The Supremes' Pastime (2)
The man, utterly shocked, plopped down on his ass right there.
Anyone who recognized Yeom Hwa-sin's face knew what was coming next. Shouts of his appearance would send everyone screaming and fleeing the place. If they were lucky, it'd end in mere chaos—but if some drunk fool, emboldened by booze and delusions of being the world's greatest, charged at him, the whole tavern could turn into a bloodbath.
That couldn't happen.
Baek So-cheon stood, placed a friendly hand on Yeom Hwa-sin's shoulder, and slung an arm around him like old pals.
"Don't be too startled, sir. My big bro here gets this crap his whole life 'cause he looks just like someone."
The man blinked rapidly at the sight.
"Someone he looks like?"
"Yep."
Otherwise, who in their right mind would lay a hand on the Black Heaven Alliance Lord's shoulder?
The man scrambled to his feet.
"I thought my soul was gonna drop out."
"You're fine."
"He looks way too much like him. Watch yourself. Get on that guy's bad side with a face like that, and you won't survive."
"Fortune-teller said my bro ain't got the fate to die easy, so no worries."
"Fair enough. I nearly scared myself to death first."
The man shook his head as he walked off. Yeom Hwa-sin chuckled.
"If there's someone out there looks just like me, why kill him? I'd drag him back and train him as a shadow warrior."
"Better to kill him than that. Imagine how miserable that guy's life would be."
"Hahaha. You even worry about fictional folks."
Baek So-cheon smirked, but it hit home deep down.
Yeah, this worry. This meddling. Time to dial it back a bit.
Anyway, the first table-crash success put Yeom Hwa-sin in high spirits.
"This is fun. That lady over there's not bad. I'll handle this one. Send you, and we'd be drowning in penalty drinks."
Baek So-cheon watched the massive figure lumber off, a strange feeling stirring.
No one who knew him could imagine this side. Even he, who thought he knew Yeom Hwa-sin better than anyone, found this version utterly foreign.
But soon enough, he stormed back, fuming.
"Should I just kill 'em all?"
"Have a drink and cool off. Here, your penalty shot. Haha."
Yeom Hwa-sin gulped it down.
"They rejected me without a hint of apology."
"Not really their fault, is it? We're the old geezers pushing our luck."
"Hmph!"
"Come on, simmer down and watch my revenge match."
Baek So-cheon scored another table success with some other women.
Yeom Hwa-sin roared with laughter at Baek So-cheon's swaggering return.
Women came and went, some even approaching first—though those were the more mature ones.
Once acclimated, Yeom Hwa-sin bantered freely with any and all, jokes flying.
"You've got some build on you!"
"Hey, it's not just size. Feel these muscles."
The women crowded in, poking his forearm in awe.
"Whoa! Rock hard!"
"Insane! Feels like gripping an iron ingot!"
Did they have any idea whose body they were touching? No, something even greater—they were caressing the pinnacle of martial perfection that warriors dreamed of: the Gold Diamond Indestructible Body.
Right then.
"Filthy old fogey's muddying the waters."
Baek So-cheon winced at the booze-fueled jeer. Yeah, Yeom Hwa-sin's hulking frame was too conspicuous to slip by unnoticed.
Baek So-cheon cut in quick.
"Break the deal, and I'm heading home."
Ignoring him or not, Yeom Hwa-sin turned to the instigator.
"You talking to me?"
"Yeah, you. Who else is the old fart here?"
The guy was plastered, decked in pricey silks and jewels—clearly some rich brat. Spotting the women who'd spurned him now cozying up here, he was throwing a tantrum.
"Even so, outright insulting folks like that?"
"Dick shriveled up from age? What makes you think an old coot like you deserves scraps? Got money? More than me? You rag-wearing beggars."
He upended a bottle over Yeom Hwa-sin's head.
Splash.
The bastard was dead set on dying.
Yet Yeom Hwa-sin endured it, unmoving.
The next instant—
Thwack!
The punk's jaw spun, and he tumbled across the floor. Baek So-cheon had thrown the punch.
He mounted the guy and rained down fists.
"Shriveled? You know how many women chase my bro? Money? Obviously more than yours. He's the richest man alive!"
Thwack! Thwack!
The punk flailed to fend off the blows but couldn't stop Baek So-cheon's fury.
"Mercy! Sorry, I was drunk!"
"That's your excuse? Drunk or not, take it lying down. Why pick on someone minding his own?"
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The tavern's guards broke it up only after a thorough beating. Part rage, sure—but also to save the punk's skin.
He was a regular troublemaker here. As they dragged him off, one guard whispered,
"Vicious bastard. Better stay away for a while."
With the mess cleared, Yeom Hwa-sin eyed Baek So-cheon.
"How'd you know I'm loaded?"
"Gotta ask? He's gotta be the richest."
The women at the table's eyes sparkled.
Baek So-cheon told them,
"Most dangerous fortune in the world—close your eyes!"
They laughed, delighted.
Yeom Hwa-sin, mood lifted, guffawed and drank. Baek So-cheon had a server fetch rags to wipe the booze from his hair and face.
Baek So-cheon was impressed inwardly. Poured booze on his head, and he held back. Hadn't even been a day since calling him too authoritarian, yet he'd shown the utmost restraint of his life.
Baek So-cheon felt anew just how terrifying he was.
