Became a God-Level Martial Artist

Chapter 28: So It Wasn’t a Dream

Silence settled over the darkness.

Baek Sang and Baek Seol’s eyes darted about. In their hands were iron swords bought from the local smithy, pitiful replacements for the Taiji Swords that Hyeon-un had taken from them.

“What is this…?”

Baek Sang muttered to himself with a tense voice.

It was difficult to comprehend the situation.

First, he could not sense even a trace of the waiter who had suddenly vanished. Second, he could not understand why the inn’s waiter possessed such skill.

“He’s behind you.”

Seo Yu-gyeom’s low voice snapped Baek Sang back to his senses.

Baek Sang was also a promising young prodigy of the Wudang Sect.

Though he had many senior brothers above him, he was considered a genius who might even become the Head Disciple someday.

Swoosh—!

Baek Sang spun his body and swung his iron sword.

Even in that sudden strike, the principles of Wudang Sword were fully contained.

But the blade sliced only through empty air.

Baek Sang’s eyes widened.

The waiter, weaving through the sword’s path with strange footwork, was already right in front of him.

A sword was long, and arms were relatively short.

In that moment, with his sword stretched out, the waiter had slipped inside its range, leaving Baek Sang defenseless.

“Uh…”

The rare sound of confusion escaped Baek Sang’s lips.

Jin Seong-un’s fist shot forward.

Seeing the dark crimson energy wrapped around that fist, Baek Sang realized something was very wrong. Far too late.

Craaaash—!

With an explosive sound, Baek Sang’s body was hurled away. He had no chance to resist.

Overwhelmed by an irresistible force, all Baek Sang could do was think, “What is happening?”

His body flew in a straight line and slammed into a corner of the courtyard wall. He collapsed limply, like wilted bok choy.

“Senior Brother!”

Baek Seol cried out in shock.

With that kind of impact, it would not be strange if his organs had ruptured.

But Seo Yu-gyeom chuckled at her side.

“Don’t worry. Do you really think Seong-un would kill the disciples of Hall Leader Oh? This is just sparring between martial artists. Some injuries are to be expected.”

As if to prove his words, Baek Sang’s limp body twitched faintly.

Baek Seol let out a sigh of relief—

“Shall we see how sturdy a martial artist’s wrist is?”

Seo Yu-gyeom gave Baek Seol a playful push on the back. She stumbled forward a step.

And in front of her stood Jin Seong-un, who had just floored her brother with a single punch.

“…”

The energy surging in Jin Seong-un’s fist was terrifying. Even Baek Sang and Baek Seol, who had hardened themselves somewhat in their months of roaming the Murim, flinched greatly at the sight.

Sword Immortal had taught Jin Seong-un the sword. Noble Enchantress had taught him inner arts. Merchant King had taught him sabers, and Divine Thief had taught him movement arts.

And the Blood Demon—had taught him the art of fists, also called grappling techniques.

Facing the aura that had once dyed an era in blood, Baek Seol blurted out without meaning to:

“W-wait a moment!”

But there was no such thing as ‘wait a moment’ in martial training.

Seo Yu-gyeom nodded toward Jin Seong-un.

“Go, Jin Seong-un!”

His eyes seemed to shout those words.

Responding, Jin Seong-un charged.

Having just seen her brother collapse, Baek Seol’s face turned pale as she hastily swung her sword.

Jin Seong-un closed the distance in an instant and threw a punch. Baek Seol’s iron sword, swung on instinct, contained the Wudang Sect’s principle of using softness to overcome hardness.

Softness suppressing force.

That was why no martial artist of equal level could easily harm a Taoist of Wudang.

Of course, when the gap was overwhelming, it meant nothing.

The moment her sword met Jin Seong-un’s fist—

Baek Seol felt as though her wrist would snap.

She had dueled martial artists from the Peng Clan, the Murong Clan, and even the Seomun Clan, but she had never once faced such a brutish and destructive strike.

“Ugh!”

A groan escaped her lips.

Unable to withstand it, she was just about to drop her sword—

Craaaash—!

Her iron blade shattered outright.

Some of the pressure on her wrist eased, but she had no time to feel relief.

Because the second strike was already upon her.

This time, it was a palm strike.

Staring at the bizarre crimson energy rushing toward her face, Baek Seol let out a bitter laugh.

“So this is how I go.”

Her head snapped back violently as the palm struck. That was her last memory.

.

.

.

Baek Seol and Baek Sang dreamed similar dreams.

In it, the waiter and the cook of an inn were absurdly strong and beat them into the ground.

How ridiculous.

If such waiters and cooks existed, why would they waste time running an inn? They could storm across the Murim, win fame and glory, and earn far more wealth.

Both Baek Seol and Baek Sang thought their dreams laughable as they opened their eyes.

“…”

A strange ceiling.

No, a ceiling that was becoming somewhat familiar now.

The ceiling of Seong-un Inn greeted them.

Above them suddenly appeared a smug face, smiling ear to ear as though greatly amused. Seo Yu-gyeom.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“…”

The siblings were struck speechless.

They could not yet tell if what they had experienced was dream or reality.

Then they sat up and looked at one another.

On each other’s faces were blue and red bruises.

“Ah, it’s real.”

“So it wasn’t a dream.”

Baek Sang and Baek Seol nodded to each other.

Then Jin Seong-un suddenly appeared and thrust two teacups toward them.

The siblings flinched violently at the sight of his face. Perhaps it was the fear that had been etched into their very instincts.

“Please, drink.”

The siblings stared blankly at the teacups.

Could they really accept and drink tea from such a strange inn, from such an uncanny waiter?

Their bodies were cold, shivering, but the situation was suspicious enough to make them hesitate.

“It’s just ordinary pu’er tea.”

