The Return of the Crazy Demon-Chapter 325: Through Zaha the Scholar’s Eyes

I had a hunch something might’ve happened overnight, so I went out for a walk after eating breakfast early.

Just a feeling.

I planned to circle around the vast Martial Alliance grounds, stop by the Alliance Leader’s Hall, and then head back. But my stroll ended at the sparring stage.

Because someone was lying there.

A corpse?

I approached the sparring ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ stage and checked the person lying down.

“Alliance Leader.”

Im Sobaek, lying with his arm as a pillow, answered.

“You came?”

“What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I lay down. Like I’m camping.”

“Good thing it didn’t rain.”

I climbed onto the sparring stage and sat nearby, watching Im Sobaek doze.

His face didn’t look good.

Judging by the prickly stubble and pale complexion, it seemed he’d stayed up all night and then came to lie down. If he fell asleep here, the Alliance members would wake him anyway. This was the Martial Alliance, and he was a high-level martial artist, so he didn’t really need protection—but mentally, he did seem to need it.

“Did the Chief Strategist's visit leave you unsettled?”

“It did.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s not the leader of the scholars.”

“It would be strange for the Hundred Schools to have a single leader. I thought he might be a leader in a different sense.”

“He created a private gathering. Since he started it, he was probably its head.”

“Did you give him a proper scolding?”

“He used to be my superior.”

“He’s your subordinate now. You should’ve slapped him a few times.”

Im Sobaek chuckled.

“He’s not the kind of man you hit. But during the talk, I found myself unable to control my emotions, so I told him to retire.”

“Retirement suits the old.”

“I’m old too, and one day you’ll be old as well.”

“Then we must live new lives in retirement—paint, learn instruments, plant flowers, develop martial techniques, teach disciples. You’ve lived only within the Alliance, so you should learn a bit about life outside too.”

“You mean the Chief Strategist?”

“Yes.”

From what I’d heard, it was hard to get a grasp on what kind of man Gongson Sim was. But seeing how tired Im Sobaek looked, it was clear the Alliance Leader had relied on him quite a bit.

Only then did Im Sobaek open his eyes.

“The former Alliance Leader mastered a martial art that conceals one’s energy, and it turns out the Chief Strategist learned it too. It’s absurd—such techniques are meant for thieves, yet both of them trained in it. I couldn’t even gauge its exact level. Then again, it’s always been like that. You don’t know until you fight.”

“There’s such a filthy martial art? Doesn’t suit someone called the Sword God.”

“Exactly. Was he a great thief before he became the Sword God? Maybe he inherited the lineage of Do-cheok. It must’ve been a convenient technique for sneaking in and out of the Alliance. Come to think of it, the former Alliance Leader was also extremely skilled in light footwork.”

“Who’s Do-cheok?”

“An ancient thief. Commanded a force of nine thousand underlings.”

“That’s practically a warlord-level martial artist.”

“You suggested an alliance with the scholar-types, but I told them all to leave the Alliance. I didn’t ask in detail, but I worry that Alliance members may have died because of something tied to the scholars. If that’s the case, they should all leave.”

“That’s fair.”

Im Sobaek turned to me and asked.

“What is?”

“They have to leave first before forming an alliance. Clear their heads a bit. Only by seeing the outside world with their own eyes can they understand both their lives and the Martial Alliance properly. Someone that old should just retire.”

“Mm.”

“There’s something more important than whether someone’s a scholar.”

“What is it?”

“Whether they know shame or not.”

“That’s true.”

“Some people are born into affiliations. If your father’s a bandit, then the child’s a bandit too. Some, like me, grow up thinking a tavern is their home. Others are born into demonic clans, or, if lucky, as successors of noble houses.”

“Like me—someone born outside a martial family, yet becoming the Alliance Leader.”

“Yes. Or like the Sword Demon, kidnapped as a child. Eventually, age catches up to everyone, and it’s time to decide your own fate. Like how the Sword Demon defected from the Demonic Cult. I’ve always thought that was a magnificent choice. Just imagining it is moving. The moment of escaping the cult... that must’ve been the first time he truly felt freedom.”

“It seems the Chief Strategist’s time has finally come. When was your moment?”

“When my house burned down and I had nowhere to go.”

“What did you do?”

“It’s not something I should say to the Martial Alliance Leader, but I killed the ones who set the fire.”

Im Sobaek let out a dry laugh.

