Gaon walked past the people in the street, weaving through the drunken crowd. Their laughter and boasting filled his ears, but he did not look at them. He stopped in the middle of a busy intersection. Torches flickered on wooden poles. Merchants were closing their stalls. Guards in black armor leaned against walls, watching the chaos with bored eyes.
Hm... the prince. Should that be that castle right there? The one with the black banners?
He looked up. At the end of the main road, rising above the rooftops, stood a dark fortress. Not the Black Lotus sect's mountain stronghold this was the city lord's palace, now occupied by the prince who served the cult. The man who gave the orders. The man who burned villages and raised wages on stolen gold.
For now, I want to suppress that guy. Because...
Gaon's smile widened. His teeth showed in the flickering light.
With all my hard work, I realize how powerful I am. No one can defeat me. And hearing what these people did... what that prince allows...
He cracked his neck.
I think I can win. With both my external life force and my scaled-up power.
He started walking again around the place he needed to see more. Learn more. Find the right moment.
A homeless man—ragged, gaunt, with wild eyes and matted hair—stood in front of a stone statue of the prince. The statue was polished marble, the prince's face carved with a gentle smile that did not match the reality. The man clutched a handful of animal dung and hurled it at the statue. It splattered across the marble cheek.
"Murderer!" the man screamed. "You killed my wife! You killed my daughter! You burned our village and you smile like a god!"
His voice cracked. Spittle flew from his lips.
"Everyone should know! He's not a ruler! He's a demon! A demon in silk!"
The people passing by glanced at him, then looked away. Some shook their heads. A woman pulled her child closer and hurried past. A merchant spat on the ground and muttered, "Crazy old man. He'll get himself killed."
No one stopped. No one helped. No one even looked him in the eye.
Two guards in black armor marched up. One grabbed the homeless man by the collar. The other shoved him to the ground. A boot came down on his back.
"Shut your mouth, filth," the guard growled. "The prince has been more generous to this city than your worthless life deserves."
The homeless man tried to speak, but a fist hit his face. Blood sprayed. He went silent.
Gaon watched from a few paces away, his arms crossed. His face was calm, but his eyes were cold.
Even here... there are the same kinds of people. The ones who think they're superior. And the ones who get crushed because they're weak.
He looked up at the statue. The dung was already drying on its cheek. No one would clean it until morning. No one cared.
But I care.
He turned and walked deeper into the city, the sounds of the beating fading behind him.
***
At the prince's palace, high on a balcony overlooking the city, Hyun Mu-gak stood alone.
His hands rested on the stone railing. His dark robes moved slightly in the night wind. Below, the city lights flickered taverns, brothels, the homes of merchants who had grown fat on stolen gold.
I sense something bad.
His jaw tightened.
I've never had this feeling before. Not unless...
He remembered his father wrath. The way the air would grow heavy before a beating. The way his chest would tighten, his throat close up, his body scream at him to run even though there was nowhere to go.
That fear. The fear of my father's wrath.
He looked up at the sky. The moon was full, cold, indifferent.
Well. He's in hell now, Father. I made sure of that.
But the feeling did not go away.
What is this? What is this feeling?
Hyun Mu-gak's fingers curled into fists. His nails pressed into his palms.
***
At the castle gate, Gaon walked forward. His scale was at five times, but his body looked normal average height, average build.
The guards at the gate stepped forward. Two of them, in black armor, spears crossed at the entrance.
"Who are you?" one demanded. "State your business. No one enters the castle at this hour without—"
Gaon kept walking. He reached the gate and pushed it open. The iron bars groaned.
Both guards opened their mouths to shout.
\
Kkkk
CREAK!
Then their heads suddenly crushed inward, as if squeezed by an invisible fist. They dropped to the ground, their bodies crumpling.
Gaon walked past them without looking back. The gate swung open behind him.
Inside the courtyard, more guards. He kept walking.
The place paved with stone torches burning in iron brackets along the walls. A dozen guards stood in clusters some talking, some sharpening weapons, one pissing against a pillar.
They saw him.
A young man in simple clothes, walking toward the inner gate. No weapon. No armor. Just a calm face and steady steps.
"Hey!" one guard shouted. "Stop! This area is restricted—"
Then he looked past Gaon. At the main gate. At the two bodies crumpled on the ground, their heads caved in.
His face went white.
"INTRUDER! SOUND THE ALARM!"
A horn blew. Deep and loud, echoing off the stone walls. Guards scrambled. Weapons came out swords, spears, axes. The cluster of men became a wall of steel and leather.
Gaon kept walking.
The first guard lunged with a spear. The tip aimed for Gaon's chest.
Gaon sidestepped. His hand shot out, grabbed the shaft, and yanked. The guard stumbled forward. Gaon's other fist met his chest.
A hole. Clean through. Blood sprayed backward. The guard dropped without a sound.
Two more came from the left. Swords swinging high and low. Gaon raised his arm to block the high strike the blade clanged against his forearm as if hitting iron. His other hand punched low. The guard's stomach caved in. Fingers emerged from his back.
The third guard tried to pull back. Too late. Gaon's foot hooked his ankle. As the man fell, Gaon's fist came down on his skull. The head split open like a melon.
More guards poured from the inner gate. Ten. Fifteen. They surrounded him, shouting, their faces twisted with fear and fury.
Gaon stood in the center of the circle. Torchlight flickered across his calm face.
One guard charged with a heavy axe. Overhand swing, meant to cleave him in two.
Gaon caught the handle. His fingers dented the wood. He twisted. The axe tore from the guard's grip. Then Gaon used the handle like a club—one swing to the side of the man's head. The skull caved. The body spun and fell.
Two more attacked from behind. Swords aimed at his kidneys.
The blades sliced empty air. Then he spun, his elbow extended. The elbow caught the first guard in the throat. Cartilage crunched. The man collapsed, choking on his own blood.
The second guard froze. His sword trembled.
Gaon looked at him. Then punched. The fist went through the man's chest and out his back. The guard stared down at the arm buried in his torso, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Gaon pulled his arm free. The body fell.
The remaining guards backed away. Their weapons shook. Their eyes were wide.
"What... what is he?" one whispered.
Gaon stepped over the bodies and walked toward the inner gate.
Above, on the walls and rooftops, archers appeared. A dozen of them, bows drawn, arrows glowing with qi blue, red, crackling with energy.
"Loose!"
The arrows flew. A storm of light streaking toward the lone figure below.
They struck his back. His shoulders. His arms.
And bounced off.
The qi arrows shattered against his skin like glass against stone. Sparks scattered. Shards of broken light fell around his feet.
Gaon did not stop walking.
He did not flinch. He did not look up.
The archers stared in disbelief. One lowered his bow. Another dropped an arrow.
"Again!" someone shouted.
They loosed another volley. The same result. The arrows broke. His skin did not.
Gaon walked through the inner gate and disappeared into the shadows of the castle.
To Be Continued.