Chapter 16

Dan Woo-sung was not a man who would simply wait for the elixir. Cultivating martial arts was a kind of addiction.

Countless sects either emphasized the art of weaponry or fell into the trap of internal energy supremacy, insisting that steadily accumulating internal energy was the only shortcut to becoming a powerhouse.

Kwon’s path diverged entirely from theirs.

Danwooseong’s approach involved training methods that fixated on the ‘physical body’ itself more intensely than any other martial arts sect.

The annex thus served as the place where Danwooseong’s body was transformed. Although high walls already surrounded the area, numerous servants and guards came and went, so a tall screen was erected around the annex as well.

Consequently, only the Ssangbo brothers could occasionally witness Danwooseong’s training.

But even that was only possible when they had the time.

The Ssangbo brothers were also drenched in sweat, struggling to maintain the posture Danwooseong demanded. Though these were moves one might expect from a third-rate martial arts sect, Danwooseong did not take performing them lightly.

When fighting desperately, there comes a moment when your inner strength runs dry.

Dan Wooseong’s firm belief was that from that point onward, one must fight with their body.

Fortunately, the Ssangbo brothers already possessed superior physiques and innate brute strength, allowing them to steadily master external martial arts under Dan Wooseong’s guidance.

Even the Ssangbo brothers hadn’t realized external martial arts training could be this grueling.

He trained with a rigid posture, as if frozen by ice techniques or acupoint pressure, striving desperately to strengthen his body’s power and endurance. Being brothers made them even more stubborn.

The first to collapse would be the loser.

Seeing Danwoo Seong himself enduring this grueling training only strengthened the Sangbo brothers’ resolve.

Sunrise training, meal and rest, three-person sparring, Black Bullet Fist training, meal and rest, lecture on combat tactics, learning about psychological warfare and points to note in offensive-defensive combat during duels—then the three ate again.

The three ate like madmen.

Since the menu was Danwuseong’s request, the senior master of the Galaxy Division personally oversaw its preparation.

Only after nightfall were the Shuangbo brothers granted free time, while Dan Wuxing remained alone, immersed in qigong and breathing exercises.

Even to the Sangbo brothers, the young master of the Eunha Group was a relentless man.

But these days of repetition did not last even a fortnight.

“Master Kong, a friend named Zhu Ziliang has come to see you.”

At the attendant’s words, Danwooseong, who had been sitting cross-legged alone in the room, opened his eyes and replied while putting on his upper garment.

“In the main hall?”

“Yes.”

“If I’m late, tell the Shuangbo brothers to eat their late-night meal together.”

“Understood.”

When Dan Wooseong stepped out onto the main hall, he saw Zhu Ziliang, the failed scholar he hadn’t seen in ages, sipping a cup of tea.

Ju Jaryang smiled at Dan Wooseong.

“Your Highness, how have you been?”

Dan Wooseong sat down before Zhu Ziliang and smiled faintly.

“What wind blew you all the way here?”

“I came because I have something important to discuss. And to see your face.”

“What about dinner?”

“It’s fine.”

After observing Ju Ja-ryang’s complexion and gaze for a moment, Dan Woo-sung asked,

“Seems like you’ve cut back on the drinking?”

Joo Ja-ryang replied with an embarrassed look.

“Ah, booze? Well, booze… I’ve had a drink or two since we last had a meal together. But lately, there’s really no occasion to drink. The other jerks have been quiet too, so…”

Dan Wooseong chuckled and nodded.

“No wonder your complexion looks better than before.”

“It’s nothing else. You know the Shihua Ping (詩華評) top prize, right?”

Danwooseong nodded as he recalled.

“I know. A retreat for desk jockeys nestled in scenic surroundings.”

“What kind of people are there now?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. I’m holed up at home myself.”

“The So Seon faction is packed in there.”

“Wasn’t that a place only your scholars frequented?”

“What I mean is… all the meetings got canceled. I was so frustrated I started looking around, and it seems even the head of the Soseonpa faction is here. It reminded me of what Sima Jue said last time. There’s talk of him setting up a branch office, and he mentioned having business with your merchant guild too. I don’t know the details, but I thought you should be aware. I ran into Sima Jue briefly on the street and we spoke; he said it would be best to let you know.”

