Ch.32Chapter 32 – How Can One Forget Without Getting Drunk (1)

# Han Do-hyeon

“Do-hyeon. In strategic games like Go or chess, the most important thing is to understand your opponent’s intentions and read their moves.”

*Tuk, tuduk.*

In my mind, a game record unfolded, and I could see Seol-hwa sitting before me. Unlike me placing black stones, she placed pure white Go stones with a gentle smile.

“It’s the same when writing. We need to use strategically placed hints like Go stones to anticipate the next move.”

Seol-hwa was skilled at giving me riddles and teaching me how to realize things on my own.

She would say that while there might not be a perfect answer in writing, there are definitely wrong ones.

“There are four important corners on a Go board, marked with black circles. If this were writing, what would they represent?”

‘Each represents material, setting, story, and plot.’

“That’s right. The upper right corner is material, the most important element. It determines nearly half of the writing.”

Material is the driving force behind writing. Like an engine in a car, it creates the ‘anticipation’ that carries the writing to its conclusion.

“Second, the upper left corner is the setting. It’s usually not obvious, but becomes problematic when the writing loses its appeal.”

Settings create plausibility and narrative, giving depth to characters. They also help readers immerse themselves in the story and empathize with it.

“With perfect setting and narrative, you just need to write down the trajectories of the characters.”

When characters come alive, they sometimes deviate from the planned story, making it difficult to continue the narrative in later parts.

“The third and fourth are story and plot. We write to create important episodes, and we create plot to build bridges between those stories.”

Seol-hwa particularly enjoyed thinking in reverse. She would fill the gaps between stories by working backward.

“So, what did you find from the hints I gave you?”

I could almost see Seol-hwa resting her chin on her hands as she looked at me.

‘That’s it.’

To defeat Shub-Niggurath, the Outer God who claims to be an avid reader, I need to exploit the difference between readers and writers.

It’s something you can never understand unless you write. I need to take advantage of the difference in perspective between writers and readers to penetrate the opponent’s weakness.

‘Use settings or hints hidden in the text that readers would never expect.’

My goal is the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament, where characters from all works gather.

I was convinced I could find the 10,000-Year Ultimate Blood Treasure there, which might cure my severed meridians, and I was certain I could meet Seol-hwa and other protagonists.

“Master, could that elixir cure your chronic illness?”

On the way to the harbor, heading back to the central martial arts world where the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament would be held.

Bi-wol had been constantly worried about my physical condition, becoming sensitive at the mere mention of elixirs.

“That alone might not be enough. It’s a mass of yang energy that could burn you to death if consumed without special precautions.”

I sighed softly as I spoke.

No matter what, I didn’t think such an elixir would simply make the affliction tormenting my body disappear.

“My current condition isn’t just ordinary severed meridians; it seems to be connected to an Outer God.”

And not just any Outer God, but one described as an “Outer God” in popular culture. A being from the Cthulhu Mythos, famous for driving people insane just by looking at or describing it.

Even Azazel Blackheart, who was connected to a Great Old One, nearly fell into madness and lost her power. To defeat this, I’ll need to use every means possible.

“I, your disciple, will burn this body to achieve victory for your well-being, Master.”

Bi-wol’s eyes burned with fighting spirit more than ever before. She clenched her fists, declaring her determination.

“…”

Bi-wol is like a daughter created by Seol-hwa and me. I pondered this countless times as I boarded the ship.

I had been shaken thinking she was dead, but perhaps I was wrong.

***

When Bing-yeon returned to his sect, the Ice Dragon Fate Sect, many people welcomed him.

“It’s Master Bing-yeon…!”

“Master Bing-yeon! How long has it been since you returned!”

Children with various disabilities—one missing a limb, another blind using a walking stick, another with a face scarred by burns—followed him like they would a parent.

All were children rejected from somewhere. They had histories of being used as experimental subjects by the Heavenly Demon Divine Sect to create warriors, or had lost their parents in accidents or attacks.

“It’s Sister Bi-wol!”

“But who are those ladies beside her…?”

Most of them had formed friendships with Bi-wol. In the original work, they had all died, but in this world, Bing-yeon had saved them at the risk of his own life.

Ordinary people might have shown pity or disgust at their wretched and disfigured appearances,

But Bing-yeon was different.

“They are your new family. Go ahead and greet them.”

Instead, he smiled as he distributed sweet snacks he had bought from the West to the children.

“He went to the West and gathered new disciples.”

“I see, the Dragon and Phoenix Tournament will be held soon.”

Bi-wol linked her arm with Bing-yeon’s, showing off her presence. After defeating the Inner Demon, she had no hesitation in displaying affection in front of others.

And then,

“Hello! I am Verdandi Astraia, a hero from the western continent!”

One person bowed deeply with an admiring voice toward Bing-yeon, while another barely nodded stiffly with a sardonic smile.

“…Hello. I am Azazel, the Saint of Mercy.”

