The Return of the Crazy Demon-Chapter 258: Thunder Dragon Ascends—Let’s Go

It looked like Wi Mu-gyeol had come to his senses ever since his sword broke, but his younger brother Wi Jung-cheon kept throwing us foul looks now and then.

Having lived and moved through Jianghu myself...

That kind of look? Usually ends with one hit. This guy? Needs seventeen more. That’s a total of eighteen.

When our eyes met, I gave him a little smirk.

‘This bastard’s got the kind of look that earns him eighteen hits.’

Suddenly—BOOM—a loud noise snapped our heads toward the Lecher and Wi Mu-gyeol.

From the way they were slugging it out, it wasn’t going to be some quick, bloody-nose brawl like with village punks.

The Wi Clan’s palm techniques weren’t some shabby street martial art either. So the Lecher would wait until Wi Mu-gyeol went through his whole technique before striking back.

But to be honest, there was no chance of the Lecher losing to Wi Mu-gyeol.

Still, even this kind of fight should be stacked like wealth—stored up as experience.

The Lecher and Wi Mu-gyeol held their ground through each exchange of palm techniques, but even I began to see the repetition in the forms.

Usually, when blades or spears clash once, it’s called an exchange—ilhap.

But that term is a bit misleading.

When two generals ride out and face off one-on-one, they’ll often exchange blows multiple times before circling back or riding past. Then when they clash again, that’s actually the second exchange—ihap.

So when people go around saying “Let’s clash a hundred times,” they don’t literally mean hitting blades exactly a hundred times—it just means, let’s fight long and hard.

Every sect or martial artist probably has a different view on it, but in my opinion, the second exchange was just starting now.

Watching the Lecher’s expression, I predicted this round would end the duel. The first exchange had been the Lecher watching Wi Mu-gyeol’s technique from start to finish. It’s the smart thing to do when facing someone you might have to fight again—get familiar with their methods early.

Now that the Lecher had gotten used to Wi Mu-gyeol’s technique, his counterattacks were getting faster. He responded as if predicting Wi Mu-gyeol’s movements. And now he started incorporating footwork he hadn’t used during the first exchange.

I’ve fought the Lecher myself, but I’d never seen this kind of tricky movement from him before. Using ice energy, he glided across the floor like a stiff ghost with a bad back—he looked like some kind of Ice Spirit.

“Ice bastard fights damn well...”

“Shh.”

The Drunk gestured for silence with his hand.

That ice-spirit-like footwork looked well suited for smooth, flat terrain.

It was a short, gliding movement that covered distance in a blink. What was interesting was that the palm technique still flowed smoothly even as he moved. His form didn’t change, but the added footwork darkened Wi Mu-gyeol’s expression like someone who’d just gotten dumped.

‘He’s feeling the wall, huh?’

This is why personality and skill don’t always go together. A bastard like the Lecher, realizing someone’s stronger than him, probably wouldn’t get discouraged—but Wi Mu-gyeol looked shaken.

The Lecher didn’t even use the gliding footwork constantly. He moved light and fast, then used it to close in for surprise attacks at unexpected moments.

Soon, heavy dull sounds began to mix in, and Wi Mu-gyeol started getting clipped—his forearm, shoulder, here and there.

Even the lightest hit made Wi Mu-gyeol’s face twist in pain.

The Lecher’s kicks sliced strands of hair off Wi Mu-gyeol’s head, scattering them mid-air. Wi Mu-gyeol, trying to regain control with fierce counterattacks, couldn’t push the Lecher back, who kept retaliating with matching force.

The Lecher even had deeper internal energy.

Then, his palm technique shifted to claw and finger strikes.

He caught Wi Mu-gyeol’s attacks with his left hand—grabbing or scratching—while injecting ice energy with his right-hand finger strikes.

I wanted to shout something about shit just to cheer Wi Mu-gyeol up, but interfering in the middle of a duel would be poor form. Still, when the Lecher, clearly in control, started toying with him, I finally spoke up.

“Fourth, that’s enough. Show some respect.”

What the hell? When did I become someone who cared about manners? But what’s wrong is wrong, so I had to say something.

The Lecher, who’d been dancing around Wi Mu-gyeol like a mockery, responded briefly.

“Copy.”

He suddenly lunged forward, coming so close it looked like Wi Mu-gyeol’s counterattack would land. But spinning, he struck Wi Mu-gyeol’s waist with a finger strike and then returned to his position, gently pushing Wi Mu-gyeol’s chest with both palms.

Wi Mu-gyeol stumbled back, then stomped down so hard the ground cracked, lunging at the Lecher with a punch.

The Lecher easily caught the punch with his left hand.