Dan Woo-sung said with a smile.

“Our esteemed scholar has brought us some valuable information, hasn’t he?”

“Ah, useful information? I was starting to think I’d meddled unnecessarily.”

“It’s useful information.”

Danwooseong knew the Crown Prince had often slipped pocket money to the failed scholar, so he casually inquired.

“How much would you pay for this information? It seems like high-level intel even the Haowumen wouldn’t know.”

Joo Ja-ryang retorted at Dan Woo-seong’s words.

“Maybe I should open a Scholar’s Gate myself. We bookworms like me are surprisingly good at spouting off about news and information like this. It’s all because we’re bored with studying. Once you start chattering away, you end up discussing everything under the sun.”

Dan Woosung shook his head.

“Forget the Scholar’s Gate. It sounds too pretentious.”

“Then what?”

“Let’s go with the ‘Failed Exam Gate’.”

“Oh, come on… Hold on, a rejection letter is fine too, right?”

Dan Woo-sung said as he took the scroll.

“Failure Gate Master, thanks for the intel. I’ll owe you on that one… I’ll buy you a drink later.”

Joo Ja-ryang responded, his fist clenched in a messy, disheveled manner.

“Is that something the young master of the Eunha Trading Company should say? Just kidding. I don’t need pocket money. If I had money, I’d just think about drinking. Lately, my mind’s been calmer, so life’s easier… Cutting back on booze makes my body feel better too. I don’t even think about that wicked Hongseol anymore.”

Hongseol was the courtesan Zhu Ziliang favored. Dan Wuseong spoke as if surprised.

“Has even that good-for-nothing scholar come to his senses?”

“I’m still not quite ready to leave yet. Anyway, I’ve said my piece, so I’m outta here. We talked about this with the kids the other day—we won’t be the ones bothering you first. But if you get frustrated during training, you reach out to us first. You know how we are. Time’s what we have plenty of, booze is what we’re short on, and women are what we’re missing.”

“Got it.”

When Dan Wooseong followed him out as if to see him off, Joo Jaryang didn’t stop him. Halfway to the main gate, Joo Jaryang asked as if he’d just remembered something.

“Ah, right. What about the Soseon faction?”

“Hmm. Should we kill them all?”

When Dan Woo-sung casually uttered those terrifying words, Ju Ja-ryang stopped in his tracks.

“Friend, I’d rather not see your name on the list of public enemies of the martial world.”

Dan Woosung tapped Zhu Ziliang on the shoulder as he spoke.

“Do as you please. Go.”

Zhu Ziliang turned at the gate, then looked at Dan Wuseong and formally saluted with a deep bow.

“Your Highness, then. I wish you good fortune.”

Dan Woosung returned the courtesy.

“Please take care of Lord Nakbangmun as well.”

Ju Zaliang gave a sly smile, then turned and left the Milky Way Trading Company. After walking for a while, Ju Zaliang suddenly stopped and recalled the conversation he’d shared with his friend.

“The Nokbang Gate…”

I still didn’t know what I should be doing, how to gather information, or whether this would even make money… I knew next to nothing. The word “failure” just kept echoing in my mind.

.

.

.

As soon as Ju Jaryang left, Danwooseong surveyed the guard unit’s armory. He passed the area where weapons were repaired, then examined the display of weapons. He pulled out cloth used for bandages, wrapping it around his wrist and palm as he walked around.

The fact that the Small Star Sect had come near the Galaxy Trading Guild made their intentions obvious. They must have heard news of Gu Yanghou. If they intended to demand money or make threats, the Small Star Sect’s leader wouldn’t have entered the Shihua Ping Manor; they could have simply visited the Galaxy Trading Guild directly. Of course, Dan Wuxing didn’t know exactly what they were scheming either.

But it didn’t matter.

Dan Woo-sung intended to go first.

