What You Imagine (1)
While fending off the endless waves of charging enemies, Baek So-cheon unleashed the Heavenly Thunder Nine Fists to his heart's content.
He had met them earlier with swordsmanship, but this time he countered with fist techniques. Having already revealed to Yeom Hwa-sin that he had mastered the Heavenly Thunder Nine Fists, he could wield them freely without restraint.
Shiiik.
A masked assailant thrust his sword at Baek So-cheon's side.
'Got him!'
It was an opportunity bought with the sacrifice of his five comrades.
He had poured every ounce of his inner energy into this single strike.
Just as the blade was about to pierce him, Baek So-cheon's form vanished. Losing sight of him at such close range should have been impossible.
The next instant, Baek So-cheon's face appeared right beside his own with a whoosh. Then came a shock to his sword arm that felt like it would rip it clean off, and his vision flipped completely.
The sky came into view, followed by the ground.
Boom!
The masked man slammed into the earth and died on the spot.
In a way, it was fortunate he perished without knowing how he'd been defeated. If he had understood what Baek So-cheon had done, the futility would have crushed him.
Baek So-cheon had dodged the masked man's sword, then returned his inner energy in full with the Heavenly Thunder Nine Fists, smashing him into the ground.
All the while, he was attempting something new.
He was conducting yet another round of imaginary training.
But this time, the protagonist of his imagination wasn't himself—it was Yeom Hwa-sin, fighting at the rear.
Baek So-cheon was picturing how Yeom Hwa-sin fought, based solely on sound.
The rustle of Yeom Hwa-sin's sleeves, the whistle of weapons slicing through the air, his shouts, his footsteps, the enemies' screams... From all these noises, he reconstructed the battle scene behind him.
Occasionally, he glanced back to compare his mental image with reality.
Was it thanks to the imaginary training he'd done in the carriage recently?
Surprisingly, the situation at the rear often matched his imaginings almost exactly.
Fending off swarming foes with the Heavenly Thunder Nine Fists while envisioning Yeom Hwa-sin's movements would have been unthinkable in the past.
Through this training, Baek So-cheon gained absolute certainty.
'I've grown stronger.'
It felt as if the inner energy slumbering throughout his body was crying out.
'Set me free!'
But the time wasn't right yet. What he'd discovered this time wasn't just his own strength.
'Yeom Hwa-sin is stronger than me.'
Yeom Hwa-sin, guarding the rear of the carriage, sometimes moved exactly as Baek So-cheon predicted, and other times dispatched enemies with methods he hadn't even considered. Those were techniques beyond Baek So-cheon's foresight.
The two, once evenly matched, had both advanced—but Yeom Hwa-sin's growth, bolstered by his Diamond Indestructible Body, was greater.
Of course, this training yielded more than a mere comparison of their skills.
It provided Baek So-cheon with tremendous stimulus.
He had to immerse himself deeply in his own fight, while objectifying Yeom Hwa-sin's. Conversely, there were times to objectify his own battle and inject subjective imagination into Yeom Hwa-sin's.
Wielding these two opposing foci simultaneously led to several dizzying moments, and from those perils, he pinpointed his weaknesses.
With each masked assailant who fell, Baek So-cheon's insights accumulated, forming steps toward the next level.
The masked fighters were all versed in joint formations.
That's why they couldn't comprehend this one-sided slaughter. Moreover, they believed countless comrades had already attacked ahead. Their squad was the sixty-third.
'But why is he still so full of vigor?'
What had the previous sixty-two squads even done? It made no sense that it was their turn now. Of course, they didn't know their foe's identity—only that he was a master.
Revealing he was the Black Heaven Alliance Lord would only shatter morale, so they'd been kept in the dark.
The masked men were of similar caliber, though occasionally one or two a cut above were mixed in.
The final masked man now impaled on Baek So-cheon's sword was two full levels superior to the others.
"...Why?"
If he could barely evade his comrades' attacks, he should never have dodged his own, or so he'd been certain.
Yet the outcome was the same. He'd slipped past his strike by a hair's breadth and counterattacked. Only then did he realize: it wasn't a desperate dodge, but the most efficient combat possible. They were rabbits facing a tiger.
Even if his teeth were sharper or his legs stronger, he was still just another rabbit to the tiger. Who was the pathetic fool who'd thought a horde of rabbits could fell a tiger?
As he collapsed, the latest wave of enemies was fully eradicated.
Surveying the corpses strewn everywhere, Baek So-cheon let out a sigh.
Yeom Hwa-sin, meanwhile, laughed boisterously.
"Feels good, doesn't it?"
"I once felt that thrill myself. But not now. Oh, don't misunderstand—it's not guilt. I'm not so saintly as to feel remorse killing those who try to kill me."
"Then you've grown sick of this martial world."
Yes, disgust fit perfectly. Kill or be killed—he wanted no more of it.
"But you know what? If you retire and live quietly, you'll end up missing moments like this."
"True. I know the blood on this sword is too thick to simply brush off. Still, I won't miss it."
"Why so sure?"
"I'm not planning to become a monk. If there are scum who deserve death, I'll kill them. I'll butcher anyone who gets in my way and live my life to the fullest."