Staggering out of Cheong-chun Jupjeom as dawn broke, the two squatted side by side against the entrance wall, waiting for the carriage. Drunken stragglers littered the ground nearby.
"Losers. Dawn-patrolling rejects who couldn't snag a girl."
"How's it feel? Squatting with the losers."
"You hated it. Plenty of women signaled us."
"Rejected 'em for you. Didn't match your taste."
"Taste aside, they were ugly."
They burst out laughing together.
"Was a blast. Let's come back sometime."
Would they really return? Was he saying it assuming they would?
"Thought about what you said. You're right. I'm too authoritarian."
"Good, you get it."
"Does that mess with my martial arts too?"
"I'd call it insanity."
"How so?"
"Had that thought once. Stuck hitting a wall daily, suffocating. Then it hit me: maybe I gotta change first for my arts to evolve."
Yeom Hwa-sin declared flatly,
"People don't change."
"That's why crossing walls is so hard, no?"
"Hm."
Yeom Hwa-sin closed his eyes, mulling Baek So-cheon's words.
"Change the self to change the arts?"
His eyes snapped open.
"Try changing?"
"Can it be done?"
"If it breaks your current limits."
And what about me?
Can I change myself?
Baek So-cheon framed this trip around the theme of the "mirror." He idolized Yeom Hwa-sin like a beacon. He inserted himself into his enlightenment path. Odd phrasing, maybe—but this was a contest of realizations.
The carriage pulled up. The driver hopped down and opened the door.
"Where to now?"
Yeom Hwa-sin replied,
"Find a top-notch inn first. Hangover cure."
Right then—warriors approached the carriage.
Peak masters with sharp auras. At the rear: the punk who'd gotten thrashed.
"Ah."
Baek So-cheon sighed. Yeom Hwa-sin, meanwhile, looked refreshed, like he'd already downed hot soup.
People make mistakes in life. Pay big or small prices.
But some deny the cost, the outcome. They scramble to rewrite it. Seek revenge. Innocents suffer, or like now, they march to their doom. They can't just swallow it.
That smirk aimed their way? His last.
Baek So-cheon glanced at Yeom Hwa-sin, who grinned back as if waiting.
"Got our fill of women's scent. Time for some blood."
Oblivious to their dynamic, the warriors bundled them into the carriage. Yeom Hwa-sin and Baek So-cheon complied meekly.
They held a sword to the driver's throat, hauling them off somewhere.
The punk aboard, face bruised purple, beamed with glee.
"You fuckers, this carriage? Straight to hell."
Baek So-cheon sighed inwardly.
Idiot, you're riding it too.
A dozen warriors waited in the woods.
Their leader: Sa Du-yang, a notorious unorthodox master around these parts.
"What punk calls me out?"
"Tavern beef. Got his ass handed to him."
"Pathetic shit."
"Here they come."
The carriage rolled up.
The punk hopped out, pointing wildly.
"Sa, it's these bastards!"
"Who dared piss off young master Jo?"
The beaten man's name: Jo Tong, heir to the top merchant house Jo Ga Sang-hoe. Sa Du-yang backed them for cash—one of his prime pipelines.
Yeom Hwa-sin and Baek So-cheon followed.
"Them!"
Jo Tong jabbed at Baek So-cheon.
Sa Du-yang, unorthodox himself, didn't recognize Yeom Hwa-sin. Never met face-to-face.
"How shall we handle 'em?"
"Wipe 'em out. Not quick—chop limbs, torture slow, then kill."
"That extreme?"
"Exactly like that!"
After getting booted from Cheong-chun Jupjeom at night, revenge-blind, he'd scurried about orchestrating this.
Sa Du-yang couldn't cut ties with Jo Ga Sang-hoe. Especially with this fool set to inherit someday—he had to obey.
"What're you waiting for? Finish 'em."
"Yes, sir!"
Subordinates drew blades in unison.
As Sa Du-yang edged back—
"Hold!"
He bellowed. Finally clocked the driver's face right.
Voice quavering,
"Jong senior?"
The driver nodded.
"That's me."
The driver's name: Jong Mu-jin.
"An honor, senior. Sa Du-yang here. You won't recall, but I greeted you once long ago."
Sa Du-yang bowed deep. Jong Mu-jin was infamous in unorthodox circles. No survivor once he drew steel—absolute peak master beyond Peak realm. Ten—no, a hundred like Sa Du-yang couldn't touch him.
Transcendent Peak like Jong Mu-jin wasn't for chit-chat, let alone driving carriages...
"I remember. Heard you went independent with some kids. Doing well?"
"Honored you recall. Heard you entered the Black Heaven Alliance Lord's service."
Sa Du-yang reeled from the encounter.
"Yep. Serving the Lord."
"Ah, congratulations. But why here?"
Why was he driving?
"On the job."
"Ah, yes... yes?"
"On the job."
"...!"
Jong Mu-jin's low reply silenced the air. Sa Du-yang felt dizzy for the first time in his life, trembling like aspen leaves.
Then Jo Tong prodded from behind.
"What're you doing?"
"Shut it."
Missing the quiet warning, Jo Tong barked again.
"Smash those fuckers quick!"
Sa Du-yang couldn't yell, just bowed deeper, whispering hoarsely.
"Shut... please shut up."