Reincarnation of the Fist King Chapter 98

<Gwangshin, juniors, take a drink>

The members of the Murim Alliance gathered in one place, locked at the main gate, and looked up at the platform.

They had no leisure to enjoy the festival, and they lacked the natural flair for it. However, at the command of the leader of the Yu Jeong-hong alliance, they each filled their own cups. As they poured the wine, regardless of rank or status, the leader of the Yu Jeong-hong alliance stood up and looked at the members.

“He invited us to share three drinks.”

The leader of the Yoo Jeong-hong clan was holding a small bottle of alcohol in his hand. He raised it and spoke.

“The first drink is offered to the apprentice.”

The members raised their glasses and shouted.

“I will drink this with my senior disciple.”

Yu Jeong-hong looked up at the sky, then brought the bottle to his lips and took a gulp. The other members joined in the drinking. As each one began to drink, their heads tilted back, creating a scene reminiscent of crashing waves.

Yoo Jeong-hong remembered his disciple.

"He was the sword of the Namgung family, the king of swords. He appeared leading the Namgung family in the Battle of Orung and slew countless demon swordsmen. On the day of his death, he slew five demon swordsmen with impervious bodies before taking his own life. Taking one's own life is a humiliating act for a warrior, but this was because he had mastered the magic of absorbing internal energy. Our paths were different, our thoughts were different, our personalities were different, and even our intentions were different. However, even if I had been where the Master fought, my choices would have been the same. Where is a man without a blemish in his life? The only commonality we share is that we lived our lives wishing to become swordsmen. The Master died as a swordsman. Will the members of the alliance join him in his vengeance?"

The members responded in unison.

“We will take revenge.”

Yoo Jeong-hong said as he picked up the bottle of alcohol again.

“The second cup is dedicated to the missing, whose lives and deaths are unknown, such as King Kwon, Murong Chu, Won Heo Jin-in, the Lord of the Biyeong clan, Li Shiguang, and the Lord of the Biyeong clan, Bi Qi Han, and to the Wudang and Hwasan clans, who have lost the most disciples and are still living a life that is no different from practicing meditation on a wall for twenty years.”

Yoo Jeong-hong looked at Dan Woo-seong.

Danwoo Seong also raised his glass to the leader.

Yoo Jeong-hong continued speaking.

"Now, each department is to list the missing persons on the death list and redeploy personnel to search for enemy strongholds. The apprentice's revenge and theirs will be fulfilled together. Let's drink."

The members and the leader drank again.

After wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Yoo Jeong-hong looked around at his followers for a moment.

"I've been wondering how to introduce myself, but nothing comes to mind. Let's dedicate the third drink to Senior Samshin, you and I. Senior Gwangshin, a member of the Samshin clan, is here today. The reason I decided to share a drink with you all is because Senior Gwangshin has come to the Murim Alliance. Senior…"

When Yoo Jeong-hong turned to look at Sangseok, Gwang-shin stood up from his seat.

In an instant, the room became quiet.

Because he wasn't a senior worthy of cheering.

And it was a sudden introduction. It was the appearance of the three gods, the pinnacle of Baekdo, the legends of the past, the ones I'd only heard of.

Cheol Myeong-ho, who had been watching from where the guests had gathered, suddenly hardened.

'What is this, fanaticism?'

Cheol Myeong-ho grabbed Dan Woo-seong's arm and looked at him.

“God?”

When I gave him a look asking why he didn't say anything, Danwoo Sung put his finger to his lips as if telling him to be quiet.

Gwangsin approached where Yoo Jeonghong was standing and looked around at the members.

“Juniors······.”

As soon as the fanatic finished speaking, all the members of the martial arts alliance grabbed the lottery tickets and shouted in unison.

“Meet the fanatic!”

The fanatic nodded several times and then spoke briefly.

"okay."

When the crowd became quiet again, the fanatic spoke.

"I heard there are juniors here who were born in the year the Orung War took place. Who are they? Let me see their faces."

As the fanatic blinked and looked around, members raised their hands here and there.

In the fanatic's eyes, the young members still looked like babies. He looked at each of the young juniors scattered here and there and spoke.

