Chapter 41

Danwooseong watched the eve festival with his arms crossed.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. If the Demon Sect had indeed risen again, considering their meticulous activities thus far, I briefly wondered if they might have come to watch the Dragon-Phoenix Grand Assembly. After all, their true identities remained undisclosed.

But that possibility wasn’t high.

Their level was simply too high.

Synthesizing the words of Chief Yoo Jeong-hong and Dan Woo-seong’s own experiences leads to this conclusion.

This time, the Demon Cult would emerge having forged a powerhouse capable of withstanding an assault from all three of the Three Divine Stars.

It felt like they were competing to see who could grow stronger faster, unseen by the other.

Danwooseong continued his external cultivation practice with the window open, listening to the noisy sounds of the eve celebration.

He wasn’t the type to open such a harsh path in the martial world for Cheol Myeong-ho and then live comfortably alone. By the time Cheol Myeong-ho had practiced the Three Calamities Sword Technique a million times and returned, Dan Woo-seong would have completed an even more grueling training regimen.

Shortly after, the clanging of weapons reached his ears, and even amidst his external energy training, he felt no boredom.

This was Dan Woosung’s way of enjoying the festival.

It wasn’t simply a training method for building muscle. He practiced by balancing upside down with one hand on the ground, or by placing both hands on the floor and holding on until his body’s balance collapsed.

Danwooseong does not use weapons.

To seize the unexpected split-second moment during combat—when swordsmen, dagger-wielders, or those using martial arts techniques least expect it—and turn it into a foothold for reversal, it is advantageous for the body itself to be mysteriously flexible and free enough to break from ordinary thinking.

He was called the Fist King, but…

One cannot defeat all masters simply by punching.

He had no intention of neglecting his martial arts training. The stronger his martial arts skills, the more efficiently he could wield his inner strength; most masters could be crushed by a combination of martial arts and external techniques.

Dan Woo-sung intended to win the Dragon Phoenix Grand Tournament that way.

A fight where he used as little internal energy as possible. As the three preliminary bouts unfolded during the eve celebration, the crowd burst into laughter. Then, absurdly, Cheol Myeong-ho’s voice pierced Dan Woo-seong’s ears.

“Stop laughing. Do I look funny?”

“You’ve been spewing insults since earlier. Why don’t you show us your umbrella skills?”

“I’m in training. I can’t just show it off carelessly.”

Laughter erupted once more from all directions.

Dan Woo-sung relaxed his posture and stood up.

‘That little brat, trying to break my concentration.’

Looking out the window, he saw Cheol Myeong-ho on the main stage of the pre-festival event. Dan Woo-sung couldn’t understand it, but from Cheol Myeong-ho’s perspective, it was unfair.

He’d been pushing through the crowd to find lodging, and someone had stepped on his foot or bumped his shoulder, leading to an argument. After Cheol Myeong-ho let loose with a satisfying rant, some guy had shoved him onto the central stage.

“That fellow’s weapon is an umbrella.”

“Oh… How fascinating. An umbrella? Show us what you can do.”

Cheol Myeong-ho’s expression was truly something to behold. Even while boiling with rage, he was grinning like a stubborn mule. Looking around, he said,

“What? Did the Martial Arts Alliance ban using umbrellas as weapons or something?”

Danwooseong chuckled.

‘What a crazy bastard.’

Regardless of whether his martial arts were strong or weak, Cheol Myeong-ho’s attitude remained consistent. Where was this place? It was the Martial Arts Alliance, teeming with masters, yet he acted this way.

Cheol Myeong-ho held out his iron-clad umbrella and surveyed the crowd.

“Alright. I’ll fight just once. I’m Cheol Myeong-ho, trained in sixty-one downward strikes. Anyone confident, step forward.”

A man asked.

“Sixty-one strikes? That’s a joke. You’re going to participate in the Dragon-Phoenix Grand Tournament with that level of skill?”

“I never said I would. Stop making things up.”

“Hold on. Seriously? You only trained the downward strike?”

Cheol Myeong-ho retorted.

“No? Today I learned horizontal cuts and thrusts from my master.”

“You mean the Three Calamities Sword Technique? Your master taught you something anyone can do? What a remarkable master you have.”

