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Chapter 11
Confronted by a roaring beast, Cheon Mujin focused on the demonic energy coursing through his body.
He had steadily collected the beast’s energy while diligently carrying out patrol duties.
The amount refined to an extremely high purity was minute—but that wasn’t what mattered.
What mattered was that his internal energy had increased as he continued absorbing the demonic aura.
“It feels like it’s about time.”
He’d delayed long enough.
Any more would be pointless.
“They’ve already received my intel by now.”
Rumor had it that the Third Young Master of the Three Martial Houses had not only recovered his senses at the frontlines but had also shown remarkable performance.
News of that was slowly spreading through the cult.
If more information about him leaked out, it’d be trouble. Meaning—
“Time to draw them out.”
Dodging the beast’s strike, Cheon Mujin closed in and jabbed his hand into its chest.
It was a feeble stab, one that didn’t even pierce the hide.
But Cheon Mujin was satisfied and quickly created distance again.
KROOOAAAARR!
The beast, enraged by what seemed like mockery, charged with a savage fury—but that was its limit.
Brute force wouldn’t close the gap.
Not the physical distance.
The skill gap.
An unbridgeable gulf of ability separated the beast and Cheon Mujin.
When Mujin struck the beast’s chest for the sixth time, dodging attacks all the while—
“Phew.”
He took a calm breath.
He didn’t rush to pull away.
He simply steadied his slightly disrupted breathing.
“H-Huff… what… what just happened?”
“Are the beasts… scared?”
The squad members fighting nearby were baffled by the sudden shift in the creatures’ behavior.
“Looks like our captain won,” said Do Woojin, the most experienced among them.
This reaction meant their leader had fallen. Beasts would scatter like a disbanded mob when that happened.
If they had enough men, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pursue—but—
“Hold your positions. No pursuit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Understood.”
Knowing Do Woojin’s judgment was usually sound, Yoo Hyunhwa and Baek Woo nodded without protest.
With a bit of breathing room, the two calmly scanned the surroundings.
They saw the fallen beasts they had brought down—and Cheon Mujin standing before a beast that looked like a statue.
By the looks of it, Mujin had won.
But—
“How?”
Everyone who grasped the situation shared the same question.
They expected Cheon Mujin to win. He was someone capable of pushing even a master at the peak to the brink.
Given time had passed, it wouldn’t be odd for him to have grown even stronger.
But the problem was how he won so cleanly.
Though the surroundings were wrecked from the beast’s rampage, the beast’s body bore no visible injuries.
When someone dies at the hands of a martial artist trained in fist and foot techniques, their corpse often looks worse than one cut down by a sword.
Sometimes far more brutal.
Blades draw blood and hasten death, but to kill with martial force, you must destroy the body.
Broken limbs aren’t enough.
You must obliterate the body or the head.
Bones crack, torsos cave in—under intense pressure, bodies burst.
Given the beast’s strength, the fight should’ve been ferocious. Its body should be covered in dents and soaked in blood, like Baek Woo’s after a beating.
Yet—
“Tch.”
The moment Mujin clicked his tongue—
THUD!
The beast’s body finally collapsed.
As if fully convinced the life had left it, Cheon Mujin turned away.
“You alright?”
“Yes. We’ve almost finished here.”
“Then leave the rest. We’ve got no time to spare.”
“Sir? What do you mean…?”
“I don’t like dragging things out. Would’ve preferred if you came out sooner.”
The abrupt comment left Do Woojin startled. He immediately pulled the juniors behind him.
And at that moment—
“Ha! This one’s properly crazy. How’d you know? You shouldn’t be able to detect my concealment.”
“Did I need to? You were bound to be here.”
“Oh? A prediction then? Our young master’s got brains.”
The man grinned slyly as he patted the fallen beast a few times, then nodded.
“You’ve got some fascinating abilities. Seriously—how’d you do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“The demonic energy in the magic stone’s completely drained. But I can’t find any trace of something like the Soul-Absorbing Technique.”
It felt as if the energy had naturally changed hands, as though the owner had willingly yielded it.
Is that even possible?
The man could answer that himself.
Impossible.
This should not be possible.
Even if—
“Even if you were mastering the Heavenly Demon Divine Arts, this wouldn’t be doable. So how did you do it?”
“If I had been, I’d have just crushed your skull.”
“Heh, true enough.”
The man chuckled, then as if remembering something, offered a light bow.
“Almost forgot to introduce myself. You value etiquette, right? Name’s Woo Chung. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Cheon Mujin. So… etiquette, huh? Is this what you call manners?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“You stink.”
That single comment made Woo Chung’s expression twist ever so slightly.
“You might be used to it, but everyone around you can smell it. The ones smiling in your face—they’re either remarkably patient or extremely skilled at hiding their true intentions. Meaning they’re just as likely to stab you in the back.”
“You talk well. Trying to buy time, are we?”
“Buy time?”
Why would I?