“Reflect on that.”

“Yes.”

“Is that the face of someone who’s reflecting?”

“Truth is, I’m not reflecting at all.”

“Zaha, put your hand over your heart and think calmly.”

“Yes.”

“When exactly did I become such a rotten bastard... what was the root? The beginning? When did I turn so vicious?”

“I’ll try to remember.”

“Good.”

“Probably since I first began to think. In my case, even before I could walk, I was listening to the drunken ramblings and nonsense of boozers. Even at that young age, I wanted to beat the crap out of them.”

“You were very mature.”

“Exactly.”

“So as soon as you grew up, you went around beating up drunkards?”

“Of course not. They all had swords. I just pretended to listen and nodded along, but in my head I was practicing Split-Mind Technique to imagine how to beat them. I’ve always been two-faced. I had no manners.”

“Haha.”

Im Sobaek finally stood up and rolled his neck around.

I asked him,

“Alliance Leader, you’re mentally and physically drained—can you even fight the Sword Judge like this? If you’re not in good shape, I’ll face him first. Go take a nap.”

“Oh? You’ll fight the Sword Judge?”

“Yes.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve already set the strategy. I’ll make sure he’s so thoroughly defeated he can’t say a word in protest. He’ll return to the Namgung clan sighing in frustration. I don’t even care about the Sword Judge nickname... let’s see if that man’s balls stay intact.”

I burst into laughter, clutching my forehead.

“...Ah, pardon me for the crude comment. This was a battle of kings, and I’ve dragged the tone down. Would you mind telling me the strategy?”

“You’ll see. It’s so simple, there’s no need for fuss.”

Spectators were beginning to gather all around, and Im Sobaek finally rose and stretched.

He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept, and yet his face was regaining color. After a deep stretch, he returned to his usual seat at the head of the sparring stage, tilted his head back, and began dozing.

‘Really doing the most.’

The Alliance Leader had a stubborn streak, that was for sure.

I sat back down below the stage. Maybe it was the full breakfast, but drowsiness crept up.

***

I must’ve dozed off for a while—when I opened my eyes, the crowd had already gathered thick.

Next to me, the Drunk said,

“Weren’t you out for a walk? Why are you sleeping here?”

Before I could reply, the Sword Demon asked,

“Why is the Alliance Leader sleeping over there?”

When I looked at the main seat, Gongson Wol had just woken him and was chatting. I yawned like a tiger and said something random.

“Strategy planning.”

“What strategy?”

“You’ll see. The Alliance Leader is about to pound the Sword Judge into the dirt.”

The Lecher spoke up.

“The Alliance Leader’s probably stronger anyway, so why would he need your strategy? Stop talking crap this early in the morning.”

I looked at the Lecher, raised my right hand high, and he reflexively moved to block.

Lowering my hand, I said,

“Getting cocky, huh? Should’ve slapped you already. Punks like you need a beating every three days.”

Then I shouted,

“Hey, you little shit!”

The crowd turned in shock, and the Lecher winced, trying to wave it off.

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry! I was wrong, stop it!”

Gongson Wol appeared on the sparring stage, scanning the crowd, clearly looking for someone. I followed his gaze and realized the White-Robed Scholar and his crew weren’t present.

Gongson Wol announced,

“Today’s sparring will continue from yesterday. But first, the Alliance Leader will choose his opponent. Alliance Leader?”

Im Sobaek looked at the Sword Judge from the Namgung Clan.

“Sword Judge.”

The Sword Judge gave a small nod and replied in a gruff tone,

“Speak.”

Im Sobaek replied in an even gruffer tone.

“Come up.”

“....”

It was clear now—Im Sobaek planned to take his frustration out on the Sword Judge. As the Sword Judge stepped up to the stage, so did Im Sobaek.

Walking toward the center, Im Sobaek called out,

“Don’t bring the wooden sword up here—just throw it.”

Would anyone dare refuse that command? Though odd, the Alliance member tossed the wooden sword toward him.

Im Sobaek snatched it out of the air and nodded.

Another sword was thrown toward the Sword Judge.

The Sword Judge caught it with a baffled expression.

“Ha... Alliance Leader, you’ve no manners, do you?”

Im Sobaek stared at him.

“Go find manners back at the Namgung Clan. What, catching a flying sword is too hard for you? This isn’t a memorial ritual—I’m ready, so come at me.”

