Chapter 5
----------------------------------------------------------------- Translator: Wjin Chapter: 5 Chapter Title: Clothes Are Precious (4) -----------------------------------------------------------------
The shadow filling his vision was Moo-jin's palm.
Seeing that massive hand, like a bear's paw, alarm bells rang wildly in I-mok's mind.
'I'm dead...!'
I-mok's mouth gaped open in shock as he hurriedly stepped back.
Tadak-!
Retreating swiftly, I-mok stared at Moo-jin in disbelief.
"...Impervious to blades!"
He'd thought the guy had just trained some external arts, making his body a bit tougher. But to think he'd reached the realm of being impervious to swords and spears.
He never imagined encountering such an expert in this backwater Taiyuan, so the shock hit I-mok even harder.
'No way!'
Ma Du-gwang, watching the scene, gaped in astonishment as well.
'I-is that really impervious to blades?!'
This wasn't a joke... it was real?!
"You bastard. You really are impervi—"
"Shut up."
"Guek!"
Ma Du-gwang went tumbling across the floor from Moo-jin's kick.
He regretted not keeping his mouth shut.
"Interesting."
Moo-jin eyed I-mok with intrigued eyes.
That sword strike just now, and the fluid retreat—he wasn't ordinary. It was the first time Moo-jin had seen someone of that caliber in Taiyuan.
"It's an ambush!"
"The sect leader's under attack!"
While Moo-jin admired the black-clad man's skills, Silver Push Sect disciples came rushing up to the inn's fourth floor.
There were about twenty of them.
Similar in number to the ones Moo-jin had taken down at the Diamond Escort Agency earlier, but these individuals were a notch stronger.
"Hey, who the hell are you? Your skills are no joke. Which sect?"
Moo-jin spoke to I-mok, who was casually using informal speech.
"And you? You're stronger than the average underling of this King Yama Branch lapdog sect leader."
Hearing that, Ma Du-gwang jumped up and pointed furiously at Moo-jin.
"You punk! Watch your mouth! This is I-mok, patrol agent of the Crimson Flame Gang that rules Shanxi Province! Get on your knees!"
Crimson Flame Gang?
The familiar name rang a bell, and Moo-jin tilted his head.
'Oh, that place? Shanxi's Three Great Evil Factions!'
Unlike other regions dominated by the Nine Great Sects and One Gang of the righteous factions or the Five Great Families and Twelve Evil Sects, Shanxi had its own power structure: the Five Great Righteous Factions and the Three Great Evil Factions.
In simple terms, five righteous powers and three evil ones vied for control.
'Didn't know they were still around.'
Moo-jin's memories stopped ten years ago, so he had no idea if the Five Great Righteous and Three Great Evil Factions still divided Shanxi.
But judging by the Silver Push Sect leader and disciples' reactions, the Crimson Flame Gang was still a major player here.
"On my knees?"
"That's right! If you value your worthless life, kneel now, you arrogant punk!"
Moo-jin smirked bitterly at Ma Du-gwang, who was yelling and pointing without even brushing off the dirt from rolling on the floor.
"Evil faction scum is still evil faction scum. Ever seen a tiger bow to a dog?"
Twitch-
I-mok's eyebrows furrowed into an inverted eight as he drew a dagger from behind his back and advanced on Moo-jin.
"Relying on some flimsy external art, huh? Time to teach you a lesson, brat."
I-mok glared at Moo-jin, drawing up the poison art energy from his dantian.
"That mouth of yours is gonna get you killed."
Wooong-
A green energy coalesced into a sharp blade shape over the dagger, which hummed with a clear ring.
"S-sword aura!"
"No way! Such a sharp energy!"
The Silver Push Sect disciples, seeing sword aura for the first time, went wide-eyed.
Sword aura was a sword technique that required mature internal arts for the Lesser Heavenly Circuit and advanced swordsmanship. It symbolized a first-rate warrior.
No matter how tough your skin or muscles, you couldn't block sword aura that split rocks.
"No matter how tough you are, you can't block this."
No body could block sword aura, especially one infused with poison energy. Not even Shaolin's iron-bodied monks.
"It's over, punk."
I-mok planted his front foot, tension in his big toe, and closed the distance in an instant, thrusting at Moo-jin's chest.
"...Hup!"
Moo-jin leaned back in surprise, dodging the aura-clad blade.
'As expected. Can't block this one.'
Seeing Moo-jin evade the dagger, I-mok smirked.
He'd already anticipated the dodge and prepared his follow-up.
'The sword aura's a feint. This is the real deal.'
I-mok shot out his left hand, the one not holding the dagger. A thick green energy enveloped it as it aimed for Moo-jin's chest.
It was I-mok's signature ultimate technique, fusing heavy hand methods and poison arts: Venomous Sand Palm.
A high-level move that injected poison not externally, but into the opponent's internals.
Even impervious to blades, you'd end up seeing King Yama.
"Die, brat."
