Chapter 20 - Fairness and Unfairness

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Somewhere in the Central Plains.

An underground cavern steeped in a dark, sinister atmosphere.

A large dais stood at the center of the cavern, draped with a red curtain. Someone was clearly behind it, but the arrangement concealed them from all eyes.

Their identity was unknown, yet there was no need to see their face to know that whoever sat behind the curtain was the master of this place.

A hundred black-clad figures lay prostrate around the dais, their heads lowered so that none of their faces could be seen.

Even so, it was plain as day that they were experts. The formless power emanating from them blanketed the entire cavern, threatening to suffocate it.

Where on earth was this place?

Who was the figure behind the curtain?

Just who could command as many as a hundred experts of such extraordinary caliber?

Could Shaolin, said to stand at the pinnacle of Murim, boast so many supreme experts? Or could The Heavenly Demon Castle, reputedly the strongest single organization in Murim?

No, even their combined strength seemed unlikely to suffice. Such was the extraordinary bearing of those assembled here—and their staggering numbers.

They had been prostrate for about the time it took to drink a cup of tea when a voice finally emerged from behind the curtain.

"How long until the Orthodox-Demonic Showdown?"

It was a bizarre voice, impossible to identify as male or female, young or old.

"Two years remain."

One of the prostrate figures answered.

"Two years. It is about time we set the grand plan in motion. Mad Cloud."

The voice behind the curtain addressed the one who had answered as Mad Cloud.

"Yes. Speak your will, Mubon."

Mad Cloud called the figure behind the curtain Mubon.

"Begin The First Stratagem. Immediately."

The First Stratagem. Since a grand plan had just been mentioned, this presumably marked its first step.

"Yes, Mubon. I will put it into effect at once."

With that reply, Mad Cloud vanished as though he had sunk out of sight. It was a truly chilling movement technique.

And there were ninety-nine others here dressed exactly as he was. They had yet even to raise their heads.

And finally, behind the curtain stood the supreme ruler who commanded them all: Mubon.

Mubon.

The foundation of martial arts.

What an outrageously arrogant name.

Since the dawn of Murim's history, there had been people bearing grand epithets such as Martial Emperor, Heavenly Demon, and Supreme Ruler of Murim. Yet none had ever called themselves its Foundation.

Just how formidable was this person? One could only hope it was a madman's absurd delusion, but judging by the ninety-nine peerless experts bowing their heads here, he surely possessed strength worthy of that arrogant name.

At that very moment, a secret organization unknown to anyone in Murim had begun to move in utmost secrecy.

What was their purpose?

For now, there was no way to know.

But there was something even they did not know.

Namely...

The existence of Dong Bongsu, the greatest "Bug" in this Murim—no, in New Murim Online.

A cauldron can stand on three legs, on four legs, and even on a single leg.

But when does a cauldron stand most securely...?

When it has no legs at all.

A legless cauldron will never topple.

What Dong Bongsu needed was a cauldron that would not fall over, not a set of legs.

If uneven legs made it wobble, he need only cut them off.

That was Dong Bongsu's version of a balance of powers.

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THUD, SHHH, THUD, SHHH.

Someone was digging deep in the valleys of Mount Fengyang.

Someone? Just who could wield a shovel with such skill? A carpenter, a potter, or perhaps a gravedigger?

None of the above.

It was Dong Bongsu, out for a walk. Beside him, as always, Yeoro offered her encouragement with a low snort and an indifferent gaze.

THUD, SHHH, THUD, SHHH.

The steady sound of digging echoing through the mountain was as mechanical and unfeeling as Dong Bongsu himself.

Even as he dug a grave for someone whose name he did not know, his mind was racing. How much did his Thrust proficiency increase each time he drove in the shovel? And how much did his Throw proficiency increase when he tossed the excavated dirt aside?

His brain never rested for a moment.

THUD.

The shovel sank deep into the earth. Thrust proficiency increased by 0.031%.

SHHH.

The dirt left the shovel and flew onto the tall artificial mountain beside him, adding that much more to its height. Throw proficiency increased by 0.031%.

THUD, SHHH, THUD, SHHH...

Dong Bongsu continued in the same posture for a long time.

Then, at some point, the seemingly endless digging finally stopped.

He looked down into the deep pit. The culprit that had stopped his digging protruded grotesquely from the dirt.

White and hard, with not a trace of flesh no matter how closely one looked. A fragment of bone.

It was a sort of "signpost" indicating that he had reached a suitable depth for burying corpses. Beside that signpost, hidden in the earth, dozens of bodies would be rotting away in the same white, ghastly fashion.

This was a cemetery Dong Bongsu had created. There were no headstones or burial mounds, but it held the experience that had made him the Nameless Hero—specifically, those who had died more horribly than the rest.