"You've grown up well. It seems the reason we fought was because of you. You are proof that those who fought alongside me didn't die in vain. Juniors, it's my blessing that I, who fought in the Battle of Orung, can have a drink with you, who were born in the same year it took place."

When Gwangshin reached out his hand, Yoo Jeong-hong handed him a bottle of alcohol.

The fanatic spoke while holding a bottle of alcohol.

“Take the wine of fanaticism. Drink it, juniors.”

The fanatic smiled faintly as he looked at the members of the martial arts world drinking alcohol, then brought the bottle in his hand to his lips and poured some alcohol.

Although I didn't really like Yoo Jeong-hong's request, I didn't feel so bad after sharing a drink with my juniors who were far behind me.

But today's feelings belong entirely to the members and juniors.

When the living legend appeared and shared a drink, each of them was already drunk after three glasses.

The fanatic returned to his seat, his voice full of inner strength.

“Juniors······.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Find them, before the old ones go to heaven first.”

It was a short but satisfying conversation.

Danwoo Seong, who had been watching, also raised his glass to the sky without saying a word.

'Jin-eon, you too, drink together.'

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“Hehehehehehehehehehehe······.”

As Cheol Myeong-ho laughed, as if he were in awe, Dan Woo-seong silently shook his head. Returning to his quarters, Cheol Myeong-ho looked around at the surrounding martial arts alliance members, repeating his nonsense like a madman.

“Hehehehehehehehehe······ This is really, this Cheolmyeongho’s master brother.”

Danwoo Seong cut off Cheolmyeongho's words.

“Do it there.”

Cheol Myeong-ho pointed at Dan Woo-seong and Baek Yak in turn and said:

"So that's why you're so reserved with your words. I understand. This Cheolmyeongho is said to be ignorant of the world's news, but I know full well that he doesn't give people the nickname "God" carelessly."

Cheol Myeong-ho raised one finger.

“Now that I think about it, this is my older brother. Hehehehehehe! Then my hori-chang-sul will also be in the martial arts world.”

Cheol Myeong-ho gave a thumbs up.

"That's what it means. What a coincidence, what a wonderful coincidence. It was worth running the errand. I was wondering why you liked that jerky so much."

Cheol Myeong-ho quickly picked up the bottle of alcohol that Maeng Won had handed him, opened his mouth wide, and poured the alcohol out.

Baekyak replied.

“Just because the Horichangsul is great doesn’t mean the Iron Duke is great.”

Cheol Myeong-ho wiped his mouth with his sleeve and pointed at Baek-yak several times.

"Oh, you're right. I like that kind of directness. I like how cool you are. I don't mean I like you. I just like Miss Baek's personality."

“I know.”

At this time, a member of the martial arts alliance approached and spoke to Danwoo Seong and Baekyak.

"The past Yongbongdaeyeon winners are calling for a brief gathering. Is this a convenient time for you two?"

When Danwoo-seong and Baekyak disappeared with Maengwon, Cheolmyeong-ho was left alone and looked around.

There was nothing to do.

Cheol Myeong-ho sighed for a moment, looked up at the stage, and then headed back to his quarters, swinging his umbrella.

He was a man with no reputation, so he had nothing to do even after coming to the Murim Alliance.

“Haha …

Boohoo!

As the martial arts alliance members stepped aside in surprise, Cheolmyeongho moved forward, deploying the Samjae Sword Technique. Cheolmyeongho spoke as if he were apologizing.

“Excuse me.”

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Cheonma looked at the ancestral tablets placed on the altar and found his father's ancestral tablet.

Wei Zhenghe.

There were only three letters written on the name.

Originally, ancestral tablets sometimes had the nickname or date of death recorded, but these tablets did not have that.

When I looked at the memorial tablet, I had no thoughts. I just felt like it had the name of the deceased written on it.

Cheonma was not polite and carried a pack on his back.

My thoughts on the actions of this Manmagung Palace have not changed, past or present.

After looking at the names of the dead for a while without even burning incense, I left the shrine and saw familiar faces calling out to me in front of the shrine.

“Hi, it’s been a while.”

“You are so rude that you came out without even burning incense at the ancestral tablet.”

