Chapter 27: Guidance

—Taat.

Cheongun spun around lightly and landed gracefully.

In the pitch black darkness.

Only his face flickered above the campfire as his gleaming eyes stared intently at the bandits.

His gaze swept from left to right, scrutinizing them, before finally drawing a faint smile.

“I knew it would come to this. What? Taking hostages? Seriously. You guys are hopeless. Just die.”

He had sensed it from the moment he first saw them.

No matter how barbaric and uncivilized the ancient Central Plains were, this wasn’t an era completely devoid of morals and ethics.

There was at least some semblance of righteousness, but these men had none of it.

“Great Hero! This is a misunderstanding!”

“What misunderstanding? I heard everything clearly.”

Sensing energy wasn’t just about detecting the flow of qi.

Just as qi flowed through the heavens and earth, sound also traveled as vibrations carried by qi.

When creating his character, Cheongun had poured nearly 20,000 achievement points into energy perception, elevating his hearing to a level that could be considered superhuman.

“I-I’ll explain everything!”

“Explain? You dare try to lecture me now?”

“N-no! I’ll clarify everything!”

“I don’t care to listen. Just die.”

Srrring—!

Cheongun drew his sword.

Thin, thread-like streaks of lightning stretched out, intersecting and converging at the tip of his blade.

The crackling electricity slithered down the sword like a living thing.

Then—

Zzzzzzt—!

A flash of blue lightning tore through the air.

The terrifying sight made Yang Hogol tremble uncontrollably.

He didn’t know what kind of martial technique that was, but he knew one thing for sure— if that blade struck, it would mean instant death.

Without thinking, Yang Hogol collapsed to his knees and shouted desperately.

“I-I am Yang Hogol, chief of the Iron Gate Stronghold, one of the Eighteen Green Forest Forts!”

It was practically his last resort.

No matter how much he begged, this madman wouldn’t even pretend to listen, so this was his only option.

Cheongun paused mid-motion.

“You’re the chief?”

“Yes! If you kill me, the Green Forest won’t let this slide!”

“Ah, the Green Forest is a bit of a hassle.”

At those words, Yang Hogol felt a glimmer of hope.

If this man knew the influence of the Green Forest, this tangled situation might be resolved more easily than he thought.

Cheongun stood still, staring at them.

Then he uttered something cryptic.

“Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, and I know.”

“…?”

“Do you know what this means?”

“O-of course!”

Yang Hogol nodded frantically.

Even as an uneducated bandit, he knew that saying.

Didn’t it mean that from now on, there would be no secrets between them, so they should live honestly and carefully?

But Cheongun’s next words drained the color from his face.

“Heaven and earth have no mouths.”

“What?”

“So if I kill you— the ones with mouths— the Green Forest and I will have no connection. That’s what it means.”

Ah, silencing witnesses.

This insane bastard!

“G-Great Hero, aren’t you a martial artist who walks the path of righteousness?”

“The path I walk is righteousness.”

“What kind of bullshit— Aren’t you afraid of heaven?!”

“I am that heaven.”

“Crazy… damn it…”

Yang Hogol was at a loss for words.

Of all people to run into, it had to be this madman.

“Alright, let’s die for real now.”

Cheongun dragged his sword along the ground as he approached.

Honestly, letting those bastards go had left a bad taste in his mouth, so he had followed them— and it turned out to be the right decision.

He had just reached a new level of mastery and wanted to test it out.

What better way to test his skills than by slaughtering a bunch of wicked scum like this?

Just then, Yang Hogol exchanged glances with his men.

What kind of nonsense were they planning now?

As Cheongun silently watched—

“Attack!”

Crash—!

The moment the command was given, the bandits who had been trembling just moments ago rushed at Cheongun from all sides.

Meanwhile, Yang Hogol abandoned them and fled, pushing his lightness skill to the limit, forgetting even to breathe.

He ran so desperately that his blood and qi burned, throbbing painfully in his veins.

Every now and then, lightning seemed to strike behind him— flash! —followed by deafening booms! and sporadic, blood-curdling screams.

But Yang Hogol didn’t dare look back.

“Huff… gasp…”

The sounds gradually faded.

Still, he couldn’t let his guard down.

He kept pushing his inner energy, sprinting at full speed.

After nearly half a sijin (about an hour) of fleeing, he finally reached the entrance of the mountain stronghold.

“Hah… goddamn it…”

Gasping for breath, he was overwhelmed with relief.

“Hah… hah…”

Damn it… he was alive.

A shaky laugh escaped his lips.

His men must have bought him enough time.

Yang Hogol collapsed onto the ground, sprawling out in a starfish position.

The night sky was clear.

