Chapter 32

Clang!

The moment the tip of Bi Ryu-yeon's left foot lightly tapped the ground, the Black Dragon Ring on his left ankle miraculously came off and fell to the ground with a thud. At the same time, a powerful current of air, like a tornado, was generated from the tips of Bi Ryu-yeon's feet that supported the earth. It seemed to envelop his entire body in an instant, and then, before Yeomdo's eyes, with a single light—what looked endlessly light to others—stomp of his left foot, Bi Ryu-yeon hid his presence in a space of emptiness and nothingness.

Before Yeomdo could even unleash the explosive draw of his Blazing Saber, Bi Ryu-yeon revealed his presence once more within Yeomdo's field of vision. In truth, no time existed between the first and second situations. At this point, the distance between Bi Ryu-yeon's presence and Yeomdo no longer existed. In this moment, when the distance between the two had turned to nothingness, the clash finally occurred.

The first thing to make the distance between Yeomdo and Bi Ryu-yeon zero was Bi Ryu-yeon's right foot. Yeomdo, who was preparing to draw his saber with his right foot forward and his left foot lightly back, had his left foot stepped on. With this unexpected move, Yeomdo was unable to react at all, and his movements were sealed.

But a renowned peak master is different, even when they're wrong. With almost instinctive reflexes in that unexpected moment, Yeomdo drew his beloved saber, the Crimson Flame, halfway. But unfortunately, before that elegant red beloved saber could even leave its resting place, it was pushed back by Bi Ryu-yeon's left palm, which flipped in an elegant spiral. The Crimson Flame lost its direction and its power dissipated. Finally, the half-drawn red blade was caught by the left hand, and in the end, it lost its speed as well. Yeomdo's saber had come to a futile stop.

For a moment, Yeomdo was dumbfounded by this unbelievable fact. No matter that the saber was not fully drawn, the power condensed within it was by no means an energy to be taken lightly. If an ordinary person had touched it, that person would never be able to use their arm for the rest of their life. How could one use a lump of burnt-black meat?

For the Crimson Flame, in which the flame power and ki of the Fire Spirit Divine Art were condensed and gathered, to be caught by a nameless brat in his early twenties, and before it was even fully drawn at that, was a disgrace and dishonor that could not be washed away even if he bit down on the Crimson Flame and fell over dead right now. But regardless of Yeomdo's sorrow, Bi Ryu-yeon's movements had not yet ended.

Bi Ryu-yeon's right hand shot out, and his open palm, with a light flick of the wrist, flipped over, the inside of his palm directly striking Yeomdo's solar plexus. It was a move that looked as light as flipping one's palm, but the power contained within was not so light as to be easily ignored. It was the moment Bi Ryu-yeon's strange palm force penetrated Yeomdo's body.

Like ripples spreading across a calm lake, wide; like waves rising in a storm, fierce; the palm force contained in Bi Ryu-yeon's right palm spread widely into Yeomdo's body, wreaking havoc on his internal organs with a tremendous shock. As he was hit precisely in a vital spot, the match ended anticlimactically with this single move from Bi Ryu-yeon.

Surprisingly, a renowned saber master of the Jianghu had been knocked down, unable to withstand a single palm technique from a young man in his early twenties. The mental and psychological shock Yeomdo felt from his beloved saber, the Crimson Flame, being caught in disgrace before it was even fully drawn, undeniably played a large part in this. Thus, as his vision went black, Yeomdo felt his consciousness fading away and sank deep into the dark abyss. It would take a considerable amount of time for Yeomdo, who had suffered a dishonorable and crushing defeat in disgrace, to regain his senses.

"As easy as flipping one's palm... Hmm, not bad."

Bi Ryu-yeon mumbled, glancing at Yeomdo who was lying face down on the ground. A hint of pleasant admiration was contained in this mumble. The martial art Bi Ryu-yeon had just demonstrated was one of the One Fist, One Kick, One Finger, One Palm techniques he had learned as a bonus from his master, the One Palm Technique, also known as 'As Easy as a Palm Flip'. The One Fist, 'Three Dog Days Beating Fist Method'; the One Kick, 'Thoughtless'; and the One Palm just shown, 'As Easy as a Palm Flip'. Even if their origin was 'thoughtless' (interpreted as: created without any thought, as a bonus...), their power was not non-existent.

As Easy as a Palm Flip—a palm technique with a form and secret meaning that was exactly as its name suggested. Literally, the only thing that existed in this absurdly named, seemingly trivial palm technique was, when you get down to it, the flipping of the palm. The palm, flipped by the subtlety of the rotational force that traveled from the tips of the toes, through the waist and shoulders in a spiral, and down to the fingertips through the transfer of power, was everything to this palm technique. But this one motion, when combined with the Command Thunder Hand, produced a terrifying power.

The reason Bi Ryu-yeon was not pushed back by Yeomdo's powerful saber force, and was able to catch his saber without a hitch and without injury, was because the subtle application of As Easy as a Palm Flip had disrupted the direction of the Crimson Flame's power and speed just before it exploded. As a result, he was able to catch the red blade of the Crimson Flame, whose power had been drastically reduced, with the technique of the Command Thunder Hand.