“It’s over. Let’s end this.”

Wi Mu-gyeol tried to swing his other fist, but suddenly dropped to his knees and started trembling.

“Brother!”

“Brother!”

Wi Jung-cheon, Wi Tae-san, and Wi So-seon all rushed onto the platform toward the fallen Young Master. Even while shaking, Wi Mu-gyeol pushed them away and folded his legs into a lotus position with trembling hands.

“...Stand back.”

Now pale as a sheet, Wi Mu-gyeol began circulating his internal energy. His siblings backed off, standing watch around him.

Even then, the Lecher snuck a glance at Wi So-seon before finally walking back toward us.

I watched the Ice Bastard’s face.

Was this what it felt like raising a pants-shitter?

Sure, he was already a strong fighter in his past life, but this time it felt like he’d gotten even stronger at an earlier age.

The Lecher spoke to the Wi Clan siblings.

“If you’ve trained in the same method, assisting his internal circulation would help.”

Wi Tae-san, who hadn’t said much until now, sat behind Wi Mu-gyeol and began aiding the flow.

Then, Wi So-seon, visibly furious, said to the Lecher,

“Lord Mong, was it really necessary to cause internal damage?”

The Lecher looked her straight in the eye.

“Lady Wi.”

“Yes?”

“With someone of the Young Master’s level, a single mistake could mean death. A duel is always a gamble with your life. You’re angry that your brother took internal damage? If I had been stabbed or slashed by his sword earlier, that would’ve been my loss—no question. Real battles in Jianghu are much more brutal. There are no second chances. We fought now to prepare for that. Don’t let your emotions cloud that truth.”

Wi So-seon turned away, speechless.

The Lecher came over and sat next to me.

I crossed my arms and said,

“Nice footwork. What was it called again—Ice Spirit Steps?”

“No.”

“Ice Spirit Technique?”

“Knock it off.”

A moment later, Wi Mu-gyeol, still sitting with his eyes closed, finally spoke.

“...In this duel, Lord Mong is right. Show respect to our guest. Tae-san, that’s enough.”

“Yes, brother.”

“Yes, Brother.”

Watching them «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» bicker and then work together, they really did seem like siblings—three brothers and a sister. Kids from a good family, and they even got along. I couldn’t help but smile in envy.

Then Wi Mu-gyeol opened his eyes and let out a long breath. With help from his siblings, he stood and looked at the Lecher.

“Lord Mong, I’ve learned a valuable lesson. Now I understand why the Alliance Leader placed you among the Six Dragons.”

A clean admission of defeat.

The Lecher stood too and clasped his hands, as if the earlier argument never happened.

“Young Master, your palm technique was excellent. If you’d used your main weapon—the sword—it would’ve been even stronger.”

Wi Mu-gyeol, reflecting on the earlier strikes, said,

“I never knew ice energy could be this painful and terrifying. That was a valuable experience. If you’d used more internal energy, I’d be bedridden for half a day.”

Watching these fools suddenly warm up to each other after fighting—just like in my hometown—I realized Jianghu wasn’t so different.

Wi Jung-cheon cut in.

“Brother, it seems I’m not yet qualified for the Six Dragons. But since you’ve visited us, I’d like to duel the Master of Haomun. I’ll treat it as a learning experience.”

Wi Mu-gyeol nodded.

“Then fight without worrying about winning or losing. Master of Haomun, would you mind?”

Honestly, I didn’t want to fight. Even if all four Wi siblings jumped me at once, they weren’t my match. There was no meaning in it.

How could I brawl with kids?

The Drunk spoke up with a serious tone.

“Lord Wi, if you don’t mind, may I take your place? I’ve seen the Master of Haomun fight many times. He doesn’t really follow the path of pure swordsmanship like we do. I’m just a humble country swordsman, but I’d love to experience the Wi Clan’s sword art. I assume your brother’s main skill is swordsmanship, too.”

His respectful tone seemed to encourage Wi Jung-cheon, who nodded.

“Let’s do that.”

The Drunk looked at me.

“I’ll go.”

I answered seriously.

“Great. Go. And I’m a swordsman too.”

Unlike the Lecher, a solid, pig-bone-built man strode toward the dueling platform, and it made me feel secure.

As the Drunk climbed up, the Lecher asked me,

“You were a swordsman?”

“If I use a sword, I’m a swordsman.”

“You always flail around with those two hands, so I figured you weren’t. Thought the sword was just for show. Shocking.”

“Cut it out.”

On the platform, the country swordsman Drunk and Wi Jung-cheon faced off—but it was boring, so I closed my eyes. The Drunk was clearly holding back, so there was nothing worth watching.

