A Good Day. (1)

The tip of Yu Jinsan’s spear aimed straight at Gwang Cheon-il.

He intended to meet him head-on, without dodging.

“Looks like you won’t live much longer anyway, yet you insist on hastening your end.”

At the provocation, Gwang Cheon-il sneered and asked, “Do you know who the One-Hand Poison Emperor is?”

“Looks like he was lucky enough to have Age Revival, but he’s still quite a brat. It seems he doesn’t know me.”

Yu Jinsan let out a hollow, incredulous laugh.

He had never imagined anyone would call him a brat.

“I’m not interested in puny youngsters.”

That was as far as the verbal sparring went. No more words were needed.

The duel formed naturally, and Yu Seol and Myeong-hwa Satae stepped back to watch.

Yu Seol, masked, yawned, but Myeong-hwa Satae was different. She drew on seasoned experience, held her breath, and analyzed the situation.

‘The Yin Monster is the problem. For Yu Seol to have the luxury to yawn like that… We must split them up and take them out one by one if we want a chance.’

But how could that be easy?

Racking her brain for a plan, Myeong-hwa Satae sent a telepathic message to Gwang Cheon-il.

• Pretend to be pushed back and lure him toward my side. We only have a chance if we finish off the Yang Monster first with a pincer attack.

• No need for that, just watch this old brother. This One-Hand Poison Emperor, Gwang Cheon-il, has never been defeated even once.

It was undeniable: in his prime, countless renowned warriors had knelt before him, all felled with a single exchange. His secret was the Explosive Slaying Fierce Strike.

Myeong-hwa Satae knew that well, but the situation was different now—the opponent was the Yin Yang Twin Monster.

• You crazy old coot! They’re no ordinary men, so don’t be stubborn and listen to me!

• Don’t worry, old woman.

Despite Myeong-hwa Satae’s frantic telepathic shouts, she couldn’t persuade him. He hunched up as if full of bravado, perhaps trying to show off.

‘Damn old geezer! Should I run up and kick him hard…’

She wanted to, but restrained herself.

Suppressing her anger, she sent one last telepathic plea.

• Listen to me, old man! You must kill with a single strike. If you can’t break his life in one exchange, we might be the ones who fall!

Gwang Cheon-il remained unconcerned. He ignored her warning and lay on the ground like a beast poised to spring.

His hunched, raised-hip posture looked almost ridiculous. Suddenly masked Yu Seol burst into giggles and clutched her belly.

“Puhuh. What’s that?”

But Yu Jinsan, facing Gwang Cheon-il, grew extremely tense. A fierce current of qi gathered around him, growing stronger and showing no sign of stopping. Soon it would suffocate.

‘What on earth is he trying to do?’

A continuous condensation of internal qi, pressed down as if bound to explode. If it burst, no one could imagine the power it would unleash.

• If you’re scared, say so. Shall I do it instead?

His granddaughter’s warning only pricked his pride. What would he look like if he backed down now?

• You should have said so earlier. Grandpa will handle it, so just watch.

• Be careful.

Yu Jinsan focused all his attention. He adopted the Yu Family Wind-Slaying Spear posture—the family art that had overcome Yang spear methods—and assumed the lethal Broken Fang of the Dragon stance. They regulated their breathing and finished preparing to strike.

At that moment, locking eyes with his opponent, Yu Jinsan was involuntarily startled.

‘What is that?’

His previously yellowish pupils suddenly transformed into snake-like slits. Those changed eyes seemed to peer through everything, as if drawing his soul into them. His mind began to grow hazy.

• Grandpa, snap out of it!

At his granddaughter’s telepathic cry, Yu Jinsan came back to himself.

Then the ground where Gwang Cheon-il had been crouching sank, and waves of qi burst forth like ripples.

Kwoong-!!!

His body shot up as if exploding. The deadly martial art—the Explosion Slaying Fierce Strike—unleashed itself. Once used, it inevitably killed the opponent, turning the practitioner’s qi into a weapon that tore foes apart.

Wrapped in fierce qi, Yu Jinsan urgently thrust his spear.

‘No chance!’

Ziiii-ing-!

The Dragon-Slaying Spear wailed and surged forward, aiming its bluish spear force precisely for the space between Gwang Cheon-il’s brows.

But Gwang Cheon-il did not dodge. Instead, he thrust his head forward.

‘What the…?’

Yu Jinsan was taken aback by the reckless move, but it was too late—the spear tip struck his forehead.

It landed with a dull, heavy thud, like driving a wooden spear into a bell. A brutal shock traveled up Yu Jinsan’s wrist; his grip tore, and he lost the Dragon-Slaying Spear.

Faced with overwhelming force, his mind went pale.

‘How could this be?’

His surprise was brief. Before he could react, Gwang Cheon-il had closed the distance and delivered twin palm strikes to his chest. Yu Jinsan could do nothing but maximize the Vajra Indestructible Divine Arts.

Blood spat from his mouth as his feet left the ground; he was thrown five meters and tumbled across the earth.

Yu Seol leapt in a single bound and scooped up her sprawled grandfather. A metallic rasp weakly escaped his lips.

“…Ugh. Kid, grandpa’s dying.”

“No, don’t die!!!”

Yu Seol hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt to examine him. Two red palm prints were clearly stamped on his chest.

