The Pinnacle of Martial Arts (3)
Sang-hyun grumbled even as he marked the video’s editing points down to the second. “The broadcast’s barely been running for an hour and there are already this many Shorts-worthy moments? I’m losing my mind trying to catch them all.”
Myeong-yun’s stream was beyond incredible.
His physical ability was impressive enough, but the Heavenly Demon roleplay that accompanied it elevated everything to another level.
Plenty of VTubers used a murim concept for their RP, yet few could match the sheer quality Myeong-yun displayed.
The martial arts genre was an old-school favorite with a dedicated fanbase. Any half-hearted roleplay would be met with instant cries of “Garbage!!!”
Yet Myeong-yun’s performance was so flawless it could charm even the harshest critics.
“Ha, was this guy actually the Heavenly Demon in his past life?”
Sang-hyun had lost count of how many times the thought had crossed his mind.
He tapped his desk with his fingers, eyes flicking between the broadcast screen and Myeong-yun lying on the bed.
“At this growth rate, he’ll probably hit a million subscribers once the Cyberpunk Murim arc ends.”
A million subscribers was practically a turning point—either explosive growth from there or complete stagnation.
Even though the VTuber population had ballooned, the ten-million-subscriber wall remained unbroken.
A million was a gateway in its own right.
“...I can only hope signing with Yeonamdang was the best decision.”
Sang-hyun refocused on monitoring and editing. The mountain of videos he needed to produce kept growing.
“Come to think of it, maybe I should hire a thumbnail artist? Ah, that’s another headache…”
Because Myeong-yun had earned the hatred of three separate factions, the assassination squads kept coming.
The newcomers were stronger than the first wave, allowing Myeong-yun to simply stand in place and harvest experience.
Every level-up increased his physical stats and internal energy. Ironically, the assassination squads were making him stronger with every encounter.
“The ones who could truly be called masters still haven’t shown themselves.”
While slaughtering the squads, money kept piling up. Body-modification parts and martial arts chips that could be downloaded continued to fill his inventory.
He sold it all, then ordered delivery while waiting for the next wave in a wide-open clearing.
“Here they come.”
“Murim Delivery! Two mixed skewer sets and one bottle of gaoliang liquor!”
“Over here.”
“Thank you for using our service!”
He added a bottle of gaoliang liquor to the mixed skewer set delivered through the Murim Delivery platform.
Prices were steep in an era like this, but the assassination squads had generously donated plenty of funds.
“Finally.”
“Eat the skewers.”
Myeong-yun chatted with the viewers while unwrapping the skewers.
This part felt especially realistic.
He set up a proper table on the ground and poured gaoliang liquor into the accompanying paper cups.
Since it was virtual reality the taste was close enough, but because he couldn’t get drunk even minors could drink it.
Just as Myeong-yun was about to take a sip, a voice came from behind him.
“Could this old one have a cup as well?”
“...Of course.”
Myeong-yun handed a cup to the shabby old man who had appeared like a sudden breeze and poured him half a cup.
The old man sitting across from Myeong-yun raised his cup as if to toast.
“In a cheap life, there is nothing better than cheap liquor, is there?”
“Why do you assume it is cheap? To someone, this could also be a cup that represents their entire life.”
“Hmm, that could be true.”
Myeong-yun and the old man clinked cups and emptied them in one go.
The old man smacked his lips, savoring the taste. When Myeong-yun moved to pour him another because he looked like he wanted more, a voice came from the right this time.
At some point another person had sat down beside the old man and Myeong-yun.
“Give this one a cup as well.”
“As you wish.”
One more had joined, but Myeong-yun shared the liquor without hesitation.
He poured drinks for the woman in red and the shabby old man once again.
The old man naturally began picking up skewers and eating them one by one, while the woman held out her cup asking for another.
When Myeong-yun lifted the bottle again, yet another voice rang out.
“Is there any liquor left? If possible, I would like a cup as well.”
“Of course there is.”
It wasn’t that they hadn’t undergone modification.
It meant they had poured an enormous amount of money into modifications to make themselves as close to the original human form as possible.
In Sleepless City, capital was power.
The fact that they had appeared without a sound suggested they were all among the greatest experts in the city.
The last to appear—a man carrying a massive blade on his back—downed the cup Myeong-yun poured in one gulp and spoke.
“Cheap stuff. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted it.”
“Not to your liking?”
“No. It’s a flavor I rather enjoy. It reminds me of a past that wasn’t particularly noteworthy.”
