Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: The Might of the Scholar
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The shaggy-haired thug scratched his head with a knife shaped like a kitchen cleaver, snorting through his nose.
"Hey, scholar. Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused us?"
"What are you talking about?"
These street ruffians had a tendency to trample you even harder if you treated them with any politeness.
They were the epitome of spitting at the strong and devouring the weak—bowing to the powerful while bullying the helpless.
"Ho, you must hear a lot that you've got some guts, huh?"
"I hear it plenty."
In truth, ever since I'd been imprinted with the Heavenly Martial Sacred Body, people had often remarked that I had no fear.
Because of that, back in the Inspection Unit, I'd fearlessly tried auditing martial artists and clans that no one else dared touch.
Not a few warriors and families had been exposed because of me, which made the Inspection Unit a target.
My rotation to the Nangong Family had been a well-meaning decision from the Inspection Unit leader, figuring I'd get assassinated if I stayed any longer.
He'd said that no one would dare mess with me if I was at one of the Five Great Families, the ones at the top of the heap.
I truly felt no fear even when clashing blades in real sparring.
I knew full well it wasn't exactly a great virtue.
I understood that in the martial world, reckless bravado without power led only to death—you had to bow to that law to survive.
But even in life-threatening situations, I only felt curiosity, never fear.
Seeing I wasn't intimidated despite being surrounded on both ends of the alley, the shaggy-haired thug slapped the cleaver against his palm.
"Why, didn't you say before that the Nangong Family was collecting stall fees for Nangong Bukro? That's why the merchants aren't paying up. Go back and tell them to pay us."
"Why should I?"
"Because you said it, scholar."
"Take it up with Young Master Nangong if you want to argue."
"You'd do well to listen while we're still being nice."
The shaggy-haired thug was starting to show his true colors—a feral viciousness like a stray dog starved for days.
"Can you handle the consequences? You think you can stake your lives on stall fees? Ever calculated the price of going back on the Nangong Family's word?"
"You think the Nangong Family has nothing better to do than worry about street thugs like you?"
"Listen, friend. One warning: don't bet your one and only life on something as trivial as stall fees."
"Truth is, we messed with a Nangong scholar once before, and they didn't even bat an eye—like kicking a runaway dog. And we've already gotten the go-ahead."
From that, I realized Nangong Mubaek had given them the green light to rough me up.
'Those damn bratty bastards and their childish schemes.'
"Last warning. Don't blame me after you touch me."
The shaggy-haired thug was dumbfounded; he'd never expected such brazenness, let alone a lecture.
Figuring they'd been underestimated, he decided it was time to dish out some proper pain.
At his nod, two burly men approached.
"A good beating ought to change your mind, scholar."
Bookworms who only buried their noses in scrolls folded easily under even minor pain.
"You seem to think little of a martial world scholar."
"What, you know even a scrap of martial arts?"
"And if I do?"
"Still think that bluff works? Boys, give him a nice massage—everywhere but the face."
"Got it, boss."
As the two bruisers closed in, I let out a sigh.
And drew my fan.
Fans were the hallmark of scholars and students, so I always carried one alongside my writing case.
Since it was always in hand, it was even more familiar than my brush.
"Oh ho, gonna dance with that fan? Just so you know, you're not the first scholar we've beaten. And begging on your knees after a few hits won't help."
The brute grinned slyly and lumbered forward, throwing a punch at my gut.
I recalled the incantation Nangong Mubaek had given me, feeling a sharp tingle in my seven meridians.
As his fist burrowed toward my abdomen, I whipped the fan down on the back of his hand.
Thwack!
"Urk!"
His fist flopped limply downward, and the brute exhaled sharply.
As the fan deflected it, he swung his other hand.
Seeing the punch flying straight at my face, I swatted it away with the fan again.
"Hup!"
Unless it was a master's blade strike, I could block punches like this while yawning.
I'd already confirmed that the Heavenly Martial Sacred Body's senses surpassed those of a first-rate master.
Pang Soun, who was near first-rate, and a Mount Hua Sect Taoist had proven it.
The Seven Stars Seven Origins meridians' energy manifested as vibrations through the fan, letting even slight force block the brute's punch.
'Definitely, the meridian energy creates vibrations.'
This let me confirm what the Seven Stars Seven Origins meant by "energy."
Thinking he'd been humiliated, the brute unleashed faster punches.
For further verification, I flicked the fan like swatting flies, tapping his wrists left and right.
No matter how hard he tried, his fists couldn't reach my face, so he charged to grab my waist.
I mercilessly brought the fan down on the brute's crown using the incantation's technique.
Thwack!
Thud!
Hit on the head, he crumpled flat like a frog splayed out.
"You bastard!"
The others rushed from front and back.
'Good practice dummies. Was wondering how to test the incantation I deciphered.'
The Seven Stars Seven Origins energy was a circulation method that didn't require internal energy.
The meridian energy, drawn from spiritual power, created vibrations.
Smack! Thwack! Pow!
Playing with the two brutes using my fan, it might've looked like street performance theater.
It was that comically one-sided.
As the fan arced toward his forehead, the brute raised both hands to block.
His face soon swelled beyond recognition.
The vibrational force hit like a club strike.
I jabbed the fan's tip into the brute's solar plexus.
"Guak!"
He toppled backward, vomiting.
The spiritual energy from the meridians, in vibrational form, had the effect of a Striking Air Palm.
'Striking Air Palm's possible too.'
Striking Air Palm was one of the feats only first-rate or higher masters could pull off in the martial world.
With the four brutes sprawled in the alley, the shaggy-haired thug tucked his cleaver behind his back.
"We didn't properly respect you, scholar."