Cheon Mujin’s genuine confusion drew a grin from Woo Chung.
“Waiting for your beloved superior, aren’t you? Or… don’t tell me you plan to fight me? Got a bit too cocky after taking out a single lackey?”
“You mean the one I took down earlier? A lackey, was he? That explains why he was so weak.”
Mujin replied nonchalantly.
The squad members who overheard their conversation couldn’t believe their ears.
Did he just call a peak master a lackey?
They instinctively swallowed hard and reached for their signal whistles.
SKREEEEE! ROAAAAAR!
The beasts that had been retreating, now masterless, suddenly roared and charged with renewed bloodlust.
Even more ferocious than before.
Their eyes had lost focus—and now glowed blood-red.
“None of that now.”
Confirming the squad had been pinned down, Woo Chung turned his gaze back to Mujin.
It wasn’t caution—it was confidence.
His cultivation was at the edge of mastery. Just one step from transcending into the supreme realm.
Unlike the lackey Cheon Mujin had fought earlier—who had forcibly raised his cultivation for the mission—Woo Chung was in a completely different class.
See? Even now, I haven’t lost track of Mujin’s presence for a single—
CRACK!
“Guh!”
A powerful blow dug into his side.
How…?
Even before the pain, a question surfaced in Woo Chung’s mind.
And with it came a mocking voice in his ear.
“Know your place.”
“Grrrrgh!”
Staggering from the pain, Woo Chung swung his arm.
His strike, brimming with lethal poison, aimed for Mujin’s neck.
It was no longer a subduing move.
It was a kill strike.
Because the poison enhanced the attack, he had to use a wider motion. Mujin evaded easily, lightly clenching and unclenching his fist.
“Perfect.”
The beast’s energy he’d just absorbed was immense.
It would take time to refine into internal energy—but if he used it as-is, it was a different story.
By burning all of it—including the impurities—he couldn’t convert it to lasting power, but he could boost his strength dramatically for a short time.
It was a method he had used before against a peak master.
Back then, he had used the energy from the Heavenly Yang Demon Altar.
As Woo Chung pulled his hand back, Mujin took a half-step forward.
Anticipating this, Woo Chung’s idle left hand shot out, blocking the way.
It aimed for Mujin’s jaw.
An unavoidable strike.
A poisoned strike from a master.
If it landed, it wouldn’t just throw off his balance—it’d be catastrophic.
But—
Tap.
A light elbow lift pushed Woo Chung’s hand upward.
The motion was so seamless, it felt rehearsed.
Woo Chung smiled.
Just above the jaw was the head.
And he was gladly offering it.
He’d oblige by smashing it.
That’s what he thought as he struck.
Whoosh!
But instead of hitting, his hand veered left—brushing past Mujin’s head.
And by the time he noticed—
CRACK!
Mujin’s fist had already buried itself in his side.
Pain distorted Woo Chung’s face.
He wasn’t used to this.
But Mujin didn’t stop.
“Hmph.”
It was more than enough time for him.
His fist pummeled into Woo Chung again.
And again.
Twisting his body, rotating his fists with power drawn from a firmly grounded lower body.
He didn’t use his legs—not once.
He didn’t need to.
Just his fists.
He never let up. Gave no openings.
He kept hitting.
He didn’t need one powerful blow to break his enemy.
If one wasn’t enough, he’d just keep hitting until it was.
“GRAAAAAH!”
Desperate to turn the tide, Woo Chung unleashed a torrent of internal energy.
It was more than dense enough to be called physical force—something only a true master could produce.
Normally, that burst would’ve been enough to blow Cheon Mujin back and give him time to regroup.
If this were anyone else.
Shfff.
Mujin tilted his body slightly, guided by a faint layer of internal energy around him.
He redirected the force—not dodging, flowing around it.
It was a technique bordering on genius.
And the moment Woo Chung’s face twisted again—
SMACK!
Mujin’s fist slammed into his jaw.
His head snapped back.
A terrible pain exploded in his mouth—he’d never be able to eat properly again.
“H-How…?”
This doesn’t make sense.
How can this be?
He was just a second-rate brat!
Doubt. Rage. Panic. Fear.
A storm of emotion.
“Phew.”
Cheon Mujin exhaled.
Woo Chung’s knees hit the ground.
The perfect moment to retreat, to reset the fight—but—
“So weak.”
Woo Chung collapsed face-first.
The sickening thud as his face struck dirt echoed slightly, but Mujin didn’t care.
No matter how hard he’d hit him, a peak master wouldn’t die from that.
If he did, oh well.
“…Looks like I didn’t even need to step in.”
“Thank you for observing so calmly.”
“I had no choice but to watch. No need for thanks.”
Mu Poong, the commanding lord nearby, chuckled dryly.
He’d agreed to accompany Mujin on patrol in case something happened.
But Mujin handled it all himself.
No, more than that—
“…Does he even need frontline experience anymore?”
What in the world is the Heavenly Demon thinking?
