What the Hell Just Happened? (1)
Gwanggwi tilted his head.
'Dragon Eye? Yongrin Sword Art formulas? Initialization?'
Unfamiliar words floated before his eyes.
Before he could even seek answers, another question bubbled up in his mind.
His hazy senses were sharpening by the second.
Clearly, a thousand catty of Heavenly Thunder had exploded, shredding his body to pieces.
Yet now, sensation was flooding back into every inch of him.
As the questions piled up, a sudden throbbing hit the back of Gwanggwi's head.
This was unmistakably a sensation from the real world—one of the five senses.
Gwanggwi snapped his eyes open.
A blue floor stretched out before him.
If this were the Nine Hells, he'd expect a sea of roaring red flames.
Blue? What the hell?
It looked just like the blue slate of a training hall.
It was too vivid. Before he could question it further, the blue floor rushed toward him.
Thwack.
A sharp impact rang out, and his speed picked up even more.
In the blink of an eye, the distance to the ground halved.
Gwanggwi urgently tried to muster his internal energy.
'Gah!'
No qi stirred within him at all.
Whether this was hell or heaven, he couldn't just crash down like this.
The floor was now mere inches away.
Gwanggwi twisted his body in a flash.
Splat!
The rebound from the impact bounced him slightly, sending him flying.
'What...?'
At the same time, his body slammed into something.
Splash.
A cool sensation washed over his entire body.
This was definitely water.
Gwanggwi pushed himself up.
What he saw was a shallow pond coming up to his knees.
He looked down, and a familiar face stared back from the water's surface.
"What the hell is this face?"
Gwanggwi stared blankly at his reflection for a while.
Pale skin, bluish lips like a corpse's.
Gaunt and dried out, with hollow eyes.
Anyone would believe he was a ghost.
This look was familiar.
Gwanggwi stood and twisted his body this way and that.
"And what's this?"
There wasn't a scratch anywhere on him.
Just a stinging pain at the back of his head.
Without thinking, Gwanggwi raised his right hand high and shouted.
"I'm back!"
This was unmistakably his body from twenty years ago.
And this place was the Hebei Paeng Family.
The hunting dog Gwanggwi, who had danced on the strings of the Alliance Leader, was gone.
He had returned to being the youngest young master of the Hebei Paeng Family twenty years ago.
He vaguely recalled this situation too.
It must have been right before he ran away from the Hebei Paeng Family twenty years back.
Back then, getting legally beaten under the pretext of sparring and rolling into the pond beside the training hall had been his daily routine.
There was only one reason he couldn't learn martial arts.
Fear of blood!
He'd faint at the sight of it, earning him the nickname "Hebei's Weakest" wherever he went.
Of course, a few years after running away, Hanbin had overcome that fear.
As Hanbin's lips curled in ecstasy,
Someone grabbed his shoulder from behind.
A warmth contrasting the cold water.
Hanbin turned his head.
A familiar face gazed at him with pitiful eyes.
At first, Hanbin tilted his head, but then his eyes widened.
It was the servant who had cared for him since childhood.
His name was Cheolno.
A big braggart, sure, but more than a servant—he was family to Hanbin.
Hanbin called out quietly.
"Cheolno?"
"Yes, it's me, Young Master. Are you alright?"
He wiped the water from Hanbin's face with his sleeve.
Hanbin chuckled.
"I'm fine, Cheolno."
"But your speech..."
Cheolno trailed off.
Recalling his memories, Hanbin adjusted his tone.
"I'm okay. Cheolno."
"Yes, Young Master."
With Hanbin's usual speech back, Cheolno finally looked relieved.
Suddenly, Hanbin clutched his stomach.
Cheolno asked,
"Is your stomach hurting, Young Master?"
"No, I'm starving."
Hanbin furrowed his brow.
An unnatural hunger gnawed at him.
A ravenous emptiness that felt like he'd collapse any second.
That was when it happened.
A grating voice rang out.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Hanbin turned toward the voice.
A sturdy man with thick eyebrows approached slowly.
Hanbin recalled him from his memories.
This was his half-brother, the third young master, Paeng Mubin.
Seeing Hanbin's dazed expression, Paeng Mubin bellowed,
"What the fuck are you pulling during a spar? It's not over yet."
"So the spar isn't over yet. Thanks for the reminder."
Hanbin narrowed his eyes.
Beaten to a pulp right after returning to the past...
About to let out a hollow laugh at the absurdity, Hanbin clenched his fist experimentally.
Not a trace of internal energy.
Getting pummeled was only natural.
Hanbin glanced back and said,
"Cheolno, fall back."
Stepping forward, Hanbin flashed an unseen smile.
Fortunately, the fight was just getting started.
As the mood turned hostile, Cheolno hesitated and retreated.
He seemed to be heading off to fetch help somewhere.
Hanbin smiled, thinking that worked out well too.
Seeing Hanbin smile, Third Young Master Paeng Mubin grinned viciously.
"Hah. You pretending to be crazy now? Think that'll make me go easy?"
Paeng Mubin closed in slowly and stood before Hanbin.
A head taller, he glared down without giving an inch and swung his hand up.
Smack.
Hanbin blocked Paeng Mubin's upward slap with his left arm.
"You dare!"
Paeng Mubin narrowed his eyes at Hanbin.
But even against the sudden strike, Hanbin didn't budge.
Paeng Mubin's cheap shot—cowardice laced with pettiness—wasn't surprising.
