First Appearance in the Martial World

The numbers kept shrinking, and the big man was beginning to feel genuine anger rising in him.

He had been the one to open with the reckless demand of fifty silver pieces—that much was true. But he had never intended to collect the full sum. By coming on strong from the start, he could force a negotiation no matter whether he was dealing with an escort agency or a merchant caravan. He had already pulled that same play twice before and walked away with more money than usual, so he had simply tried it again, hoping to squeeze out a little extra profit.

But for them to throw themselves at him like this, ready to die…

Honestly, he felt wronged, and the surge of emotion was only natural. With his subordinates watching, he couldn't back down either, so he found himself pushing even harder.

"Is a fight what the Haesang Bang wants?"

"Haha, great hero. That's not—"

The caravan leader rushed forward to smooth things over, but Woo Geum-moran raised a hand and stopped him cold.

"You step around dung because it's filthy, not because you're afraid of it. If you're too chicken, feel free to turn around and go home."

"Huh. Now these are a first."

"There's a limit to how far you can push absurd demands. Fifty silver? Fine—I'll give it to you. As travel money. Doesn't look like your abbot is around, so let's wrap this up quick."

"So you thought the big brother wasn't here."

"If he were, he'd have stepped forward himself. Without that one Ihap Realm fighter, this is a fight worth taking."

"Heh heh. Now what do we do about that?"

KUUUUNG—!

One man stamped his foot, unleashing a quaking step that carried a tremendous surge of energy as he appeared—one of the martial monks who had come with the big man. The moment Woo Geum-moran sensed him, her face hardened by instinct. She had already picked up on something.

"Unfortunately for you, the man you're looking for came along too."

"The Cold-faced Tiger, Ma Dong-geuk?"

"That's right. That's me."

It wasn't quite fear, but her expression couldn't help but turn to one of dismay.

Martial arts realms were also called the Great Realms. Among them, the Ihap Realm referred to those who had advanced beyond their initial training into the next stage. Reaching it wasn't that difficult—given enough time, even mediocre talents could manage it. The problem was that by the time an ordinary talent reached the Ihap Realm, they had already passed their prime, so the difference from before wasn't particularly dramatic. That didn't apply to the Ma Dong-geuk standing before her, though.

Even being generous, he was no older than forty—the age of no confusion. At that age the body might be starting to decline, but in terms of martial study he was still considered in his prime. Naturally, his power was at its peak.

They could still win by sheer numbers, but compared to Inwang Temple they didn't have that many people, so their odds had dropped considerably.

"I'm not the type who likes stepping out front, so I usually leave things to my little brother. But when you call me out like this, I've got to show up. Why so complicated all of a sudden? I figure there's nothing imagination can't handle—but you still should have thought it through before you opened your mouth."

"…Fifty silver. We'll pay it."

"Ah, as travel money? I don't particularly need it. If anything, I wouldn't mind giving some to you lot."

"Damn it—if word spreads that you touched our bang, a punitive force will come looking for you."

"That's hardly something our young lady needs to worry about."

As he spoke, the corners of his mouth curled upward. With a body as small as a child's, the way he sneered made it clear why he put the big man out front—and nothing was more irritating than that.

Woo Geum-moran muttered under her breath.

"A man whose generosity is as small as his height. He sure remembers every little word."

"You might want to keep your muttering a bit quieter."

Ma Dong-geuk's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyebrow twitched. Height was the one subject he was most sensitive about. As expected, that was the root of why he preferred putting the big man forward and disliked moving out front himself. You could call it a kind of persecution complex. But it wasn't entirely baseless—as a child he had been told more than a few times that someone so small couldn't amount to anything proper. It hadn't been severe, but the influence had still made his temperament violent.

"Fine. If dying is what you wish, I'll grant it. No—you're quite the beauty. Better to take you alive."

"…The fight hasn't even started yet!"

"Cornered, and now you throw off the mask you were wearing?"

"I'll admit it. We're at a clear disadvantage."

Better to cleanly acknowledge the truth than cling to useless pride and lose what you might still salvage. It wasn't as if admitting it cost her anything.

"But we still have the numbers, and even an Ihap Realm fighter is still human. Stick a blade through the heart or smash the brain and they die just the same."

"Hah. Go ahead and try, if you can."

Ma Dong-geuk took a light step forward, fully revealing his power.

At full mastery, mere contact could melt a person with ease—but Ma Dong-geuk hadn't reached that level. Even so, it was more than an ordinary Ihap Realm practitioner had any right to possess. He had simply been lucky enough to seize the temple and stumble across it.

The funny part was that the temple's original owner had known nothing about the art at all. With only a few monks who'd done a bit of physical training, the place had been easy to take over. They had found the technique while rifling through the spoils afterward—so from the other side's perspective, it really had been rotten luck.

