Chapter 9

I felt at ease.

The bandits who had always fallen asleep shaking with anxiety were happy at the thought that, starting tonight, they could finally sleep soundly.

From the shadow outside their hall I watched Wild-Soul Demon Ma Changhu glance over the men he liked; a quick smile touched his lips. Then he asked the Infamous-Evil Stockade chief,

“Any other information yet?”

“No. We tried every angle. They say not a trace was left—like a ghost.”

“Then it might be one man.”

“What? You mean a single person used three different kinds of martial arts?”

“He left those signs on purpose to mislead us. Fire? You just set things ablaze. Ice? You can carry it from somewhere. The real thing is thunder arts.”

They’d said some bodies were found frozen.

Not wanting to rub him the wrong way, the chief smiled and agreed.

“You are extraordinary, as expected.”

Ma Changhu showed no tension at all and drank.

Gulp—.

“Thunder arts. Not something you run into easily. I’d like to meet him.”

He wiped the liquor off his beard with a finger, popped a bite of food, brushed his clothes, and asked,

“Did you have any dealings with the stockade that got hit?”

“The Hoak Stockade chief was a friend of mine.”

“Yeah? Did you go see it?”

“Yes.”

“How was it? Look like a crowd rushed them?”

“No. There were no such traces.”

“See? My guess holds. He’s probably new to the martial world.”

“New to the martial world?”

“Right. He needs real combat, but he can’t just grab anyone to fight, so he picked bandits.”

“Is a newcomer really that strong?”

“Who among the thunder-arts users was famous for strength?”

“There was the Heavenly-Thunder Lord.”

Ma Changhu thought for a moment, then clapped.

“He’s the successor to the Heavenly-Thunder Lord!”

“Huh?”

“The Heavenly-Thunder Lord excelled at thunder arts—and at sorcery. Fire and ice—those must be sorcery!”

“Oh! Remarkable!”

It sounded convincing, even to them.

“If he’s of the Heavenly-Thunder Lord’s line, his martial arts will be formidable.”

“Agreed. Now all our questions are answered. Truly remarkable.”

The chief rubbed his palms as he spoke, and Ma Changhu’s expression swelled with pride.

“Heh! That’s the level I’m at. Put what I said in order and send it to the headquarters.”

“Understood! I’ll pick someone with a good hand to write and send it properly.”

“Hahaha! That’s right!”

Pleased, Ma Changhu kept pouring. The sun hadn’t even set yet; when two jars of liquor were nearly empty—

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG—!

The alarm bell blared.

“What is it?”

“E-enemy, looks like!”

At the word enemy, Ma Changhu’s gaze went icy; the liquor steam left his body. Leaving his preferred scent hanging in the room, he grabbed his beloved spears and walked out.

Bandits already lay on the ground, twitching, cut down before they ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ knew it.

His brow twitched as he searched for the one who had done it.

What stood there was hard to believe.

“A child?”

A child—by anyone’s eye—strolled in at leisure while the bandits stared at him in fear.

So it’s him.

Ma Changhu stamped and vaulted; in a blink he was on me.

He attacked without mercy.

Two spears were already in his hands; he hurled them at me.

Skree—.

The sound of spears scything the air was chilling.

Thunk—.

They struck something invisible in front of me and ricocheted off to both sides.

“Body-guarding qi?”

No.

It felt different.

Whatever it is, pierce it and it ends.

Pap-pap-pang—.

The three spears left on his back shot up, spun furiously, and flew at me. At the same time, a spear on the ground snapped into his hand; he packed qi into the tip.

Clack—scrape—.

The three spinning spears slammed the unseen barrier and stalled. He clenched his teeth and drove the spear in his grip with everything he had.

“Demon-Breaking Ghost Thrust!”

Whooo—.

A single needle-thin beam that looked ready to pierce anything lanced toward me.

Shraa—.

It ripped the invisible membrane and struck me.

“Got him!”

He pumped a fist and shouted—

—and then saw the impossible: I stood there unharmed, thinking.

What is this? Am I dreaming? If he formed a solid shield, doesn’t that mean his body is weak? I tore the shield—why is he fine, like he’s pondering something?

“What... what is that?”

Sorcery? Am I staring at a phantom?

BOOM—.

The ground thudded from his full step. The fallen spears rose into the air. He launched himself, reclaimed all five, and charged me.

The first spear stabbed for my abdomen.

The second for my throat.

The third for my heart.

The fourth for my head.

The fifth for my crown point.

None of them pierced.

His spear can drill stone like tofu—yet it couldn’t pass through a human child’s body. It stopped cold.

He strained, trying to force them in. They didn’t budge.

A nightmare? Am I trapped in sorcery?

