In a lavishly decorated room, the Dark Merchant and Seong Wangbo were sharing drinks. Beside them sat stunning women, their beauty and elegance far surpassing those found in any pleasure house.
“We need to provide him with more funds,” Seong Wangbo suggested.
He was aware that the financiers were beginning to waver after their last meeting. If they completely turned their backs, it could spell danger for him as well.
Could these people really eliminate that formidable old man?
Seong Wangbo believed they could. They possessed unimaginable wealth, and he had no idea what measures they had in place to protect it.
Given the circumstances, he was anxious about how his suggestion for more support would be received. He quickly added, “The spirits failed… We need to bolster his strength.”
The Dark Merchant showed no change in expression. As always, he was an enigma.
“How much do you need?”
“Five million nyang.”
“Five million, you say.”
With trust in the old man at an all-time low, five million nyang was a significant sum. There would be considerable pushback from the underground network. Yet, the Dark Merchant agreed without hesitation.
“Very well. I’ll provide it.”
“Thank you. He will be pleased.”
“What did he say?”
“He said nothing.”
But Seong Wangbo recalled the old man’s words from that day.
“Do you want to realize your dreams?”
Could he really betray the Dark Merchant?
Suddenly, the Dark Merchant asked, “Do you trust him?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just a simple question. Do you trust him?”
“In terms of ability, yes. As a person, no.”
“A good answer.”
“And you, sir? Do you trust him?”
The Dark Merchant took another sip of his drink.
“A merchant who trusts anything other than money will soon find himself losing it.”
In other words, he didn’t trust him.
The Dark Merchant emptied his glass. A woman beside him fed him fruit and refilled his glass.
“Recently, I’ve been thinking there’s been a misunderstanding between us and him.”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
“We hired him as a swordsman, but he seems to see us as a source of money.”
“He’s incredibly skilled. You must have known he couldn’t be just a simple swordsman.”
“I did. That’s why we only provided funds for the grand plan and didn’t interfere.”
“That was his only condition.”
“But I didn’t expect you to start acting like a skilled player yourself.”
Seong Wangbo flinched.
“Me, acting like a skilled player?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
A chill emanated from the Dark Merchant.
In that moment, countless thoughts raced through Seong Wangbo’s mind. Was he just fishing for information, or did he really know? If he knew, should he confess, or deny everything?
This wasn’t a casual question. His fate hinged on his answer.
Having made up his mind, Seong Wangbo stood and knelt before him.
“I’m sorry.”
The Dark Merchant looked down at him with inscrutable eyes and spoke in a calm voice.
“Stand up.”
“Yes.”
Seong Wangbo rose to his feet.
“Have a drink.”
The Dark Merchant offered him a glass. Seong Wangbo drained it.
“What he’s attempting goes against the natural order.”
Seong Wangbo realized his judgment had been correct. The Dark Merchant knew exactly what the old man intended.
His admission was both a gesture of goodwill and a demand for complete honesty from now on.
“When did you find out?”
“Around the same time you did.”
“I see.”
“The timing isn’t important. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Seong Wangbo spoke candidly.
“I was curious about how it would end.”
The Dark Merchant’s expression turned cold.
“Be honest.”
Seong Wangbo replied, “I smelled money in his plan.”
The Dark Merchant’s expression grew even colder.
“More honest!”
“I believed it was an opportunity to take your place.”
Seong Wangbo bowed his head deeply. Telling the truth was a gamble with his life.
After a moment of staring at Seong Wangbo, the Dark Merchant’s rigid expression softened.
“Let’s have a drink.”
He raised his glass again. The two clinked glasses and drank.
As he set his glass down, the Dark Merchant said, “If you take my place that way, you’ll just start dreaming another dream.”
“What do you mean?”
The Dark Merchant only offered a faint smile, leaving the meaning unsaid.
He lifted his glass again.
“Let’s drink to your survival.”
On my way back, I stopped by Seonhak Cave again.
I stored a spare dagger made of eternal cold iron there. I wouldn’t need it for a while, so there was no point in carrying such a precious item around.
[Let me see your face.]
At Cheonma’s request, I used the Celestial Mind Technique with the cave’s stone wall as a reference point.
This time, the space created was a magnificent cave. Its size wasn’t distorted, and another cave had formed.
Come to think of it, there was no safer place where I didn’t have to worry about the outside world.
[Why did you want to see me?]
Cheonma abruptly said, [Let’s have a match.]
[Alright.]
I accepted his challenge without hesitation.
Cheonma seemed determined this time, drawing his sword.
In contrast, I faced him with the Seonhak Technique again. But this time, I intended to actively use the arm guards and boxing gloves crafted by Dujung.
The sparring with Cheonma, whether this time or in the future, was a rare opportunity. Fighting him once was more beneficial than hundreds of battles in reality.
Swoosh!
Cheonma lunged with his sword. In my past life, I had faced him with swordsmanship as well.
No matter how formidable the Seonhak Technique was, facing Cheonma’s sword barehanded was truly daunting.