Saying so, Jin Seong-un once again held out the cups.

The two realized they had no way to refuse, and without a word, drank the tea.

In truth, they knew it was only needless fear born from being beaten so harshly. After all, these men were acquaintances of the Elder and Senior Uncle Cheong-u.

The warm tea spread through them, and their bodies felt a little lighter.

A moment of silence passed, before the two, unable to suppress their curiosity any longer, spoke.

“…What on earth are you?”

“You’re not just a cook.”

Baek Sang asked Jin Seong-un, while Baek Seol asked Seo Yu-gyeom. Baek Seol in particular felt embarrassed, recalling how earlier that day she had talked about martial artists while learning chopping skills.

“A waiter. And the innkeeper, too.”

Jin Seong-un answered casually.

At the moment, that was indeed the only word that could explain his identity.

Seo Yu-gyeom also only shrugged, saying he was just a cook. He could hardly say he was once a top assassin of the Deathshroud.

“Give me your wrist.”

Without warning, Seo Yu-gyeom grabbed Baek Seol’s wrist.

Her face flushed with a mix of shame and embarrassment. Shame, for speaking so carelessly of martial artists before someone so vastly superior. Embarrassment, for having her wrist suddenly seized by a man of her age who looked so striking.

But Seo Yu-gyeom only examined her wrist for a moment before nodding.

“Oh, as expected of a martial artist’s wrist, it’s strong. I thought it might’ve broken.”

“…”

“Still, from tomorrow, hold the knife the way I taught you. Cutting food with a kitchen knife and cutting men with a sword are entirely different.”

Baek Seol nodded faintly. The rebelliousness she had shown earlier that day had long since vanished.

Meanwhile, her brother Baek Sang was staring intently at Jin Seong-un, lost in thought.

Now he understood why the Elder had said they must earn the recognition of the waiter before their Taiji Swords would be returned.

Suddenly, Baek Sang dropped to his knees and asked Jin Seong-un with a deeply respectful tone.

“Could you perhaps be a venerable elder of the jianghu, one who has achieved rejuvenation?”

A reasonable deduction.

Among his peers, there were not many who could stand against him. That was true within the Wudang Sect, and even most of the prodigies he had met at the Murim Alliance had been no match.

Only a few standouts from the Nine Sects or Five Great Clans were worthy of crossing hands with him.

So how could a nameless waiter from a small inn possess such skill?

‘It must be a retired master who has achieved rejuvenation, now running a humble inn.’

Baek Sang was convinced.

But Jin Seong-un said, “I just passed twenty this year. And I’m not even a martial artist.”

“You—you’re younger than me…?”

Baek Sang’s face filled with despair.

At twenty-three years of age, learning that such an expert was three years younger made him feel like a fool of the world.

Baek Seol felt the same. Both siblings now looked more dejected than when they were being beaten or even during harsh training.

Seeing their faces, Seo Yu-gyeom spoke.

“There’s no need to despair. Jin Seong-un is the strange one here. I’m the same age as you.”

Baek Sang turned his gaze to Seo Yu-gyeom.

His despair only deepened.

The next morning, at Seong-un Inn.

As always, Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom busily prepared for business.

Seomun Ak—no, the “employee” now treated like a servant—strolled into the inn with his usual swagger.

“Yo, good morning.”

He raised a hand lightly to Jin Seong-un and Seo Yu-gyeom. Since discovering his talent, his confidence had swelled immensely.

Jin Seong-un gave a small nod, while Seo Yu-gyeom chuckled as though he had spotted something amusing.

While Seomun Ak was lazily wiping down tables, the siblings Baek Sang and Baek Seol entered.

Seomun Ak frowned.

“Baek Sang, you arrive later than me? I’m even doing your share of the work.”

He felt superior. Baek Sang, as a promising prodigy of the Wudang Sect, had once made him feel inferior.

But now, as a waiter, Baek Sang had been utterly defeated by him.

“Here, take this.”

Seomun Ak handed Baek Sang a rag.

The night before, Jin Seong-un had essentially divided duties—Baek Sang with cleaning, Seomun Ak with greeting guests.

With a sour expression, as though chewing on bugs, Baek Sang accepted the rag and began wiping tables.

But inwardly, he resolved to surpass Seomun Ak today and win Jin Seong-un’s recognition.

Baek Seol, meanwhile, ignored Seomun Ak entirely and headed straight for the kitchen.

With Seo Yu-gyeom there—talented, handsome, and entertaining—why waste even a moment greeting Seomun Ak?

Just then, Jin Seong-un returned from the backyard into the inn.

Baek Seol flinched hard.

She immediately clasped her hands in the martial greeting with utmost courtesy.

“G-greetings, Master Jin! I trust you passed the night in peace?”

Even Jin Seong-un himself, along with Seo Yu-gyeom in the kitchen and the swaggering Seomun Ak, stared at her with baffled expressions.

And then—

Baek Sang, dropping his rag, rushed over to stand beside his sister, bowing deeply.

“Ah, I pray last night the bright moon shone high and your body and spirit remain refreshed in every limb and bone!”

“?”

Jin Seong-un looked like he wanted to wash his ears out with water.

Had last night’s training rattled their minds?

Regardless, Baek Sang and Baek Seol’s attitudes were deadly serious. After all, they had gone to see Hyeon-un after training ended last night and asked him a question.

—Elder, what on earth is that inn?

A question heavy with meaning.

Hyeon-un, wearing a grave yet sly smile, had answered.

—Even if a blade is at your throat, can you keep a secret?

His demeanor made it seem as though he would reveal some hidden history of the Murim. Their hearts pounded.

—We swear it, Elder.

—Good. In truth, Seong-un is…

What followed left Baek Sang and Baek Seol’s jaws hanging wide open.