Cyberpunk in the Heavenly Demon (3)
As befitting an open-world RPG equipped with ultra-advanced artificial intelligence, it instantly read the player and shifted its attitude completely.
The emotional transitions and expressions were so exquisitely nuanced that one had to wonder whether all of it was truly possible through AI alone.
The viewers desperately tried to stop Myeong-yun after his offhand remark.
In response to Hyuk-mo's grumbling, Myeong-yun asked back as if the answer were obvious.
“Is that not natural? Does a mere greenhorn brat dare expect to be treated as an elder’s equal?”
Myeong-yun looked at Hyuk-mo with an expression of open displeasure. Hyuk-mo’s face twisted for a brief moment before smoothing out again. By appearance alone, Myeong-yun did look older. Yet inwardly, the slight hostility in his attitude revealed his irritation.
“Follow me.”
“Hmm.”
Myeong-yun walked behind Hyuk-mo and the other young men, carrying a small measure of anticipation. He wondered what role a sect might play in this cyberpunk era.
That anticipation was utterly shattered the moment they arrived at the sect building.
The Full Sword Gate’s headquarters, not far from the shopping district, looked neat enough from the outside. Inside, however, it was nothing short of a gangster den.
The members were all sharp-looking young men, yet the mechanical augmentations visible here and there served as a constant reminder that this was no ordinary world.
“You’re back? Who the hell is this guy?”
“Yes, Senior Brother. We ran into him while cleaning up the Black Death Gang. His skills seemed decent, so I brought him along.”
“You little shit. Did you just grab some random guy because you didn’t want to be the youngest anymore?”
While Hyuk-mo and the others discussed him, Myeong-yun calmly observed the interior of the Full Sword Gate.
“...Twenty-one in total. Most are on the same level as that Hyuk-mo fellow or slightly stronger.”
Having finished his instantaneous assessment of their strength, Myeong-yun spoke to Hyuk-mo.
“Where is the sect leader of this Full Sword Gate?”
“The sect leader is currently away on business, so he’s busy… Wait, what did you just call him? A ‘guy’? What did you just say?”
“If the leader is absent… then there is no need to drag this out.”
Myeong-yun walked to the door he had entered through and locked it. Everyone’s eyes snapped toward him.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”
“What exactly are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”
“So Hyuk-mo really brought back a crazy bastard. How badly must he have wanted to avoid being the youngest? Haha!”
“Do you lot truly consider yourselves martial artists of the Murim?”
Myeong-yun’s question cut through their curses. Though it sounded almost philosophical, it failed to reach them. In a world without true martial scholarship, martial arts were nothing more than a tool.
A means to kill, to steal, and to prove one’s power and capital.
“What the hell is this guy saying?”
“Some lunatic wandered in!”
“Stop provoking them. You might actually die.”
The usual viewers began their typical chaotic debate, a wrestling match of opinions.
Myeong-yun briefly glanced away from the chat, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked at the Full Sword Gate warriors standing opposite him.
“Hyuk-mo, do you understand what this bastard is saying? You picked up some weird rat and brought it here.”
“I’m sorry, Senior Brother. I will… educate him myself.”
“Good. A mad dog needs the stick.”
The once-friendly atmosphere turned vicious in an instant.
With one hand still clasped behind his back, Myeong-yun crooked a finger at Hyuk-mo.
“Come. If you wish, bring the rest as well. There is no need to prolong this.”
“He really is crazy. I shouldn’t have brought him to the Full Sword Gate.”
While his senior brothers laughed mockingly behind him, Hyuk-mo grit his teeth, drew the sword from his waist, and charged.
“Another fool who wants to die besides the Black Death Gang. Seems like nobody values their own life these days.”
In the back alleys of the Sleepless City, where people died every single day, there was no good or evil—only the struggle for profit and the willingness to kill for it.
If one asked whether this was the original purpose of martial arts…
“Die—!”
Myeong-yun would have simply closed his eyes.
Blue light erupted from Hyuk-mo’s chest as he drew power from his internal energy storage and swung his sword. He had imitated the Namgung sword style rather well; the strike was honest and ferocious. The straight thrust aimed at Myeong-yun’s heart looked genuinely threatening.
