The moment the fight results were confirmed, the black market leader Chuga-o immediately mobilized his subordinates.

Since surveillance was double and triple layered, escape was impossible, but the young Kwonma waiting at home was prepared to face death. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said those words at first sight.

“Did you make a lot of money?”

Chuga-o’s anger rose to his head.

“You won’t die a peaceful death.”

He suffered a huge loss this time. Not just his own money, but funds from other organizations as well, putting his life at risk.

Moreover, the very young fighter twisted his gut even more.

“I told the arena owner about this too. You know who backs the arena, right?”

Chuga-o’s expression stiffened. The Sado Alliance backing the arena was feared, and match-fixing was done only secretly in critical moments.

They had done well until now, but this time they got a madman like never before. He knew Kwonma had a temper, but even after leaving that big scar on his chest to intimidate him, he never imagined he’d do this.

“That kid doesn’t value his life.”

“Your life must be precious!”

After this incident, Kwonma made a firm decision: no matter what life he lives, he would never make friends or family again.

How wonderful is that? Even with dirty threats, he acts on his own temper.

Of course, it was a shame. Since he would die here today, he couldn’t put this decision into practice.

Chuga-o gave orders to his men.

“Make that bastard kneel before me.”

Chuga-o had no intention of letting this damn bastard die peacefully.

Dozens of black market men drew weapons simultaneously. Though Kwonma had been winning in the arena, the number was too great for a person without internal energy.

Still, Kwonma was not intimidated at all.

“I’ll fight with the mindset of saving one person for every enemy I kill.”

Kwonma pulled out gloves from his chest and put them on. Sharp points like awls were embedded in the gloves.

“They’re coated with deadly poison. Even a scratch will condemn you to a lifetime bedridden eating only porridge.”

It was a lie, but it might make the enemies hesitate.

Among the gathered black market men, those who had fought Kwonma before flinched. Last time, they got hurt and knocked out, and now his fists were coated with poison?

“Coward!”

Kwonma shouted at Chuga-o’s words.

“What? You swing swords while I can’t wear these? You filthy black market bastards! Come at me all of you!”

Chuga-o shouted,

“Kill him! The first to kill him gets three hundred nyang!”

With that, the black market men rushed forward swinging swords.

Kwonma fled toward the back yard. The leading pursuers suddenly fell through a pit.

“Argh!”

The yard had traps with spear blades embedded in the ground.

Kwonma had prepared to fight properly today. He hadn’t intended to fight with fists only. His goal was survival, and if he died, he planned to take down at least one more enemy.

Some fell into traps and died, but the black market men were veterans. They were accustomed to fighting, unlike Kwonma, a young man without internal energy.

They clung desperately and swung swords. Driving a blade into Kwonma’s body meant three hundred nyang for them. Madmen crazed for money charged in recklessly.

Kwonma’s movements were incredibly fast. Dodging flying swords, he threw punches.

Those pricked by the awl-like fists screamed.

Curses flew from all directions, and the black market men raged wildly. Blood dripping, they screamed and charged.

Kwonma rolled on the ground, avoiding blades from all sides.

He sprang up, ran to a wall, and threw a dagger. It pierced a man following him. He also threw stones from the ground and picked up swords to swing.

Chuga-o shouted,

“You’ve dishonored the fighter’s pride!”

He tried to provoke Kwonma by forbidding other weapons, but it didn’t work at all.

“I gave you up because of you. So you kill your own men!”

Kwonma fought fiercely. Punching, slamming, rolling on the ground, jumping and kicking — like a wounded beast unleashed.

But there were too many black market men. No matter how gifted Kwonma was, it was overwhelming.

Blood splattered from his arms and side. No time to check the extent of his injuries. Dodging swords from all sides, he wildly swung his fists.

At that moment, a flying kick sent Kwonma crashing into stacked cargo in the yard.

It was Chuga-o’s strike aiming for an opportunity.

“Strip off his gloves!”

They swarmed and removed Kwonma’s gloves. In the process, Kwonma bit a man’s neck, spraying blood everywhere.

Flying punches covered Kwonma’s face in blood.

Chuga-o looked down at him.

“This bastard’s the first I’ve ever seen like this.”

As Chuga-o clicked his tongue at his subordinates, Kwonma suddenly sprayed something from a bottle.

Chuga-o waved his hand to block it.

The liquid burned his sleeve. It was Hwagolsan.

Enraged, Chuga-o started trampling Kwonma. He barely missed getting the acid on his face.

Curling his body to protect vital spots, Kwonma sensed this was the end.

Facing death, fear arose. He felt wronged and resentful to die at such a bastard’s hands.

When the beating paused briefly, Kwonma opened his eyes.

Chuga-o drew a dagger.

“I won’t let you die peacefully.”

Kwonma raised dull eyes and looked up at the night sky for the last time. He wanted to die seeing stars or the moon.

Over Chuga-o’s shoulder, a man sat on a branch, looking down at him. Thinking it was a hallucination, Kwonma closed and opened his eyes.

But the man, backlit by a bright full moon, still looked down. He appeared a few years older than Kwonma.

Their eyes met. Kwonma had never been afraid of anyone, but the cold gaze of this man frightened him.

Such a thought even crossed his mind.

But he wasn’t the Reaper. Someone from the black market noticed him.

“Hey? There’s someone there!”

As all eyes focused, the man jumped down from the branch.

He landed silently from quite a height. Everyone, black market men and Kwonma alike, was surprised by his amazing divine technique.

