Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Middle Schooler Yi Baram - [2]
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Park Seong-cheol sighed as he gazed at the familiar office scenery. Eventually, he'd ended up back here?
Park Seong-cheol spoke in a weary voice.
"What've you been up to lately? Still barging into gang hideouts, torturing them, and shaking them down for cash?"
Yi Do-hyeok shook his head.
"Nah, nothing like that since that day."
"Good to hear. So, the work's pretty much the same otherwise?"
"Our jobs? Yeah, about the same. Check the deposits on the scheduled days, log 'em in the books. If the money doesn't come in, call 'em up and give 'em hell right away."
"No changes there, huh. So the pay's the same too?"
"That's gone way up."
"No kidding? How much?"
"Doubled."
Park Seong-cheol blinked for a moment before asking,
"You said the work hasn't changed—why the raise?"
"Our jobs are the same, but the office's business has changed big time."
"Changed? How?"
Yi Do-hyeok scratched his cheek and replied,
"Hard to explain... You'll see when you look around."
It had only been two days since his return, but compared to two months ago, Park Seong-cheol could already tell what had changed.
He wondered if this was really the same office he'd worked at. So much had transformed.
For one, the boss's daughter kept dropping by, insisting on learning martial arts. The middle schooler Yi Baram would show up daily for about an hour of instruction, then leave giggling happily.
And the bigger change? Gifts were piling up in the office.
Expensive, luxurious presents that didn't suit the shabby office were arriving from all over. Spotting a Rolex watch among the cheapest of them, Park Seong-cheol felt a chill and didn't dare touch any.
As for the boss... The old Yi Pung would've been checking daily collections and accounts. Now, she ignored that entirely.
Even with tens of millions on the line, she left it all to her two employees.
So what did the boss do herself?
Whatever it was, Yi Pung looked thrilled. Her once-bored face now bloomed with smiles all day.
Right now, she was grinning ear to ear, chatting with some Western guy.
What could be so exciting? Park Seong-cheol couldn't wrap his head around the dramatic shift.
After the Westerner left, curiosity got the better of Park Seong-cheol.
"What was that all about? No way a Yankee flew here to borrow money."
Yi Pung replied proudly.
"Scouting!"
"Scouting?"
"Yeah. They flew in to recruit the tax-saving master, the Invincible Unaffiliated."
Scouting? Yi Do-hyeok explained.
"Over ten in the last two months. From America, Ming, Japan, Australia, Vietnam..."
"All these countries sending someone to poach him?"
"Yep."
"Martial artists aren't soccer or baseball stars—what the...?"
It was beyond Park Seong-cheol's comprehension. That day he'd witnessed was shocking enough. He now knew this office's martial arts master was a near-superhuman monster.
But foreigners knowing and coming to recruit him? That felt unreal. Was one expert really that big a deal?
Yi Do-hyeok asked,
"How much this time?"
"Four hundred billion for a half-year signing bonus. Performance bonuses could be way more."
Park Seong-cheol doubted his ears. An absurd sum had just been dropped.
It wasn't a mishearing.
"Whoa, four hundred billion? You leaving for real this time?"
"Can't. They want him to fly to Eastern Europe and wipe out a rival organization's entire crew. But Invincible BB Bullet never does killings, right?"
"True. His disciple neither?"
"Of course not. For the grunts, knock 'em out and ship 'em to Siberian mines—no deaths needed. But the bosses? Can't do that to them..."
The conversation was so detached from reality that Park Seong-cheol didn't even pry further. He just stood there, dazed by the surrealness.
Seeing it, Yi Pung smirked and said,
"You should learn martial arts properly too. You don't need to become a master—just prove some talent. Then the sects will come calling as a promising prospect. Boom, life's set."
Apparently, a massive market had formed domestically and abroad for pricing martial artists' worth.
Not like major sports with corporate sponsors—how could billions flow? He could guess: forbidden trades, blood, drugs, and other illicit dealings.
Sudden unease hit. This seemed way riskier than beating up thugs months ago. Should he bail now?
Torn, Park Seong-cheol went about his tasks that day.
That afternoon, another visitor arrived.
Park Seong-cheol stepped out to greet them and froze. Another Westerner—this time, a blonde girl who looked like a middle or high schooler. What now?
"Hello?"
The girl smiled and greeted him.
"Hello."
"Oh, you speak Korean well. What brings you here?"
"Scouting."
This blonde kid a martial artist too? Half-exasperated, Park Seong-cheol fetched the boss.
Surprisingly, Yi Pung treated the tiny girl with full sincerity.
"Welcome! Lots have come, but no deals yet. Come in, let's talk details..."
