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Chapter 11
Crack—
Mu-ho teeth clenched involuntarily.
Has he ever in his life been beaten this badly before?
He had reached the peak of helplessness, something he was experiencing for the first time since birth.
Compared to the late-stage disciples of renowned martial sects, he might’ve lacked polish, sure, but he had thought he had talent. If the opponent was someone around his age, Mu-ho believed he could hold his own, maybe even win.
What a delusion that was.
He was beaten one-sidedly. Tried to fight back? Got hit even harder. Got frustrated and shouted? He vomited up food from a year ago.
He was taught that a real man never yields to violence and faces it head-on with courage. But reality… was a shitshow.
There truly is no man who can stand before a beating stick, he was feeling that in his bones today.
‘Was I just a frog in a well all along?’
Should he be glad that he’s finally realized how wide the world is?
No. Not exactly.
Because Mu-ho never knew… There was a monster lurking inside the well.
He was not even sure anymore which was scarier—the world, or the well.
That monster grinned again today.
‘That infuriating smug face—damn it!’
“Not going to talk back today?”
Craack!
“How long are you going to block punches with your body?”
Grkkk!
“You can’t just rely on your endurance forever.”
Gaaaah!
That venom-laced mouth of his—
‘Just beat me!’
He’s not a brother. He’s a damn curse.
After his defeat on the very first day, he had vowed to better himself. He ignited a pure determination to move forward and improve.
But that was a pointless ambition.
Now, five years later, all he had left was grit, spite, and deep-seated resentment toward his brother.
He has never harbored a killing intent toward anyone in his life, except for his brother.
They were blood related, yes, but he wanted to beat him to death. Every word out of his mouth scraped at his nerves, shaking whatever peace of mind he had.
If he’d just shut that mouth of his, life might be bearable.
“Oho, spacing out now? You’ve grown.”
“……You son of a—guhh!”
“Look at you, cussing and everything. I’m so proud!”
“……You devilish bastard!”
“Yes, bark all you want.”
To Mujin, his little brother’s tearful rebellion, hmm, struggle, was pitiful to witness. Still far from the level Mujin wanted him to reach.
One day, he’ll lead Songho Sect. He should aim for the title of the continent’s strongest sword, shouldn’t he?
‘Being satisfied with just being the strongest in the province isn’t enough. He’s the younger brother of the former War King, who was once called the Demon King of Combat. Being the strongest swordsman on the continent is the least he should achieve. Am I wrong?’
But everything comes in due course.
If you want to grow strong, you need training.
‘You’ll get there eventually. So don’t worry, just trust this big brother and follow my lead.’
“Your side’s open.”
“……Say that after you hit me—ugh!”
“You cough blood from that? Really?”
“……I think… my rib’s broken!”
“It’s not broken. You know I’ve got great instincts. Just rub some spit on it and stop whining.”
‘It’s not whining, damn it!’
‘You heartless, cold-blooded freak!’
What kind of brother hits harder after hearing his sibling is in pain? Mu-ho never hated his brother before. But everything changed 5 years ago. His brother became a demon’s avatar, no, a demon incarnate.
How can anyone use such vicious techniques on their own family? Without a shred of hesitation, he twisted the waist of his poor, still-unmarried younger brother.
Crunch!
No… no!
He had swung the sword from left to right, then shifted to a vertical slash, but it only cut through air. In an instant, Mu-ho slipped inside his guard, seized his waist, and locked down his legs.
Crack!
With a sickening bone sound, Mu-ho felt as though his upper and lower body were moving in opposite directions.
“It’s okay. My hands are healing hands.”
“Healing, my ass! Those are destructive hands!”
‘The moment he touches you, you’re not healed—you’re broken.’
Mu-ho dodged instinctively. He pushed off the ground and leapt into a defensive stance. It was only a moment, but he’d avoided a fatal blow. And still, there wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t hurt.
“You trying to kill your own brother?!”
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead five years ago, little bro.”
“You con artist!”
“Tsk tsk, no respect for your elder brother.”
“Fine! Take your bloodline back!”
“My little brother’s gotten cuter. Kukukuku.”
That sly laugh…
Twitch.
Dangerous.
Can’t let that “cute” line fool me. Mu-ho immediately executed a footwork technique to widen the distance.
If he stayed there even a second longer—
BOOOM!
Ten jang in radius—
Obliterated.
Rumble…
The very skin of the earth peeled back, revealing a crater so deep he couldn’t even guess how far it went.
‘……Brainless brute.’
Mu-ho broke out in a cold sweat. It might’ve looked flashy, but it felt anything but light when you were on the receiving end. The sheer force packed into that blow—it wasn’t just brute strength. It was willpower made manifest: an absolute martial art born from formless intention.
‘……This makes no sense!’
Five years ago, he couldn’t pull off moves like this. But now? He was using formless strikes like they were no big deal. Even the Shaolin sect’s famed Hundred-Step Divine Fist paled in comparison to his punches. Even if Bodhidharma himself came down to train, he’d still fall short.
‘Damn it all…’
‘And we’re supposed to be a sword clan?!’
“What kind of supreme martial art was that supposed to be?!”
“Your footwork lacked spacing control, and the flow of your qi was unstable—it wavered. If you’d just drawn a little qi from the Yongcheonhyeol*, you would’ve moved way faster.”
“That’s not as easy as it sounds!”
“Are you questioning the words of your great and mighty older brother? Is that it?”
“……No, not like that.”
Mu-ho still felt like he was dreaming.