A total of three people were looking at Cheonma Wijicheon, and if I had to describe it, I could say that they were the ones who had studied under the great master of Manmaseook.

Blood lord, supreme king, phantom demon.

Cheonma welcomed them with short words.

“Come on in, fellow alumni.”

The Blood Lord is a descendant of the Blood God, clad in a blood-red robe. The Overlord is a man with a monstrously large body. The Hwanma, clad in a bizarre outfit that appears to cover his entire body in black cloth, gazes silently at the Heavenly Horse with only his eyes exposed.

In Cheonma's eyes, it looked exactly like this.

Of course, their nicknames, like Cheonma and Geomma, were given by the masters of Manmaseo-ok, so they held a certain degree of credibility. Although they were all of different ages, their age distribution was similar, so they spoke informally to each other.

The king spoke with his arms crossed.

"After all that nonsense, the swordsman returned with his eyesight impaired. You look like a rat with no place to go. Wi Ji-cheon, I don't understand why the princess keeps accepting you."

Cheonma sat down in front of the shrine and gazed at the three people, then lay down diagonally and spoke.

“Our Manmaseo-ok alumni, speak up more.”

The bloodline said.

“Upper House, you know what the three of us are thinking about you.”

Cheonma said, pointing to the three with one hand.

"You must want to kill them. You all grew up being beaten by the swordsman, back when you were all nameless. Old memories are coming back vividly. Are you starting to gain confidence in your martial arts skills? You even know how to do things the princess didn't ask you to do. You've grown quite a bit."

The horse spoke awkwardly in a tone that was sharp and cut off.

“Cheonma, it’s been a while. I want to decide who is better.”

Cheonma clicked his tongue.

"You stammering friend, what do you mean by superiority and inferiority? Didn't the Grand Master already decide that? Look at the ancestral tablets in the shrine. I don't know what lies the Princess has told you, but I doubt my father is Wi Jeong-hak. Hwan-ma, you might be Wi Jeong-hak's son."

The demon replied briefly.

“No way.”

"Overlord, you and Geomma might be half-brothers. The Grand Master judged your martial arts achievements and assigned you nicknames. Have you ever seen your father? At Manmagung Palace, that is. Ever since you couldn't remember, you were called by numbers without names. Then one day, you were summoned by the princess and told that your ancestors were blood gods, or heavenly demons, and you grew up hearing such nonsense. And now you're still acting like idiots. Where in the Demonic Realm do you have bloodlines, and where is your father? Now that you've acquired martial arts, think of something more interesting."

Cheonma looked at the blood statue.

"Your great-grandfather was a blood god? What do you want me to do? Blood god or not, you're still a puppet of the Manmagung Palace. Who do you think a blood god would obey orders like you?"

As Cheonma raised one hand to take the water of Heunggongseop, Wijeonghak's memorial tablet flew towards him and fell into his hand.

Cheonma broke Wijeonghak's memorial tablet in half and threw it in front of the three people.

“If you’re a demon, live like one. If you want to pray for the souls of your fathers, whom you’ve never seen, while burning incense, you should shave your head and enter a temple.”

The king said with a smile.

"I'm not interested in that kind of thing in the first place. I just want to smash your brains out of your head for acting so smart."

As the overlord spoke as if foreshadowing an attack, the Heavenly Horse pointed and responded.

"Oh, let me say one more thing. Come to think of it, there's a vacancy under me right now. Anyone interested? Friends who have studied at the same academy are always welcome. What's the point of being a good friend? That's what it means to be a good friend. That's what it means."

The giant body of the tyrant, who could be called a monster of chaos, moved very quickly and stepped on the spot where the heavenly horse was lying.

Kwajik······.

The stairs are broken.

The Cheonma, who had been lying down, was now brushing the dust off his robe from a distance.

“Well, our overlord is not qualified to be the Left Secretary.”

The demon warned the two men.

“Inside Manma Palace, killing is forbidden. Only superiority and inferiority are considered.”

Cheonma said as he approached the tyrant who was a head taller than him.

“There is no such law in my heart.”

<Gwangshin, juniors, take a drink> End

ⓒ Eugene Sung