Chapter 184 - What Kind of Man the Fist Demon Is

"You seem to be in a good mood."

The Demonic Buddha smiled at Geom Muyang's remark.

"Perhaps it's because I bring good news."

He was brighter and more animated than usual.

"I don't think you need to worry about the Fist Demon. He made it clear that he supports you."

Despite the good news, Geom Muyang's expression did not brighten appreciably.

"First Young Master, allow me to speak frankly. I know I've disappointed you recently. I meant to do my best, but some things did not go as I intended. For that, I apologize."

The Demonic Buddha's apology was sincere, without a trace of pretense. It was an extension of what he had felt earlier while watching Geom Mugeuk train.

He felt that they could not defeat Mugeuk if things continued this way. Something had to change, and he had resolved that the change must begin with him.

"No. I'm the one who should apologize."

From Geom Muyang's reaction, the Demonic Buddha could tell that he was taken aback and doubted his words.

Muyang was a man who first looked for what lay beneath another person's surface. He always filtered their words before accepting them. Right now, he was questioning the Demonic Buddha's sincerity.

Yesterday, that reaction would have angered the Demonic Buddha. He would have thought of the crack in his relationship with Geom Muyang.

But not now. He was trying to accept it. This was who Muyang truly was. If he disliked it, he was the one who ought to leave.

Whether Muyang understood those feelings or not, he spoke calmly.

"When I returned to the Cult, I think I was unsettled by how much more Mugeuk had grown than I expected. The Mugeuk I knew was a young wolf, but when I came back, he had become a great tiger. In my anxiety, I was rude to you on several occasions. I'm sorry."

Geom Muyang bowed his head.

The Demonic Buddha's heart softened. This was enough.

He decided to see the crack between them not as a danger that they would shatter and fall, but as a marker pointing toward a better relationship. It would be a crack he could look to for strength when he felt hurt or troubled.

"You are a tiger too, First Young Master. So do not be afraid. Roar to your heart's content. I will protect you."

"Thank you."

The Demonic Buddha was rallying his spirits.

Yes, this was how they ought to approach others. Just as Geom Mugeuk spoke to him without hesitation, he too should take bold strides toward Geom Muyang. Then, however this affair ended, he would have no regrets.

The Demonic Buddha turned his gaze toward the window.

"The moonlight is especially lovely tonight."

But Geom Muyang's eyes could not enjoy that lovely moonlight at all.

'This can't go on.'

He felt that a Demonic Buddha whose eyes grew moist at the sight of moonlight could never defeat Geom Mugeuk.

'If you truly have my interests at heart, don't flatter me by calling me a tiger. Bring me a trap to catch the tiger on the other side.'

Even every trick at their disposal would not be enough. They needed to employ everything, reckless gambles and schemes alike, yet he was indulging in such leisure.

It was because he was not as desperate as Muyang. After all, if they lost the succession struggle, Muyang alone would die.

Their hearts were different, and so was tonight's moonlight. Soft and warm, yet cold and lonely, it shone down on them both.

* * *

Alone on the moonlit training ground, I threw punch after punch.

Through my training, I had perfectly mastered even the forms taught to the Red Fists. They found them difficult, but to me they still felt as easy as the fundamentals of fist arts. Yet a solid foundation was essential, so from the very first moment I began training, I had devoted all my time to honing my fist arts.

Then the Fist Demon walked over.

With the moon behind him casting his face into shadow, he truly looked like an evil spirit.

"Aren't you afraid of me?"

"How could anyone look at that face and not be afraid?"

"You're not merely unafraid. You think I'm a pushover."

"Do you like having people fear you? You must have experienced it all your life."

The Fist Demon slowly approached until he stood directly before me.

He thrust his face toward mine. This was the first time I had seen it so close. It truly looked as though a devil had been born into this world.

"What do you think, seeing it up close?"

For the first time, looking at a Demon Supreme's face gave me this impression.

"You look tired."

"!"

"What on earth makes a Demon Supreme of the Divine Cult of the Heavenly Demon so tired? The Iron Fists? That cliff? Or is there something else?"

For an instant, his eyes trembled slightly. Probably no one had ever asked him so directly. Neither his fellow Demon Supremes nor even Father treated the Demon Supremes carelessly.

"I suppose this is how you coaxed all the other Demon Supremes over, but it won't work on me."

Apparently, saying he looked tired had touched a nerve.

