Fist Demon of Mount Hua - Chapter 60

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 60. Not Every Feast in Another’s House Brings Joy—Part 1
There was a glimmer of contempt in Nam Hak’s eyes as he regarded Cho Yeon-un, and he took in the scatter of wine bottles littering the floor around him.
“Still the same. Some things never change.”
“If a man changed easily, he wouldn’t be a man.”
“I hope you’ll grow into someone worthy of the Baekjeon-jeongsseung-gi, Yeon-un.”
“Why? Are you coveting the Baekjeon-jeongsseung-gi yourself, Nam Hak?”
“Don’t speak carelessly just because your mouth runs loose.”
Nam Hak’s eyes turned cold.
Everyone nearby held their breath at the blade-like sharpness in his gaze.
Cho Yeon-un, suddenly the focus of every eye, simply shrugged his shoulders—showing not the slightest hint of intimidation at Nam Hak’s stare.
“The Chwi-un-yong, Cho Yeon-un?”
“Is he really a romantic wanderer?”
The crowd began to murmur among themselves.
The Chwi-un-yong—the dragon that wanders through clouds while drunk on wine.
Such was the epithet of Cho Yeon-un.
Though he had never been counted among the Nine Heavens Dragons, in a certain sense Cho Yeon-un the Chwi-un-yong was even more famous than they were.
Decades ago, when the Demonic Cult ran rampant, Kangho crumbled helplessly beneath their successive waves of assault. Countless sects were wiped out, and enormous numbers of martial artists fell.
When most sects were lost in despair and confusion, a few suddenly rose to stand against them.
The Hua Shan Sect, one of the Nine Great Sects, stood at the forefront and thus suffered the greatest losses.
The Hua Shan Sect, armed not merely with sectarian pride but with the very fate of Kangho itself, held back the Demonic Cult’s relentless tide. This allowed Kangho to catch its breath and gather enough strength to establish the Jeong-ui-maeng, a coalition of countless sects.
The Jeong-ui-maeng soon launched a massive counteroffensive against the Demonic Cult, and among those who distinguished themselves at the forefront was one man.
A former ronin who had attained the ultimate pinnacle of Sword Technique.
He was valiant.
Countless masters of the Demonic Cult fell to his blade. No matter what wounds he suffered, he never retreated; he pressed forward with an indomitable will.
Those moved by his valor began to gather around him.
Thus was born a new sect centered on him.
A sect of ronin who had achieved victory in a hundred battles and lost none. Therefore the sect itself was named Baekjeon-mun.
The great martial artist who led Baekjeon-mun was named Jang Il-san.
People bestowed upon him the epithet of the Divine Blade of Demon Slaying and praised him. And in commemoration of his magnificent feats, they created a flag and presented it to him.
The Baekjeon-jeongsseung-gi.
Within that banner lay the tribute of all righteous warriors in Kangho to Jang Il-san and Baekjeon-mun, who had fought a hundred times and won a hundred times.
The Baekjeon-jeongsseung-gi was not merely a flag symbolizing the dignity of Baekjeon-mun. It carried the pride of all righteous warriors in Kangho who had triumphed against the Demonic Cult.
Cho Yeon-un was a disciple of such a sect. Not merely a disciple, but the sole inner disciple of Jang Il-san, the master of Baekjeon-mun.
Kangho held great expectations for Cho Yeon-un. His master had been a hero of the Orthodox-vs-Demonic War, so surely the disciple would grow to be a hero no less than his master.
Yet Cho Yeon-un cruelly betrayed these hopes of Kangho and lived lost in drink. Thus he earned the epithet Chwi-un-yong.
A dragon—but not one of the Nine Heavens Dragons. A drunken dragon instead.
Some called him the greatest romantic wanderer in all Kangho.
The Chwi-un-yong, Kangho’s greatest romantic wanderer—yet neither epithet carried much glory. If anything, both were tinged with mockery.
Nam Hak’s gaze upon Cho Yeon-un likewise held no mercy. He made no effort to conceal the contempt in his eyes.
“What brings you to this place? It’s quite far from Baekjeon-mun.”
“Can I pass up any gathering where wine flows? I was traveling through the area and happened to hear that a grand feast was being held at Hong-am Villa.”
“If you’ve come to drink, then sit quietly and leave without making trouble.”