At first staring blankly at Paeng Mubin, Hanbin then widened his eyes in shock.
It wasn't fear.
Hanbin rubbed his eyes repeatedly.
Yellow points flickered vividly on Paeng Mubin's jaw.
'What the hell are those?'
As he tilted his head, text appeared.
Dragon Eye activated.
As Hanbin tilted his head, the cover of some manual materialized in midair.
From now on, you can view the Yongrin Sword Art formulas scattered across the jianghu. Start from the basics and build up step by step.
The pages of the Yongrin Sword Art manual flipped on their own.
Master the Basic Manual to proceed to the Applied Manual.
The strange part was that everything below the description was blank.
Hanbin silently tapped his temple, and Paeng Mubin burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! Don't play dumb."
Hanbin shrugged and grinned.
Then, instead of replying, he narrowed his eyes.
What mattered now was the Yongrin Sword Art formulas and the identity of those yellow points flickering on Third Young Master Paeng Mubin's face.
No need to overthink. If he was curious, he'd just check for himself.
Hanbin spat on the ground.
Ptoo.
A chunk of blood mixed in with the spit.
Seeing this, Paeng Mubin approached slowly.
"Has this bastard lost his mind?"
In response to Paeng Mubin's shout, Hanbin crooked his finger.
Grinning arrogantly, Hanbin said,
"What, you fighting with glares? Come at me!"
Any respect for his brother? Kicked to the curb.
What he needed now was the Strategy of Goading—the goad.
As expected, Paeng Mubin's eyes bulged.
He couldn't understand why the fourth brother Paeng Hanbin—mere stress relief—was suddenly charging in.
He'd planned to vent his rage and be done.
But when Hebei's biggest coward provoked him, his reason snapped.
Face flushing red, Paeng Mubin roared,
"What the fuck did you eat today?"
Hanbin shrugged at the words.
"I hate guys who fight with their mouths the most."
Paeng Mubin's face turned beet red like a ripe persimmon.
Insulted in front of his men.
Enraged, Paeng Mubin lunged.
Hanbin twisted his body slightly right and raised his arm.
At the same time, Paeng Mubin's fist flew in.
Thud! Thud!
Paeng Mubin's fists hammered Hanbin's arm.
Hanbin barely kept his balance, holding his arm firm.
Still, Paeng Mubin's fists came relentlessly.
Thud! Thud!
Like the legendary Buddha's Palm in the flesh—fists multiplying before his eyes.
But Hanbin didn't panic.
His eyes just hadn't adjusted yet. The punches lacked real power.
So he just needed time for his eyes to adapt to the speed.
Thud! Thud!
As the beating continued, he grew accustomed to the sensation.
Nothing beat live combat for body adaptation.
Until recently, he'd stared down a thousand blades without flinching.
Unpowered punches like these? Terrifying? Hardly.
Time passed, and his arm went numb.
Listening closely, his opponent's breathing grew ragged.
Couldn't keep taking hits forever.
Time to turn the tables.
Hunched low, Hanbin burrowed into Paeng Mubin's guard.
Then he timed it inwardly.
'One, two, three!'
At the same moment, Hanbin snapped his head up powerfully.
Crack!
A sharp sound pierced his eardrums.
He'd headbutted Paeng Mubin's jaw.
A dirty trick, sure. Cowardly, even.
But no problem.
In Paeng family spars, victory was everything!
A headbutt in a young masters' bout?
Paeng Mubin, with no jianghu experience, couldn't handle such a cheap move.
Hanbin's lips curled unconsciously.
Then Paeng Mubin recovered from the shock, staggering as he regained his footing.
He slowly advanced on Hanbin, clenching his fist.
Hanbin shook his head lightly.
No time to bask in premature victory.
Time to finish it.
Seeing Hanbin's smile, Paeng Mubin yelled,
"You sneaky bastard..."
Before he finished, Hanbin shot his right foot forward.
Like an arrow, he propelled himself at Paeng Mubin.
Treating the man's gut as a target, Hanbin drove his elbow—not his fist—into Paeng Mubin's abdomen.
Wham!
The sound of a drumskin bursting echoed through the training hall.
The satisfying impact stirred a fragment of Hanbin's memory.
The meaning of spars, recalled from his past life's experiences.
In the Paeng family, position was determined by strength, not age.
As long as you followed the rules, even if shit hit the fan, the family head—his father—stayed silent.
If you didn't crush them thoroughly, no second chances.
Feeling the vivid impact, Hanbin smiled quietly.
This was proof he was alive.
Thud.
As Paeng Mubin's body crumpled slowly, Hanbin mounted him.
Now Paeng Mubin tried to shield his face with his arms.
But Hanbin's fists came first.
Thud! Thud!
Paeng Mubin's arms slid limply away.
Knocked out.
Still, Hanbin's fists didn't stop.
Simple reason: now he needed to uncover the link between the flickering points and the Yongrin Sword Art.
After pounding for a while, one point got sucked in.
It flowed like a brushstroke forming a character.
'It's real!'
Shock was fleeting; a smile bloomed on Hanbin's lips.
Not a hallucination after all.
And absorbing the character sent a strange sensation through his body.
All fatigue melted away.
Even that uncontrollable hunger was sated.
That mysterious emptiness must have been a signal to seek the scattered Yongrin Sword Art formulas.
Then text appeared.
View formula with Dragon Eye?