"As I've told you, I never wanted that in the first place. What I want is something else."

"What is it?"

"Teach me your fist arts. Learning them is so much fun. I'm so excited and eager that I can hardly sleep."

I meant every word. Perhaps it was because I had spent my whole life practicing swordsmanship. Because I had attained twelfth-level complete mastery of the Heaven-Soaring Sword Art. Because I had achieved complete mastery of the Wind God's Four Steps. Fist arts had come to me at precisely this moment, as though by fate.

"Teach me. I want to fight you with the fist arts you teach me!"

"!"

"I want to defeat you with those fist arts."

At once, waves of qi poured from the Fist Demon's body. His qi presence was like the wind—a fierce wind that made it impossible to open your eyes, that left your mind blank with the terror of being swept away.

The Heavenly Demon’s Body-Protection Art activated naturally, and I raised my protective concentrated qi to resist his qi presence.

His presence grew even stronger. A wind blew that seemed capable of sweeping away not only my body, but my soul.

I channeled internal energy into my clenched fist and executed a form.

It was One Fist Bears the Heavens, a form I had learned while training with the Red Fists.

BANG!

A crisp rush of wind burst from the empty air where my fist struck.

Looking straight into the Fist Demon's eyes, I said,

"You've awakened something inside me."

He would know what it was without my saying it.

The Fist Demon withdrew the qi presence pressing down on me and asked,

"Why did you only come to me now?"

Of the eight Demon Supremes, he was the seventh I had formed a connection with. It was a reasonable question.

"Was I someone you didn't particularly need?"

"Quite the opposite."

"The opposite?"

"I heard that you alone serve the role of two Demon Supremes. That's why I wanted to meet you once I'd become stronger."

"Who said I serve the role of two?"

"Father."

Father had said that although the Demon Supremes were divided four against three, the sides were evenly matched. Through the Drunken Demon, I had confirmed that he had the Fist Demon in mind.

Father certainly held influence over the Demon Supremes. At the mention of him, the Fist Demon too revealed somewhat complicated emotions.

"I can't believe the Cult Leader said such a thing. Don't overreach in your efforts to bring me to your side."

"Go and ask him yourself."

The Fist Demon's face became even more frightening. I could guarantee that traveling through the Central Plains with that face beside me would bring a succession of fresh incidents, mishaps, and amusing adventures every day.

Staring fearsomely at me, he asked,

"Were you serious when you said you could become my disciple?"

"I was. This is your only chance to become the Heavenly Demon's master. Don't let it slip away."

"And what will you do if I try to manipulate my disciple as I please once he's become the Heavenly Demon?"

At last, I released my own qi presence. It was the first time I had revealed it to the Fist Demon.

A vast blue sky stretching without end.

Clear water reflecting that sky. Water that seemed shallow, until you dipped a foot into it and discovered a deep sea with no bottom in sight. Radiating that suffocating dread, I spoke sternly.

"Is that all your Heavenly Demon amounts to?"

The Fist Demon stared at me in surprise.

For a long while, we regarded each other in silence. He was the one to break it.

"Hold out your hand. Come on, hold out that baby hand."

I extended my hand.

"Make a fist."

I slowly clenched it for him.

An unusual gleam passed through his eyes as he examined my fist. Yes, it was hardly a hand you saw every day. This hand he called a baby's belonged to none other than the heaven-bestowed Heavenly Martial Physique.

To become a master, your entire body mattered, but your hands were especially important. All the more so in fist arts, because you could not conceal your body's weaknesses with weapons.

He enclosed my hand in his enormous one. Hand met hand, each exploring the other.

Eventually, without saying anything about my hand, the Fist Demon turned and walked away.

"Join the Black Fists' training tomorrow."

* * *

After leaving the Eastern Fist School, I went straight to Villains' Valley.

I wanted to ask the Wicked Laughing Demon about the Fist Demon. Somehow, I felt he would know him well.

As always, the Wicked Laughing Demon sat motionless in that entirely white room.

His first words upon seeing me were these:

"Second Young Master, you want to fight the Fist Demon."

I was startled.

"Have you learned a mind-reading martial art? Or have we become so close that we can read each other's hearts just by looking into each other's eyes?"

"You're wearing your mask today, aren't you?"

"Wearing my mask means I want to fight the Fist Demon?"

"Yes. It means you want to fight him."