“And what kind of trouble would I make?”
“Surely you’re not asking out of genuine ignorance?”
“You’re the one who came to a feast—why don’t you smile instead? All you do is strain your eyes with that look.”
“I gave you fair warning, Yeon-un.”
“I know! I remember it clearly, so there’s no need to say it twice. My ears are ringing.”
Cho Yeon-un picked at his ear with his pinky finger. At this careless gesture, Nam Hak’s eyebrows shot upward.
Cho Yeon-un, as though unconcerned, picked up his cup again and spoke to Dam Ho.
“Friend, my apologies for the noise.”
Dam Ho regarded Cho Yeon-un silently, and then Cho Yeon-un winked at him with one eye.
Only then did Nam Hak’s gaze shift to Dam Ho—but Dam Ho was not looking at him. At this, Nam Hak’s jaw muscle twitched. Yet to say anything more would be unseemly.
Nam Hak turned sharply, with enough force to stir the air.
“Farewell.”
Behind him came Cho Yeon-un’s voice. But Nam Hak did not turn back.
The disciples of Gongdong-pa followed Nam Hak out.
Cho Yeon-un drained his cup and muttered to himself.
“Tch! Insufferable wretch. That fool thinks everyone trembles at him just because he can harden his eyes.”
He felt the weight of surrounding gazes. It seemed his plan to drink quietly and slip away had already failed.
“Will the master scold me again? That old man’s lectures go on for half a day—and does anyone know just how long that is? Ha-ha!”
Cho Yeon-un was speaking to himself, chuckling softly. To look at him, you’d think he hadn’t a care in the world.
While Cho Yeon-un chattered on without pause, Dam Ho remained silent. Those around them watched the pair with curious eyes.
“Quite a friend you have there. Is he always so quiet?”
“Were we ever friends?”
“Why? Does it feel strange?”
Dam Ho didn’t answer. Any ordinary person might have felt wounded by such a response, but Cho Yeon-un was no ordinary person.
“Well, what’s the difference? If it feels strange now, we can just start being friends from this moment.”
……
“I’m serious. So let’s be friends.”
Cho Yeon-un seized Dam Ho’s hand and pleaded with him. The more Cho Yeon-un pressed, the deeper Dam Ho’s gaze seemed to sink.
‘Friends?’
In thirty years of living, not a single soul had ever spoken such words to him.
The reactions of those his age who saw his limp had always fallen into two categories.
Contempt, or pity.
It was the same for everyone else.
They had no interest in who Dam Ho truly was. They simply judged him by whatever disability showed on the surface.
Even the martial artists of Hua Shan Sect, whom he’d come closest to, had done so. And those from other sects who’d joined him when investigating the Demonic Cult had done the same.
Not a single person had ever approached him as a friend, standing on equal ground.
Dam Ho stared directly into Cho Yeon-un’s eyes. Cho Yeon-un met his gaze without flinching.
“Is this pity?”
“Pity? Ah, you mean the leg?”
Cho Yeon-un’s gaze turned toward Dam Ho’s leg.
It was only a brief moment, but Cho Yeon-un had seen Dam Ho’s limp. As a martial artist, it would certainly be a fatal weakness. Yet Cho Yeon-un answered as though it meant nothing at all.
“Why would it matter?”
“Wouldn’t you be ashamed?”
“Everyone carries some burden as they live. What’s a little limp? There are plenty of people carrying handicaps in their hearts.”
Cho Yeon-un laughed.
There was not a trace of artifice in his smile.
* * *
I Sin-poong’s residence lay in the deepest reaches of Hong-am Villa, surrounded by a well-maintained estate that served as an impenetrable fortress—no one could enter without permission.
A deadly formation spread around the grounds, and the single entrance was guarded in rotation by martial artists who could be counted among Hong-am Villa’s finest.
I Sin-poong remained shut away in his quarters. Even the residents of Hong-am Villa found it difficult to glimpse his face.
Unless you were among his inner circle, you could not see I Sin-poong’s face. Some of the newer martial artists didn’t even know what he looked like.
Was it any wonder, then, that I Sin-poong’s epithet was the Hidden Tiger of the Forest?
A great tiger dwelling in seclusion—that was I Sin-poong.
