine beauty too.
'Shut it—who asked for that drivel!'
-Favoritism's bad.
Mujin's dilemma didn't last. For murim's greater good, letting his son pick Divine Mountain wasn't bad.
My boy's grown up right.
Tough, but... huh?
"True Dragon, Chiltaedang's Hefei's specialty. Want some?"
"Really?!"
Se-ryeong hooked arms with Tae-jin, natural as could be.
When did that happen!
Son, don't fall for candy! Stranger offers sweets, you follow her home?
Progress too damn fast.
Back in my day!
"In my eyes, True Dragon's the best."
"Really?"
Playing coy, but Tae-jin melted for praise. Constant comparisons to Mijoo left him shockingly vulnerable. And Se-ryeong? Young fox with seven tails already.
'No better hidden dragon.'
Se-ryeong hadn't liked Tae-jin at first. But the more she saw, the more delicious he seemed. No match for peerless beauties, but he'd hold his own anywhere. Even grew handsomer up close.
'Truly strong.'
Unknown till now, but he'd shine at the tournament. Bandit purge filled his experience gap—few rivals left. Snagging a future top dog early? Pure profit.
'And that reliable weirdo father-in-law.'
Her clincher for Tae-jin: his dad. Pine Tiger Sect had top-clan potential anytime. Huangbo clan? Stagnant.
No upheavals, and clan girls were marriage pawns. Distant future maybe, but better pick who you like.
'Sharp as hell.'
Mujin saw through her. Headache-inducing, but her cool assessment of him was spot-on.
"Filthy world!"
What's her deal now?
Cheol-ho glared daggers at the arm-linked pair ahead, fighting spirit blazing. Unyielding resolve burned hot. His face compressed every worldly injustice.
"This filthy world—I'll smash it!"
His grudges overflowed, fueling Iron-Blood Lion Art.
"Feeling hard done by?"
"Yes, totally wronged!"
"What about?"
"Everything."
As his spirit showed, Tae-jin won. Losing to a kid three years younger humiliated Cheol-ho sleeplessly.
But not just the loss.
'Ten-Thousand-Year Three Kings, Ten-Thousand-Year Lower Five, Golden Emperor Pill... too much!'
Some never tasted Century Three Kings. This guy chowed spiritual herbs like meals.
And more.
Fur-removal facials, vital-point probing too.
Tae-jin's nurtured arts outclassed Cheol-ho's. His master foraged all day just to teach and feed him. Rich and poor, flower and weed—starting lines worlds apart.
Grind, grind!
Cheol-ho gnashed at the unfairness.
Some born rich, stuffed on herbs; others starved short on rations.
And Se-ryeong ditched for Tae-jin. Guy or not, Cheol-ho wasn't immune. Curiosity about girls peaked now.
Frustrating, pathetic.
"Next time, no losing!"
"Tae-jin's qi must be waning lately. Better snag a Great Return Pill for him."
"...?"
This damn guy!
Ignorance is bliss. But he knew now. How? Mujin yapped all night about Tae-jin's herbs and arts. Rage kept him up. Wishing he'd burst an artery?
Whatever! Waning qi where? Great Return Pill—a Shaolin-class qi booster, only five exist.
"Jealous?"
"I can grow strong without herbs!"
Cheol-ho's resolve burned—no more losses to pampered flowers. Tournament'd show weeds' toughness: trampled, yet thriving.
"Was gonna offer if you wanted. Oh well, if not."
"...Who said no?!"
Cheol-ho clutched Mujin's sleeve desperately. All bluster, still a kid. Face-value not-quite-forty. Amusing.
"It's just Century Three Kings."
"...Fine by me."
Ten-Thousand to son, Century to him—clear favoritism. Cheol-ho accepted.
'No more defeats!'
Mujin smirked turning away. Rough gem, but that spirit weighed heavy. Rare at his age.
'Gonna grind him hard.'
Comfort breeds sloth. Cheol-ho wouldn't fold easy, but laziness creeps like air.
'Master Iron-Blood Lion Art, and he'll crush most with spirit alone.'
-Weak next to Soul-Piercing Demonic Eye, but decent.
To perfect it, forge a hungry lion, not fat pig. Satisfaction? Problem. So Tae-jin as sparring foe for now—good stimulus for the boy too.
'Won't be bored.'
-Classic you.
'You're the teacher.'
-Damn it!