In a way, with a martial arts technique so simple it was absurd, one that gave the impression of being created for fun, he had caught the saber of the renowned Yeomdo, who ruled the Jianghu, shattered his pride to pieces, and furthermore, rendered him unconscious and laid him out on the ground.

If this fact were to become known, it was a situation that could easily turn the Jianghu upside down, just like flipping one's palm, but Bi Ryu-yeon had an expression as if it were no big deal and just stood there quietly, waiting for the laid-out Yeomdo to wake up. While poking the head of the fallen Yeomdo with his finger...

'Kikik, have I finally gotten a disciple I can boss around?'

If the fallen Yeomdo had even a speck of consciousness left, he would surely have been engulfed in an infinite cold that would have frozen his entire body. Without knowing that an absurd reality, as if the heavens and earth had been turned upside down in an instant, was waiting for him when he came to, Yeomdo was stretched out in a comfortable-looking position.

With a smile full of joy covering his entire face, Bi Ryu-yeon picked up the Black Dragon Ring he had taken off and put it back on his left ankle. This removed Black Dragon Ring was a symbol that meant Bi Ryu-yeon had poured an immense amount of concentration into his battle with Yeomdo. To subdue Yeomdo without using the Flying Thunder Dagger, he needed to obtain a speed faster than his current state. That's why he had taken off one of the four Black Dragon Rings he wore. And this one removed Black Dragon Ring had brought him a tremendous acceleration, and this became the power to subdue Yeomdo.

Bi Ryu-yeon silently looked at the western horizon. The sun was now tilting towards the western mountains, thickly scattering the twilight, and a pleasant 'whoosh' of wind blew between the reddening sky and earth.

---

• A Master Becomes a Brat's Disciple

'Disciple!'
'What is a disciple?'
'The opposite of a master!'
'That might be the right answer.'
'A person who learns something under someone is called a disciple.'
'A disciple cannot exist without a master.'
'Because there is a master, there is a disciple.'

A master must be great. A trivial being can never be a master. I am no longer a disciple. I am a person who is fully qualified to be someone else's master. Others all acknowledge it. That I am strong. That I am excellent. So they earnestly beg and plead for me to be their master, to teach them even a part of the secret to that strength, even if it's just one move. But I refused them all. It was troublesome.

Of course, there was a time when I was a disciple. Of course, since I was a disciple, there was naturally the existence of a master for me to be a disciple. The master was strong. I loved that strength so much, and so I respected him. And I learned. That's why I learned. I wanted the master's strength. To become like him, he learned.

A master is an absolute being to a disciple.
The master wakes up. The disciple brings water to wash his face.
The master is hungry. The disciple cooks a meal.
The master wants to drink.
The disciple runs down the mountain valley to buy alcohol.
The master's room is messy. The disciple cleans it.
The master calls. The disciple runs.
The master orders. The disciple does.
The master orders. The disciple does.
Does, does, does everything.
The master ordered. The disciple must do. Must do.

The man dreams. There was a master. His master of martial arts. His dream, his desire. The endlessly strong master. No one could covet the master's position and place. The master was that strong. Compared to the master, he was still far, far away.

Yeomdo also had a friend with whom he had studied under the same master. He is no longer a friend. Let's call him 'that punk' or 'that guy'. Such a title suits him much better. Let's not even think about such a punk anymore. It's bad luck.

The master was absolute. The master was great. I was half of the master. The other half of the master was that guy. Half is not enough. It's not complete. It can't be perfect. But it can't be helped. That punk and I could not be more than that.

'Supreme Polarity Blue-Red Divine Spirit Ice-Flame Art!'

The name of the supreme, ultimate divine art that the master possessed. It was the ultimate of the ultimate in the way of martial arts. The Crimson Flame burns all things, and the Blue Flame freezes all things. A supreme divine art that possessed both the energies of yin and yang. If the two were combined into one, there was nothing to fear, nothing to stand in the way. But one could not possess both in one body. The master could possess both in one body, but that punk and I could not. Because the master had a special constitution, and we did not. He chose the Crimson Flame. The master gave him the Divine Saber Crimson Spirit. His friend chose the Blue Flame. The master gave him the Divine Sword Blue Spirit.

Up to this point, it was good. There were no problems. But there was a daughter. The master's daughter. He loved her. He loved her very much. But, but she was given to that punk. This is unpleasant. No, I can't stand it. What's so good about a block of ice like that? I'm angry. So we fought. We fought and fought. There was no conclusion. But there had to be one. The loser gives up everything.

But she chooses him. Before a conclusion was even reached, she chose him. I say the master made her choose, and she says she chose him herself. I'm angry. I keep getting angry. I can't stand it at all. I tried to argue with the master. But, the master died. The master, who seemed like he would never die, who seemed like he could even subdue death itself, died. I left that place. I ran out. I ran out without a plan and wandered the Jianghu. I ruthlessly eliminated any obstacle that blocked my path and wandered the Jianghu. I will never go back. To that place...