Ma Dong-geuk's brow furrowed.

The internal energy drain is still extreme. The price of wielding power that was never meant for me, I suppose.

He couldn't maintain this state for even half a gyeong. But even that would be enough to settle things. Even against an opponent of a higher realm, he was confident he could at least escape.

HUUUUUNG—

He threw a punch, and those beside Woo Geum-moran all rushed forward to block it. Of course, the situation refused to go their way.

KWAAAAAANG—!

With a tremendous explosion, those struck by the fist blast were sent flying. Despite their numerical advantage, they couldn't stop even a single blow.

No one dead…?

"You bought me time with your own bodies—I can't waste that. Strike down—Lightning!"

KWARRRRRUNG—!

Dark clouds formed in the clear sky, and lightning crashed down. Caught off guard, Ma Dong-geuk had no choice but to take the hit full-on.

Did that finish him?

The hopeful thought barely had time to form before the aftershock cleared—and Ma Dong-geuk closed the gap in an instant, seizing her by the throat.

It happened in the blink of an eye. His skin was scorched, and his eyes were terrifying.

"I didn't expect a spellcaster, you little cutie. Thanks to you I nearly died. If I hadn't wrapped myself in energy for protection, I actually would have."

"Stop—cease—khehk!"

"Hmph. I can't just let you pull that nonsense. I know how it works. To activate a spell, the sentence has to be complete, right?"

True Words. Along with hand seals, one of the foundations of spellcraft. By speaking aloud, one could achieve miracles far from ordinary. High-ranking spellcasters were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠said to wield near-omnipotent power through True Words—but that came with a clear weakness: the spell only took effect once the words were finished.

That was why martial artists didn't particularly fear spellcasters. Speaking in the heat of battle was something only the truly skilled could manage. And since martial artists trained their bodies, they could attack—or at least interrupt—before the words were even finished.

There was a reason the world was called the Murim. Compared to martial artists, spellcasters were inevitably a minority.

"I grabbed you first out of irritation, but now that I think about it—you're the leader, aren't you? Hmm. If you don't want to watch this girl die, drop all your weapons. Heh heh heh! This might be the easiest fight I've ever had. A spellcaster should have stayed quietly in the very rear."

"Kh—khehk! Just kill me—!"

"Still defiant. Are you running wild because you trust the Haesang Bang behind you? I don't care about that."

Meeting those murderous eyes, she knew he meant it. Woo Geum-moran's mouth closed. She didn't want to die. She had lived comfortably her whole life—how could she be used to this? Spellcaster or not, all she had done was hire a teacher and learn like a flower in a greenhouse. It wasn't as if she had charged to the front out of ignorance and gotten caught—the fear settling into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her eyes was only natural. A little more pressure and she might even wet herself.

But contrary to those thoughts, the caravan people hesitated, not hastily discarding their weapons. More than half of them had been hired temporarily for this journey. Actual Haesang Bang members were rare. And among those, almost none could fight directly—so frankly, the ones who could fight didn't care whether Woo Geum-moran lived or died.

Ma Dong-geuk clicked his tongue as he realized it.

I expected too much from a mere merchant caravan. Trying to do too much at once, was I?

Since things had come to this, maybe he should just kill them all. Now that they had touched the Haesang Bang, they couldn't stay here any longer anyway. A regular caravan would be one thing—but the woman whose throat he held seemed no ordinary person.

Plunder everything and leave. Find somewhere ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suitable, or maybe take shelter with a large mountain stronghold. Not a bad idea. Good. Decision made—no reason to leave these people alive.

"Little brother, kill them all—"

Mid-sentence, his eyes flew wide as if they might tear open—that alone spoke for Ma Dong-geuk's state of mind. Without realizing it he had loosened his grip on her throat and let Woo Geum-moran go, so shocking was what he saw.

There stood a handsome young man with languid eyes. Several of Inwang Temple's martial monks already lay dead at his feet.

He felt no particular anger. Or rather—he had felt something, but it was swallowed so quickly by sheer bewilderment that the feeling vanished almost at once. That was closer to the truth.

The young man continued in a flat, emotionless tone.

"A familiar face. The vice-leader of the Dongga Stronghold. Though as I recall, you hadn't reached the Ihap Realm."

"…Who the hell are you?"

"Who knows. For now, let's just say a passerby."

The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk.

"Today's a good day. I wasn't particularly planning to get involved—but if I know the opponent's strength for certain and I'm confident I can control the situation, that's a different story. You'll have to be my first real opponent."

"…"

Ma Dong-geuk's face went rigid. The appearance of a single person had completely shattered the picture he had drawn in his mind.