Chapter 592: Secret Box, What Do You Think?
A man with bandages wrapped around both hands sat in the stands, looking down at the empty martial arts stage.
The one who carefully stepped onto the stage was Yeon Baekin.
“I am Yeon Baekin, the Hall Master of the Golden Dragon Martial Hall.”
He first introduced himself to the man. Of course, the man likely already knew well who he was. He was sitting there in the place Yeon Baekin cherished and loved the most.
Even so, he greeted him out of courtesy to this fearsome individual.
He had seen him before and was so frightened he momentarily lost his memory and ran away. The murderous aura this man exuded stirred a primal terror.
“You’ve joined hands with the one underground, so I suppose you’re on the same side as him.”
Normally, he should have fled. Even if he didn’t, he should have hidden in his office and only emerged after all the fighting was over.
But the last words spoken by the Fist Demon King in that office had pushed him to come here.
‘Anyone who doesn’t belong in hell has already been sent out. You’re still here because you belong in hell.’
Yeon Baekin interpreted those words as a death sentence. With the Demonic Cult involved, begging would solve nothing. They would take everything from him and then kill him anyway.
He judged that trusting the one underground gave him a higher chance of survival. And if the terrifying man before him was on the same side, he might even wipe out those Demonic Cult bastards.
‘I will never give up.’
The reason the Demonic Cult looked down on him, and this man stared at him with such condescension, was all because he was weak. They did not acknowledge someone like a Hall Master as a true martial artist.
‘As long as I obtain the secret manual!’
He would train hard enough to risk death and become strong. That way, when the moment came, he would meet that condescending gaze and say:
—Lower your eyes.
It was this desire that allowed him to stand here so confidently.
“The reason I came here like this is to deliver crucial information. The enemies are those who have emerged from the Demonic Cult.”
Even at the mention of the Demonic Cult, the man showed no reaction. Seeing how utterly unsurprised he was, Yeon Baekin could tell he already knew.
‘And yet they didn’t even bother telling me.’
Feeling awkward as the silent man continued to say nothing, Yeon Baekin shifted his gaze to the side.
All around, men who seemed to be the man’s subordinates stood. Their numbers reached into the dozens. Instead of carrying weapons, they wore gauntlets on both hands.
‘They’re all practitioners of fist techniques.’
There’s a saying that subordinates resemble their leader—and if ever that applied, it was to this situation. Each of the martial artists displayed an aura as cold as ice, utterly devoid of mercy. Yeon Baekin could feel it. These weren’t ordinary subordinates. They were killing machines, raised without the slightest trace of emotion.
‘Who are you, to not even flinch at the Demonic Cult?’
Yeon Baekin didn’t know, nor did the Fist Demon King, nor the One-Slash Sword Supreme. No one knew this man’s true identity—except Geom Mugeuk.
The Twelfth King of the Twelve Zodiac Kings—Fist King Kang Hu.
He was the final, twelfth king among the Twelve Zodiac Kings.
There had been a saying during the time when they ruled the martial world:
The Twelve Zodiac Kings begin with the sword and end with the fist.
Being the twelfth didn’t mean he was the weakest. Other than the First King, the Sword King, the rankings were not based on strength.
Even after he had claimed the seat of Fist King in his past life, countless people died by his hands. It was a time when the martial world lived in fear of fists that harbored a natural-born killing intent—fists that no one could restrain.
Then, Kang Hu’s gaze shifted to one spot. For the first time, emotion appeared on his otherwise indifferent face.
Yeon Baekin turned his head and saw a young man walking toward them. His hands were wrapped tightly in crimson bandages, as if soaked in blood and left to dry—contrasting sharply with Kang Hu’s white bandages.
“I’ve returned.”
The young man gave a respectful fist salute and greeted him, to which Kang Hu gave a nod.
The young man’s aura, too, was not ordinary. Then he introduced the two people who had come with him.
