Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Henchman Jeong Jin-young - [1]
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To pursue longevity, one must accumulate merits and bestow compassion, showing generosity not only to oneself but also to others (...). Only then can virtue arise, allowing one to receive heaven's blessings.
- Pabokja Miji-pyeon (Chapter of Realization of Truth)
Upon consuming a single spirit pill, I awakened to the realization that my lifespan is not subject to the whims of heaven.
- Ojin-pyeon (Chapter of Awakening to the Truth)
Going beyond mere martial arts to achieve something truly magical is the hallmark of a peerless master—a feat that martial artists dream of even in their sleep. Just a year ago, Heo Pung-gae had desperately wished for the same.
And now, another such harmony had become possible.
Flying Sword Technique. The legendary Taoism of immortals, renowned as a skill wieldable only by Korea's greatest peerless masters. It was so famous that in novels, it appeared exclusively among those who had reached the pinnacle.
Merely advertising that he could use it would elevate his status as a martial artist by several levels.
In the midst of all this, he couldn't hide or refuse to use a hard-earned skill just because he disliked swords.
As soon as Heo Pung-gae finished his morning training, he tested his new ability. He tried launching and swinging the sword with nothing but his will.
Yi Pung and the employees watched from behind.
Yi Pung observed his adoptive father's practice with utmost satisfaction.
Ever since realizing he had no talent for martial arts, he had developed a tendency to live vicariously through others' achievements. Making his daughter learn martial arts was part of that too.
Meanwhile, Park Seong-cheol stood there dumbfounded, struggling to believe the scene unfolding before him. He was clearly rolling his eyes, suspecting something had been attached to the sword.
Yi Do-hyeok was surprised by the situation, but having witnessed similar things before, he didn't doubt it.
He simply watched with wide eyes, admiring throughout while harboring questions.
Why couldn't Heo Pung-gae and Invincible BB Bullet do this? Was it a difference in talent, or some other reason?
Mid-thought, everyone flinched. Right before their eyes, a rusty hwandos slowly rose into the air, then shot forward with a whoosh, slamming into the wall. It fell to the ground before returning to Heo Pung-gae's hand.
It was the kind of thing straight out of an Eastern fantasy film. Even faking it would get someone on TV claiming psychic powers far and wide.
Yet the one who accomplished it muttered in dissatisfaction.
"It's not quite usable in real combat."
Yi Pung asked,
"Something wrong?"
"It's too hard to control as I intend. I have to concentrate fully just to make it move... Might as well fire another BB bullet..."
Heo Pung-gae had already run various tests.
For instance, could he control every type of sword with his will alone?
A kitchen knife or box cutter, despite being light, barely budged. Probably because they didn't feel like proper swords to him.
Korean hwandos and Japanese katanas responded somewhat to his will, but they were still excruciatingly difficult to move.
Even just floating or throwing them required maximum concentration. Manipulating a sword to perform proper swordsmanship was nearly impossible, and doing anything else while focusing on it was out of the question.
The Taiji Sword, which matched his inner image perfectly, moved with astonishing precision.
However, he had no intention of clashing it against an opponent in battle. It was his wife's heirloom, after all—a century-old piece of iron. Breaking it by mistake would be disastrous.
When he roughly explained this, Yi Pung suggested,
"Then should I order several identical ones? If the weight and shape match, it might be easier to control."
"Yeah, do that."
"And anyway, isn't the point that you can do it? Whether it's useful or not doesn't matter. The significance is in the achievement! If I could do that, useful or not, it'd be absolutely..."
With that, the workday began.
Heo Pung-gae left the office and opened up the acupuncture clinic.
Treating people wasn't something he could do with a carefree mind.
Lately, it had become even tougher. First off, his reputation for skill had spread, drawing far more patients.
These days, Heo Pung-gae wondered if he'd become a renowned physician. Whether the acupuncture infused with Thunder Technique truly had mystical effects or not, patients' improvements were noticeably more frequent than before.
On top of that, the prices weren't exorbitant, so the number of patients grew day by day.
And with more patients overall, the troublemakers increased too.
Today, as expected, one showed up.
Having heard the rumors somewhere, a middle-aged man in a sharp suit walked in.
He seemed displeased by the clinic's shabby appearance and the fact that the acupuncturist looked like a young punk. The moment he saw Heo Pung-gae's youthful face, he started talking down to him.
"This the famous clinic? Got a license?"
Such things never happened when he looked old.
Heo Pung-gae tried to maintain his composure and replied,
"I have the license. If you're unhappy, leave."
"You refusing treatment right now? That's illegal, you know?"