Was the man in front of him truly his brother? Based solely on the strength he’d just witnessed, it couldn’t be. He had become a supreme master overnight, who in their right mind would believe that? Even Mu-ho, his own flesh and blood, was having a hard time accepting the reality.
“Your external martial arts aren’t catching up to your internal energy growth. Especially the delivery of qi to your lower body, it’s wasteful. Because of that, both internal and external energy are getting drained too much. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“……This is… the first time today—crack!”
“When I say something, you just take it as truth. Must I spell it out for you? Aren’t you the so-called genius of Songho Sect?”
“Then how about just beating me instead—ughk!”
“If that’s what you want.”
Mujin never ignored his little brother’s requests and faithfully trained him. If there was one thing Mujin was unparalleled at, it was building survival instincts through torturous drills. The foundation of the War King Art was still rooted in Songho Sect Evolution Technique.
After all, a parent’s love flows downward..
“Still too much excess movement. The sword is just a weapon for killing. Don’t waste time assigning meaning to pretentious sayings like ‘Confucius said’ or ‘Buddha said.’ The more stray thoughts you have, the shakier your blade becomes. If you’re going to kill, kill. Think afterward. That’s how you stay alive.”
“……!”
“Well? Answer me.”
“……Start with the legs, you damn—argh!”
“Oops. My bad.”
“That wasn’t a mistake… You did it on purp—blurgh!”
“Well, you kept slipping. I told you.”
Why was his foot on his brother’s face, of all places? It made no sense, but hey—mistakes happen. Mujin took the opportunity to show off some long-lost foot techniques. People thought he only used his fists, but that was a misconception.
“Your big brother has some fancy footwork too.”
“…I don’t want to hear that from you. Where are you sticking those feet…”
“Oops. My bad.”
“……It wasn’t a mistake… you li—urk!”
“If I admitted the truth, your poor, modest brother would die of shame.”
He was the former War King. He couldn’t afford shame.
He had status, a public image to maintain. And since he couldn’t commit familial extermination, he had “gently” blocked his brother’s moves with a kick. If they weren’t family, he might’ve lost control and unleashed a kill combo out of sheer embarrassment.
Time passed.
“How long are you gonna lie there, little bro?”
“I’m getting up!”
“What a temper.”
“Whose fault is that?!”
“Beats me.”
‘Wow. The shamelessness of it.’
Mu-ho had always known his brother was shameless, but the man hadn’t just stayed the same, he had leveled up. Everything else changed, but that infuriating personality was rock solid. It turned people inside out.
“Proper sword techniques are important, sure—but what you still lack is situational response. Improvisation. We’ll reinforce your sense training.”
“……Even more?!”
During “sense training,” Mujin had once locked Mu-ho in a pitch-black cave and hurled daggers at him. That fear had eclipsed even the fear of death. Mu-ho still jolted awake remembering it. And now there was something worse?
He genuinely wanted to kill himself and get it over with.
“Or just show some real results in the next spar.”
“Fine! I’ll do it!”
Mujin smiled.
His little brother had always acted more mature than his age. It was the byproduct of having an older brother who never really settled into the sect. People should live according to their age. That includes whining, sulking, and being stubborn sometimes.
Mu-ho had always lived with the crushing weight of responsibility. Now, he was finally expressing emotions, and Mujin was satisfied with that.
“That’s the genius of Songho Sect, I know.”
“All the geniuses are probably dead!”
“Then should I beat you till you feel like you’re dying?”
“Can’t brothers even joke anymore? Hehehe…”
Mu-ho grumbled, but he wasn’t denying anything.
He had restructured the sect’s Ten Swords into five core techniques. Does that make it weaker because there are fewer moves? No. In fact, it highlighted just how bloated the original system had been. He’d tried to find answers in chaining together too many forms. But if you’re struck down before executing even one, what’s the point?
‘He’s at Grandmaster level now!’
As much as Mu-ho didn’t want to admit it, his brother wasn’t just a monstrous martial artist. His insights and enlightenment had reached the level of a true Grandmaster. Otherwise, he couldn’t have redefined a sword system handed down over generations.
– Don’t forget you owe it all to me.
‘There he goes, showing off…’
– It’s not bragging if it’s true.
‘You still haven’t shut that mouth.’
– This version of me doesn’t have a mouth.
As War King, Mujin’s combat sense was second to none. But understanding martial arts required a different kind of depth. It demanded the ability to analyze and restructure techniques, not just execute them.
He wasn’t just a “learn one, master ten” type. He had gone beyond that. Even after reducing the sect’s Ten Swords to five forms, he retained the essence and doubled their power.
‘Yeah, yeah. You’re amazing.’
– You’re just dumb. At your level, you should at least be able to dissect low-level martial arts. I can’t believe I got beaten by a thick-skulled brat.
‘Being smart doesn’t mean you’re good at fighting.’
– You didn’t refuse to lead the battlefield, you just couldn’t.
War King had provided justification to conquer the Demonic Cult, but he hadn’t led the army himself. The actual command had come from the military department of the Murim Alliance. People thought he hated being restrained, but the truth was, he lacked the ability to strategize large-scale war.
‘And that matters… why?’
– I mean, it’s not wrong.
‘What’s with the sudden agreement?’
– A supreme martial master is a weapon all by himself.
Sure, a single martial master’s reach is limited. But even among supreme masters, there are tiers. And War King was the strongest among all the other monsters.
That’s why the Demonic Cult was always running scared.
[TL: Yongcheonhyeol (용천혈): It’s a key acupressure point located on the sole of the foot. ]
---The End Of The Chapter---
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