Verdandi and Azazel exchanged awkward greetings with Bing-yeon’s disciples.

“Wow…! Her hair is golden!”

“That sister has a strange black mass attached to her back! It’s wriggling!”

The children were amazed, seeing people with different hair and eye colors for the first time. Seeing their innocent reactions, Azazel could only press her lips together.

“As expected, our master is truly a sage!”

“I don’t think I appear to be such a kind person.”

Verdandi exclaimed loudly at the scene, and hearing her voice, Azazel gave Bing-yeon a distrustful look.

Fortunately, Bing-yeon had gone inside the building to rest his overworked body, and Bi-wol had followed him, so they couldn’t hear this conversation.

“Why would you think that!”

“His background is too suspicious. In the East, isn’t a relationship between master and disciple considered as bad as incest?”

If Bi-wol had heard such words, she would have tried to knock Azazel down without question.

In the East, there was a deep-rooted culture that one should treat one’s lord, master, and parents with the same attitude, as their grace was considered equal.

This was so significant that in the central martial arts world, “deceiving the master and destroying the ancestors” was considered the highest crime in all sects.

“He’s a master who will lay hands on his own disciple in the future.”

“Well, with a face like that, it would be strange if there weren’t rumors about women!”

There was a reason why Bing-yeon refused to accept Bi-wol’s feelings despite knowing them. If rumors spread about a master and disciple being in a romantic relationship, they could be stoned in the marketplace, and the sect he established could be destroyed.

“Are you still worried about the future you saw then, junior Azazel?”

“Yes, of course.”

Azazel swallowed her continuing anxiety. Not only could she see through her future predictions, but there were moments when just seeing them put her life in danger.

“Then why not end the master-disciple relationship!”

Hearing Azazel’s words, Verdandi thought of a solution. In reality, it was possible to end a master-disciple relationship to get married.

Sometimes, Verdandi showed a cleverness born from her innocence. Almost as if she resembled her creator, Yoo Seol-hwa.

“Don’t trust the future too much! How can you believe what you see without any evidence!”

Verdandi had nearly killed her own mother based solely on the oracle of the main deity, so she didn’t want Azazel to judge Bing-yeon based only on the future.

Honestly, she thought it wouldn’t matter if there was a future where Bing-yeon blindfolded and pounced on her after she became an adult.

“…Then, what should I believe?”

Azazel frowned at Verdandi’s bright smile. Their personalities were so incompatible it could be called human chemistry.

It went beyond issues of good and evil.

“The main deity, the man I had a crush on, my family—they all abandoned me. The wounds inflicted by people still ache, so what should I believe?”

Azazel spoke candidly about her experiences. This was also why she couldn’t trust Bing-yeon immediately.

But, in complete contrast,

“Believe in our master!”

Thinking of Bing-yeon, who had saved them with his prophetic abilities, Verdandi thrust her chest forward.

An ordinary person, even knowing the future, would only act for their own benefit.

Even if this was a fictional world he created, there was no need to take responsibility by saving people.

He could have lived in luxury knowing this.

Bing-yeon is already terminally ill. No one would criticize him if he lived only for himself.

“Our master is an extraordinary person!”

Verdandi, who had vaguely sensed this fact, raised the corners of her mouth as she imagined what was to come.

“What a comfortable thing to say.”

Beside her, Azazel sighed.

***

“Now I will tell you your weaknesses.”

I stood before my disciples with a small wine jar. The wine inside was bamboo leaf liquor, a representative drink often appearing in mainstream martial arts novels.

Considering the distillation process, it had to be expensive, so I had spent a considerable sum to procure it.

“…Why did you bring bamboo leaf liquor, Master?”

“To demonstrate the ultimate state of flow. Bi-wol.”

What I was about to show these children was the Drunken Fist.

Originally created for films, in my novel there was a leader of the Beggar Sect who used it as his main fighting style.

Also, with the possibility that Seol-hwa might be alive, I couldn’t bear it without drinking.

“Bi-wol, in your case, your moves are too predictable. Hide your killing intent and make yourself unpredictable.”

I pointed to each person and recited their weaknesses.

Bi-wol was unskilled at hiding her killing intent and too focused on principles, causing her to lose even in verbal debates.

“Verdandi, your movements are too large. You have too many unnecessary movements when using a sword.”

In Verdandi’s case, although I hadn’t set any outstanding weaknesses for her, she had enough openings for me to subdue her.

“Azazel lacks practical experience and hesitates to attack vital points.”

Finally, I advised Azazel and brought the wine jar close to my mouth. A hot sensation ran down my throat, and a subtle intoxication began to spread through my body.

“When I sing, the moon wanders; when I dance, my shadow scatters chaotically.”

I recited a verse from a poem I liked. It was from Li Bai’s “Drinking Alone Under the Moon,” describing what happened while drinking alone under moonlight.

“Come, attack me. If you can take this wine jar from me, you win.”

“…Master?”

Seeing my staggering steps and unfocused eyes, Bi-wol licked her lips.