He stood there with no stance, wooden sword in hand, looking straight at his opponent.

“....”

Beside me, the Sword Demon chuckled. I asked,

“Big brother, what’s funny?”

He looked around, then used sign language. He slapped his palm with a knife-hand and mimed something snapping—clearly saying the wooden sword would break in one strike.

It was so quiet, no one else noticed.

We all nodded.

Especially me—I had already seen the Sword Demon’s wooden sword break at Oksoo Villa, so I knew exactly what he meant.

I looked toward the sparring stage.

‘So he’s going to start by breaking it?’

The Sword Judge watched Im Sobaek, stepping slowly side to side. Im Sobaek tilted his head dramatically as he followed his movements—a ridiculous sight that irritated just watching.

The Sword Judge gave his cue.

“Here I come.”

“Come.”

As Im Sobaek nodded—

The Sword Judge vanished, his wooden sword descending over Im Sobaek’s head.

With a simple motion, Im Sobaek struck it aside and stepped forward quickly.

Thud—

The Sword Judge stared at Im Sobaek, holding only the sword hilt.

“...!”

Im Sobaek, who had already taken distance for a counterattack, glared. The Sword Judge’s face screamed: “What just happened?”

It looked like a perfect execution of the Six Combat Blade.

Im Sobaek spoke to a member below.

“...Toss a wooden sword to the Sword Judge.”

“Yes, Alliance Leader.”

A new, unbroken wooden sword flew in, and the Sword Judge caught it again.

In a cold tone, Im Sobaek said,

“Continue.”

Suddenly, the Sword Judge’s energy surged—it was round two.

This time, he charged in, sending out gusts of sword wind, clearly ready to unleash advanced techniques. His movements alone revealed his high level.

Im Sobaek stepped back, deflecting the flurry, and at close range twisted his body, striking upward at the Sword Judge’s blade.

Thwack!

The wooden sword shattered.

Immediately, the Sword Judge launched a palm strike.

But Im Sobaek, clearly anticipating it, struck even faster—his left palm intercepting and stopping the move dead.

Smack—

The Sword Judge stumbled back two steps.

Surrounded by invisible stormwinds, Im Sobaek gave no room to breathe.

“Toss another sword.”

“Yes.”

That was the third broken sword. A fourth flew through the air. The Sword Judge, annoyed, snatched it and suddenly flung it at Im Sobaek.

Catching it mid-air, Im Sobaek narrowed his eyes.

“You doubt me?”

The Sword Judge nodded.

“Hand it over. I need to confirm.”

Im Sobaek threw him the one he had used.

As soon as he caught it, the Sword Judge laid it flat and chopped the middle with a knife-hand.

Crack—

The wooden sword broke cleanly.

Just a regular wooden sword, after all. He’d proven it himself.

Blushing, the Sword Judge looked at Im Sobaek.

“Alliance Leader, your skill has grown. I’ve lost. I won’t challenge you for the next five years.”

Im Sobaek nodded.

“If I’m still the Alliance Leader five years from now, go ahead.”

As the Sword Judge stepped off the stage, he paused and looked back.

“You should still be the one. Who else?”

“Life doesn’t go according to plan. Let’s think about that when the time comes.”

Once the Sword Judge left, Im Sobaek slowly turned to the crowd.

“Warlords...”

“Yes, Alliance Leader?”

“Did you see that?”

“Yes.”

Relaxed now, Im Sobaek said,

“If anyone wants to challenge me, beat the Sword Judge first. Got it? Don’t bother me. I’m a busy man. Bother him instead. He’s not far behind me in skill. What do you think this is, some random city’s martial hall? Why do people keep challenging me?”

From below, the Sword Judge let out a long sigh.

Someone started clapping, and the crowd erupted in cheers for the Alliance Leader’s victory. No one got hurt, the Sword Judge stayed quiet, and future challengers now had to deal with him first.

A flawless win for Im Sobaek.

Since the White-Robed Scholar wasn’t around, I reviewed the match from a scholar’s perspective and broke down the Six Combat Blade used by Im Sobaek.

‘That is truly magnificent martial arts...’

In truth, breaking the Sword Judge’s blade alone was no small feat. Only the Six Combat Blade could’ve pulled it off—it had broken even the Sword Demon’s.

With the Alliance Leader standing strong like that, I felt as satisfied as if I’d eaten a whole cauldron of pork bone stew that morning.