Laughing, I pushed my mask up onto my head.

"What if I'd come like this?"

"Then you would have come to spend time with me."

Since I had not come for that today, at least, I lowered my mask again.

"I might fool a ghost, but I can't fool you, Laughing Demon."

I nodded, admitting it honestly.

"Do you miss blood?"

"I think so. And when I miss blood, you're the first person who comes to mind."

"When I heard you were learning martial arts from the Fist Demon, I knew you would come to see me sooner or later."

The Wicked Laughing Demon and the Fist Demon were entirely different people. Their feel, their air, their personalities—everything.

Yet if someone asked me to sort the Demon Supremes into groups without specifying any criteria, I felt those two would end up together.

"Do you know why the Fist Demon supports the First Young Master?"

"Because I went to see him too late?"

The Wicked Laughing Demon shook his head.

"Because he supports succession by the eldest son?"

"I don't think that's it either."

"Then why does he support my brother?"

Then came an answer I had never expected.

"It is probably because of the Cult Leader."

"Because of Father?"

"Until you began to distinguish yourself recently, everyone expected the First Young Master to become the successor. The Cult Leader probably intended the same at the time."

"Are you saying the Fist Demon is following Father's wishes?"

"Precisely. He probably believes the Cult Leader wants the First Young Master as his successor. He doesn't realize how much things have changed lately."

"Because he's been focused solely on teaching his subordinates."

"Exactly. If he learns that the Cult Leader is considering you, he'll change his mind."

The Drunken Demon had said that Father probably liked the Fist Demon best because of his pure obsession with martial arts. It occurred to me that perhaps the Fist Demon was also the one who liked Father best.

The Wicked Laughing Demon offered one final piece of advice about him.

"The Fist Demon's epithet is Invincible. He has never lost. You will discover what kind of man he is when he suffers defeat."

I nodded silently. Perhaps I would be the one to give him that first defeat.

The Wicked Laughing Demon sensed my ardor.

"Second Young Master, why are you so determined to grow stronger?"

He understood exactly that my ultimate purpose in learning the Fist Demon's arts was not to gain a Demon Supreme, but to fulfill my longing for strength.

"Do you perhaps dream of unifying all under heaven?"

"No," I said firmly.

"Do you want to become the greatest martial artist under heaven?"

"Not that either."

"Then why are you racing onward at such a breathless pace?"

"Because I have a premonition that a formidable enemy will appear before me someday. An enemy I could never defeat unless I work like a madman. I suppose I suffer from that sort of anxiety."

I honestly revealed my anxiety to him. Strangely, I felt comfortable showing the Wicked Laughing Demon these emotions.

After silently studying me, he suddenly released finger force.

SSSSSH!

His finger force scored a long line across the white wall he always gazed at. I was astonished. He had marked a wall I had thought he would never damage.

"Second Young Master, how far have we come?"

It had been a very long time since he last drew a line and asked me that. Back then, I had said I had reached the survival line.

I drew the Black Demon Sword and made a vertical mark near the end of the line, beyond the survival line I had marked before.

"I've come this far."

We had not spent all that much time together. But two battles in which we had stood back-to-back and staked our lives had brought me to this point.

"Do you remember? When we first met, I told you I didn't make friends with people who wore masks. My rule has changed. Now that I wear a mask myself, I'll be friends with masked people too."

With clear eyes, the Wicked Laughing Demon said,

"You said that once we reached that line, we would become friends. We would eat and drink together, share happy times and quarrel. If one of us was in danger, the other would come to the rescue. And when one of us died first, the other would pour liquor over his grave."

"That's right."

"If an enemy like the one you described appears and puts you in danger..."

After a pause, the Wicked Laughing Demon added,

"I will come to save you."

"!"

I knew then. His mark stood at the same point as mine.

Father always tells me not to trust people. That feelings like these are cheap sentimentality that will get you killed. Naive sentimentality. Even so, I love this moment.

"I'll be waiting for you to save me."

The Wicked Laughing Demon's eyes shone clear. No more words were needed.

As I turned to leave, I asked him worriedly,

"Oh, will that wall be all right? Isn't it for your training?"

He had said he needed to train while gazing at a white wall to increase his internal energy. In response to my concern about what he would do now that he had damaged it, the Wicked Laughing Demon looked at the white wall opposite it and said,

"I didn't like the color of that wall. Starting today, I'll look at this one."