Swish, swish, swish.
His speed was such that it seemed like beams of light were striking down. Moreover, he targeted my vital points with pinpoint accuracy. A single hit would be fatal.
After dodging five consecutive strikes, I leaped back. Cheonma, sensing I had something to say, didn’t pursue.
“Your swordsmanship has improved.”
“Can you tell?”
“Definitely.”
“I was unsure, but it seems so.”
I was genuinely pleased to see Cheonma’s skills had improved. He had been formidable before, but now he was truly exceptional.
“Are you happy?”
“Of course.”
“Good, I’ll kill you happily then.”
Watching Cheonma’s swordsmanship was almost a thing of beauty. It was an artistic display of speed and precision.
After another ten exchanges, Cheonma retreated.
“Your skills have improved too.”
“Can you tell?”
“Definitely.”
“That’s a relief.”
Compared to my past life, the only thing lacking now was my internal energy. I had just over three cycles now, compared to four back then. But there was no need to lament. Improving my skills was more crucial at this stage.
Swish, swish, swish.
The sword came at me again. I continued to evade the fearsome strikes. If this was practice, I was training to dodge the fastest sword in the world.
There were a few opportunities to counterattack.
But none were perfect. I would have to expose my arm or waist to strike his chest or break his leg.
After a hundred exchanges, Cheonma made his move. He unleashed a powerful technique I couldn’t avoid.
Swoosh! Flash!
Blood spurted from my shoulder. In return, I landed a blow to his chest.
Thud!
My elbow struck Cheonma’s chest with precision.
As Cheonma staggered back, he unleashed a stream of sword energy.
Swoosh!
I leaped over his defensive move and charged at him.
Swish! Swish!
Cheonma’s sword stabbed the air twice in quick succession. His attacks hadn’t slowed at all.
Blood spurted from my side again.
But this time, I was determined to end it.
In the next moment!
Slash!
A fishing line wrapped around Cheonma’s arm. Sensing the danger of losing his arm, he twisted it just as I struck!
Swoosh!
The dagger, drawn from my arm guard, pierced Cheonma’s armpit.
Thud!
For the first time, a cry escaped Cheonma’s lips. If I had missed that chance, I wouldn’t have defeated him in my past life.
Finding a gap in his wild defense, my fist struck down.
Thud!
A blow to the face, and Cheonma was sent sprawling.
That move ended the match. If he intended to continue, he would have gotten up, but Cheonma lay there, panting.
I didn’t bother to walk over and look down at him. I had no intention of losing to him, but I also didn’t want to mock him.
Cheonma spoke from where he lay.
“A young man beating an old man!”
“Hahaha.”
The items made from eternal cold iron proved effective. They were a secret weapon to be used against a deadly foe.
If the skills were evenly matched, no one could defend against my unconventional attack.
Perhaps Cheonma thought the atmosphere had lightened with his defeat.
“Teach me the art of the Celestial Crane.”
“If you teach me the Demon God’s Secret.”
The Heavenly Demon, who had been lying down, slowly sat up. Blood trickled from his armpit, soaking his clothes.
“Are you alright?”
“This body you see is just an illusion. Even if it were torn to shreds, it wouldn’t matter.”
“That’s a relief.”
Sensing the time was right, the Heavenly Demon began to share a story he had never told before.
“My grandfather willingly passed the position of the cult leader to my father and left the sect. There were many rumors at the time. Some said he fell in love, others claimed he was defeated by a master of the righteous sects.”
“Do you know the real reason?”
“I do. My father told me.”
Silence fell between us again. The conversation was stilted, likely because it touched on the Heavenly Demon’s personal history.
I understood. Talking about family isn’t easy for anyone.
“My grandfather was more of a martial artist than a demon. Even after becoming the cult leader, he focused solely on martial arts training, ignoring politics and power. Then one day… he fell into a state of inner turmoil.”
“Inner turmoil?”
“Yes, that’s what it was.”
“I never saw any records of that during his tenure.”
“Of course not. It wasn’t true inner turmoil.”
I couldn’t grasp what he meant. Then the Heavenly Demon revealed something shocking.
“My grandfather felt the limits of demonic arts and wanted to learn orthodox techniques. He sought the ultimate truth in martial arts but found the demonic path lacking. If that isn’t inner turmoil, what is?”
“Is that why he stepped down from his position so early?”
“Exactly. In the end, he passed the title of Heavenly Demon to my father and left the sect. Now do you understand why I want to learn the art of the Celestial Crane? I want to see for myself what kind of extraordinary martial arts he developed after leaving so irresponsibly.”
A complex mix of longing, anger, and curiosity was evident in his voice.
“Will you teach me the art of the Celestial Crane now?”
I asked, meeting the Heavenly Demon’s earnest and intense gaze.
“Is your performance over?”
“What? Performance? Are you accusing me of lying? I swear on my name, I’m not.”
“But there’s something you’re not telling me.”
The Heavenly Demon flinched. In the air, our eyes locked—one demanding the truth, the other insisting on it.