After wandering around, Dan Wooseong changed into the black guard uniform stored in the guard unit’s warehouse and slung a short iron baton used by the guards around his waist.

It was his night patrol uniform.

Then he wrapped the cloth used like a scarf in winter around his neck and tied it loosely. By pulling the knot up over his nose, it would instantly become a mask.

Leaving the armory, Danwooseong said to a passing attendant,

“I’m going out for a drink.”

The attendant responded with a bright smile.

“Have a good trip, Master.”

Stepping outside the merchant’s quarters, the night air felt refreshingly cool. Dan Wooseong felt no particular emotional stir. He thought it was similar yet inevitable—like insects drawn to light or gathering around the scent of money.

The Shihwa Pyeong Manor was a scenic estate near the Cheongnam River, offering water activities in summer and ice fishing in winter. As it was primarily a gathering place for scholars, the surroundings were relatively quiet.

As soon as he left the bustling district, Danwooseong broke into a sprint, using his lightness skill. Though his speed was incomparably faster than when climbing and descending Guwhasan Mountain, it still fell short of his peak performance, leaving him dissatisfied. Nevertheless, as he ran with intense focus, as if testing his physical condition, a refreshing sensation filled his chest.

Danwooseong gradually slowed his pace as the lights of Sihwa-pyeong Manor came into view, then walked while loosening up his body. He stopped at a suitable distance and stretched his muscles as if doing calisthenics, finally looking down at his hands.

Ten-Dan Mastery.

Theory-wise, he had mastered up to the tenth level, but his actual power level was only at the third level. Even reaching the third level had been at an astonishingly fast pace. As he clenched and unclenched his fists, channeling power into both hands, white lightning—symbolizing the White Lightning—gathered in his palms like a cluster of fireflies.

Dan Woo-sung stared blankly at the main gate of the estate, lost in thought.

Should I ambush them, climb the roof to find the head of the sect first, or lure them out from outside…?

After a brief moment of deliberation, Danwooseong suddenly smiled.

‘Today, just like in my past life.’

He strode forward with his arms spread wide to the sides, a sharp crack echoing from each limb. Pulling the black cloth wrapped around his neck up over his nose and tying it in a knot, Dan Wooseong kicked the main gate of the Sihwa Pyeong Manor with reckless abandon, sending it flying.

CRASH!

The martial artists of the Small Sword Sect inside the courtyard looked up at the door in startled surprise. They must have been having quite a lavish banquet—the long table was laden with all kinds of dishes, and empty wine jars were already scattered on the floor.

“Who the hell are you, you bastard!”

The shout erupted the moment they realized only one person had smashed through the manor gate. And there were so many of them. Even at a glance, there were over thirty.

As Danwooseong silently walked sideways, scanning for the gatekeeper, a man approached with an expression of utter bewilderment and asked.

“What? You barged in? Alone?”

Danwooseong tilted his head and asked.

“Where are the scholars? Why are you guys here?”

As Dan Woosung looked for the scholars, the man who had just relaxed his guard spoke with an annoyed expression.

“You crazy bastard… Ugh!”

The man clutched his abdomen, unable to finish his sentence. Dan Wooseong had closed the short distance in an instant, his right hand thrust into the man’s side. Gripping the man’s throat, Dan Wooseong asked, his voice laced with doubt.

“Draw your sword, and you die first.”

Before he could finish speaking, weapons were drawn with a sharp whirring sound from all around. Danwooseong snapped the man’s neck cleanly with the strength of his left hand before speaking.

“No sense of camaraderie here. Not even a proper rivalry—more like a heretic’s enmity.”

With a thud, the man whose neck snapped collapsed to the floor. Yeom Jisang adjusted the waistband of his pants as he emerged from inside.

“Why all the commotion? Who is that guy?”

“Gung Saje is dead.”

Yeom Jisang replied, his gaze fixed intently on Danwooseong.

“Kill him. He’s a master.”

Yeom Jisang adjusted his sash once more, glaring at Danwooseong as if he’d just been playing with the courtesan he’d called in from outside moments ago.

ⓒ Yoo Jin-seong

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