It was likely just a movement downloaded along with the martial arts.
“Too shallow.”
Yet Myeong-yun deflected the blade using only two fingers. Hyuk-mo’s sword flew off course, and the boy lost his balance and fell. He scrambled back to his feet and glared at Myeong-yun.
“This bastard!”
“Martial arts is a discipline. Simply cramming it into your head does not make it yours.”
The viewers seemed to have experienced similar situations themselves, because they understood Myeong-yun’s feelings surprisingly well.
Myeong-yun sidestepped Hyuk-mo’s next charge, grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and slammed the boy’s face into the floor. He stomped down hard on Hyuk-mo’s head, knocking him unconscious, then turned to face the remaining Full Sword Gate warriors.
“Even calling this a spar would be a waste. All of you, come at once. As of today, the Full Sword Gate is closed forever.”
“Hahaha! I don’t know where this bastard crawled out from, but he’s incredibly arrogant. He beat the youngest member and now he thinks he’s hot stuff. Boys, let’s clean this up before the sect leader returns!”
“Yes, Senior Brother!”
The one with the highest rank shouted, and every member of the sect drew their blades at once. A murderous aura surged toward Myeong-yun, so thick that even the viewers beyond the screen felt its intensity.
Myeong-yun remained silent, calmly receiving their killing intent. He crooked his finger again, beckoning them to come.
At once, blue light glowed from their chests as they assumed their stances.
“Come.”
With Myeong-yun’s command, they charged. Countless blades flew toward him, aiming to pierce and slice him apart.
Yet Myeong-yun was no longer where their sword tips were pointing.
“Where is he?!”
“Right here.”
When a disciple turned toward the voice, Myeong-yun was already in the air. He spun mid-air, escaped their encirclement, and landed lightly. Still keeping his hands behind his back, he shot forward once more.
He deflected an incoming sword with his right hand and almost simultaneously drove his palm into the attacker’s chin. One man’s eyes rolled back. Before the others could even process what had happened, Myeong-yun had already moved again.
Thud. Crunch. Dull, heavy sounds of bones shattering and flesh being crushed rang out one after another. Every time a sound echoed, another man fell.
As if it were the most natural rule in the world, their swords never reached him. They simply collapsed at his feet.
When Myeong-yun’s movements finally stopped, every single one of the twenty-plus sect members lay defeated on the ground.
He straightened his black robe, clasped his hands behind his back once more, let out a long breath, and spoke.
“Do you know why this seat was able to handle more than twenty opponents so easily? My dear children.”
“It is because there is no true martial scholarship. When one simply shoves techniques into their head without proper learning, how can there be any application or variation? Moreover, though the styles may differ, their roots are all the same. Therefore, predicting their movements is not difficult.”
“I shall explain it simply enough for even a monkey to understand.”
Just as Myeong-yun was about to explain how he had defeated them in a way even a monkey could comprehend—
BOOM—!!
The door he had locked burst open with a deafening roar as a man stepped inside. The sword at his waist and the aura radiating from him were on an entirely different level from the men Myeong-yun had just defeated.
Myeong-yun immediately recognized him as the leader of the Full Sword Gate.
“...What the hell happened here? Who are you?”
The sect leader drew his blade at once and pointed it at Myeong-yun. He had returned from an errand to find all his disciples sprawled on the floor and a single tall man standing amid the wreckage. Realizing the intruder was no ordinary opponent, the leader roared again.
“Who sent you?! Are you an expert from the Four Death Heavens?! You Black Death bastards—were you hiding a monster like this?!”
“How convenient.”
Myeong-yun picked up one of the swords that had fallen to the floor. It was a mass-produced blade with no distinguishing features whatsoever. Still, the edge was sharp enough to easily slice through human skin.
“This is too sharp. They would die too quickly…”
He set the sword down and instead ripped a leg off a nearby steel chair with a loud screech. He pointed the makeshift weapon at the sect leader.
“This should be sufficient. My dear children, watch closely. This seat shall use that man as teaching material to show you the true nature of their so-called martial arts.”