No enemy had ever survived his Venomous Sand Palm, so I-mok's smirk deepened.
"Even your precious body can't block my ultimate technique."
Thwack-!
The green left hand struck Moo-jin's chest, melting his outer robe on contact.
"Hahk. Hahk. It's... over?"
Breathing raggedly from depleted internal energy, I-mok tilted his head.
The tactile feedback felt off. Like the Venomous Sand Palm hadn't penetrated the internals.
What? Impossible.
His head said it was impossible. But his hand said the attack hadn't landed.
Which to believe?
Then—
"Kyaaahhh!"
Moo-jin's scream filled the VIP room.
'Yes...! It worked.'
Of course.
Humiliating himself against this young punk, unleashing his ultimate technique—it'd be weirder if it failed.
'Of course. He's not some legendary indestructible diamond body.'
Crimson Flame Gang patrol agent I-mok looked at Moo-jin with confident eyes. Then shocking words reached his ears.
"M-my clothes! My cloooothes!"
"...What? Cl-clothes?!"
"You damn bastard! You ruined my clothes!"
Moo-jin stared despondently at the hole in his robe.
'No money... and the family's drowning in debt!'
With not a single coin to their name.
Already tightening his belt to save every penny, and now his robe was ruined.
This precious robe, destroyed!
How expensive robes were!
Moo-jin glared ferociously at I-mok.
"My clothes... what are you gonna do about my clothes!"
Kwuduk-
Unable to contain his rage, Moo-jin grabbed I-mok by the collar and hoisted him into the air.
"Pay for the clothes, you bastard!"
Whoosh-
Furious at having to pay for clothes again, Moo-jin's fist shot toward I-mok's jaw.
I-mok stared blankly at the fist filling his vision, dumbfounded.
...Is he insane?
* * *
Crack- Crunch- Snap-!
Instead of clinking glasses and the courtesans' pearl-like laughter, the VIP room of Huseong Inn echoed with the sounds of shattering and breaking.
Just from the noise, one might think the inn was being demolished today.
'No way...'
'Th-the Crimson Flame Gang's agent going down that easily?!'
'I-is this real?!'
The Silver Push Sect disciples, who had rushed in at the ambush alert, froze in shock.
Too stunned to move, their feet rooted to the ground, sweat pouring like rain.
It was only natural.
The Crimson Flame Gang patrol agent, whom even their far stronger sect leader Ma Du-gwang bowed and scraped to, was getting beaten to a bloody pulp.
'How are none of the attacks landing?'
'His ultimate technique failed?!'
The disciples weren't powerless idiots without eye for skill.
They knew how fearsome and masterful the Venomous Sand Palm was.
Yet he didn't dodge it, took it bare-bodied, and was fine?
Was that even possible?
'Venomous Sand Palm melts rocks.'
'Is that guy's body made of steel?!'
Astounded by Moo-jin's unbelievable prowess, the disciples dropped their iron clubs one by one.
Fighting that monster would just end like the Crimson Flame agent: beaten bloody and rolling on the floor.
'Rush in and die.'
'I haven't even said goodbye to Mom.'
Better to obey meekly. Standing out might get them killed for real.
"Guhk. St-stop. I'm sorry. M-my bad!"
"Think an apology fixes my robe? Fixes it, punk?!"
"Over a mere robe?!"
"Mere robe? MEEEERE ROOOOBE?! You need more beating."
"Guek!"
Thud-! Thwack-!
I-mok, beaten dozens more times for opening his mouth, frantically shielded his face and shouted.
"I-I'll pay for the clothes! F-five times over!"
Moo-jin's fist halted mid-swing toward I-mok's jaw.
"Five times?"
"T-ten times!"
"Can you pay now?"
"R-right now?"
"How can I trust evil faction scum? Fine if you don't have it."
Moo-jin tensed his fist again. Sensing it, I-mok hurriedly pulled a money pouch from his bosom and offered it.
"H-here. My entire fortune."
"Oh ho."
"Th-this should be twenty times over. Please... stop hitting me."
Feeling the pouch's hefty weight, Moo-jin smiled satisfactorily.
"Good."
Thwack-!
Moo-jin's swung fist smashed into I-mok's jaw hard.
I-mok's head snapped left, vision going white as he asked.
"Wh-why... not stopping...?"
"Payback for treating my robe so carelessly."
"...Kuhk."
Staring at Moo-jin in bewilderment, I-mok foamed at the mouth and passed out.
"Heh. At least I got the compensation."
Dusting his hands, Moo-jin stood and tucked the pouch deep in his bosom, then glanced back.
There sat Silver Push Sect leader Ma Du-gwang awkwardly on the floor, and twenty disciples with weapons dropped, hands raised high.
"Hey."
Moo-jin smiled at Ma Du-gwang.
"Hiiik."
The smile drew an involuntary yelp from Ma Du-gwang.
"We need to talk, right?"
For the first time, Ma Du-gwang regretted passing up the chance to quit the business and return home three years ago.