After I dozed off, the Lecher shook me awake, and the boring duel was over.

The Drunk had won, it seemed, but I felt nothing. Clearly, the Wi Clan wasn’t on par with clans like Nangong, Seomun, or Baekri—so it lacked tension. Maybe because I’d woken up groggy, everyone was staring at me. As I gathered myself, Wi So-seon looked at me.

“...Master of Haomun?”

“Yes, speak.”

“You said you’d accept a challenge. Were you asleep?”

Feeling fully awake now, I replied,

“Lady Wi, why challenge me?”

“Isn’t that reason enough?”

“What exactly are you hoping to learn? Swordsmanship? Combat?”

She replied,

“Whatever it is, I’ll treat it as experience...”

“Experience is good.”

I leapt into the air and landed cleanly at the edge of the duel platform. The Wi siblings had already stepped down.

A pretty young lady who looked like she’d barely survive in Jianghu stared at me. Sure, there are plenty of women in Jianghu stronger than me, and I know a few female masters I’d have to go all out to match.

But not this one. She’s just a beauty—part of the One Phoenix Two Immortals, nothing more.

She asked me,

“Will you use a sword? I’m ready.”

“I’ll fight barehanded.”

“All right.”

I took a deep breath and stared at her, then began wrapping my hands in the white lightning energy of Hundred Battle Tenfold Energy—like the light of sun and moon radiating outward.

CRACKLE—ZAP—ZZZZZZT!

“...!”

The Lecher, the Drunk, Wi Mu-gyeol, Wi Jung-cheon, and Wi Tae-san all jumped up.

“Master of Haomun!”

“Third!”

“Master!”

“You insane bastard, what are you doing now?!”

I warned all of them, including the Lecher and Drunk.

“Come near me and you’ll get hurt.”

I molded the surging lightning into the shape of a Thunder Dragon and glared at Wi So-seon.

“Lady Wi, are you ready? Thunder Dragon Ascends—let’s go.”

The qi of Hundred Battle Tenfold Energy rippled outward from me in waves, and the floor beneath my feet cracked like a lightning bolt had struck it.

Wi So-seon, who looked like half her soul had left her body just watching the energy, finally said,

“...Master of Haomun, I surrender.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I dispelled the energy coiled in my hand. The Thunder Dragon, already formed in the air, gently lifted and flew upward. It wriggled and rose, then scattered into white clouds.

I stared at Wi So-seon and said,

“Lady Wi, you admit defeat cleanly. You catch on fast.”

“Yes.”

“You’re lucky. If you were my enemy, I’d have torn you limb from limb. I didn’t spare bandits, assassins, dark path bastards, or even petty punks. The demonic cult? Same thing.”

“You dueled all of them too?”

“Every duel is real combat.”

I turned to the Wi Clan siblings.

“So, are the Six Dragon rankings sorted now? Again, nothing personal. The three of us might be backwoods bumpkins with zero social skills, but if the Alliance Leader ever calls, we’ll be fighting side by side against the demonic cult. A duel’s a duel, water is water—don’t hold grudges. Understood? Martial arts must be trained long and hard. These losses are just steps in the process. Young Master.”

Wi Mu-gyeol nodded.

“Master of Haomun, go on.”

I spoke firmly.

“I’ll apologize again for the forge incident. If similar issues arise, contact Haomun or me directly. But don’t ever threaten or insult our men, or pay half the agreed price. I’ve got a condition—I can’t tolerate that. Got it?”

Wi Mu-gyeol nodded again.

“Understood.”

“Can’t hold back laughter, can’t hold back anger. Flip-flopping all the time. Anyway. And saying you’d hand second-rate gear to your guards is ridiculous. If I stormed the Wi Clan right now, I could go from gate to main hall in three breaths. Who’d block me first? The guards standing day and night to protect you. Take care of their gear and armor. If someone stronger than me shows up to kidnap Lady Wi and satisfy his urges, who’ll stop him? For mad high-level demonic cultivators, that ‘Six Dragons’ title means nothing. Take this as a warning, not an insult.”

“......”

The mood got heavy—guess they were all insulted.

“Anyway, we’re guests and haven’t even been offered tea. Just bring out a meal. We’ll eat and leave. Feed us. I’m hungry.”

Only after I said that did Wi Mu-gyeol nod.

“All right. Let’s go.”

I stared at Wi So-seon and added,

“There better be meat in the side dishes.”

She answered, visibly shaken,

“Y-yes.”

“Wine?”

“I’ll bring it.”

“As you should.”

I didn’t come here for food, but martial arts are for living—and I don’t skip meals. The Lecher, the Drunk, and I followed along to eat.