#137. Meeting the Manseogo Demon, the Black Flame Dragon
"Aren't you even a little resentful, Monk Ilgak? That top spot was rightfully yours from the start."
Ilgak harbored no resentment. Even if his opponent had seized the lead through despicable schemes and dragged the delegation along with his dictatorial personality, pursuing only his own gain—that was simply the nature of an unenlightened mortal. A tower built on shaky foundations would crumble in time, and any defiance against the natural order would eventually revert to righteousness.
But Jin Sowoon had gone too far. He could have stuck to personal gain, but instead, he'd tried to divide people and shatter the order through the academy events. What he'd taken for a mere mortal slave to unchecked desire turned out to be a madman possessed by demons.
Ilgak knew it was the wrong way. But if he didn't stop this cunning and insidious mortal, greater chaos would engulf the secular world. The Murim's order would upend, and countless weaklings would suffer as a result.
That's why I stepped forward...
Jin Sowoon's martial arts were as crafty and disorienting as his nature. They deceived the eyes, tricked the mind, and inflicted wounds. Ilgak had cultivated the Golden Bell Iron Cloth for an immovable mind and body, but now his skin felt scraped raw and his bones twisted, making those grueling years seem wasted.
Dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. This man posed a greater threat than any Black Dao fiend—he could become an enemy from within.
That was why Ilgak drew upon the Dharma Reverse Tendon Scripture, a technique he'd vowed never to use. Even if it meant years of secluded meditation back at the temple, he had to stop this mortal.
At that moment, a sly voice wormed into his ear, snapping him alert.
"Hitting me from behind like that."
Jin Sowoon muttered something Ilgak couldn't comprehend, then resumed his stance.
He means to continue?
The Dharma Reverse Tendon Scripture was a sacred art. While the Demon Subduing Fist formed the foundation of Orthodox Dao martial arts, Shaolin's scripture treated even that as worldly delusion—its waters were that pure. Corrupted intent clashed with enlightenment. The Orthodox Dao's efficiency-driven arts dimmed their own light before the scripture's fundamental questions.
Papapapapapap!
Yet...
Pupupupupuk! Pak! Kwang!
Any other sect's techniques would have vanished long ago, but Tae-eul Gate's arts merely lost some momentum—they didn't disappear. Unlike the first half of the spar, Ilgak stood firm, while Jin Sowoon looked faintly fatigued. Even that was astonishing to Ilgak.
Tae-eul Gate's martial arts... against the Dharma Reverse Tendon Scripture...
He shook off the rising unease. The sacred art's profundity couldn't be mastered without pursuing the root. How could a worldly man like Jin Sowoon have delved so deep?
"With this, I shall restore order, benefactor."
Ilgak pressed his palms together and prepared the final strike of the Diamond Demon-Subduing Fist. This was no longer a spar, yet none of the instructors moved to intervene. They all suffered under the chaos Jin Sowoon had stirred, no doubt.
As Ilgak steeled himself—
"You think I'd bow to the bullshit inequality you lot created?"
"...!"
Jin Sowoon shifted into a stance Ilgak had never seen. Horse-riding stance, hands at his waist—like a child learning his first punch. Did he mean to block the Diamond Demon-Subduing Fist, which even the Emperor Sword's ultimate technique might not withstand, using pure internal energy?
As expected, the cunning always tripped over their own tricks in the end.
"Haaap! Amitabha!"
Bang!
As Ilgak clasped his hands, air exploded outward in a golden wave. Soon, his palms gathered the golden glow of the Dharma Reverse Tendon Scripture—pure enlightenment, devoid of greed, desire, justice, or hope.
Duduk, duduk, dudududuk.
Shattered marble fragments trembled on the floor, unable to withstand the pressure. The space between Jin Sowoon and Ilgak—just a single zhang—felt densely compressed by some invisible force.
"Demon Subduing Strike!"
Ilgak's legs unleashed the Immovable Divine Step, propelling him forward. In the blink of an eye, his golden-wreathed fist thrust toward Jin Sowoon's solar plexus.
At that instant, Jin Sowoon opened his closed eyes and extended his fist to meet the Diamond Demon-Subduing Fist.
Ting!
----------!
--------------!
Air rushed into the gap between them. Simultaneously, a golden beam from Jin Sowoon's fist repelled Ilgak's technique. The sucked-in air blasted outward in all directions.
