Chapter 37: Life or Death
"We've come from the Beom Clan Manor. Will Wayong Hall accept our challenge!"
"……."
What was with all this racket? I thought some big-shot inspector from the local constabulary had shown up.
I happened to be standing in the training grounds of Wayong Hall at that moment. Turning to the visitors, I couldn't help but smirk.
"Beom hyung, haven't you heard the saying about empty wagons making the most noise? If you're a guest, at least come in quietly."
"Insolent brat. It's been a while."
"Yeah, it's definitely been a while since I got that kind of attitude from you. Guess stepping down from Young Cult Leader comes with its perks."
Yong Baek-heon was nineteen. Beom Se-un was four years older. As the heir poised to seize control of the Beom Clan Manor, his eyes burned with fierce intensity. True to a demonic arts practitioner, they gleamed with a sinister purple light. And then a chilling wind whipped through from all directions.
The battle of wills had begun.
"We haven't even started, and you're already wasting energy? You weren't this impatient before. What, some change of heart?"
"Seeing you so lax makes my stomach turn."
"If your stomach's upset, go hit the outhouse."
"……."
As far as I knew, Yong Baek-heon and Beom Se-un had never gotten along since childhood. Their generational standing was ambiguous, but the vast gap in prestige between the Yong Demon Clan and the Beom Clan Manor played a big role. That left Beom Se-un with a hefty inferiority complex toward Yong Baek-heon.
'Which means he's come fully prepared, huh?'
The Beom Clan Manor knew Yong Baek-heon inside and out, so their confidence made sense. That was why Paeng Bi-cheong had predicted a fifty-fifty shot.
'But I'm not Yong Baek-heon.'
Whatever he'd prepared, it meant little to me. I'd readied my own style of fight.
As we traded glares in this war of nerves—
"Ahem!"
"Young Master Beom has arrived early."
"Looks like these two have already had a little exchange."
Three figures from the Cult Leader's Palace appeared. Great Elder Gu Man-bong, Vice Cult Leader Yong Hyeon-seok, and temporary Young Cult Leader Yong Se-ryeong. Protectors followed behind them into the arena.
The Dang Cheon-gungma brought up the rear.
"The Grand Cult Leader has tasked me personally with officiating this duel. Now, both of you, retreat to opposite ends of the training grounds. The match will begin shortly."
"……?"
[What's with the delay? Just get it over with and crush him already.]
Bongmareung's thoughts echoed my own. But seeing all the observers wait patiently without complaint, it seemed someone else was still coming.
Was the Red Heaven Demon on his way? 'Nah. They sent the Vice Cult Leader and put Dang Cheon-gungma in charge as judge, so he probably won't make a show of it.'
The final observer soon revealed himself. Even from beyond the entrance gate, his massive presence loomed. It felt like a boulder strolling lightly—a paradoxical sight.
"My apologies. Am I the last to arrive? Old age slows the steps, so forgive me."
His excuse belied broad, solid shoulders and a stance rooted firmly to the earth. The imposing elder swept his gaze over the arena with a faint smile, and everyone clasped their fists in salute.
"We greet Elder Beom Sang-gun."
The Beom Clan's retired patriarch, Beom Sang-gun. Once a great demon known as the Pung-sin Gwon-ma, the Wind God Fist Demon.
"Have you been well?"
"Same as always. And you, Elder Gu? It's been ages, Young Master Hyeon-seok. Congratulations on becoming Vice Cult Leader. And little Se-ryeong—you've grown into quite the young lady. Last I saw, you were still a snot-nosed kid. Heh heh……."
Beom Sang-gun had roamed the jianghu alongside Yong Mu-geuk in their prime. Now retired to spend his remaining days as an elder emeritus, he'd come all the way to these remote mountains to watch his grandson's fight.
[Heh heh! The Beom Clan must have sky-high expectations for Beom Se-un.]
'Yeah.'
Glancing at Beom Se-un, I caught a mix of tension and joy on his face. He steeled himself toward his grandfather.
"Grandfather, I will surely claim victory and bring glory to the Beom Clan Manor."
Beom Sang-gun merely nodded silently in response. His gaze shifted again.
The Wind God Fist Demon was looking at me.
"Baek-heon, I heard you've stepped down as Young Cult Leader to fight in the Great Strife yourself. That true?"
"Yes, Elder."
"The Great Strife, eh……."
The old man's eyes grew distant, lost in reminiscence for a moment before he spoke softly.
"Yes, it's about time. We can't crouch in these Hundred Thousand Mountains forever."
At Beom Sang-gun's words, the demons' eyes darkened. Advancing from the Hundred Thousand Mountains to conquer the Central Plains and achieve demonic supremacy—that was the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's long-cherished dream, the divine mandate from the Heavenly Demon himself. Showing their presence in the martial world's Great Strife could be the first step.
Of course, for me, it was just a plan to escape these damn mountains.
"I've said too much. Great Protector, begin the Cult Leader's Palace proceedings."
"Yes, Elder."
As Beom Sang-gun stepped back, the Dang Cheon-gungma strode to the center of the training grounds. He beckoned me and Beom Se-un. Once we were gathered, the Great Protector explained the duel rules.
"We'll fight three rounds, with the first to win two declared the victor."
A best-of-three format. But each round could differ.
"The first round will follow Young Master Beom Se-un's preference. The second will follow Young Master Yong Baek-heon's."
One round each in their chosen style. And there were restrictions.
