Chapter 196 - Every Time I See That Scar From Now On

A boat laden with passengers was crossing the river.

The Fist Demon and I stood on the windswept deck, looking out over the water. We were drawing farther and farther away from the Cult.

With some people, a departure from their usual routine makes you anxious. What if they get into trouble? What if this changes their life for the worse? And all because of me?

But the Fist Demon's departure from his routine didn't worry me at all. Was it because of the diligence with which he had lived his life? Or because I felt that very diligence was smothering his true nature?

Just then, a ball made of yarn rolled up to the Fist Demon's feet.

A small child came running over, then stopped, looking frightened by his enormous figure. The Fist Demon picked up the ball and handed it to me.

"Give it to the child yourself."

"Why make the child cry?"

"The child won't cry."

The Fist Demon held out the ball, but the child remained too hesitant to approach, so he rolled it over instead.

Little one, today is the day you received a ball from the Fist Demon.

The child picked it up, bowed, and ran back to their parents. Watching the child go, the Fist Demon suddenly asked,

"You said we were going somewhere I'd enjoy?"

"Yes."

"What do you know about what I enjoy?"

"Shall we make a bet?"

"What kind of bet?"

"If you enjoy yourself once we get there, I win. If you don't, I lose."

"What if I enjoy myself but say I don't?"

"You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"If it's a bet, we should stake something."

"Our pride."

It had been the same when we jumped off the waterfall.

The Fist Demon gave me a curious look.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Don't you want to wager on the third fist form?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why don't you suggest it?"

"Thanks to your generosity, I obtained the first and second forms far too easily. I do have a conscience. I can't do that again."

I meant it, though I was also trying to earn points with him.

"All right, then! On our pride as men!"

I held out my fist to him.

"What is it? Are you challenging me?"

"Martial artists touch weapons when they make a promise, don't they? We fist fighters should touch fists."

"I'm not touching those baby hands."

I looked at his hands, then down at my own fist.

"Much as it pains me, I can't deny it."

The Fist Demon turned toward the river. Far away, the sunset was beginning to spread over the water.

"Beautiful."

It was the first time he had admired the scenery aloud. He gazed out over the river while I leaned against the railing, my back to the sunset, watching him.

"I heard you traveled a great deal when you were young."

"I hardly stayed at the Cult."

"And you often went out with Father?"

"Did the cult leader tell you that?"

I answered with a quiet yes, but I hadn't actually heard it from Father. I had learned it while investigating the Demon Supremes before my regression. That was also how I had learned about the place we were going.

"Do you still see Father often these days?"

"Hardly at all. That meeting at the tavern was our first in a long time."

"Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened. Can a relationship always burn bright?"

"I suppose not."

I turned around too. The sunset that had colored the Fist Demon's face now fell across mine.

Would this moment of slacking off be remembered as a time when our relationship burned bright?

* * *

Two days later, Geom Mugeuk and the Fist Demon entered a bustling marketplace. The Beast Gang's territory had been within the Orthodox Martial Alliance's domain; this place belonged to the Unorthodox Alliance.

As they walked, the Fist Demon's expression underwent curious changes. At times it hardened; at others, intense emotion showed through.

Their destination was a shabby warehouse on the outskirts.

Geom Mugeuk handed money to the man guarding the entrance. Once paid, the man led them inside. Among the stacks of goods was a passage leading underground.

After a long descent down the stairs, they reached a large iron door. The moment it opened and they stepped through, a wave of hot air and roaring cheers greeted them.

A large fighting ring stood in the middle, where two shirtless men were trading bare-fisted blows.

"This is an underground fighting arena."

There were various kinds of underground fighting arenas in the Central Plains. Some allowed internal energy, and some allowed weapons. Others, like the one they had come to today, were purely fist-fighting arenas, with neither internal energy nor weapons permitted.

"You can pay admission and simply watch the matches, or bet on who will win. Most people come mainly to gamble."

"How did you learn about this place?"

"I'm interested in all sorts of things in Murim. Since they fight purely with their fists here, I thought you might enjoy it. That's why I brought you."