At that moment Yu Jinsan closed his eyes and murmured, “…Do not grieve. Everyone dies sooner or later.”

Yu Seol checked his pulse urgently. It was only a serious internal injury—not fatal. The Vajra Indestructible Divine Arts had saved him.

Relieved, Yu Seol wiped her tears with her sleeve and furrowed her brow like an angry puppy.

“Don’t lie, Grandpa. You won’t die from this.”

Yu Jinsan squinted and whispered, “…You noticed it?”

Had she mocked him? Yu Seol struck his chest with a sharp ‘pak.’

“Gahk!”

Of all places, she hit the wounded spot. Yu Jinsan clutched his chest and rolled about.

“Grandpa, sorry!”

Meanwhile, unlike the twins, Gwang Cheon-il and Myeong-hwa Satae reveled in their success. They had rendered the Yang Monster combat-ineffective with one blow; though they hadn’t killed him, it was an encouraging achievement.

“Well done, old man. Now if we pool our strength and take down the Yin Monster, it’s over.”

Myeong-hwa Satae, the Emei Sect’s fiery former Elder, urged him on, but Gwang Cheon-il answered indifferently.

“Us? My role ends here, old woman.”

“What do you mean? Have you already gone senile?”

He pointed to his reddened forehead—the spot where Yu Jinsan’s spear had struck.

“The injury is severe. I can’t fight like this. We’ll have to leave it for next time.”

Myeong-hwa Satae grabbed his arm in panic. How could she let such an opportunity slip? She was famed in Emei for her quick temper and couldn’t hold back.

“Old man, are you crazy? What kind of nonsense is that all of a sudden?”

Gwang Cheon-il’s voice sounded like a dying man’s.

“Then help me. So I can muster the strength to fight.”

“…How?”

“Kiss me… kiss me…”

Myeong-hwa Satae’s wrinkled face crumpled further.

“Crazy!”

“There’s no other way, so choose quickly.”

He spoke firmly, as if already decided. There was no room for compromise.

Momentarily the Yin Monster was distracted, but if it charged suddenly, Gwang Cheon-il would be the only one fleeing. Myeong-hwa Satae had to choose—and quickly.

“Damn it…”

“Do nuns even swear like that? There’s no time, hurry up.”

Gwang Cheon-il slowly puckered his lips. Staring at his grotesque face, Myeong-hwa Satae squeezed her eyes shut. Their wrinkled lips met.

Suddenly he grabbed her head with both hands.

“Ugh!”

Myeong-hwa Satae struggled, but she couldn’t overcome his inner power and couldn’t break free.

Just as the kiss, which they thought would be quick, continued—

Voices of women cried out from nearby, rapidly approaching.

“Former Elder, where are you!?”

“We’re here to help!”

They were the bhikkhunis of the Emei Sect. Ordered to return to the monastery, they had defied orders and come back.

They froze, blank-faced.

“F-former Elder?”

“W-what are you doing…”

In the Buddhist-oriented Emei Sect, physical contact with men was forbidden. Yet the former Elder— their highest elder—was kissing some old man.

Myeong-hwa Satae freed herself from Gwang Cheon-il’s grip and cried out in embarrassment.

“Weren’t you told to return to the sect?!”

Geum-hee Satae, who ranked below her, blushed and stammered, “S-sorry, former Elder. We were worried.”

Myeong-hwa Satae couldn’t face the elders and disciples.

“You’re no help— all of you get out!”

At her command, the bhikkhunis fled in a panic. Beside her, Gwang Cheon-il smiled tenderly.

“Embarrassing, isn’t it, old woman? It was my first time too.”

Myeong-hwa Satae spat ‘kak’ instead of answering. She would have liked to press him further, but there was no time—the Yin Monster glared at them with folded arms.

“Is it all over now?”

Gwang Cheon-il stepped forward to block the way, as if protecting Myeong-hwa Satae.

“I’ll handle him, old woman— you stay back.”

“What kind of crazy talk is that? Even the two of us together might only barely manage…”

Gwang Cheon-il placed a forefinger against her lips: no more talk. Pulling Myeong-hwa Satae back, he suddenly crouched before Yu Seol like an angry dog. Unlike his cautious stance with Yu Jinsan, now he brimmed with confidence and fighting spirit.

“So you’re the Yin Monster. Today you’ll be buried, but this old man will remember that name.”

Gwang Cheon-il prepared his invincible Explosive Mass-Slaying Strike once more. The art existed only as a single form; no follow-up was needed. Until now, no one had ever withstood it.

Yet Yu Seol showed no defensive posture. She simply pointed her index finger at Yu Jinsan leaning against a tree.

“You made our grandpa like that, so don’t expect me to treat you as some weak old man.”

“Quiet, you presumptuous little old soul. Why are you babbling like this?”

Once again, qi surged through Gwang Cheon-il’s body. Yu Seol watched silently, unflinching. He was certain this strike would take the Yin Monster’s life.

Having finished his preparations, he launched his attack.

The ground caved in within a one-meter radius around Gwang Cheon-il, and, as if a volcano had erupted, his spirit-body shot forward like an arrow—like a tiger pouncing.

In an instant, Yu Seol, who had not moved until then, shot straight toward him. Her speed blurred the eye—truly as fast as light.

In the blink of an eye, their spirit-bodies collided. It was the sound of Yu Seol’s knee smashing into Gwang Cheon-il’s face.