The man looks at his beloved saber held in his right hand. A divine saber, imbued with a red deeper than the evening twilight. It was his other self, which had never once betrayed or disappointed his expectations. The saber that, at some point, came to be called by another name, Crimson Flame, instead of the true name he possessed. He just stares at it endlessly. At his beloved saber that blooms a blood-red flame!

There is a hand. It was definitely not his own hand. Isn't his hand firmly gripping his red, red beloved saber? No one had ever recklessly challenged him while he was holding his stance like this. Everyone cherished their lives. But that hand floating over there was an exception.

It seemed there was nothing to stop the hand that was moving playfully over there. The hand moved without hesitation and approached the man. Without a second thought, the red-haired man swings his beloved saber. Then, from his beloved saber, splendid, beautiful, and rough flames bloomed, forming a circular wall to protect the man himself. The man was satisfied. The man was confident.

'Nothing can pierce this wall of flames and reach me. Therefore, I am safe. Therefore, I am strong.'

But the man's confidence crumbled in an instant like a speck of dust and scattered. The hand, so easily it was absurd, pierced through the defensive wall of flames he had created and came at him, overwhelming him. Suddenly, the pure white hand began to grow larger. One time, two times, three times, the hand grew larger and larger until it was big enough to cover and press down on the man. The hand, which nullified all his attacks, was very threatening. And in the end, the hand overwhelmed the man. The man could not block it. Darkness covered his surroundings.

A moment later, when the dazed man came to his senses and became aware of his surroundings, he realized he was standing on a pure white, large palm. Like Sun Wukong on the Buddha's palm in Journey to the West... And with a very light motion, the palm flipped over. The man was flipped over with it. The man thought the whole world had been turned upside down.

With this one motion of the palm flipping, the man realized that everything about him had been turned upside down and changed. When he was on top of the palm, he was strong. People were even reluctant to approach him, saying he was too strong. There were countless groups who, drawn by that strength, begged and pleaded for him to teach them even a single move. The man was strong. He was acknowledged as such, and he was very satisfied with that treatment and evaluation. No one in the Jianghu denied it. The man was full of confidence and self-conceit.

His honor shone with brilliant colors, and his fame echoed throughout the wide world. It had been so. There were no obstacles. But the palm flipped. Suddenly, he became insignificant. The man felt that way. When he was in the world on top of the palm, he was fully qualified to be a master who taught others. But the world under the palm was not like that. The man became endlessly shabby, small, and withdrawn. Now, he had become a body that had to serve a master as a disciple once again. It was a huge change.

Just a moment ago, he was up there, but now he was down here. His honor had lost its brilliance, and his fame had plummeted to the ground. It was shameful and unfair. The man could not accept such a reality. So he cried out.

'Aaaargh, I can't accept it. I can absolutely not accept it. This is just a nightmare. A bad dream that will disappear when I wake up.'

The man cried out, and whether it was because of his cry of indignation or not, the world began to shake. Finally, the man realized he was standing upside down in a flipped world. The world around the man slowly began to crumble and fall apart, piece by piece. The man fell with it. Soon, a world of complete nothingness swallowed him. The man had completely lost his existence.

Twitch, twitch. The two pupils roll restlessly. The pupils are directed at a single person, staring intently as if to dig into every nook and cranny of the subject of observation.

'Why is he sweating so much?'

He had sweated so much that his clothes were soaked and damp.

The way he was twitching and talking nonsense with a scrunched-up face, it looked like he was having a very, very bad case of sleep paralysis. Looking at the subject of observation with the peculiar appearance of red hair, who was sweating profusely and not getting up despite not having suffered a major internal injury, Bi Ryu-yeon showed a very amused expression.

Twitch!

Suddenly, Bi Ryu-yeon's subject of observation twitched and began to move greatly. The subject of observation, that is, Yeomdo, who had been moving violently like a ball bouncing on the floor, shot his eyes open. Along with a strange scream...

"Aaaargh!"

Yeomdo was in a very bad mood. A very, very foul mood. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had just woken up from a very uncomfortable, terrible, and frightening sleep paralysis, to have a strange face pop right in front of his eyes. And the face of the punk who was staring at him with curious eyes as if he were some kind of toy made his mood terribly worse.

It took a moment to recognize that he had seen that face somewhere before, and to realize and acknowledge the desperate fact that what had happened when he met him was not a dream. Yeomdo's head was in considerable confusion, so he needed plenty of time to think straight.

Finally, Yeomdo recognized it, and immediately fell into deep despair.

'I should have just not woken up... Why did I wake up?'

But he had no choice but to admit that even this regret was already too late. With this, Yeomdo had reached a turning point in his life. In the worst possible way and direction for him... That day, Yeomdo became Bi Ryu-yeon's disciple. A master of the martial world had become the disciple of a brat. And so, the journey of the two began.