Yi Pung turned and beckoned, but the blonde just smirked, unmoving.
As she stood there, Yi Pung awkwardly asked,
"Not gonna talk with me?"
"Nope. I want to meet him directly and scout."
"I'm like his manager."
"Still."
Yi Pung explained, flustered.
"Miss, sorry, but tell me the signing bonus and contract details first. I'll review and pass it on. Then maybe a meeting. No storming the acupuncture clinic yourself—that's a hard no. He won't hit you, but he'll glare and give off killer intent."
The blonde girl didn't argue. She just handed over her entire bag.
"This is a greeting gift."
Yi Pung peeked inside and her eyes widened. Then she asked,
"Miss, where are you from?"
"Not enough?"
"Where from...?"
"Jeez, picky."
The next instant, Yi Do-hyeok doubted his eyes.
The girl smiled.
Wrinkles creased her face, rippling across her skin like waves.
Then a radiant new face emerged—one impossible to forget. Yi Do-hyeok remembered it.
From that funeral two months ago. The photo hung for all the gathered martial artists to see: the Demonic Cult's public enemy...
Yi Pung gritted her teeth, glancing between Yi Do-hyeok and Park Seong-cheol.
The girl said,
"You can go."
Yi Pung shouted,
"You two, out!"
Yi Do-hyeok hesitated; Park Seong-cheol tensed, sensing danger despite not knowing why.
Yi Pung bellowed again.
"Out, now!"
"Hi, Master! Congrats on becoming a tax-saving expert. So nice to finally meet you!"
Heo Pung-gae groaned at the self-proclaimed Demonic Cult leader.
Demonic Cult? Something from wuxia novels, now in Korea?
He knew of them. The world's most infamous martial society.
Once branded a public enemy, the Demonic Cult led anti-imperialist struggles from the 19th to 20th century. Bolstered by patriotic feats, they became Ming martial world's alliance leader, now Ming's largest organization.
In Ming, they'd be no threat. There, the White Lotus Cult was a massive religion running orphanages and charities like any major faith.
But outside Ming, the Demonic Cult was the deadliest group.
Brutal, powerful, untouchable even by state power.
Banned since Yuan times, yet surviving as a secret society. Their ancient know-how had evolved.
During the Opium Wars, they infiltrated Britain, still peddling opium, kidnapping, killing. Despite raids, they thrived, exacting long revenge.
Proof: once rooted, impossible to uproot. Nations' police and underworld watched vigilantly to expel them before they settled.
Such a colossal, dangerous org's leader? Must be terrifying.
But to Heo Pung-gae, she didn't seem it.
Glamour aside as disguise, her vibe wasn't threatening.
Rana Lebandofuska said,
"I'm Rana. This is my beloved sword, Wood Soul. Say hi, Wood Soul!"
She tilted her wooden staff (likely a swordstick) and grinned.
Innocent, almost dim-witted.
Heo Pung-gae stared, then closed his eyes briefly. He sensed her qi...
Not much qi.
Master's qi is hidden? He'd heard it, never seen it. Seemed nonsense to him.
If qi could be concealed, why be a thug? Use superior physique in sports, sweep trophies, earn fortunes.
She'd bypass anti-qi doping rules easily.
Just ordinary girl's qi flowed in her.
Heo Pung-gae suspected. Had the Martial Alliance idiots erred? Just a pretty figurehead?
Rana, tilting her staff repeatedly, said,
"Wood Soul's happy too. He's picky, but he likes you—weird, huh?"
Heo Pung-gae tired of the antics.
He spoke.
"So, you're the Heavenly Demon?"
"Yes, I am."
Rana smiled and asked,
"Know what Heavenly Demon means?"
Heo Pung-gae replied flatly.
"Wuxia novel character. Leader of the Mingists, right?"
"Yep. Know the meaning?"
"Buddhist demon."
"Nope. Heavenly Demon is obviously..."
Rana paused teasingly. Heo Pung-gae grew irritated.
"Obviously?"
Rana declared,
"Obviously short for genius wizard!"
"Hiya bo—ru!"
⟨ Fireball ⟩
Yi Do-hyeok's face twisted; Heo Pung-gae was about to snap—then flames flickered in their eyes.
A fireball erupted. Swallowing surrounding air, it blazed huge and hot, heating the room instantly.
Heo Pung-gae recognized the fireball from the girl's fingertip.
True Samadhi Fire. Proof of a transcendent expert.
Second time seeing it harmonized, but more shocking than the first. Too unreal.
Even Heo Pung-gae, who could spark from his fingertips, thought so.
His sparks were realistic—battery-friction level.
But from her fingertip, invisible qi before now burned massive fuel-equivalent energy, flickering before them.