"Lethal blows that gravely harm the opponent are forbidden. If blood is shed uncontrollably or injuries prevent walking, I, as judge, may declare a forfeit. Heed this."
But those rules didn't apply to the final round.
"However, the third round has no rules. If it's still undecided, fight until one surrenders."
"What if neither surrenders?"
The Dang Cheon-gungma's eyes flashed coldly.
"Then it's life or death."
"……!"
Beom Se-un's eyes widened in shock at his own question. Even Bongmareung seemed mildly surprised.
[Oh? Killing's allowed? Heh heh heh! Finally some proper demonic flair. I like it!]
I didn't. I was sick to death of demons who settled everything by the law of the jungle. We weren't animals, after all.
[Of course you'd say that. For someone walking the path of the virtuous demon, staining your hands with blood isn't ideal for cultivation anyway.]
So I'd end it simply. By securing two wins first and wrapping this up early.
* * *
"The rules are fully explained. If you need time to think, I'll allow a moment. Young Master Beom."
At the Dang Cheon-gungma's words, Beom Se-un pondered carefully. The first round was on his terms—a huge advantage. He could play it safe, wear down my stamina while toeing the line…….
Or land subtle blows to tilt the second round in his favor.
'Stick to the plan.'
Beom Se-un glanced up at his opponent. The clueless Yong Baek-heon stared back with utter nonchalance. No—there was a steely resolve in those eyes.
He was utterly convinced of his victory, huh? Beom Se-un twisted his lips.
'Arrogant as ever.'
Fine then. He'd crush him as hard as possible. Teach those damn Yongs a lesson.
With that firm resolve, Beom Se-un spoke.
"No time limit. Pure bare-handed combat."
"Ring-out?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Understood."
The Dang Cheon-gungma nodded, stepping back five paces. Whispers rose among the onlookers.
"As expected, Young Master Beom chose bare-handed, Father."
"It's their clan specialty, so natural."
"Vice Cult Leader, wasn't Young Master Yong Baek-heon infamous for slacking on fist arts since his Little Demon days?"
"Ahem. Yes, that's right."
Yong Hyeon-seok couldn't help but wonder what fist art Yong Baek-heon would use. The Beom Clan Manor was renowned among demonic families for fist arts. Led by the supreme Thunderwind Absolute Shadow Fist, they mastered hand-to-hand techniques to the extreme. They were even the origin of the basic fist forms used by the Cult's followers today.
Their prodigy, Beom Se-un, had perfected multiple bare-handed styles, unmatched among his peers. In demonic terms, Extreme Stillness Realm; by Central Plains standards, a first-rate fist master.
'But Baek-heon only properly learned things like Heaven-Shattering Ascending Palm, Brave Swift Escape, Sun Moon Star Dance…….'
Beom Se-un wouldn't have come unprepared for that. It was a disadvantageous fight where he'd have to show all his cards upfront. Maybe his nephew would yield this time.
The duel began.
"Begin!"
At the Dang Cheon-gungma's call—
Pop!
Beom Se-un charged at full power. He planned to seize control from the start and torment me relentlessly.
'I'll cripple one shoulder this round! Yong Baek-heon!'
Beom Se-un's fist flew in a half-clenched form. The Insidious Kill Demon Hand, blending fist and claw techniques. Fingers packed with qi, detonating on contact for explosive impact.
An unfamiliar art Yong Baek-heon lacked experience in. Beom Se-un would use it as a springboard to toy with me.
But—
Thwack!
"Ngh?"
My elbow casually deflected the punch. Undeterred, Beom Se-un bent his arm inward, targeting my forearm. This time, my hand clamped his wrist.
He thrust his other hand, but the twisted wrist threw off his stance, grazing empty air. An odd sensation warped his fist's path.
'What the—?'
All his strikes fell flat. Thanks to foresight and formless speed. I blended them just right to neutralize Beom Se-un's assault. Pulling his arms, I readied my counter.
The second form of North Mountain Fist taught by Ok Geum-ran.
'Twin Wolves Evading Rain!'
Two wolves leaping to dodge the downpour. Turning minimal space into maximum through chaining strikes.
My fists hammered into Beom Se-un's chest in rapid succession.
Papak!
"Kuhk!"
Not done yet. The distance was perfect now, his arms wide open. I selected the third form's Fierce Drunken Seeking Claw.
Leaping instantly, I drove my knee down.
Crack!
"Guhk……!"
Even as he took the hit, Beom Se-un lashed out with Insidious Kill Demon Hand—but formless speed blocked it again, leaving him swinging at air. No matter how much qi he packed, it didn't connect.
A futile flail, then eating another hit.
'Since when did Yong Baek-heon use this kind of art?'
I'd expected raw power clashes with deep inner energy and Heaven-Shattering Ascending Palm, befitting a Young Cult Leader.
Instead, some bizarre fist art he'd never shown. Beom Se-un stared in stunned disbelief, like he'd been clubbed over the head. I chuckled lightly.
"Tsk tsk. So predictable it's boring. Had all that time—were you just goofing off in the Cult Leader's Palace?"
"G-Goofing off? Me?"
Predictably transparent provocation. But it lit a fire in his gut.
The past few days, Beom Se-un had run himself ragged containing the fires. The charred ruins of his businesses still haunted him.
And the Cult Leader's Palace? Just sweep it under the rug.
Why? How?
'Damn Yong bastards!'
He had to smash that smug face. Absolutely.
Blue flames sparked in the young demon's eyes.
"Come at me again! I'll kill you!"