episode_0015

The price for receiving a Ten Great Treasures of the World, of which only ten existed, was severe.

Red Night Sword Sovereign said, “You’re a one-trick pony with talent, so your foundation is practically nonexistent.”

He declared that if I faced an enemy stronger than me like this, I’d obviously crumble, so he would rapidly drill into my body what martial arts are, what swordsmanship is, and what footwork is, without exception.

The reason was that his innate talent was at a level worthy of being called the next Greatest Under Heaven, and for him not to be ashamed as a master, an understanding of martial arts must also support it.

As a result.

“Hahahaha! What a good glint in your eyes!”

“No, wait, *gasp*!”

The sparring between Jin Mooseong and Cheongun continued.

“Haha! The battle between masters ultimately comes down to concentration! Victory and defeat are decided by which one is more tenacious!”

“*Gasp*!”

Cheongun let out a battle cry and bent his entire body.

*Swish*! The wooden sword brushing over his head sliced off a few strands of hair.

“If your mind is solely focused on the opponent’s sword tip, you’ll never know when or where an opening will appear! A sword is something you wield, not something that wields you – wouldn’t that be putting the cart before the horse [a proverb about reversing roles/priorities]?!”

As the next sword strike aimed for his collarbone, Cheongun braced his hands on the ground and leaned his body back.

Just as he flung his body as if doing a somersault and barely averted danger, he saw another sword shadow flying towards him.

Cheongun was amazed.

What kind of sword was this? He’d think he avoided it, then *damn it*, it would fly in from another angle, and if he thought he dodged that too, it would twist in at an angle no human wrist could possibly achieve.

Although it looked like a crazy old man swinging wildly, each trajectory contained the essence of complex techniques.

Moreover, whatever he’d done to the wooden sword, his muscles screamed with every hit, even without sword energy.

But Cheongun did not give up.

The old man wouldn’t stop if he gave up, and then he’d obviously get beaten to death, so he had no choice but to keep moving, even as every muscle in his body screamed.

Damn old man!

Damn sparring!

He got hit for holding his breath, told his body would stiffen.

He got hit for thinking his elbows were levers of power, told they were rudders.

He got hit for lifting his heels, told his balance would waver.

And he got hit again for not using his waist, told his sword would feel heavy.

He was hit, hit again, beaten without rest.

That hellish teaching continued for several months.

Yet, Cheongun did not run away because this was undoubtedly a fateful encounter that would not happen twice.

Jin Mooseong’s one-sided beating made Cheongun’s mind dizzy, but at the same time, it had a strange effect of making him think only of martial arts.

It was like his experiences of wandering the streets as a beggar and getting beaten by all sorts of guys for years were vividly resurfacing?

Above all, embodying profound insights into swordsmanship and the fundamentals of martial principles with his entire body was a once-in-a-millennium opportunity.

It was a scene that, had the scions of prestigious families seen it, their eyes would have rolled back in envy.

Of course, there was also someone looking on with satisfaction.

“Junior Brother Cheong, are you okay?”

“No. Can’t you see the bruises?”

“Hehe, after getting hit like that, of course you’d be bruised.”

Serving the same master ultimately meant being part of the same family.

It was Namgung Yul, who had initially been awkward but after several months of getting closer, her title for him changed from Great Hero Cheong to Junior Brother Cheong.

After the sparring ended, Namgung Yul carefully applied the precious wound medicine to Cheongun’s back, where he lay prone.

“It really hurts so much.”

“It’s okay. It’ll heal quickly.”

“Did Senior Sister Yul also grow up getting hit by Master?”

“No? He said he wouldn’t even hit a woman with a leaf, so he never sparred with me?”

“…”

This is crazy.

What a womanizing old man.

Cheongun’s jaw dropped at his master’s shocking sweetness.

“There.”

Namgung Yul gave Cheongun’s firm back a final stroke.

When she first saw him, he was a mere skeleton of a beggar, but after several months here, he had gained a good amount of muscle and become more manly.

“You can go now.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t forget you’re going to the capital tomorrow.”

“The capital?”

“You asked me to look into a good money exchange, didn’t you?”

“Ah.”

A money exchange is essentially the martial arts world’s equivalent of a financial institution, like a bank.

Why would he be looking for a bank?

Naturally, it was to deposit money and receive a money order.

Cheongun was currently in an extremely anxious state of mind.

When he lived as a beggar, he had nothing to lose anyway, so even if everything was awful, his mind was at ease. But now that he had gold ingots and even the precious Geummae, his mind couldn’t be more uneasy.

Let’s not forget.

This is ancient Zhongyuan, where the law of the jungle and lawlessness run rampant.

To what extent? Even sects that openly make a living through theft proudly display their names and operate.

There are even those who, solely through their thieving skills, earned the epithet “Ghostly Thief Muyeong” and listed their names among the hundred great masters.