As spectators averted their eyes from the storm of sand and stone fragments rising in the training ground—
A heaven-shattering impact tore at their eardrums.
----------------!
Painfully ringing ears made the audience instinctively cover them, heads bowed for a long while.
Kwagwagwagwang!
Followed by spreading explosions.
Pupupupupung!
The clear training ground filled once more with thick dust clouds.
"......"
"......"
Everyone stared at the arena in stunned silence. Amid the billowing smoke, one shadow emerged.
Dust settled slowly over a young man standing tall—black hair, black uniform, utterly unscathed.
"Ah..."
"W-what..."
Ilgak lay unconscious, having vomited a basin's worth of blood from the massive shock. Amid the gazes fixed on the arena, eyes caught the golden aura cloaking Jin Sowoon's fist.
"...That, Jade Pure Heavenly Star Force?"
Though spring had long arrived, the air over the training ground chilled like frost had fallen.
# After the exam ended, the atmosphere at the Murim Academy lightened considerably. The academy's break was approaching soon.
Not just for the students, either. Instructors could mostly rest outside special duties, and it was a prime chance to schmooze with incoming students' parents for favors.
But Buk Wonpyeong's expression remained uneasy in the deepest chamber of the academy headquarters, break or no.
"This is driving me mad."
He'd planned to rush to Tae-eul Gate the moment the break started, but an unexpected incident had him dragged around the Murim Alliance sleeplessly.
Who would dare summon a man whose brilliant future was assured? But when those deciders held his future in their hands, things changed.
"You look pretty worn out."
Even my consolation sharpened Buk Wonpyeong's glare.
"And whose fault is that?!"
I shrugged at his accusatory look.
"I'm just writing a recommendation for you—why the fuss?"
"Ugh..."
Of course, it wasn't entirely clueless. The Jade Pure Heavenly Star Force that countered the Dharma Reverse Tendon Scripture. It was widely known only the Three Pure Ones Unfettered Sword and Wudang wielded that energy.
Wudang wouldn't teach Tae-eul Gate, so the prime suspect was Buk Wonpyeong. Sure, he claimed he'd never taught the energy itself, but would they buy that easily?
These guys, branded with "Everyone but us is trash," pumped blood through their hearts by ignoring facts and blaming me—I had every right to feel wronged.
"Besides, we're basically family soon. Denying any connection might just raise more suspicion, no?"
"......"
Buk Wonpyeong pondered, then sighed deeply.
"Fair point."
I inwardly cheered at his nod. Things were falling into place too perfectly—fate really knew how to tie knots.
The Three Purities Force stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Shaolin's Golden Star Force and Wudang's Supreme Ultimate Force. Having the Three Pure Ones Unfettered Sword in Tae-eul Gate was like installing a siege weapon to wipe out demonic swarms in one shot.
Might as well coax him to set up his sect right next to Tae-eul Gate.
Questionable if he'd build a proper sect before the Demonic Cult rose, but recalling his past life's solo annihilation of zombie legions, even minor aid in crises would erase all worries for Tae-eul Gate.
Master-disciple ties might tangle a bit... but it's the world's Three Pure Ones Unfettered Sword—he won't refuse.
He wasn't learning Tae-eul Gate arts anyway—just the Tae-eul Heart Technique, publicly taught to villagers for health. Overcome the awkwardness, and no big issues.
"I've already sent the letter ahead—this one's for you to deliver personally."
Handing over the recommendation, Buk Wonpyeong hesitated.
"You won't come along? Most return to their sects for the first break—feasts and all."
"Still got stuff to handle here."
"Prepping the next event already?"
"That's what I wanted to mention. What's Hwasan saying?"
After hearing the insane proposal from the Elder Hall via Maeng Ju-won to dispatch students to Sichuan, I'd pulled Hwasan's long-delayed event forward. No headcount limits this time. It'd be the bare minimum to survive the Blood Cult swarms in Sichuan later.
My duties were done. If they skipped and died, even King Yama would tsk at their gall and toss them into sulfur hell.
"They refused at first, but perked up at your name and agreed."
"Perfect."
"...?"
"Why the face?"
"Aren't you glad? Your prestige has skyrocketed."
True—Murim was full of sand-grain lives hanging on names.