By now, even he must've realized I was leagues above their level.
"From here on, we'll show you full respect. With that, we'll be on our way."
I smirked.
"What's with the sudden chivalrous act?"
"Our mistake. Boys, help the others. Let's go."
The others supported their fallen comrades.
But my training was still lacking.
"Who said you could leave? I never gave permission. Who was it that said a beating would change my mind? Come here."
As I approached, he hesitated and drew his knife.
"You really wanna go to full war with the Dusik Gang?!"
"You Dusik?"
"Y-yeah."
"Dusik. It's war."
Realizing he was cornered, shaggy-haired Dusik yelled.
"Hey! Everyone, attack!"
But no sounds of movement came from behind.
"Hey, you bastards! Didn't you hear me?"
"Take a beating, and you'll know why they aren't listening."
"Wait! Scholar—er, honored scholar, milord scholar. Wait! Don't come closer! Stay back!"
Crack!
"Draw that knife! Attack me. Where's your guts, man? You're no man—you must hear that plenty."
At my insults, Dusik wildly swung his knife.
Sounds like chopping firewood and squealing pigs filled the alley.
After about fifteen minutes?
Dusik writhed on the ground like a floppy invertebrate.
"Hey, go call more of your boys. I'm not even breaking a sweat."
"S-sor... ry. Sp-spare me."
His swollen lips garbled his speech.
"You there. Your legs still work. Go call your gang—all of them. Bring weapons too."
These small-timers weren't enough; I felt stiff instead of spent.
"If I hear you're collecting stall fees in Bukro again, I won't wait for the Nangong Family—I'll come for you first. Then I'll shatter every bone so you crawl the rest of your life."
Words unfit for a scholar poured out, and Dusik nodded frantically.
"You're only getting off this easy because it was just stall fees. Anything more, and I'd have crippled you all. Remember my words. A scholar's promise is soft as a brush, but break it, and it's sharper than any blade."
I warned them and left the alley.
'If they'd been stronger, I could've tested the incantation more.'
Knocking out ten wasn't refreshing.
I yearned to clash with someone stronger.
'Get a grip, Taesan. What kind of warrior are you?'
Even during my secret spar with Pang Soun at the Murim Alliance, I'd felt it, but now I was starting to understand warriors' competitive spirit.
The male instinct to thrill at something stronger, to measure against one's own power.
I realized a hint of that male instinct stirring in me too.
But I was born a scholar.
My reason, soaked in ink, wouldn't be swayed by such base urges.
Snap!
Opening the fan revealed damaged bamboo and paper.
'No wonder—the spiritual energy vibrations went right through it. Lucky it didn't shatter completely. Hmm, maybe craft one from iron? It'd hold up against swordsmen or Taoists.'
The thought hit me: I was only thinking about fighting more. I let out a hollow laugh.
A mere scholar fantasizing about battling warriors.
'My end's near. Thinking of wrestling warriors who cleave rocks like tofu, just from activating meridians via that incantation. I'm only fit for street thugs.'
I knew my level well.
At the Murim Alliance, the Inspection Unit's backing let me rampage fearlessly. Now without it, it was time to be cautious.
"Hm?"
Walking along, a savory aroma turned my head. There was the noodle stall Nangong Mubaek had kicked over recently.
The owner couple spotted me and bowed deeply.
The stall looked new, and the utensils gleamed fresh.
"Did you get compensation from the Nangong Family?"
"Yes, just as you said, scholar—we showed them your note, explained, and they investigated the next day, paid up right away. True to a prestigious family. We were too scared to even try before. All thanks to you."
"Nonsense. It was your courage. Since I'm here, how about a taste?"
"Of course. One moment—we're boiling noodles now."
Soon, I was slurping thin noodles.
Since turning thirty, my senses had leaped supernaturally, taste included.
I could even identify the broth and ingredients.
The problem? After awakening the Heavenly Martial Sacred Body, I couldn't stomach bad food.
With heightened taste, it was torture.
I set down my chopsticks halfway.
"Want a tip to make your noodles tastier?"
"This recipe came from a head chef at an inn, but it's not good enough?"
To satisfy my palate, I'd started adding herbs instead of just spices.
That compensated for the ingredients' flaws with herbal notes.
No one put herbs in food yet.
"Back at the Murim Alliance, there was a great noodle place. I know their recipe."
"Oh! We'd be grateful—please share."
Even Nangong Family area inns were decent, but everyone admitted they paled next to Murim Alliance ones.
"Since we have this connection, I'll tell only you two. You use brisket for broth, right?"
"Yes. Pricey, but we use beef brisket. That's why we're popular."
"Doesn't look like many customers."
"Ah, other places hire pretty girls in loose clothes to boil noodles, so men flock there."
Sure enough, other stalls had curvaceous servers in revealing outfits.
"Doesn't matter. Great taste trumps that. Try adding a bit of astragalus, hawthorn, and goji berries to the brisket broth. It'll make the flavor pop."
"Herbs?"
Folks knew astragalus and goji from apothecaries, but not for cooking.
"They have unique aromas that blend perfectly with broth. Top secret from the Murim Alliance's best inn. Just for you two."
I invented the inn for credibility.
"Then we'll get the herbs right away."
"Do that, and I'll be back often."
"Understood, scholar."
I offered payment, but they refused.
"Thanks to you, we got a new stall and compensation—how could we charge for food?"
"I've never eaten free in my life."
Even in the Inspection Unit, I avoided freeloading to dodge petty traps.
It became habit—always pay.
Strolling casually, about an hour later, I entered the largest herb shop near the Nangong Family.
The moment I stepped in, my head turned instinctively to one spot.