“These are the ones who came as reinforcements for this mission.”
Both of them looked young, but one of them wore particularly distinctive attire.
He was dressed in a red martial robe, upon which a ghostly figure was outlined in white. The moment he saw the robe, Yeon Baekin realized who the man was.
‘Blade Ghost!’
A supreme master of the unorthodox sects, called the Blade Ghost for wielding his blade like a ghost.
‘The Blade Ghost is that young? But the one I know was from long ago…’
Could it be that he had reversed aging through some forbidden technique? Or was this a different young master mimicking the legendary man’s attire? Yeon Baekin couldn’t tell.
The other man had sharply slanted eyes, with unusually long hands and feet. He carried his sword not at his waist or on his back, but held it close to his chest.
They were the kind of people you saw once and could never forget.
To Yeon Baekin’s eyes, Kang Hu seemed like the sort of man who wouldn’t bother to greet anyone. Yet he accepted greetings from these two.
To the two men who had respectfully offered a fist salute, Kang Hu returned the gesture from where he sat. Witnessing this, Yeon Baekin felt an even deeper sense of humiliation. While he had spoken at length, all he received was a cold, scornful glare.
The three men, having finished their greetings, walked past Yeon Baekin and moved toward the seats next to where Kang Hu was sitting. Not one of them spared Yeon Baekin so much as a glance.
Yeon Baekin realized that the terrifying words of that demonic figure had, at the very least, been right. Cold and ruthless—those gathered here truly belonged in hell.
And before he knew it, he had become someone who fit in with them.
That was when it happened.
Everyone's gaze turned in one direction.
A presence so overwhelming approached that it could not be ignored.
At the front was the Fist Demon King, flanked on either side by the One-Slash Sword Supreme and Lee Ahn. With these three walking forward, how could attention not converge on them?
Though there were dozens gathered on this side, the trio walked forward without hesitation.
A tremendous murderous aura erupted from Kang Hu’s subordinates. Lee Ahn had never before faced such killing intent in actual combat.
The closest among them, Yeon Baekin, locked eyes with the Fist Demon King. He was afraid, but he refused to be crushed by the other's presence. He met the Fist Demon King’s gaze head-on.
“Weren’t you the one who said it? That I belong in this hell. Did you think I’d run away just because it was the Demonic Cult?”
The Fist Demon King said nothing to him and instead turned to look at Kang Hu. Feeling ignored once more, Yeon Baekin bristled with resentment—but he didn’t dare question that terrifying face again.
And then, for the first time since Yeon Baekin had arrived, Kang Hu spoke. Even to the reinforcements who had come to support him, he hadn’t said a word—until now.
“Fist Demon King, I’ve wanted to meet you at least once.”
The Fist Demon King simply gave a small nod. He didn’t ask who the speaker was. He didn’t show the slightest curiosity.
Instead, it was Yeon Baekin who reacted to those words, startled to his core.
‘What? Fist Demon King? He said Fist Demon King? That man is the Demon Supreme?’
He had just assumed the man was a powerful expert from the Demonic Cult. Never had he imagined that one of the Eight Demon Supremes of the Demonic Cult would come here. And he had just shouted at such a person?
Worse yet, the Demon Supreme wasn’t alone.
“To think the One-Slash Sword Supreme is here as well. As expected of the Young Cult Leader.”
Yeon Baekin didn’t even have time to be shocked by the mention of the One-Slash Sword Supreme—his mind had already gone blank at the words “Young Cult Leader.”
‘Young Cult Leader? What Young Cult Leader? Don’t tell me—the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult?’
As Yeon Baekin fainted in shock, the Fist Demon King and Kang Hu’s eyes met in the air. Yeon Baekin now understood that this man was indeed a true Demon Supreme. The terrifying killing aura Kang Hu had exuded no longer felt so overwhelming when confronted with the Fist Demon King’s presence. Murderous aura and demonic energy were evenly matched.