Something trembled in the Fist Demon's eyes.

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

Then he said something astonishing.

"I was a fighter here myself when I was young."

"What?"

Geom Mugeuk was startled. No, he pretended to be startled. He already knew the Fist Demon had come from this place.

"Here, you mean?"

"Yes. Right here."

The Fist Demon's life had not been an easy one either.

"Then how did you become involved with the Cult?"

"Someone from the Cult spotted me here and recruited me."

That was something even Geom Mugeuk hadn't known. It must have been before he began learning martial arts in earnest, but surely someone with the talent to become the Fist Demon would have been formidable even then.

"Were you Invincible here too?"

The Fist Demon answered his question with another.

"I'm not invincible even now, am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I wouldn't win against the cult leader, and the same goes for the Martial Alliance Leader and the leader of the Unorthodox Alliance. Never mind all the hidden masters, as numerous as grains of sand—even against you, I couldn't be certain of winning."

"But all I have are baby hands, don't I?"

"The Black Demon Sword in those baby hands is frightening."

It suddenly occurred to Geom Mugeuk that the Fist Demon might dislike his epithet, Invincible.

"Who knows what the result would be in a real fight to the death? You might even defeat Father."

The Fist Demon's gaze returned to the ring. Watching one martial artist being beaten within an inch of his life, he said,

"That's what would happen to me if I fought the cult leader. Even if he never drew his sword."

Geom Mugeuk nodded.

"True. He'd beat even his own son like that."

The Fist Demon nodded solemnly in agreement.

In truth, Geom Mugeuk didn't know what memories this place held for him. Perhaps he had been sick to death of it. Perhaps he had never wanted to return.

Yet Geom Mugeuk had brought him here because he was now the Fist Demon. From the very bottom of fist fighting, he had risen to its pinnacle.

Wouldn't he have wanted to visit at least once? To feel that scorching excitement again?

Geom Mugeuk and the Fist Demon stood among the crowd and watched the matches.

The atmosphere was so feverish that no one paid any attention to the terrifying-looking Fist Demon standing nearby.

Geom Mugeuk could tell. These people, lost in their frenzy, weren't absorbed in the fighting but in the gambling. They shouted with nothing in mind but the result.

After watching for a while, the Fist Demon casually remarked,

"The one on the left will win."

How could a judgment from him be wrong?

The martial artist on the left won.

The matches continued without pause. As soon as one ended, three or four men came out and swiftly wiped the sweat and blood from the ring.

Meanwhile, other men held up a large board displaying the next fighters' head-to-head records and recent results. The spectators used that information to place their bets.

The entire process took place in a flash. As though time were money, as though they refused to let the spectators' excitement cool, the matches continued without a moment's rest.

The Fist Demon correctly predicted the next match too. He was practically a prophet.

"We could walk out of here rich."

Despite his words, Geom Mugeuk didn't wager a single coin.

"Why not place a bet for fun?"

"I'd rather not."

"Why?"

"Honestly, I'm regretting this. I brought you here to feel the excitement of fighting, but the excitement of gambling seems stronger."

At Geom Mugeuk's candid admission, the Fist Demon smiled bitterly.

"It was the same back then. This place... has always been like that."

Then his attention settled on a young man.

"That youngster has a good look in his eyes."

Geom Mugeuk could sense that the Fist Demon saw his younger self in him.

"All right. I'll bet everything I own on him."

Taking up Geom Mugeuk's joke, the Fist Demon urged him,

"Go ahead. He'll definitely win."

"No, thank you."

But the youngster the Fist Demon had picked lost his match. His expression stiffened slightly at the result.

"If I'd bet as you suggested, I'd have lost everything. We nearly ended up sleeping on the streets tonight!"

Surely the Fist Demon hadn't misjudged their abilities. The match had been fixed.

"Shall we ask to see the proprietor?"

Geom Mugeuk had expected the Fist Demon might give the proprietor a stern talking-to, but he said,

"The arena probably has nothing to do with the fixing. If anything, the arena tries every possible way to uncover it. They make enormous sums without doing a thing. They wouldn't go out of their way to fix matches and cause trouble."