To resolve this mental demon, he had to quickly convert Geummae into cash and all his assets into money orders as soon as possible.

So, what Namgung Yul had just said to Cheongun was a great consideration for him.

As much as Cheongun was obsessed with money, his emotional expressions became honest when it concerned money.

The corners of his lips curved upwards, and the outer corners of his eyes formed an arc.

“Thank you.”

“…”

“Then, I’ll be going.”

Cheongun left to prepare for his evening sparring.

And, watching Cheongun’s retreating back, Namgung Yul quickly bowed her head.

Her ears were completely flushed.

*****

The next morning, Cheongun and Namgung Yul left the manor as soon as they woke up.

The distance from Mount Qingcheng to the capital was approximately 80 li.

Even continuously using Qinggong, it was a half-day’s journey.

Naturally, he got hungry and his legs ached along the way, so he had no choice but to rest.

As the saying goes, even Mount Geumgang is best seen after a meal [a proverb about how important food is before enjoying scenery].

He intended to fill his stomach before tackling anything major.

Thus, the place they stopped at was the Gyeonghwa Restaurant along the road.

*Clink clink*.

At a slightly early hour for lunch, a boy and a woman entered the restaurant.

It was Cheongun and Namgung Yul, heading towards the capital.

As it was early, there were no customers visible inside the restaurant.

As they casually seated themselves anywhere, a waiter, looking like a rat, approached with a water bottle, grinning.

As the waiter approached, he quickly darted his eyes around, glancing sideways at the two.

The scabbard at his waist.

Quite clean martial arts robes.

Although the man seemed to have a very bad temper, both of them were, in any case, exceptionally good-looking.

Above all, their physiques seemed somewhat trained.

‘Martial artists!’

The waiter, having made his judgment, raised his voice and shouted.

“Hehe, welcome! All the food at our Gyeonghwa Restaurant tastes so good you wouldn’t know if one of you died eating it! What can I get for you?”

The waiter discriminated between people.

Why, even in modern society, doesn’t the treatment of customers change depending on their attire?

Zhongyuan was the same. No, everywhere people lived was the same.

Martial artists usually had a lot of money, so customers who spent a lot were naturally the best.

Namgung Yul finished ordering on Cheongun’s behalf.

“Roasted chicken! Lamb steamed buns! Sliced boiled pork! Fermented rice wine! Two portions of each!”

The waiter loudly shouted out the menu items, then *whoosh*, disappeared into the kitchen.

A moment later, the table was filled with food.

Roasted chicken dripping with oil, steaming hot buns, chewy sliced boiled pork, and even thick fermented rice wine.

It was an excessive amount for two people.

But Cheongun didn’t care.

Because he was a gold ingot owner.

This level of spending was no problem at all.

“Hehe, please enjoy your meal!”

The waiter said, grinning, then subtly slipped away.

And he stood idly in a corner, scrutinizing Cheongun as he hastily stuffed food into his mouth.

Gyeonghwa Restaurant appeared to be a common eatery on the outside.

But they were a black inn operated by the Haomun, who also accepted assassination contracts.

What kind of sect was the Haomun?

‘Ha’ (下) meaning ‘lower’. ‘O’ (汚) meaning ‘dirty’.

It was literally an organization formed by people living at the bottom of society, in the sewers, trying to gather strength by any means, wasn’t it?

If there was one characteristic of such people, it was, without a doubt, sheer numbers.

There were more non-martial artists than martial artists.

Non-martial artists were less conspicuous than martial artists.

They carried and transported all sorts of information from every corner of Zhongyuan.

Just like rats.

If the Orthodox Factions had the Beggars’ Sect, then the Demonic Factions had the Haomun.

As Zhongyuan’s top intelligence organization, they could be said to be a significant force even among the Demonic Factions.

Such people had recently received an assassination request.

The clients were the Black Forest Gate and the Bloodline Pavilion.

The request was to bring his head, promising a large bounty, as Cheongun had killed five martial artists from the Black Forest Gate and interfered with the mission of the Bloodline Pavilion’s martial artists.

The waiter hastily checked the wanted poster.

Black hair, rude speech, a boy and a woman, crude eating habits, a bad-tempered impression…

…Could it be?

“Excuse me, Young Hero.”

“Why?”

“May I ask your name?”

“Why my name?”

“Hehe, isn’t it customary to write down the names of first-time customers? If you just tell me your esteemed name, I’ll give you the fermented rice wine for free.”

“Cheongun.”

“…”

The waiter held his breath.

Then he quickly darted his gaze around, looking at every corner of the restaurant.

*Swoop*.

As he lowered the hand he had raised.

“!!!”

*Whoosh!*

Masked men hidden all around simultaneously sprang out, pointing their sword tips at Cheongun.