Myeong-yun clinked cups once more with the people gathered there.
Who they were wasn’t particularly important.
He knew they were assassination squads sent by each faction, but they were different from everyone who had come before.
These three at least seemed like they might understand what ‘martial arts’ truly meant.
Even if they couldn’t fully grasp it, if they understood the meaning contained within martial arts, that would be enough to serve as the cornerstone of his teaching.
Myeong-yun set his cup down and spoke first.
“This Seat is the 8th Heavenly Demon, Myeong-yun. If you are mere passersby who wish to share a cup, then continue on your way. If you have come for This Seat’s head, then state your names.”
The first to answer Myeong-yun’s words was the old man sipping his liquor.
“This old one is Heo Myeong, leader of the Black Killing Squad of Sarocheon.”
Next was the woman in red with flowing golden hair.
“I am Jeok-wol, leader of the Heavenly Fragrance Unit of the Demonic Cult.”
“Heh heh, to think the Red Sky Demoness herself would grace us with her presence.”
“You’re still alive, old man?”
“Next.”
Myeong-yun cut off their quarrel with a single word and turned to the man carrying the massive blade.
The man boldly chewed and swallowed the skewer in his hand before speaking.
“This one is Namgung Seong, leader of the Dagger Wolf Squad of the Namgung clan.”
“Namgung’s First Blade! You finally dragged that heavy rear of yours out here.”
“Watch your mouth, old timer. I didn’t expect the Black Heaven Flying Blade to show up here either.”
The Red Sky Demoness Jeok-wol, leader of the Heavenly Fragrance Unit of the Demonic Cult.
The Black Heaven Flying Blade Heo Myeong, leader of the Black Killing Squad of Sarocheon.
Namgung’s First Blade Namgung Seong, leader of the Dagger Wolf Squad of the Namgung clan.
Three beings counted among the top three in martial prowess from each of the major factions had gathered in one place.
All for the sole purpose of taking Myeong-yun’s head.
Viewers seeing them for the first time were busy speculating about their identities.
But there were other kinds of viewers as well.
Those who had played Cyberpunk Murim for a while seemed to be suffering from PTSD the moment they recognized the trio’s faces.
Boss-level characters who would leave nothing but bone fragments if you crossed them the wrong way.
That was exactly who had come to capture Myeong-yun.
After looking over their faces, Myeong-yun raised his cup and spoke.
“Do you understand martial arts?”
He took a sip and continued.
“Do you know what martial prowess is?”
He emptied the cup, putting strength into his words.
“Do you comprehend the study of martial ways?”
He quietly set the cup on the ground and looked at the three in turn.
Under Myeong-yun’s gaze, all three stiffened.
“To wield it without understanding the study of martial ways, without understanding martial prowess, without understanding martial arts itself is no different from a child holding a blade. Are you children? Or are you people of the murim?”
At Myeong-yun’s provocative words, all three rose from their seats at once.
Who in the world could say such things?
Even if one were the Heavenly Demon, the Lord of Sarocheon, or the First Sword of Namgung, such words would not come easily.
Their killing intent poured toward Myeong-yun.
It was intense enough that even the viewers watching through the screen felt a chill.
Their faces were so savage it made one wonder if this was truly a game.
A new world. A new experience.
The artificial intelligence of the virtual reality built on New World had reached a level where it would not seem strange to call them human.
No matter how much they were NPCs inside a game, Myeong-yun’s words had trampled on the very thing they took pride in.
“Can you take responsibility for those words?”
“This old one cannot stay silent after hearing such things.”
“...You call yourself the Heavenly Demon. Do you truly believe you are the strongest under heaven?”
The three sharp retorts flew at Myeong-yun.
Even under their pressure, Myeong-yun rose with perfect composure and clasped his hands behind his back.
He answered with an aura that did not lose to theirs.
“This Seat is the 8th Heavenly Demon, Myeong-yun. The one who held the title of strongest throughout history and under heaven. No matter how many years have passed, martial arts have not disappeared.”
The moment Myeong-yun took one step forward, the skewers between them were crushed into nothing and the liquor bottles shattered, spilling their contents everywhere.
Only Myeong-yun and the three felt the strange heat flowing between them.
Myeong-yun flicked his hand, causing his black robe to flutter, and continued in a confident tone.
“As a senior of the murim world, This Seat shall yield three moves to each of you. Come one at a time or all three at once. Either way, the result will not change.”