Too exhausted to move, he lay there blankly when—

…?

A shadow suddenly loomed over him.

Shifting his gaze, he saw Cheongun’s eyes staring down at him from the edge of his vision.

“……”
“……”

Cheongun’s eyes drew closer.

Yang Hogol couldn’t move a muscle as those eyes stopped right in front of him.

Then, after a brief pause—

Cheongun grinned and parted his lips.

“You’re gonna die, right?”
“……”

Gulp.

Yang Hogol passed out.

****

Iron Gate Mountain Stronghold.

At the center stood the main hall, flanked by buildings on either side, and at the very back were the treasury and the quarters of the stronghold leader.

Cheongun dragged Yang Hogol, tightly bound, along with him as he questioned him.

“Open the treasury.”

“…Yes.”

Yang Hogol, as if he had lost all will to resist, obediently opened the treasury.

“Oh. There’s a lot here.”

Bandits make their living by plunder.

Naturally, they hoard plenty of stolen wealth.

As expected, the treasury was filled with a considerable amount of gold coins.

And that wasn’t all.

Elixirs, gold, and all sorts of supplies presumably extorted from merchants— everything was there.

The saying “Eighteen Green Woods Strongholds” wasn’t just empty talk.

For a mere mountain stronghold, their finances were surprisingly robust.

And most importantly, this was ownerless money now.

Which meant, in the end, it belonged to whoever took it first.

“What a windfall.”

Cheongun strolled around with his hands behind his back, meticulously looting every corner.

The night breeze was cool.

The moonlight was serene, and his pockets were now heavy— truly a picturesque night.

Just as he was enjoying himself, something caught his eye.

“Hmm?”

Cheongun stopped in his tracks.

There was a particularly secluded room, so he entered— only to find all sorts of things hanging on the walls.

Blood-stained weapons, clothing, and even what looked like wigs— though the dangling, raw red flesh suggested they were scalps ripped right off their owners.

On top of that, all kinds of blades and even a torture rack were placed inside.

Cheongun clicked his tongue.

“What the hell are you?”

“……”

“I thought you were just ordinary trash, but this— you’re straight-up hazardous waste.”

Cheongun dragged him out again.

Then, forcing him to kneel on the ground, he pressed a finger to the man’s pressure point, sealing his meridians.

This wasn’t even a matter of good and evil.

The martial world may lack laws, but it has principles.

Filth like this— the sooner they died and returned to the earth, the better it would be for the world.

Sensing the killing intent, Yang Hogol trembled violently, tears streaming down his face.

“P-please, spare—”

“Shut up. Just die.”

Cheongun drew his sword.

He was about to neatly separate the man’s head from his body when—

“Young hero.”

“!!!”

Cheongun flinched and turned his head.

Suddenly appearing before him was a bald monk in yellow robes, smiling benevolently with his hands clasped together.

The monk glanced between Cheongun and Yang Hogol before letting out a warm chuckle.

“Please, put away your sword.”

Cheongun was dumbfounded.

What the hell was this bald guy?

Judging by his speech and appearance, he was clearly from Shaolin— but the problem was, the aura and presence he exuded unmistakably marked him as a master.

Ugh, this was annoying.

Orthodox factions— especially Shaolin monks— were all the same: rigid, close-minded, and impossible to reason with.

Cheongun spoke in an irritated tone.

“This guy is a villain.”

“I am aware.”

“He’s trash who’s killed who knows how many people.”

“All beings possess Buddha nature. Would it not be better to grant him a chance at redemption under the teachings of the Buddha?”

“Look at this now.”

“I’m trying to kill this worthless bastard, and here you come, meddling with your nonsense about guidance and whatnot.”

“Guidance, you say.”

Cheongun let out a sigh, muttering under his breath.

After a long moment of contemplation at the monk’s words, Cheongun suddenly fiddled with the sword scabbard at his waist.

Swiish—

A faint glint of the sword flashed.

The blade had been drawn just an inch before sliding back in.

The motion was so swift that all the monk could see was a flicker of celestial energy— “Cheonji Honwon Ilgi Gong (Heaven and Earth Unified Energy Technique)” — flashing around the scabbard.

A brief silence.

And then—

“…?”

A thin red line appeared on Yang Hogol’s neck.

Blood beaded along the line before, finally, his head began to tilt— separating from his body along that very mark.

“!!!”

By the time the monk realized what had happened, it was already too late—

Thud!

Yang Hogol’s head had already fallen, blood gushing out like a fountain.

As the monk stared in shock at the severed head tumbling to the ground,

Cheongun spoke indifferently.

“My apologies. I don’t listen to bald men.”

“……”