novelraw Chapter 8 : Martial Duel (1)
Chapter 8 : Martial Duel (1)
Chapter 8: Martial Duel (1)
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When Cheon Bigang came down to the lobby in the morning, Gyojin and Sa Gyeom were preparing breakfast.
Although the number of people preparing it had increased to two, not much had changed.
The fried eggs had become rolled omelets, and bacon—absent yesterday—had been added.
As Cheon Bigang took a seat, Gyojin brought milk and poured it into the bowl of cereal.
Unlike yesterday, Cheon Bigang said nothing and simply began eating.
Crunch, crunch.
Sweet.
His gaze shifted to the right, toward Gyojin.
When their eyes met, Gyojin grinned while holding up a slice of bread dripping with grape jam.
When he turned his gaze to the opposite side, the distorted face of the madman who had wandered the lobby with a sword last night suddenly appeared.
Cheon Bigang exclaimed.
“They say looking at an ugly face brings joy. That statement is certainly not wrong.”
“What? Are you talking about my face right now?”
“You have a talent for making people laugh without permission.”
“Damn it! Why are you picking a fight with someone just sitting quietly first thing in the morning—”
Smack!
Something flashed.
Sa Gyeom’s head slammed into the cereal bowl as he fainted.
Gurgle, gurgle.
“Ah!”
Before Sa Gyeom could drown in milk after being knocked unconscious by the spoon, Gyojin shook his shoulder.
“Sir, are you dead?”
“……Ugh, ugh! It went up my nose. The milk! Ah!”
“If you speak arrogantly again, next time I’ll split your face in half.”
“Cough! Cough! What kind of—”
Sa Gyeom tried to retort while snot ran down his nose, but upon seeing Cheon Bigang pick up the spoon again, he flinched.
“N-no, when did I ever speak arrogantly…?”
Fearing his face might really be split in half, Sa Gyeom immediately backed down.
Cheon Bigang jutted his chin forward.
“Be careful from now on. For someone so weak, if you stiffen your neck or glare uselessly, I’ll rip everything out.”
“Master, causing pain is cruel. I have another method.”
“Speak.”
“What if we send him to an underground arena to earn daily wages? As long as he doesn’t die, I heard it’s the best real combat experience for martial artists.”
“Oh?”
As Cheon Bigang showed genuine interest, Sa Gyeom’s eyes trembled uncontrollably.
“I’d rather stick my head in a food grinder! Both kid and adult are completely insane—no, that’s what I mean!”
Sa Gyeom shook his head vigorously, declaring he would never go to such a place.
“Finish your food.”
“Yes.”
---
“Have a safe trip.”
“Alright.”
Seeing Gyojin bow politely, Cheon Bigang stepped out of the pawnshop.
Walking along the street, lined with convenience stores, bakeries, and various restaurants, he reached a main road where the subway ran.
Men and women in suits hurried into the station, afraid of being late for work.
Even the autonomous vehicle lanes were congested, cars backed up to the intersection during rush hour.
At that moment, a chubby man approached from behind.
“Excuse me. Let me pass.”
As Cheon Bigang stepped aside, the man stepped twice on a streetlamp installed by the roadside and landed on a springboard platform at the top.
It was a structure designed so that martial artists and ordinary people would not collide.
Tap!
The chubby man began running between streetlamps with practiced movements.
Following platforms for right-side and left-side traffic, students in uniforms, a woman carrying an instrument, and people in training suits moved swiftly.
“Oh?”
Though Cheon Bigang could also move like that if he wished, he chose not to.
The rich aroma of coffee drifting from skyscrapers and small shops.
The hollow eyes of weary people, vomit stains on the ground, cleaners sweeping cigarette butts.
He leisurely took in all of it as he walked.
Following the current of the era, Cheon Bigang drifted along calmly.
---
Hao Clan Kowloon City Branch 3.
Blue Mountain Club.
Rattle, rattle.
Having finished business overnight, the club had closed its entrance after tidying up the interior.
Since he had been informed beforehand, Cheon Bigang did not hesitate and turned into the alley behind the building as Gyojin had explained.
There was a shop that traded various gift certificates.
‘Gift World.’
“Welcome.”
As Cheon Bigang entered, three female employees at the counter greeted him.
Whirr—
The sound of a counting machine tallying bills.
This shop, profiting from buying and selling various vouchers, was truly a place that embodied the Hao Clan.
“How may we assist you?”
“I’d like to purchase a limited item.”
“What are you considering?”
“I’d like an introduction.”
“One moment, please.”
The employee picked up the receiver.
There were already two people who had arrived before Cheon Bigang, both carrying black cases over their shoulders.
‘So these are the ones called freelancers.’
According to Gyojin, the Hao Clan not only traded information but also hired martial artists to resolve incidents involving their members.
Those hired were called freelancers or contractors.
‘Their breathing is steady, and their eyes are calm. They’re capable enough to earn their keep.’
Although they noticed his gaze, the two merely looked at their smartphones.
The employee put down the receiver.
“I’ll guide you.”
“Good.”
Passing the counter and through a door marked “No Unauthorized Entry,” an elevator appeared.
The employee sent Cheon Bigang up alone.
“The consultation room is on the third floor.”
Ding.
As the elevator stopped, a familiar face appeared.
A straight-cut bob at eyebrow level, an oval face with red lipstick.
Jo Wol, the general manager of Blue Mountain Club and head of Hao Clan Kowloon City Branch 3.
She greeted him with her eyes and spoke with a sigh.
“Welcome. I did receive notice in advance, but honestly, I’m not sure if the timing is good or bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“Other guests just arrived.”
“If they’re trivial, send them away.”
“That’s not the issue. It’s the Black Tiger Sect.”
