The Nine-Wall Fist Meets a Wall of Its Own
The next instant—
Swish!
Choun-seong pushed off the ground with the ball of his right foot and shot forward like an arrow, charging straight at Yeom Choong.
Yeom Choong was absentmindedly picking at his ear, the escort’s broadsword dangling loosely from his belt.
“Letting your guard down is a fatal mistake!”
Whoosh!
Carrying all the pent-up frustration from the past few days, Choun-seong unleashed the first form of the Nine-Wall Matchless Fist.
Thwack!
But Yeom Choong took two quick steps back and slapped the side of Choun-seong’s fist with his open palm, disrupting the strike’s impact point. It was the lazy, half-hearted response of a master teaching a novice.
Still, Choun-seong had expected as much.
“Hmph! The Nine-Wall Matchless Fist only gets stronger with each consecutive strike!”
With a triumphant grin hidden in his heart, Choun-seong stamped the ground rapidly with his left and right feet in alternation, twisting his torso halfway around before throwing another punch.
Shrrk! Shrrk!
Two strikes. Three strikes!
The force behind each blow grew fiercer and fiercer. Yeom Choong’s brow furrowed in a strange expression, but that was all. Choun-seong’s fists never reached him. It felt as if an invisible wall of thick air existed between them, gently pushing Yeom Choong’s body back in a bizarre, natural way.
‘Huh? That shouldn’t be possible?’
Crack!
Four strikes. Five… strikes?
The moment Choun-seong extended his fifth punch, he clutched his eyes and screamed.
“You dirty bastard, throwing sand?!”
“Hmph! This is what real combat looks like.”
But the instant he heard Yeom Choong’s reply, Choun-seong felt a strange floating sensation.
“W-wait, what?”
Whirl!
The world spun violently. The ground rushed up to meet his face.
“Instead of using the familiar martial art, you chose to wield one you’ve barely practiced.”
Boom!
An excruciating wave of pain slammed into him, followed by Yeom Choong’s arrogant voice.
“This official is disappointed.”
And with that, Choun-seong blacked out completely.
Skill proficiency has increased.
Nine-Wall Matchless Fist — First Form: 12% → 19%
Gwak Won had left Chogabo with the intention of tracking down the third young master. He rode hard, expecting to run into him along the way, but surprisingly, finding any trace proved difficult.
“Strange… If he traveled by carriage, he definitely should have passed through here.”
He asked around at inns and stopped by Chogabo’s branch offices, but no one had any useful information.
“Great Hero, we have received no word from the Third Young Master.”
“I’ve scoured every road connected to the main highway. If he didn’t come this way, then where in the world did he go?”
“That… we do not know either…”
It was truly a baffling situation.
‘They said he’d never left Chogabo in his entire life. Did the idiot get lost? Or did he take a completely different route?’
Gwak Won shook his head.
‘I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no way someone moving on the family head’s secret orders would stray off course.’
No matter how much of a scoundrel he was, Choun-seong wasn’t the type to prioritize personal tyranny over family business.
Of course, the family head wouldn’t have given such an important task to someone without discernment… yet the whole thing remained incomprehensible.
In any case, he wasn’t at Hoeui Hall.
“Maybe the bastard went back to Chogabo?”
It was entirely possible. After spouting nonsense to avoid house arrest and then realizing he couldn’t handle the consequences, he might have slunk back home. After all, the Choun-seong that Gwak Won knew was nothing more and nothing less than a complete madman.
“Should I head back for now?”
Whether Choun-seong had returned to Chogabo or taken another path, the fact that he was nowhere near Hoeui Hall needed to be reported.
“Tsk. All this headache over one slippery eel.”
Gwak Won furrowed his brow in irritation.
“Ughhh, I’m dying…”
Choun-seong lay sprawled inside the carriage, groaning miserably.
Every inch of his body screamed in protest from the relentless training. His joints creaked with every movement, and he was so drained he couldn’t even lift a finger.
It was only thanks to the incredible recovery power of the Cheondan Divine Art that he could endure it. Any ordinary internal cultivation method would have left him unable to last even a single day under such brutal conditions.