Cheol Myeong-ho retorted.

“No? Not just anyone can do it.”

‘If you plan to do it a million times, that is…’

How did the mood turn out like this?

Every time Cheol Myeong-ho spoke the truth, people laughed.

Danwooseong gazed at this curious friend with a faint smile. It felt utterly awkward to be called “master,” yet having received instruction from the Kwonwang, he was indeed a disciple.

“He’s not up to par. Everyone, this Yang family will handle him.”

A man wielding a spear stepped forward and declared.

“I am Yang Il-ho, trained in the Yang Family Spear Technique. I hesitated to step forward due to my own lack of skill, but I will prevent the man with the umbrella from participating in the main tournament of the Dragon-Phoenix Grand Gathering.”

Cheolmyeongho showed no courtesy. Yang Ilho, who had bowed alone, flushed red and charged forward, swinging his spear.

Whoosh!

Then Cheolmyeongho, umbrella in hand, began spinning in circles as he fled. It was a pitiful sight, utterly unbecoming of a martial artist.

“Hahahahaha…”

To the onlookers, even this kind of fight was entertaining.

Meanwhile, Yang Il-ho, who was actually chasing him, was so embarrassed his face was bright red.

Dan Woo-sung stood with his arms crossed, watching with an impassive expression.

Among all these people, Dan Woo-sung was likely the only one who knew Cheol Myeong-ho wasn’t the type to just run away.

Yang Il-ho shouted.

“Hey! Stop running away already…”

Yang Il-ho couldn’t hold back his temper and bellowed, causing Cheol Myeong-ho to spin around and charge recklessly, blocking the spear with his entire body.

Startled, Yang Il-ho thrust his spear forward. Cheol Myeong-ho dangerously caught the advancing spear in his left side, then aimed a downward strike—one he’d wielded a hundred thousand times—at Yang Il-ho’s crown.

Yang Il-ho, startled, raised his arms to block.

Crack!

“Ugh!”

He had underestimated the weight of the iron umbrella. The iron umbrella instantly shattered Yang Il-ho’s wrist, then struck his skull with an additional blow, knocking him unconscious in a single strike.

Both the struck man and the striker were equally stunned.

As Yang Il-ho collapsed unconscious…

Cheolmyeongho looked at the inside of his arm and his side. Blood from the spear wound was seeping slightly through his clothes.

True to his nature as a fighter, he had the temperament of a gambler.

Recalling the beatings he’d taken from his friend, this injury was practically insignificant.

People chattered with shocked expressions, and some even sneered at Yang Il-ho for his carelessness. One master explained what he saw to his disciple.

“…That’s what happens when you let your guard down.”

Amidst this, Cheol Myeong-ho spoke.

“You were lucky. My skill is lacking, so I’ll stop here.”

Dan Woo-sung smiled.

By any measure, Yang Il-ho’s skill is superior. Yet competition often ends this way: the man who lets his guard down loses.

As Cheol Myeong-ho tried to escape the still awkward stage and headed toward the crowd, he unfortunately came face to face with a group that refused to make way for him.

The man at the center of the group spoke with a displeased expression.

“Seems you lack manners and skill, so I’m not inclined to make way for you.”

Cheol Myeong-ho glared at the man with a murderous look.

“Is that so? Then let’s fight again.”

Defeat did not frighten him, but being looked down upon by others was unbearable.

The man replied with a laugh.

“Do you know who I am?”

Cheol Myeong-ho retorted.

“How should I know? We haven’t even exchanged names.”

Thud!

The man kicked Cheol Myeong-ho in the stomach, sending him tumbling to the ground with a single blow. Cheol Myeong-ho couldn’t possibly dodge that kick. The man deliberately kicked lightly. That way, Cheol Myeong-ho would get back up and charge at him again.

As the man approached Cheol Myeong-ho, he said.

“I am Cao Yasol of the Wolf Fang Fist.”

Cheolmyeong-ho, clutching his stomach, muttered in a small voice.

“Hah, what a fucking childish nickname. It’s so funny it’s making my stomach hurt even more?”

As Cheolmyeongho sneered, Jo Asol bellowed.

“What did you just say! Get up!”

As Cheol Myeong-ho stood up, he kept his mouth running nonstop.