Jo Wol showed slight discomfort.
“Tell them to leave. I came for other business.”
“That might be difficult. They didn’t come for the Hao Clan—they came for you. More precisely, for the Gyojin family.”
“Why? The ones who hired vagabonds to swing blades are now coming personally with swords?”
“Something like that. They’ve proposed a martial duel.”
“A duel?”
Hahahahahaha!
Suddenly, Cheon Bigang burst into loud laughter.
The sound was like a massive iron bell vibrating—dust fell from the ceiling, and a trash bin in the hallway slid sideways.
Jo Wol frowned.
“W-wait! Please stop! The staff will be startled!”
“…Haha. A duel? They want a duel? Hahaha!”
Cheon Bigang barely managed to stop laughing.
When was the last time he had fought a duel?
After ascending as the Ninth Heavenly Demon and subjugating the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, the first thing he did was beat to death all the demonic leaders who disgusted him.
‘The blood of young boys and girls is an elixir of rejuvenation? So you drained humans and drank them?’
‘What? You raided villages, tortured people, killed and ate them? In front of their parents?’
‘Looking at the embezzled wealth, those old rats in the Elders’ Hall must be defecating gold. Gather them all. I will judge their crimes.’
When the unprecedented figure known as Cheon Bigang took control of the cult, ironically, twenty percent of its strength vanished.
Supremacy of the Strong.
That day, the Demonic Cult realized how terrifying that principle truly was.
For sixty-six days, those who had committed crimes without punishment and those who glorified their evil deeds were brutally slaughtered by Cheon Bigang.
Only after the bloodshed ended did he remove his red robe and silk shoes.
“Display the heads of the dead and write their crimes on their foreheads. And anyone dissatisfied with my actions may challenge me at any time. Ambush or duel to the death—I accept all.”
The rumor spread like wildfire.
Even monsters feared by righteous sects had been exterminated.
From that day onward, aside from Shin Yawol, no one dared to challenge Cheon Bigang.
Before his name, all that remained were those begging for their lives.
If the Black Tiger Sect had witnessed those sixty-six days of bloodshed—
Would they still dare speak of a “duel”?
Just imagining it made Cheon Bigang laugh again.
Suppressing his smile, he said to Jo Wol,
“I laughed without realizing it.”
“My ears hurt.”
She replied flatly.
The third-floor consultation room.
Despite its plain name, the interior was refined and elegant.
Carpets on the floor, bookshelves lining the walls, and wide windows suited to the spacious room.
When the door opened, the guests who had arrived earlier were revealed.
Joo Hoyeop, the young sect leader of the Black Tiger Sect whom Cheon Bigang had met before, along with three subordinates.
As Cheon Bigang appeared, Joo Hoyeop unconsciously clenched and unclenched his fists in tension.
Behind him, the three men stared intensely.
“Please, have a seat.”
“Very well.”
Cheon Bigang sat across from Joo Hoyeop.
Jo Wol took the middle seat and began.
“You’ve seen each other before, but I’ll formally introduce you again. This is Joo Hoyeop, young sect leader of the Black Tiger Sect, and this is Cheon Bigang, guest of the Heavenly Demon Pawnshop.”
“I am Joo Hoyeop.”
Unlike before, he maintained a polite attitude, as he was acting on behalf of the sect leader.
Cheon Bigang nodded.
“I know.”
“Have you heard?”
“What? The duel?”
“Yes. I heard your shop was attacked. It seems someone is trying to frame our Black Tiger Sect.”
“That differs from what the attackers said.”
“What did they say?”
“They said they were hired to kill the child.”
Before handing over the four kidnappers, Cheon Bigang had questioned them.
Not gently—they confessed amid agonized groans.
That everything had been commissioned by the Black Tiger Sect, and the targets were Gyojin and Sa Gyeom.
Joo Hoyeop shamelessly shook his head.
“It’s unfortunate you were attacked, but without evidence, that was their lie. Still, you won’t believe me, will you? That’s why I came personally, under the name of the Black Tiger Sect.”
“Continue.”
At Cheon Bigang’s commanding tone, the subordinates behind Joo Hoyeop intervened.
“Hey, show respect before the young sect leader.”
“Should we cut your tongue to teach you manners?”
“You’re being disrespectful, you idiot.”
Though slightly intimidated by Cheon Bigang’s large build, their numbers gave them confidence.
Cheon Bigang’s gaze shifted to them.
“What are you staring at?”
“So what?”
“Got a problem?”
One could be dismissed as nonsense, but not twice.
He returned his gaze to Joo Hoyeop and warned,
“A subordinate’s mistake reflects the master’s incompetence. Since last time, you obeyed well, so I overlooked your subordinates’ rudeness. But there won’t be a next time.”
Anyone who knew Cheon Bigang in the past would have wept in gratitude at such mercy.
But a thousand years had passed—no one remembered.
Joo Hoyeop, secretly enjoying the situation, had no intention of stopping them.
Nor did he intend to accept Cheon Bigang’s words.
“If my subordinates are wrong, I’ll handle it. You’d do well to stop overstepping your bounds.”
Encouraged, the subordinates jeered.
“Looks like you got put in your place.”
“Apologize while you still can.”
“Big mouth, that’s all you are.”
As they mocked him, Jo Wol grew anxious.
“W-wait!”
Crack.
The sound came first.
Then the action.
Joo Hoyeop’s head suddenly dropped, and his body slumped forward like a puppet with cut strings, collapsing onto the table.
Blood poured from his nose.
“Y-young master!”
“What the hell!”
“What just—!”
The three subordinates were struck with shock.
Cheon Bigang spoke calmly, still seated as before.
“Go and deliver the message. Duel or fight to the death—I accept them all.”