“That vicious bastard, Yeom Choong…”
While he continued grumbling, the carriage door slid open with a rattle.
“Did you call for me?”
“Get lost, you oaf!”
“Hehehe, I bear no personal grudge, so please don’t take it too hard.”
“Yeah, right. No personal grudge my ass.”
Choun-seong clearly remembered the kick Yeom Choong had delivered while he lay unconscious yesterday, accompanied by the mocking words, ‘So what if you’re the family head’s son?’
Even a mortal enemy wouldn’t stomp on someone that viciously.
“You rotten bastard.”
Grind.
The moment Choun-seong gnashed his teeth, Yeom Choong added hastily, “Ah, it’s getting hot in here—”
“We’ll arrive at Seomgok soon. Where would you like to go?”
It seemed they had reached Seomgok while Choun-seong was busy being beaten under the guise of training.
Unfortunately, it was time to suppress his personal feelings. This matter absolutely had to succeed.
“Head to the branch office. There’s something I need to find. Arghhh…”
Clutching his throbbing bones, Choun-seong gave the order.
Upon arriving at Chogabo’s branch in Seomgok, Choun-seong issued a single command to the branch manager.
The manager, who already knew Choun-seong’s reputation, thought nervously, ‘Why did this madman come all the way to Seomgok? What kind of trouble is he going to cause?’
But the order he received was surprisingly simple. Since it wasn’t difficult at all, the manager immediately set out and began scouring the surrounding area.
Quest Updated
Recruit the Divine Hand of Strange Medicine
Progress: Locate target — COMPLETE
An old man was climbing the mountain with a woven basket strapped to his back.
His expression was gloomy. He hadn’t received nearly as much money as he’d hoped.
“Only five nyang… At this rate, I won’t even be able to put food on the table.”
His skills were excellent, and he had managed to make a living without too much difficulty until recently. But lately, the price of medicinal herbs had plummeted for no apparent reason.
What used to fetch twice the amount now barely covered half, and recently it had become nearly impossible to survive.
Still, there was nothing a powerless old man could do.
As he trudged wearily up the mountain path, he suddenly noticed a thin wisp of smoke rising in the distance.
The old man tilted his head.
He rarely lit a fire because food was scarce. What could be happening?
Worried, he quickened his pace. When he finally reached the vicinity of his home, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Hmm…”
With a sigh, the old man gripped the staff in his hand and stood motionless.
How long had he been standing there?
Whoosh!
The old man, who had been concentrating with his eyes closed, suddenly leaped over the wall in a single bound.
Choun-seong had been looking around the house when a chill suddenly ran down his spine.
A sharp sound of breaking air rang out, and a figure the size of an adult male vaulted over the wall, swinging a staff straight at Yeom Choong.
‘What the hell is this?’
Even while panicking, Choun-seong moved on instinct. He stepped in front of Yeom Choong, drew his sword, and slashed at the old man’s staff.
Shing!
As the saying went, violence was the best teacher—Choun-seong’s skill had improved by leaps and bounds. The sword strike was elegant and refined.
But before the blade could connect, the old man’s staff spun in a strange arc and struck the flat of Choun-seong’s sword.
Clack!
The power contained in that staff was no joke. Choun-seong was genuinely surprised.
‘Heavy. I thought he was just an old herb gatherer, but it looks like he’s a martial artist who knows how to use internal energy.’
‘Still, I can’t lose here.’
Was it the competitive spirit inherent to all martial artists? Even a former office worker like Choun-seong felt his fighting spirit ignite.
He focused, forcefully redirecting the rebounding tip of his sword back into the old man’s trajectory and swung again.
Swish, swish!
At the same time, he unleashed a form from the Choryu Sword Art, aiming to cut the staff once more.
The old man’s eyes narrowed sharply. His body shot backward like a spring, landing more than ten feet away.
After assessing the situation, the old man finally spoke.
“You aimed for the staff instead of the person. It doesn’t seem like you intend to draw blood. May I ask what business brings you here?”