“Fuck, when you were kicking me, where were you? Now you tell me to get up?”

The onlookers burst out laughing at Cheolmyeong-ho’s words.

“Hahahaha…”

“I’ll smash that mouth of yours first.”

Cheol Myeong-ho had completely forgotten Dan Woo-seong’s advice to watch his words around martial artists. That was just Cheol Myeong-ho.

Cheolmyeongho instinctively assessed Jo Asol’s prayer while keeping his black iron umbrella aimed. The nickname was indeed childish, but regardless, this opponent was clearly stronger than himself. It was also clear he wouldn’t let his guard down like the unconscious Yang Ilho.

Unconsciously, the tip of the black iron umbrella trembled.

He must be tense.

And that very tension made rage surge up inside him.

‘Not ten thousand times, but a million times I should have swung and fought…’

At that moment, the rustling of clothing fluttering in the air reached his ears.

Danwooseong, who had been silently watching until now, launched himself from the window and landed, taking the center position between Jo Asol and Cheol Myeongho.

No matter how you looked at it, Cheol Myeong-ho was no match for Jo Ah-sol. Since he’d been shooting his mouth off recklessly, it was obvious he’d get beaten to a pulp by Jo Ah-sol, who knew how to use his fists.

Cheol Myeong-ho was startled and said to Dan Woo-seong.

“What? Why’d you come down?”

Dan Woo-sung retorted.

“To enjoy the eve celebration.”

Cheol Myeong-ho retreated, grinning so widely the bruise on his cheek was hidden. Then he poked his head out sideways, glaring at Jo A-sol with a taunting look.

‘Hey, looks like you’re screwed now.’

Jo A-sol glared at Dan Woo-sung and said.

“Who the hell are you to suddenly butt in?”

Dan Woo-sung silenced his opponent with a remarkably simple answer.

“I’m a participant in the Yongbong Grand Tournament.”

Cheol Myeong-ho retorted in perfect sync.

“So what? I told you I’m not a participant in the Yongbong Grand Assembly. You’re picking a fight.”

Dan Woo-sung turned, tilted his chin slightly, and fixed his gaze on Jo Ah-sol.

Cheol Myeong-ho felt his blood boil just looking at Dan Woo-seong’s broad back. Without a doubt, Cheol Myeong-ho was the man most fired up at this pre-tournament gathering. He’d been lucky, but he’d also tasted victory by knocking out that spear-wielding bastard.

Cheolmyeongho was overcome by a strange feeling, and a shiver ran through his entire body.

‘Growing stronger is a wonderful thing. Ah, it’s the most wonderful thing in the world.’

The moment she saw Danwooseong, Jo Asol found herself instinctively tense. Yet, bearing the expectations of the unranked, retreating here would be a disgrace in itself.

Jo A-sol said.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

Dan Woo-seong and Jo Ah-sol stared at each other without moving an inch. Dan Woo-seong watched Jo Ah-sol, keeping martial arts techniques in mind.

Jo A-sol stared at Dan Woo-sung, then realized cold sweat was running down her back. She had no sense whatsoever of how strong this man was. Yet he showed no obvious weaknesses either. As she agonized over his attack path, Jo A-sol realized she was psychologically overwhelmed.

Jo A-sol leaned forward in a powerful throwing stance, simultaneously advancing and thrusting her right fist out with sheer force.

When Danwooseong extended his right hand with an identical motion, their arms crossed like tangled threads, each aiming for the other’s face.

Just as Dan Wooseong’s longer stride gave him the momentum to drive forward…

Danwooseong shoved his opponent’s arm upward with his shoulder, grabbed Jo Asol’s nape with his left hand, spun him around in midair at tremendous speed, and slammed him into the ground.

Thud!

Immediately after Dan Woo-sung pinned Jo A-sol down with his knee, he delivered a punch that seemed capable of shattering the ground, striking the side of Jo A-sol’s face.

CRASH!

Jo A-sol hadn’t even been hit by the fist, yet his eyes rolled back instantly and he passed out.

The sudden terror of impending death overwhelmed him, leading to unconsciousness.

As Dan Woo-sung rose, the eve celebration fell silent.

ⓒ Yoo Jin-seong

=======================================