I Sin-poong had begun to show himself only days ago. Even one as naturally reclusive as he could not simply ignore those who had come to celebrate his sixtieth birthday.
In the end, I Sin-poong left his private quarters and moved to the main hall. Now the front gate of that hall stood wide open, and countless people waited with rare and precious gifts, hoping for an audience with I Sin-poong.
Among them were Mun Su-gyeong and Jwa Sang-cheon, both from Hyun-hyun-mun, carrying precious gifts that their sect leader Mun Se-gang had sent.
Even after announcing they were from Hyun-hyun-mun, they had to stand in line like everyone else and wait their turn.
For them, it was a humiliation difficult to bear, but it also meant one thing: their sect, Hyun-hyun-mun, was apparently of little consequence. At least compared to the other sects that had come here today.
That was the reality.
“Damn it!”
Jwa Sang-cheon muttered under his breath. Mun Su-gyeong shot him a look.
“Senior brother.”
“I know. But it still angers me.”
“We must endure it. Compared to Hong-am Villa, our Hyun-hyun-mun is truly insignificant.”
Hmph!
It was just as Jwa Sang-cheon let out a derisive snort.
Suddenly, murmurs rippled through the crowd from behind.
“Those are the martial artists of Gongdong-pa.”
“That’s Nam Hak, the Heavenly Thunder Warrior.”
Mun Su-gyeong and Jwa Sang-cheon’s eyes naturally turned toward the back. There they could see a dozen martial artists parting through the crowd as they approached.
At the forefront, emanating an exceptional presence, came Nam Hak of Gongdong-pa himself.
His arrival was more than enough to stir those gathered here waiting to meet I Sin-poong.
Though many waited to meet I Sin-poong, none among them possessed the presence and backing that Nam Hak carried.
They were crushed beneath the overwhelming weight of his aura and dared not speak. Mun Su-gyeong and Jwa Sang-cheon were no different.
Jwa Sang-cheon gritted his teeth and glared at Nam Hak. But Nam Hak didn’t even acknowledge him. In fact, he seemed not to perceive him at all.
To Nam Hak, Jwa Sang-cheon was barely worth noticing.
Just then, someone walked out from within the main hall.
It was a middle-aged man, perhaps in his early-to-mid fifties, with a goat’s beard.
“It’s Gu Jung-myeong.”
The crowd murmured as they took in the sight of the middle-aged man.
The man’s name was Gu Jung-myeong—steward of Hong-am Villa and known to be I Sin-poong’s most trusted confidant.
Though many had waited here over the years, Gu Jung-myeong had never once come out personally to receive a single guest. At least, not until today.
For such a reclusive figure to appear in person meant only one thing: Nam Hak was someone of considerable importance.
“Well, he is a martial artist cultivated with great care by Gongdong-pa, one of the Nine Great Sects.”
“Even Hong-am Villa cannot afford to slight Gongdong-pa.”
Whether Gu Jung-myeong hadn’t heard the whispers or simply chose to ignore them, he maintained the faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“What an honor to receive such a distinguished guest. I am Gu Jung-myeong, steward of Hong-am Villa. I’ve come at our Master’s behest to receive you, Nam Hak.”
“The pleasure is mine, Gu Jung-myeong. I am Nam Hak of Gongdong-pa.”
Nam Hak clasped his fists respectfully.
Hong-am Villa divided hegemony over Gansu Province equally with Gongdong-pa. Its steward was effectively second-in-command—a figure of elder rank within Gongdong-pa itself. He deserved to be treated accordingly.
“You live up to your reputation, I see. Our Master awaits. I cannot express how delighted we are to welcome a guest from Gongdong-pa.”
“The pleasure is mine as well. My master wished me to convey his warmest wishes on your Master’s sixtieth birthday.”
“How wonderful! Please, do come inside, Nam Hak.”
Gu Jung-myeong took Nam Hak’s hand and led him forward, his manner remarkably warm and cordial.
Everyone watched Nam Hak with expressions of envy. Mun Su-gyeong and Jwa Sang-cheon were among them.
Jwa Sang-cheon pressed his lips together tightly.
‘What are these Nine Heavens Dragons? Just wait. My name will surpass them soon enough.’
Thick sinews rose beneath the skin of his clenched fists.
That day, I Sin-poong and Nam Hak conversed for quite some time, though what passed between them remained unknown.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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