"I don't know about that. You leaving or not?"
The middle-aged man spewed curses before thrusting out his wrist, demanding a pulse diagnosis. And Heo Pung-gae thought,
Should I just quit this gig?
It didn't make much money and ate up tons of time. He could be training or doing something more profitable instead...
Heo Pung-gae paused mid-thought and flinched. He was shocked at himself for even thinking it.
To accumulate merits, he had wandered the Korean peninsula treating people since age nineteen.
Quit now, after over a century?
He knew why the thought had suddenly arisen. He'd swallowed a multi-billion-won elixir and suddenly gained Flying Sword Technique. Its unreal efficacy was making him question his past decades.
This delusion. This sense of futility...
Because of it, he could barely take pure joy in mastering his new skill.
With a hardened expression, Heo Pung-gae picked up the needle.
And the middle-aged man picked a fight again.
"Why the hell's your face like that? Just 'cause lots of patients come, you treat 'em like shit..."
Should I snap his wrist?
He was seriously considering it when...
A loud rumbling roared from outside.
He whipped his head around to see bikers skidding to a halt outside.
"Eat this!"
The passenger hurled a massive, heavy rock like a cannonball.
The glass door shattered instantly, shards flying everywhere. Some headed straight for Heo Pung-gae and the middle-aged man.
Heo Pung-gae's eyes widened as he stood and moved his arms.
His hands flowed like rippling waves. With superhuman reflexes, he scanned each shard, ensuring not a single one was missed.
A few sweeps of his hands, and all the incoming shards were caught between his fingers.
Heo Pung-gae placed the glass pieces on the table and looked at the middle-aged man—whether he liked the guy or not, the patient's condition came first.
"You hurt anywhere?"
The middle-aged man stared blankly for a moment before replying belatedly,
"No."
He was so shocked he'd unconsciously switched to polite speech without realizing it. Neither noticed right then.
Only after reconfirming the patients were unharmed did Heo Pung-gae step outside the clinic.
Naturally, the punks who threw the rock had long fled on their bikes. Heo Pung-gae bit his lip.
"Which bastards were those."
Meanwhile, a similar crashing sound had come from the building across the street.
Yi Do-hyeok rushed over and froze at the sight of the wrecked clinic.
"What happened?"
"Can't you see?"
His response was close to venting frustration, but Yi Do-hyeok just fetched a broom and dustpan.
And silently began helping with the cleanup.
"This happened last time too, right? Feels like the same punks..."
Yi Pung clicked his tongue and said he'd contact various thugs he knew to track down the culprits.
Yi Do-hyeok made a similar promise.
"I'm meeting a friend today. He's this cocky guy in a gang. I'll ask him if he knows any local punks who might do this."
Heo Pung-gae raised one eyebrow.
"A friend in a gang?"
"Ah, not some grand martial sect or anything. Just local thugs."
Heo Pung-gae nodded slowly.
That evening, Yi Do-hyeok met the friend in question.
They'd hung out since second year of middle school. Back then, the guy had idolized delinquents, getting tattoos and flaunting all sorts of bravado.
After graduating university, he'd bragged about finally joining an organization.
Yi Do-hyeok had been terribly worried upon hearing that. The friend merely admired thugs and gangsters but wasn't big-built or skilled in fights. Joining a real violent group would mean getting beaten daily at best, he'd thought.
After joining, the boastful calls had dropped off sharply. Clearly, gang life wasn't smooth sailing.
This proactive contact after so long was unusual.
The friend declared as soon as they met,
"I'm a martial artist now."
Yi Do-hyeok blinked and asked,
"A martial artist?"
"Yeah."
The ever-braggadocious friend said it with sparkling eyes, clearly expecting shock or awe.
Disappointingly for him, Yi Do-hyeok didn't oblige.
"Joined some sect?"
"Does it have to be a sect to be a martial artist? Learn martial arts, beat up thugs left and right—that makes you one."
Yi Do-hyeok thought for a moment and smiled faintly.
"Sounds like someone I know."
"Oh, you know a martial artist? What kind?"
"A peerless master. Saw him using Flying Sword Technique this morning."
The friend glared.
"Quit bullshitting. I'm serious."
"It's true. Don't believe me, whatever. So, why'd you call?"
"Remember how you ate that elixir and got martial arts training as a kid? You still practicing?"
"Yeah. Why?"
The friend, Jeong Jin-young, grinned.
"Wanna work together?"
"What kind of work?"
"Neighborhood conquest."
Jeong Jin-young declared it as if he were Alexander the Great aiming to conquer the world.
"This neighborhood's gonna be mine."