"Plus, this flipped perceptions here—no one'll treat you like before. Why not relax and enjoy?"
But I'd seen too many horrors of names dooming multitudes. The moment honor trumped life, men died wretchedly.
I couldn't rest a second.
"Plenty of time to enjoy after everything's done."
"Not done yet?"
"Haven't even started."
# Manseogo. The Murim Academy's sole library, named for its "ten thousand scrolls"—a title long obsolete amid endless additions over centuries. Even its keepers didn't know the exact count.
Precisely 36,721 volumes.
Learning that still pissed me off. After memorizing every Murim Alliance report for Mantongbu, they made me swallow every book here too.
Whatever "Manseogo" nonsense they called their creation. But when the Orthodox-Demonic War hit, they never asked for regurgitation. It was impossible solo anyway, and they deemed it unnecessary.
Dog-training bullshit, plain and simple.
"Me, walking back here on my own two feet. I must be out of my mind."
If any secret manuals or hidden techniques lurked among Manseogo's tomes from my past life, my steps wouldn't drag. But most were worthless theory piles.
Academy students submitted pre-graduation theses based on "insights," flooding it with amateur crap that buried the gems.
So I'd memorized useless kindling and raged for it.
"Sigh... but can't stagnate forever."
Since clashing with that shadow warrior from Maengjujeon, I'd felt blocked. Buk Wonpyeong tutored my Jade Pure Heavenly Star Force usage, but our trajectories differed, stalling progress. Sword aura thirst gnawed too—had to come.
"No one knows about it yet anyway."
Looking up, the Manseogo plaque gleamed. With break nearing, fewer students meant a sparse vibe; servants reorganized amid the holiday.
I scanned the nightmare of my past life briefly, then sought him out.
"Should stand out quick enough."
Sure enough, spotting him amid the shelves was easy.
"Hey, hunchback! Sort these."
"Ah! Y-yes, sir."
Wild hair, tattered uniform, fearless swagger, massive build. The man's presence seized attention as he shoved books at an old hunchback, who bobbed his head frantically and shuffled off with them.
Found you.
The hunchback tripped hauling the stack.
"S-sorry! I'll clean it up quick."
"Such a hassle."
The man flicked his hand—books shot straight, neatly stacked. The hunchback scurried after.
"Personality's as rotten as ever."
He scowled at my remark.
"Talking to me?"
"Nah, just mumbling. Ignore it."
Eyeing me top to bottom, he continued.
"You're the academy rep, huh."
"And you're So Cheonsu of Cheonggang Gate."
"You know me?"
"Know of Cheonggang Gate, more like."
Among Orthodox sects, Cheonggang was rare in obsessing over domineering arts. So obsessive, they denied warrior status to any without sword aura post-initiation.
Minimum to leave the sect: sword aura, right?
Their arts were freakish—sword aura at peak first-rate threshold, when most needed late peak. Not "normal" aura, though.
Early wielders bred insufferable arrogance proportional to their speed.
"Business with me?"
"Didn't before. Do now."
"Heh. Color me curious."
So Cheonsu grinned, manifesting sword aura in his palm. Classic immature prodigy of Cheonggang.
Fair—before knowing his identity, that aura alone would shake most legs.
I approached slowly.
"Not here to fight."
"Then?"
"To help you."
"Huh?"
With that, I struck with White Phoenix Hand, suppressing his aura-clad palm and sealing his pressure and meridian points.
"Y-you, coward...!"
"Coward my ass—this is helping. Focusing on aura's fine, but don't slack other training. Cheonggang's weakness is falling to basics like this."
"......"
My advice fell on deaf ears—he'd gone rigid, slipping into stupor.
"Tch, out already?"
Glancing around for witnesses—
"Pulling cheap tricks on kids? Black Dao through and through."
Activating the Azure Dragon Ring, I extracted the black qi embedded in him. Left alone, it'd cause chronic illness and drain his stamina.
Such a fleeting, covert hit—even he hadn't gauged it.
Inspecting his palms convinced me: I needed his tutelage. Beyond realm, he'd reached the pinnacle with simple yet profound self-made arts. He might know how to manifest sword aura sans it.
"But how to convince him?"
Black Dao's apex once. No clue why he hid in Manseogo. And with his infamous temper, persuasion felt impossible.