Corpses burned to death, corpses cut in half with all their entrails spilled out, corpses with their limbs torn apart, and so on.

His reason for going to the trouble of burying them here was simple. Though he had acquired the mask by chance, it remained a convincing one he could take out and wear again whenever he wished. He wanted to preserve that mask: the name Nameless Hero. Surely someone called a hero ought not to kill his enemies too cruelly. So Dong Bongsu had begun burying the messily slain Black Faction members here. Of course, the first to be buried in this spot had been Jangho and the street thugs.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

Another dozen or so corpses joined the cemetery. These were the helpful fellows who had brought Dong Bongsu from level 6 to level 7. The last one tossed in, a bulky man with only half his face remaining, still wore a grotesque expression.

Apparently, even so long after death, he still felt terribly wronged.

His face seemed to be saying:

["It's unfair. Fuck! It's fucking unfair!"]

Dong Bongsu did not know what he found unfair. To him, such cries were nothing more than empty nonsense.

In his view, the world was very fair. The world he had lived in before had been fair, and so was this Murim where he lived now.

If that man felt wronged even in death, he must be mistaken.

The world was fair because it was unfair to everyone.

To you, to me—to anyone at all.

Death was no different.

Death came to everyone equally. To every last person.

That man probably felt it was unfair because death had come for him a little earlier. But in the end, death came to everyone equally.

And so the world was always fair.

That was why he could regard it as fair—and the fundamental reason he could trample all over it to his heart's content without a shred of guilt.

THUD, SHHH, THUD, SHHH.

Dirt piled over the faces of the dead. Once more, the rhythmic digging echoed faintly through the mountain.

One by one, the traces of the Nameless Hero's "final heroic deed" disappeared.

THUD, SHHH, THUD, SHHH...

Once this was finished, the Nameless Hero would vanish from the world for a while.

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His walk finished, Dong Bongsu descended Mount Fengyang.

He and Yeoro entered the marketplace, but no one paid them any attention. On these streets, he was as good as invisible. Even if he suddenly vanished on the spot, not a soul would care.

"I hear the Nameless Hero finally wiped out the Black Society yesterday, too?"

These days, all the marketplace's attention was fixed on the Nameless Hero. Wherever two or more people gathered, they praised the bloody deeds he had carried out.

The three people gathered beside the road Dong Bongsu was passing were no exception.

"You have no idea. The merchants and prostitutes the Black Society had been bleeding dry are beside themselves with joy."

"But they couldn't find their leader, Bang Poyeom, could they? Did he run away?"

Naturally, Bang Poyeom was currently rotting and stinking on Mount Fengyang.

"Who knows? Either he fled Anhui altogether, or he was smashed up so badly they can't even find his corpse. One or the other."

Then the man who had been listening to the other two with a somewhat displeased expression joined in.

"Still, I don't know about this. Is someone who calls himself a hero allowed to go around killing people so indiscriminately? Black Faction members or not, they're still people."

"Oh, listen to this fellow! Think about everything those bastards have done to us. Even eating them alive wouldn't be enough. They deserved to die. As far as I'm concerned, it wouldn't matter if the Nameless Hero really had eaten them for food."

"Exactly, exactly."

The original two speakers sprang to the Nameless Hero's defense, even glaring at the sullen-faced man.

"Honestly, when have the authorities ever given us common folk any proper attention? And those so-called Orthodox bastards strut around acting important, but when have they ever actually been righteous? They never cared whether people like us suffered at those thugs' hands."

Under their combined assault, the sullen-faced man finally surrendered and agreed.

"Well, that's true enough. Who else would stand up for bottom-of-the-barrel folk like us?"

"He may be a little heavy-handed, but haven't they always said, 'Where there is evil, cut it down'?"

"Of course, of course."

And so this conversation, too, ended up praising the Nameless Hero's righteous deeds.

Was this what they meant when they said the interpretation was better than the dream?

The dream was murder. The interpretation, heroism.

A world where murder could so easily be transformed into a heroic deed. Didn't that alone make these Central Plains a truly beautiful place?

Dong Bongsu kept walking, untroubled by their conversation.

As he drew away from the three, another pair's conversation reached his ears.

"Hey, did you hear?"

"What?"

"The Namgung Clan's second daughter is getting married."

"Oh, I heard. That's why all of Anhui Province is buzzing these days."

"Right. I don't know for certain, but I bet the sects here in Fengyang are racking their brains over what wedding gifts to send."

"Oh, no. A place like the Namgung Clan can't admit every nobody who turns up at a wedding. The Head of the Danri Family is probably the only one racking his brains."

"Hmm. Now that you mention it, you're probably right. What do you think the Head of the Danri Family will bring as a wedding gift, then?"