Our eyes met.

I murmured,

“Star-breath made bright; Five-Phases attune; soul-shadows appear; true ranks discerned.”

An appraisal mantra.

Then I said,

“Fire-realm, four-star. A magic shield won’t stop fire-realm strikes. Useful data.”

What is he saying?

“How do you even know my level?” he blurted.

“A mantra that reads the opponent’s level.”

“Is that sorcery?”

“Something like that.”

“And my attacks not working—is that sorcery too?”

“No. It’s because my body is sturdy.”

I am Jeok Wigang.

“Sturdy? You’re saying mere sturdiness blocked my Demon-Breaking Ghost Thrust? Don’t lie! Sorcery!”

“Think whatever helps you sleep. More than that—your body reeks of killing intent. How many have you killed?”

Red killing aura wrapped him—more than you get from one or two lives.

My eyes went cold. He opened his mouth to speak—

WHUD—.

His upper body blew away; the legs sagged and toppled.

Thud—.

Sending Ma Changhu flying with a single strike, I looked around.

The bandits who survived were shaking.

An Eight Marshal of the Green Forest, famed as the most brutal—Wild-Soul Demon Ma Changhu—killed by a child with one punch.

My eyes turned to them.

I shook my head.

“There isn’t a single one here who gets to live.”

I would make it clean.

“Qi, lodge into the meridians; fix the soul, bind the sinews; form cannot move.”

A mantra that halts motion.

As the words ended, every bandit in sight froze in place.

“W-what is this? M-my body won’t move!”

“Did someone point-block us?”

“Who could point-block all of us?”

“You’re saying one person did it to this many?”

They panicked.

I raised my hand toward the sky and spoke another mantra.

“Heaven’s Mandate, return to place; falling-fire, congeal a core; fire-wrath, descend and strike; world-end—decree fulfilled.”

An eighth-ring Scripture mantra—to bring down meteors.

The sky turned red.

From behind the clouds, red meteors began to fall.

Mountains caved; the earth caught fire.

That day, the Infamous-Evil Stockade vanished from the world.

****

Rrrrr-rumble—.

The ground shook; startled people ran outside. A hot wind hit their faces. Far off, a red glare pulsed.

“Where is that?”

“The place where the Infamous-Evil Stockade stands.”

“The Infamous-Evil Stockade?”

“Yes!”

“Damn! He showed himself there!”

An old man snatched up his sword and shot toward the site. Seven others—just as fast—raced the same way: the rest of the Eight Marshals of the Green Forest, excluding Ma Changhu.

The closer we drew to the stockade, the more the heat choked the air.

“What is this....”

Where the stockade had been, a huge crater gaped. Three meteoric masses sat embedded inside it, still too hot to cool.

“Meteors...”

“Wasn’t there a report that a stockade vanished because of a meteor strike?”

“There was. Lord Rim marked that off as a natural disaster.”

“Is this a natural disaster too? Coincidence?”

“If the same thing happened twice, it isn’t coincidence.”

“So the enemy can drop meteors?”

“Does that sound reasonable to you? A human dropping meteors?”

“And yet we’re looking at it.”

Silence settled.

Jin Mu-jeok, the No-Blood Guest, scanned the rim and spoke.

“They’re small for real meteors. Most likely sorcery to fool the eye, followed by powerful explosives.”

The other marshals nodded.

It was the most realistic answer. A person calling meteors at will? Absurd.

“Could one human make explosives strong enough to erase this place?”

“There is one man who could.”

They looked at each other and shouted at once,

“Thunder-Mad Lord?”

“Right. The madman of the martial world who handles every explosive under the sun. He could make a blast like this.”

“Why would he attack our Green Forest?”

“The Thunder-Mad Lord disappeared from the martial world fifteen years ago.”

“Maybe someone here offended him in seclusion?”

“He wouldn’t be alone. The traces at other stockades show not only explosive signatures but marks of other martial arts.”

“Then someone is targeting our Green Forest on purpose?”

“That’s possible. I don’t think it’s a single person.”

As grave faces ringed the pit, someone said,

“If this place looks like this, Wild-Soul Demon is down.”

“The Thunder-Mad Lord never cultivated martial arts. Wild-Soul Demon wouldn’t fall to him.”

“Then someone killed Wild-Soul Demon, and the Thunder-Mad Lord set off the bombs here?”

“Highly likely.”

“Sure—more plausible than that nonsense about meteors.”

“Agreed.”

“Sigh. Do we report it to Lord Rim as our conjecture? It isn’t certain.”

“Then we catch them.”

“How?”

“If we split, our strength scatters. Stay together. When they appear, fire signal flares—how about that?”

They hammered out the plan, heat and ash still breathing from the crater.