Chapter 109

Chapter 109
The Supremes’ Pastime (2)

The man collapsed straight onto his backside, completely paralyzed by shock.

Anyone capable of recognizing Yeom Hwa-sin’s face understood precisely what catastrophe was about to unfold. Alarmed screams revealing his presence would send the entire establishment into a panicked stampede. At best, the night would dissolve into mindless mayhem—at worst, some inebriated fool, full of liquid courage and fanciful notions of grandeur, might draw a weapon, transforming the tavern into an abattoir.

That outcome had to be prevented at all costs.

Baek So-cheon rose smoothly, resting an easy, familiar hand across Yeom Hwa-sin’s broad shoulder and wrapping an arm around him as though they were lifelong companions.

“No need for such alarm, friend. My elder brother here has endured this nonsense his entire life simply because of an unfortunate resemblance.”

The fallen patron blinked rapidly, staring at the casual posture.

“A resemblance?”

“Precisely.”

After all, what sane man on earth would casually throw an arm around the neck of the Black Heaven Alliance Lord?

The patron scrambled back onto his feet, dusting himself off.

“My soul nearly leaped right out of my throat.”

“You have nothing to fear.”

“The likeness is uncanny. You should tread carefully. Crossing the wrong person with a visage like that will get you killed before you can blink.”

“A seer once predicted my brother isn’t fated to die an early death, so we pay it no mind.”

“If you say so. I almost frightened myself into an early grave.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, the man turned and hurried away. Yeom Hwa-sin let out a low chuckle.

“If there truly lives someone bearing my exact face, why end his life? I would drag him back and forge him into a shadow warrior.”

“Killing him would be an act of mercy compared to that. Pity the poor soul doomed to such an existence.”

“Hahaha. You even spare sympathy for phantoms who do not exist.”

Baek So-cheon let a faint smile graze his lips, though the words struck a chord within him.

Indeed, this instinct to worry. This reflex to meddle. Perhaps it was time to curb it just a little.

Regardless, their initial success at mingling had elevated Yeom Hwa-sin’s mood considerably.

“This is rather entertaining. That lady sitting across the room seems receptive; I will take the lead on this round. If you go, we will simply end up drowning under penalty drinks.”

Baek So-cheon watched the towering figure stride forward, a peculiar sensation welling up in his chest.

Not a single soul who knew his true identity could ever conceive of such behavior. Even Baek So-cheon, who believed he understood Yeom Hwa-sin better than anyone alive, found this side of him entirely unrecognizable.

Moments later, however, the massive warrior marched back, dark fury rolling off him.

“Should I simply slaughter every last one of them?”

“Take a cup and let the temper cool. Here, your penalty drink. Haha.”

Yeom Hwa-sin emptied the vessel in a single swallow.

“They dismissed me without even a shred of courtesy.”

“Can you genuinely fault them? We are merely old relics pressing our luck.”

“Hmph!”

“Come now, swallow your pride and observe how a true master claims retribution.”

Baek So-cheon promptly approached another table and secured their company without resistance.

Yeom Hwa-sin threw his head back and laughed uproariously as Baek So-cheon strutted back triumphant.

Women drifted to and from their seats, several even initiating conversation on their own accord—though those bold enough were generally older, more seasoned courtesans.

Once he settled into the rhythm of the place, Yeom Hwa-sin bantered effortlessly with everyone around him, trading playful remarks without hesitation.

“You have an extraordinary physique!”

“This is not merely bulk. Go ahead, test the hardness of these arms.”

The women gathered close, pressing fingers against his forearm in genuine astonishment.

“Good heavens! As solid as stone!”

“Incredible! It feels like striking an ingot of refined iron!”

Little did they realize whose flesh their fingertips grazed. Even beyond his status, they were marveling at the very zenith of martial accomplishment that countless practitioners merely dreamed of attaining: the Gold Diamond Indestructible Body.

Just then, a voice cut through the air.

“A pair of decrepit old fools sullying the atmosphere.”

Baek So-cheon grimaced at the drunken, hostile taunt. Indeed, Yeom Hwa-sin’s colossal frame stood out far too prominently to blend into the shadows.

Baek So-cheon interjected immediately.

“Violate our agreement, and I am leaving on the spot.”

Whether he chose to heed the reminder or discard it, Yeom Hwa-sin turned his gaze toward the source of the provocation.

“Are you addressing me?”

“Who else, you ancient fossil? Do you see any other withered bastards sitting here?”

The speaker was thoroughly intoxicated, draped in lavish silks and adorned with glittering jewelry—unmistakably an arrogant scion born into immense wealth. Seeing the very women who had spurned his advances now laughing merrily around their table had driven him into a bitter rage.

“Even so, is there any cause for such vulgar disrespect?”

“Has your cock shriveled along with your advancing years? What makes an old ruin like you think you deserve the spoils? Do you possess coin? More wealth than I possess? A pair of ragged beggars, nothing more.”