He meant that outsiders were attempting to fix the matches.

"Memories ought to be left as memories. I'm sorry."

"What have you got to apologize for?"

"We came so you could enjoy watching the fights. I'm worried I've only spoiled your mood."

"It's fine."

"Times have changed a great deal. I suppose the pure fighting you knew back then is gone."

The Fist Demon gave a curious smile and said to me,

"Why do you think there was no match-fixing back then?"

"There was?"

"Of course. It changed my life."

His gaze followed the young man leaving the ring, and his thoughts naturally turned to the past.

"It happened one day when I was winning match after match. The local underworld boss came to see me late at night with his men. He told me to lose my next match. Since I was on a winning streak, he could have made a fortune if I lost. He offered me money too. Quite a large sum."

"What did you do?"

"I refused."

"They can't have taken that quietly."

The Fist Demon nodded and closed his eyes. That moment came back to him as vividly as if it had happened yesterday—the fight in which he had thrown punches at the underworld thugs, dodging this way and that.

He had knocked down every one of the boss's men, but he couldn't handle the boss himself. The man had received formal martial training; he himself had yet to learn martial arts. In the end, the man subdued him completely.

["Disobey me and you die."]

["You fucking underworld moron! If you're a man, face me in the ring without using internal energy!"]

["Words won't get through to you, then."]

The boss pulled open the Fist Demon's clothes.

SHIIING!

He drew a dagger in a long cut across the Fist Demon's chest. The Fist Demon clenched his teeth to keep from screaming.

["You have to lose anyway. A little pain won't hurt, will it?"]

At last, the Fist Demon could no longer bear the pain and screamed.

["All right. I'll lose the next match."]

["If you'd said that from the start, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. Whenever you get any stupid ideas, look at that wound."]

The man left, laughing.

After hearing the story, Geom Mugeuk asked,

"So what happened?"

"What do you think? I won the next match in spectacular fashion. Made that moron lose everything he owned."

Geom Mugeuk laughed aloud. Yes, that was the sort of man the Fist Demon was.

"That's wonderful!"

"Not wonderful. I was reckless and fearless back then. Far more fearless than I am now, though I'm a thousand times stronger."

The Fist Demon opened the front of his clothes and showed me his chest again.

"That's how I got this scar. Not from some great master, but from a petty underworld thug whose name I can't even remember now. A pathetic, humiliating scar. I didn't suffer so much as a wound when I fought an Elder of the Orthodox Martial Alliance."

I had a feeling the Fist Demon had never told anyone about this scar. It wasn't a wound of the body, but of the heart.

"Isn't that all the more reason to be proud of it?"

"Proud?"

"You must have been far more afraid than when you fought that Alliance Elder, but you endured it, didn't you?"

"You may want to put a good spin on it, but to me it's nothing but a disgrace I'd like to erase."

"Please don't say that. If anything, I like that scar even more now. Every time I see it from now on, I think I'll remember the young Fist Demon who stood tall without a scrap of internal energy. To me, it's a far more splendid scar than any blow from the Martial Alliance Leader or any wound left by the leader of the Unorthodox Alliance."

The Fist Demon was momentarily bewildered. He had never thought of it that way, nor heard anyone say such a thing. Looking at the scar had always left him feeling bitter, but perhaps, starting today, that bitterness might lessen a little.

Geom Mugeuk knew that words from another person were essential to healing a wounded heart. Rather than thinking things over a hundred or a thousand times alone, it was only when someone spoke to you like this that the wound finally began to heal.

"Please show me that scar often."

Feeling a warmth deep within his heart, the Fist Demon could only gaze silently at Geom Mugeuk, at a loss for words.

Whether he understood how the Fist Demon felt or not, Geom Mugeuk asked another question.

"Tell me what happened next. That underworld thug must have come to kill you."

The Fist Demon nodded, recalling the day his destiny changed.

"That night, he came for me with every man under his command."