Choun-seong was dumbfounded.
“Excuse me, but aren’t you the one who attacked first without warning?”
“I saw the person standing beside you and reacted instinctively.”
Ah, I see. This friend’s face does scream ‘villain,’ after all.
The old man offered a sincere apology.
“I am truly sorry. You appear to be people of Murim. This old man living deep in the mountains has nothing of value—neither money nor precious medicine. Please leave.”
It seemed he had suffered quite a bit at the hands of martial artists over the years.
‘Well, there are plenty of Murim people looking for both poison and medicine. If he has real skill, jumping over a dirt wall like this would be nothing.’
Choun-seong inwardly scolded himself for being too hasty. At that moment, Yeom Choong’s face twisted into a frightening scowl.
“What? You think our young master came all this way for something as trivial as that?”
The old man’s expression grew visibly tense as Yeom Choong’s menacing aura intensified.
‘Tsk. Attacking an elder? Elders should be treated with respect.’
They hadn’t come here to fight. Choun-seong subtly stepped in front of Yeom Choong and asked,
“Are you Ma Won of Nakseong County?”
The title Divine Hand of Strange Medicine did not exist in the story yet. It was a name he would earn later after detoxifying the Blood Flower Poison.
But Choun-seong, who had read the original novel, knew the name. He knew that the man living in the small county of Nakseong was Ma Won.
As expected, the old man nodded.
“That is correct. I am Ma Won.”
An old man who had once learned medicine but, due to certain circumstances, had turned his back on the world. He now lived day by day selling herbs.
Once he confirmed the man’s identity, Choun-seong got straight to the point.
“Doctor Ma. I have no desires to ask of you. Rather, I wish to grant what you desire. What do you think?”
“What I desire is peace. I have no intention of returning to the world.”
As expected, this won’t be easy.
But he couldn’t back down now. Above all, the old man’s claim of having no desires was laughable considering how important his role had been in the original story.
‘Now that I have conquered this poison, I can die without regret.’
In truth, Ma Won had once been a highly successful physician. But he became entangled in Jianghu affairs and lost his entire family. That was the setting in the original novel. A clichéd backstory about his resulting hatred toward martial artists had been tacked on as well.
Because Choun-seong remembered the plot so clearly, he also knew exactly how to move this man.
“Are you not interested in conquering the Blood Flower Poison that killed your child?”
The reaction was immediate.
Tremble.
Ma Won’s eyes narrowed sharply as he responded.
“Young master, do you even understand how absurd that statement is?”
“If you explain, I will listen carefully.”
“This old man has consumed over five hundred kinds of poisonous herbs and over a thousand medicinal ingredients in his lifetime. Yet I found nothing.”
“Furthermore, I spent years brewing hundreds—thousands—of different combinations across a hundred different braziers in search of the right formula. That, too, ended in failure.”
Right on the mark.
Just hearing those words conveyed the depth of his long suffering. It was an emotion the original novel’s dry text had never managed to convey.
‘This author really can’t write worth a damn.’
While Choun-seong was momentarily lost in thought, Ma Won continued.
“I struggled for many years, yet I still have not succeeded.”
His voice was thick with bitter regret.
“And I cannot guarantee that it will ever be possible. Yet you believe it can be done?”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
‘Ugh… Young Master?’
Only now did Yeom Choong seem to grasp Choun-seong’s inner thoughts, but he looked equally lost.
Choun-seong had expected this reaction. It was so predictable it was almost boring.
“Ahem.”
Choun-seong cleared his throat. Ma Won frowned. Yeom Choong tilted his head.
“Young Master? Have you lost your mind because the task is simply too impossible?”
Tsk, look at the way he’s talking. Lost my mind?
“Doctor Ma, I have one question.”
“Speak.”
“How many years did it take to conduct all that research?”
Despite the clearly mocking tone, Ma Won answered with a scowl.
“A full twenty years. Twenty years of effort, and still no answer.”
Now it was time to deliver the finishing blow.
“I will extend that time for you—by a hundred years. No… by a thousand years.”