Without warning, he tilted an entire jar of liquor over Yeom Hwa-sin’s head.

Splash.

The wretch was actively courting his own demise.

Yet Yeom Hwa-sin remained entirely still, absorbing the humiliation without budging.

A heartbeat later—

Thwack!

The young man’s head snapped violently to the side as his feet left the ground, sending him crashing across the floorboards. Baek So-cheon had stepped in with a crushing blow.

Dropping down atop the sprawled youth, he unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes.

“Shriveled? Do you possess any notion of how many women yearn for my brother? Wealth? Far beyond your petty hoard! He is the wealthiest man walking this earth!”

Thwack! Thwack!

The young master flailed frantically to shield his face, completely powerless against Baek So-cheon’s explosive wrath.

“Have mercy! Forgive me, the drink clouded my mind!”

“You dare use alcohol as an excuse? Intoxicated or sober, learn your place! What business did you have harassing someone who paid you no mind?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Only after a comprehensive, agonizing thrashing did the tavern’s bouncers step forward to break up the melee. While genuine annoyance fueled the beating, Baek So-cheon was equally preserving the brat’s breath; had the other man moved, nothing would remain of him. The troublemaker was well known for causing disturbances in the district. As the guards hauled his limp form toward the exit, one muttered under his breath,

“Ruthless monster. You should steer clear of this district for your own good.”

With the disruption resolved, Yeom Hwa-sin peered sideways at Baek So-cheon.

“How could you declare with such certainty that I possess boundless wealth?”

“Is there any reason to doubt it? That individual must undoubtedly stand as the wealthiest of all.”

The women lingering nearby listened, their eyes gleaming with fascination.

Baek So-cheon leaned toward them with a grin.

“The most perilous treasure under the heavens—best avert your eyes!”

A chorus of delighted laughter broke out across the table.

His spirits restored, Yeom Hwa-sin bellowed with laughter and raised another cup. Baek So-cheon flagged down an attendant for clean cloths, helping wipe the drying wine from his companion’s hair and brow.

Inwardly, Baek So-cheon marveled at the scene. To have alcohol poured over his crown and still stay his hand was nothing short of miraculous. Barely half a day had elapsed since Baek So-cheon had accused him of rigid authoritarianism, yet here he had demonstrated the most profound patience of his entire existence.

Once more, Baek So-cheon was reminded of the sheer, terrifying depth of the man’s will.

By the time dawn began to pierce the horizon, they drifted out of Cheong-chun Jupjeom. The pair dropped down side by side against the exterior wall, awaiting their transport while surrounded by fallen drunks sprawled helplessly across the pavement.

“Pitiful wretches. Lingering until daybreak like rejects who failed to secure a woman.”

“And how does it feel? Sitting among those very rejects?”

“You despised it. We had plenty of invitations sent our way.”

“I turned them away on your behalf. None of them matched your preferences.”

“Preferences aside, they were hideous.”

Both men dissolved into shared laughter.

“It was an enjoyable diversion. We ought to visit again.”

Would they ever truly return? Was the suggestion made with any real expectation of repeating it?

“I have been contemplating your earlier remark. You spoke the truth. I govern myself with excessive rigidity.”

“I am pleased you recognize it.”

“Does such an inclination truly hinder my martial progression?”

“I consider it an outright sickness.”

“In what manner?”

“I encountered that exact obstacle once before. Crashing against an immovable wall day after day until I felt suffocated. Then understanding dawned: perhaps transformation of the self must precede the evolution of one’s martial arts.”

Yeom Hwa-sin stated decisively,

“A person’s nature never changes.”

“Is that not the exact reason scaling such walls remains so arduous?”

“Hm.”

Closing his eyes, Yeom Hwa-sin silently weighed Baek So-cheon’s philosophy.

“Transforming the self to elevate the arts?”

His eyelids parted sharply.

“Should I attempt to change?”

“Can you achieve it?”

“If it allows me to shatter these present boundaries, certainly.”

And what of myself?

Can I achieve such transformation within myself?

Baek So-cheon had structured this entire journey around the concept of a mirror. He viewed Yeom Hwa-sin as a guiding light, weaving himself directly into the senior martial artist’s quest for clarity. Though an unconventional comparison, this journey had become a silent duel of personal enlightenment.

The carriage rolled to a halt before them. The driver stepped down from the perch and pulled open the door.

“Where shall we head next?”

Yeom Hwa-sin commanded,

“Locate the finest establishment nearby. We require something hot for this hangover.”

At that very moment, several silhouettes stepped out to encircle the carriage.

They were masters of the peak tier, radiating sharp, oppressive battle intent. Positioned just behind them stood the swollen-faced young master who had received the beating earlier.

“Ah.”

Baek So-cheon let out a tired sigh. Yeom Hwa-sin, conversely, appeared invigorated, as though he had already consumed a restoring broth.

Every mortal commits blunders throughout their journey, paying debts of varying gravity.