"Then I really can't let you go. Can't have you enjoying life all by yourself."
"That this is sincere is more absurd than your twisted whims."
"Hahaha."
Baek So-cheon glanced around and asked,
"By the way, don't you have plenty of subordinates?"
"I do."
"Why not call some to handle these pests?"
"I won't call them."
"Why not?"
"They'd ruin our trip."
"Enough nonsense. Let's fight knowing the reason."
Only then did Yeom Hwa-sin explain.
"If my men get involved, this becomes an official rebel suppression."
"Isn't it already?"
"Just a minor scuffle on a journey."
Baek So-cheon let out a hollow chuckle.
If this incident were formalized, the Murim Alliance would have to deal with the Seven Great Evil Clans somehow. Leaving traitors unpunished would encourage more betrayal.
But Yeom Hwa-sin had no intention of wiping them out. He planned to patch things up and use them in the coming war. In a way, that was harsher—milk the hounds dry, then toss them in the pot.
"What if they hold out to the end?"
"When it gets bad, they'll surrender. That's their nature."
And one more thing.
The current scene was that of a lone man, accompanied only by poison-addled subordinates, marching into enemy territory.
When word of this spread, every unorthodox martial artist would revere and praise Yeom Hwa-sin. He had surely calculated that far. It would be the moment to discard the Seven Great Evil Clans.
At that moment, three new figures appeared.
These were masters on an entirely different level from the previous masked assailants—transcendent peak experts.
Yeom Hwa-sin recognized one among the trio.
"I wondered who it was—Senior Jeong."
The elderly man in the center was Jeong-gyun, a renowned veteran of the unorthodox paths.
Over ninety years old, from the previous generation, he wielded the ring-pommel saber like a demon.
In his prime, he ranked among the Ten Hegemons of the Evil Path, the ten strongest in the unorthodox world, and was deemed the mightiest among them.
The other two middle-aged warriors exuded immense presence, though Yeom Hwa-sin didn't know them.
One thing was clear: their transcendent peak auras were more than sufficient for this ambush on the Black Heaven Alliance Lord.
They had likely been slated to appear in the original plan just before Yeom Hwa-sin and Baek So-cheon collapsed from exhaustion.
After grinding down the hordes of masked fighters, these three would finish the job. Viewed that way, this ambush was as threatening as the one at the first inn.
Facing them with depleted inner energy—especially a battle-hardened legend like Jeong-gyun and two unknown masters—would tax even Yeom Hwa-sin.
But their plan had gone awry.
Instead of weary foes on the brink, they faced Yeom Hwa-sin casually chatting with Baek So-cheon, who should have died several times over.
Yet the three masters didn't seem unduly anxious. They believed the odds were at least fifty-fifty.
"I didn't expect you to get involved, Senior."
Yeom Hwa-sin showed Jeong-gyun due respect.
"You've made a grave mistake this time."
"Mistake? What mistake?"
"Letting my son die."
Mentioning Yeom Sa-won's death made Yeom Hwa-sin's expression turn icy.
"You think I let him die? You believe the righteous fools' rumors?"
"Was it not?"
"Of course not!"
"I can't believe that. A man as meticulous as you couldn't have foreseen it."
A sneer curled Yeom Hwa-sin's lips.
"Listen, Senior Jeong."
"Watch your tongue."
"Let's be frank. Are they clinging to me, or to the Mad Demon Blade you were promised?"
"...!"
Baek So-cheon caught it—the dismay Jeong-gyun failed to hide. So, he had been promised the Mad Demon Blade and joined for it.
And even more crucially!
'Yeom Hwa-sin already knew Jeong-gyun had been bought!'
Yeom Hwa-sin pressed on.
"The Mad Demon Blade is worth betting your life on. But did they tell you it's already gone?"
"Gone?"
By even asking, he admitted everything—but Jeong-gyun fixated solely on the blade.
"I melted it down."
"What? You melted the Mad Demon Blade? You're serious?"
"Yes."
"You madman! What possessed you?"
"I had no use for it."
Baek So-cheon suddenly wondered: the Mad Demon Blade, supreme treasure of the unorthodox paths. Melting it wouldn't be easy, but what had he forged from it?
"You fool!"
Jeong-gyun bellowed, but Yeom Hwa-sin roared back louder.
"You blind old fool, greedy and used by youngsters. And you dare mention my son's death?"
Jeong-gyun's face flushed with humiliated rage.
Before he could retort, Yeom Hwa-sin prodded further.
"Even roadside horse dung has medicinal use, but what good is a toothless old shit-eater like you?"
Killing intent poured from Jeong-gyun, on the verge of exploding.
Until now, it seemed Yeom Hwa-sin was goading him into rage with psychological warfare—excitement was poison in a duel of masters.
But that wasn't it.
Yeom Hwa-sin was unfolding something utterly unforeseen, his capacity for shock endless.
He turned abruptly to Baek So-cheon and said,
"I don't want to dirty my hands—you take him out."
"What?"
"Let this old fool end his pathetic life dying to a man with barely a scrap of inner energy."
As Jeong-gyun's killing intent thickened, Baek So-cheon smacked his lips and remarked,
"Anyone can see this is meant to finish me off."