The man walked slowly to Kwonma and stared at him, ignoring the black market men entirely.

He asked Kwonma,

“Can you fight?”

Kwonma nodded and got up. His whole body hurt like it was broken, but he gritted his teeth.

“I can fight.”

Then the man looked at Chuga-o.

“Is this how you cowardly treat a fighter?”

Knowing he was a fighter, he wasn’t just a passerby. He seemed to understand the whole situation.

“Who are you?”

Chuga-o was inwardly tense, worried the Sado Alliance master might have appeared because of the fixing.

Then the young man said something unexpected.

“Fight fairly.”

Before Chuga-o could react, the man’s finger technique subdued his internal energy. Controlling an opponent’s energy with a single finger was a level heard of only in drinking tales.

Startled, Chuga-o shouted [N O V E L I G H T] reflexively,

“Kill him! Kill this one too!”

But no one dared attack the man. Even without seeing more skills, the man had an awe-inspiring presence that forbade rash moves.

The man motioned the black market men to form a circle. Like possessed ghosts, they circled and stood. Thus, a small fighting ring was formed.

Kwonma stood up, clenching his fist. He didn’t know who the man helping him was, but he knew he’d die if he missed this chance.

Chuga-o realized to survive, he had to kill Kwonma. Fortunately, his internal energy was suppressed but he still had his dagger and sword.

There was no chance. Chuga-o swung his dagger but missed, drew his sword and swung, but the sword was taken away.

The fight became fist vs. fist. Even with a sword, he couldn’t win. He couldn’t handle bare fists.

Kwonma’s furious fists struck all over him.

“Why! Why do you torment someone who’s living peacefully!”

Chuga-o’s jaw and ribs cracked.

Unable to hold out, he collapsed, panting. Kwonma tore open his shirt, revealing scars.

“I told you, when you have stupid thoughts, look at these scars! You look at them all you want and then die.”

With a flurry of punches, Kwonma ended Chuga-o’s breath.

Panting, Kwonma got up and looked at the man.

At that moment, swords floated before the man.

The swords split and formed sword-shaped qi above him. Just as the black market men looked up in awe—

The sword qi rained down on them like a storm.

Piercing heads, faces, and chests, all the black market men fell simultaneously.

The man left not a single black market man alive.

Hearing Kwonma’s story, Geom Mugeuk shouted,

“Flying Sword Technique Yoo Cheonsik! So he was your father!”

“That’s right. He was the sect leader.”

Geom Mugeuk was surprised. He didn’t know Kwonma’s rescuer was his father.

“He was the sect leader at your age, before being named successor.”

Geom Mugeuk was somehow moved by the fact Kwonma’s father saved him.

“Standing among corpses, the sect leader said to me, ‘Shall we make that baby fist a real man’s fist?’”

“Ah!”

Geom Mugeuk finally understood where Kwonma’s phrase about baby hands came from.

“So, what did you say?”

“I refused. Who’d follow him if they knew who he was? An assassin? A notorious villain? I was truly grateful he saved me, but I said no.”

It was impressive Kwonma said no in that situation. Young Kwonma was full of life. Such vitality was hidden in the seemingly dull and strict Kwonma who watched his subordinates train silently every day.

“So, what did your father say?”

“He just turned and left, as if saying ‘suit yourself.’ Watching the sect leader’s back, I thought, this isn’t right. If I don’t follow, I’ll never leave this fighting arena in my life. I was lucky this time, but someday I’ll die going through this dirty business again.”

Kwonma recalled that moment. His fate changed in that brief instant.

“Maybe if the sect leader had persuaded me to go, I’d have stubbornly refused. I thought obstinacy and recklessness were cool back then. But watching the sect leader’s back fade away, my body instinctively moved. I ran after him, apologizing, saying I changed my mind. He smiled at me then. You know that unique sect leader smile…”

“That condescending sneer?”

“Right, that smile.”

“My father is the person who suits that smile best in the world.”

“Honestly, the sect leader that day was cool. Different kind of cool than you.”

“Am I cool too?”

Kwonma pretended not to hear and kept talking.

“The sect leader took me to the main sect and locked me in Dongkwonmun without a word. Never came back to see me after.”

“Typical of a father.”

“I trained alone from white fist to black fist. I really worked hard.”

With innate talent and effort in fist fighting, Kwonma must have drawn everyone’s attention then.

“The day I became a black fist, the sect leader came looking for me. As if he had been watching me, he arrived exactly that day. Guess what he said?”

“What?”

Kwonma’s voice trembled recalling that day.

“I’ll become a Cheonma; you be my Kwonma.”

Their bond wasn’t just that they were martial artists obsessed with skill. It was because of this hidden past.

Geom Mugeuk imitated the sect leader,

“I’ll become a Cheonma too…”

“Too late. I’m already Kwonma.”

“Oh! That’s what you should say to Cheon Sohee. Wait a moment; I’ll find the right words for us.”

Geom Mugeuk’s image overlapped with the young Cheonma, Geom Woojin.

Similar but different. If Geom Mugeuk was light, Geom Woojin was darkness. One light enough to fly away; the other heavy enough to sink forever.

But Kwonma felt they weren’t so different. They were dark yet bright, bright yet dark.

“The sect leader took me from here; you brought me here.”

Kwonma met two young sect leader candidates connected by blood and destiny. He felt it was a great fate.

Then Geom Mugeuk calmly looked at Kwonma and said,

“I’ll become your disciple; please be my master!”