Chapter 39: Honorable Death
A subtle silence flowed through the air. Before Beom Se-un could take even a few steps, I had already reached out toward the Protector with the apple on his head.
It was thanks to pouring all the internal energy I'd held back in the first round into Haegong Cheonbi, unleashing it at full power.
It occurred to me that using a lightness skill that wasn't from the Yongma Clan might look suspicious. But the spectators seemed to interpret it the opposite way.
"Hahaha! Haegong Cheonbi? I never saw that coming."
"Indeed. I figured even if he didn't pull out Cheon-gong Sal-sin-pyo, he'd at least use Dan-un Bi-yeong. But he didn't even touch those."
"In the end, he crushed the challenger without using a single move from the Yongma Clan's arsenal... Remarkable."
Vice Cult Leader Yong Hyeon-seok, his daughter, and Great Elder Gu Man-bong clicked their tongues in admiration. They mistook it for me showing leisure by not using Yongma Clan techniques.
Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. I'd dumped every last bit of my internal energy into Haegong Cheonbi... and I couldn't use Yongma Clan arts yet because I was still learning them.
'But if they're happy to misunderstand, that's a blessing.'
I turned with the most relaxed expression I could muster. Then I gave Dang Cheon-gungma a quick nod.
He nodded lightly in return and strode to the center of the training ground.
"The second match is another victory for Young Master Yong Baek-heon! With two straight wins, we declare him the final victor—no need for the third round!"
A flawless victory over the first challenger. Whispers rippled among the observing Protectors.
"Whoa, he won just like that?"
"I predicted Young Master Yong Baek-heon would win, but I didn't think he'd end it without even drawing his sword."
"Cunning one. Truly cunning..."
"Hey, I won, right? Drinks are on you today."
Even some attendants had placed bets on the fight. In any case, the outcome was perfect. I'd secured victory without revealing I wasn't the real Yong Baek-heon.
[Well done. That couldn't have been easy.]
'Thanks to you. Appreciate it, Bong.'
[Heh...]
I shot Ok Geum-ran a glance too. She, watching with a proud look, responded with the faintest smile.
A heavy voice shook me right then.
"Congratulations, Baek-heon."
"...Supreme Elder."
Wind God Fist Demon Beom Sang-gun. The great demon, who had watched both matches without a word, now ascended the training ground.
After a brief word of praise to me, he approached his grandson. His steps were leisurely, so I figured he meant to console Beom Se-un in his defeat.
"Get up, Se-un."
"Grandfather, I..."
"Tch, I said get up."
"..."
Even after Beom Sang-gun called again, Beom Se-un hung his head with a long sigh.
Slap!
His face whipped around, blood spraying. Beom Sang-gun had backhanded his grandson without warning.
The arena fell into icy silence, as if doused with cold water. Beom Se-un's lip split open, blood dripping as he toppled over.
'What the hell? Slapping him for losing?'
But Beom Sang-gun showed no anger. Quite the opposite.
"Se-un, enough moping. How long will you sit there stewing in defeat? Is this how I raised you?"
A tone full of warmth. The Wind God Fist Demon had slapped his grandson awake from the shock of loss.
If he'd struck in true rage...
[That head would be seeing stars in the sky. The title Wind God Fist Demon wasn't won at the gaming tables, after all.]
'Yeah, probably.'
Rough, but effective. Beom Se-un blinked, then his eyes sharpened.
"My apologies. I showed an unsightly side, Grandfather."
"It's fine. You gave it your all, didn't you? Room for improvement, but that's always true."
Beom Se-un's expression brightened at his words. He paused in thought, then turned to me and cupped his fists.
"I learned a valuable lesson. I wish you luck in the matches ahead."
'What a switch. No trace of that mad rush earlier.'
[Still, a scion of a noble house isn't without training. If he reviews what went wrong, he'll grow from it.]
Truth be told, defeat teaches more than victory. I'd learned plenty from my countless failures—and still was. The hole in my uniform from Beom Se-un's attack was proof.
"I learned much from you too, senior brother. Tend to your wounds well."
"Thanks."
Beom Se-un accepted his loss and left the training ground, taking his Beom Clan escorts beyond the arched gate.
But Beom Sang-gun lingered.
'What's he waiting for?'
[Throwing a victory party? Why's he dawdling?]
Then came an unexpected reward. After chatting briefly with Yong Hyeon-seok in the corner, Beom Sang-gun approached me.
"Thanks to you, I get to share a drink with the Cult Leader."
"Pardon...?"
"Loser buys the drinks. The Cult Leader's been saving a fine vintage—no one's touched it till now. Looks like tonight's the night. Heh heh! Your doing."
"I see."
"This is in return. Take it. May it serve you well."
"...?"
A small pouch appeared in the Wind God Fist Demon's massive, callused palm—oddly delicate. A floral scent wafted faintly.