Yet certain individuals refuse to accept their losses or reckon with the fallout. They scheme frantically to rewrite their missteps through vengeance. Sometimes innocent bystanders are dragged down, and other times, as with this fool, they blindly rush straight into the jaws of catastrophe because their pride refuses to swallow defeat.

The spiteful sneer curling across the scion’s lips would certainly be his last.

Baek So-cheon stole a glance at Yeom Hwa-sin, who grinned back with barefaced anticipation.

“We have breathed enough perfume for one evening. It is time to smell blood.”

Entirely blind to the true nature of their quarry, the martial artists forced the two inside the vehicle. Yeom Hwa-sin and Baek So-cheon offered no resistance, climbing aboard without fuss.

A naked blade was pressed against the driver’s throat, compelling the carriage toward an undisclosed destination.

The battered young master sat within, his bruised skin glowing a deep purple, yet his expression brimmed with vicious glee.

“You insolent dogs, do you understand where this carriage is heading? Straight into the netherworld.”

Baek So-cheon sighed silently to himself.

You wretched fool, you are sitting in the exact same carriage.

A dozen armed fighters stood waiting in the shadowed clearing of the woods.

At their head stood Sa Du-yang, a widely feared master of the unorthodox paths across this territory.

“Who dares to summon me out here at this hour?”

“A dispute from the pleasure house. He was beaten half to death.”

“Incompetent weakling.”

“They have arrived.”

The carriage ground to a halt before the assembly.

The battered youth leaped onto the dirt, gesturing frantically toward the carriage door.

“Brother Sa, these are the wretches!”

“Who possessed the audacity to provoke young master Jo?”

The young man who had taken the beating was none other than Jo Tong, heir to the prominent commercial empire known as Jo Ga Sang-hoe. Sa Du-yang provided muscle for their ventures in exchange for substantial funds, treating the enterprise as one of his primary sources of revenue.

Yeom Hwa-sin and Baek So-cheon descended from the carriage steps.

“Them!”

Jo Tong thrust a trembling finger toward Baek So-cheon.

Though an unorthodox practitioner of high standing, Sa Du-yang failed to identify Yeom Hwa-sin, having never once crossed paths with him in person.

“How would you prefer them handled?”

“Slaughter them. But not swiftly—sever their limbs, carve them apart piece by piece, and let them bleed before the end.”

“Such cruelty?”

“Nothing less will satisfy me!”

Having been unceremoniously cast out of Cheong-chun Jupjeom, consumed entirely by venomous humiliation, Jo Tong had mobilized his family’s connections through the darkness.

Sa Du-yang could not afford to sever ties with Jo Ga Sang-hoe. Given that this reckless brat stood poised to inherit the fortune, he had little choice but to comply with the directive.

“What are you standing around for? Tear them to pieces.”

“Understood!”

The subordinates drew their steel in unison, the ringing blades disturbing the quiet woods.

As Sa Du-yang took a casual step backward—

“Halt!”

His sudden roar shattered the tension. His eyes had finally registered the profile of the man holding the carriage reins.

His voice shook uncontrollably.

“Senior Jong?”

The driver gave a slow, deliberate nod.

“It is I.”

The man holding the reins was Jong Mu-jin.

“It is an immense privilege, senior. I am Sa Du-yang. You likely harbor no memory of me, but I had the honor of paying my respects to you long ago.”

Sa Du-yang bent his torso into an exaggerated, trembling bow. Jong Mu-jin was a name whispered with dread across the unorthodox underworld. It was well known that once his blade left its sheath, no living witness ever departed—a supreme figure standing far beyond the ordinary Peak realm. Ten, perhaps even a hundred swordsmen of Sa Du-yang’s caliber would be cleaved apart without ever laying a hand upon him.

A Transcendent Peak existence of Jong Mu-jin’s stature was not someone one approached for casual greetings, much less imagined holding the reins of a common transport…

“I recall you. I received word you struck out on your own with a band of youths. Are matters proceeding well?”

“I am overwhelmed that you remember. Word reached me that you had entered the retinue of the Black Heaven Alliance Lord.”

Sa Du-yang felt lightheaded, entirely unsettled by the turn of events.

“Indeed. I attend upon the Alliance Lord.”

“Ah, what a magnificent achievement. But what brings you here?”

Why in heaven’s name was a master of his standing steering a carriage?

“I am performing my duties.”

“Ah, of course… wait, what?”

“I am performing my duties.”

Jong Mu-jin’s hushed declaration seemed to drain the very air from the clearing. For the first time in his memory, Sa Du-yang felt the world tilt beneath his feet, his limbs shuddering like dry leaves before a tempest.

Right then, Jo Tong shoved his shoulder from behind.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Keep your mouth shut.”

Ignoring the suppressed terror in the command, Jo Tong barked even louder.

“Kill those bastards already!”

Unable to raise his voice without inviting annihilation, Sa Du-yang sank his head lower still, pleading in a choked whisper.

“Be silent… for the love of heaven, shut your mouth.”