Something extraordinary. Bongmareung sensed it too and bellowed in my head.
That pouch holds a Sunmawhan (Martyr Demon Pill)!
Sunmawhan!
I nearly swallowed dryly. I recalled the Taehwalhwan Yong Hyeon-seok had yielded to me upon becoming Vice Cult Leader. I'd used that pill as a base to form the seed of my Geuk-cheon Gu-ryun-gong.
The elixir that had fertilized my current internal energy.
'But Sunmawhan is...'
[A step above. Forged from the pure energies of noble martyrs.]
As Bongmareung said, Sunmawhan outclassed Taehwalhwan—a clan treasure, likely one or two per family at most.
Beom Sang-gun offered something impossible to part with, under some absurd pretext.
What the...?
'Why's this old man giving me a Sunmawhan? What's his angle?'
[Idiot! Think later! Grab it before he changes his mind! Sunmawhan!]
I was suspicious by nature, but the elixir-mad Bongmareung thrashed like a wild colt.
Then a transmission reached me.
The temporary Young Cult Leader stood off to the side, explaining briefly.
'Got it.'
Another scheme orchestrated by the Crimson Heaven Demon from the shadows. No reason to refuse.
I bowed slightly and accepted it.
"Thank you, Supreme Elder."
"Good. Raise the Divine Cult's name high in the Central Plains."
"...Yes. I will."
I'd just beaten the first challenger, yet he spoke as if my descent from the mountains was set.
Bongmareung chuckled softly.
[Beom Se-un got crushed, so of course. You need a string of wins to salvage any pride for the Beom Clan, right?]
'Ah, an honorable death?'
I smirked inwardly. Now I bore the Beom Clan's honor too. What a joke.
A bright full moon hung in the night sky. In a pavilion where eerie strings flowed like a stream, Dokgo Yung sat alone, tilting his cup.
Suddenly, he spoke.
"You've arrived?"
A weary figure shuffled in with listless steps. A haggard middle-aged man—former Vice Cult Leader Yong Jin-seok.
"Why summon me?"
Gone was the air of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's number two. Having failed to assassinate his nephew and lost his seat, he was a broken shell, nearly a wreck.
Dokgo Yung offered him a cup.
"They say Yong Baek-heon crushed Beom Se-un. Do you know?"
"..."
Yong Jin-seok slumped opposite without reply, rejecting the cup. He snatched the bottle and chugged straight from it.
Dokgo Yung just smiled faintly. The talk flowed casually.
"Word is, Yong Baek-heon won without a single Yongma Clan move. What do you make of it? Possible?"
Yong Jin-seok sneered coldly.
"Calling me to rub salt in the wound? Hmph. Guess Beom Se-un was overrated all along."
"And the opposite?"
"What?"
"What if Yong Baek-heon's realm is higher than we thought?"
"Tch."
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and scratched his goatish beard.
"So what? You want me to storm Wayong Hall and stab Yong Baek-heon?"
"Heh heh heh."
Dokgo Yung laughed off the irritation and cut to the chase—the reason he'd summoned the fallen Yong Jin-seok.
"I have a job for you."
"A job? What do you want from me?"
"They say you're close with the Twelve Law Demons. True?"
"The Twelve Law Demons...?"
The upper Protectors of Jibbeop-gak, vying for the great Protector seats since Cheok-san Do-wang vanished. As Dokgo Yung said, Yong Jin-seok was indeed tight with them—still drinking together even after his fall.
"Yes. Not all get along among themselves, but I'm on good terms with them all. Why the interest in my connections, Clan Head Dokgo?"
"Heh heh. Care to guess?"
Something was up. Yong Jin-seok set the bottle down. His mind whirred for the first time in ages.
'Yong Baek-heon and four challengers left. Why bring up the Twelve Law Demons out of nowhere...?'
Aha! Lightbulb. The answer: the judge.
Yong Jin-seok scooted closer.
"Who's next?"
"Gye Clan daughter."
"Gye Cheon-bing? Ha! Perfect for judge tampering. She'll do anything to win!"
"Knew you'd catch on."
Yong Baek-heon might surpass all expectations. So Dokgo Yung devised a new ploy from another angle: bribe the judge outright.
Their minds aligned.
"Keep Dang Cheon-gungma busy, and the Cult Leader's Palace will appoint a temporary judge from the Twelve Law Demons. Hwa Hyeol Ma-nyeo won't leave her father's side."
"Agreed. I'll make sure Dang Cheon-gungma can't judge. You contact the temp and handle it—rig the rules in Gye Cheon-bing's favor."
"Got it."
Vitality returned to Yong Jin-seok's face, fueled by revenge against the nephew who toppled him.
'Simple, petty man.'
Dokgo Yung hid his disdain.
"Can I count on you? The reward won't disappoint."
"Of course. Trust me."
"Good luck."
The old man smiled faintly at Yong Jin-seok's retreating back.