This time, the Fist Demon King finally opened his mouth.
“Today, the martial hall is closed.”
He spoke slowly, coldly, as he looked over everyone one by one. It was the kind of thing Yeon Baekin hadn’t dreamed of saying, even in his sleep.
“So from now on, everyone will exit through the door we’re opening.”
* * *
“We’ve arrived! Everyone, get up!”
At the sound of someone calling out to wake him, Geom Mugeuk startled awake. The moment he opened his eyes, a completely unexpected situation unfolded before him. It was the first time he had opened his eyes since being absorbed into the Secret Box.
Clatter, clatter.
He was inside a moving carriage.
A foul smell hit him sharply. Over ten men were crammed into the cargo hold of the carriage, which didn’t even have windows.
Judging from the fact that they all carried swords, it didn’t seem like they were being taken away as captives.
‘Did some formation activate inside the Secret Box?’
A dangerous formation meant to threaten him?
But when he had been drawn into the Secret Box, he had felt nothing but peace and comfort. It didn’t seem like the Secret Box was trying to kill him.
Geom Mugeuk checked the condition of his body first.
He confirmed that his limbs were all intact. Arms—normal. Legs—normal. His vision was clear, and his hearing was fine too.
His body was in good shape. The issue lay in his internal energy.
He had only as much internal energy as someone who had trained for a few years. Not enough to use the techniques of the Nine Calamities Demon Art or the Soaring Sword Art.
‘Still... it’s a relief. A real relief.’
Even having a few years’ worth of energy was better than none. A single handful of internal energy could be enough to survive a deadly situation. That was the level he had trained himself to.
Next, he checked his sword. It was an ordinary iron sword, not the Black Demon Sword. Of course, once he escaped this place, it would likely return to being the Black Demon Sword. But one thing had remained the same. The Secret Box was still tucked safely inside his robe.
‘Secret Box, just what kind of trial is your father trying to put me through?’
Geom Mugeuk believed this situation to be a kind of trial the Secret Box was presenting him with.
And if it truly was a trial from the Secret Box?
Then there had to be a way to break through it—and surely, a reward as well. Yes, best to think positively.
Srrk.
Geom Mugeuk slightly drew his sword and reflected his face in the blade.
‘It’s my face.’
At the very least, he hadn’t entered someone else’s body.
A man sitting across from him, watching, asked him a question.
“What did you say your name was?”
He was the one who had woken Geom Mugeuk moments ago.
Unsure how to answer, Geom Mugeuk figured this was a place where he would vanish like smoke anyway.
“Geom Yeon.”
“First time?”
He couldn’t tell what the man was referring to, but—
“Yes. First time.”
“Knew it. I keep saying not to send rookies for reinforcements.”
Hearing the word “reinforcements” gave him a rough idea of the situation.
“I wasn’t told that.”
“If you don’t stay sharp, you’re dead. Rookies like you are the first to die.”
“I’ll stay alert.”
He had never imagined the Secret Box would absorb him—let alone into a situation like this.
Suddenly, the Sword King outside came to mind.
‘If he saw me getting pulled in here, there’s no way he’d just stand by, right?’
What he was worried about was the possibility of the Sword King destroying the Secret Box in an attempt to rescue him—but that wouldn’t happen.
He wasn’t that reckless, and having witnessed Geom Mugeuk being absorbed, he would have realized this chunk of iron was exactly what it was meant to be.
Surely, he was thinking of some way to enter the Box himself.
But Geom Mugeuk didn’t think it would be possible. He had a hunch that unless someone possessed the Secret Box itself or carried its absorbed energy within their body, they couldn’t enter.
He had, without question, been invited by the Secret Box.
Soon, the carriage came to a halt.
The curtain was drawn back, and blinding sunlight poured in.
“All right, everyone out!”
Geom Mugeuk stepped out of the carriage. At the foot of a mountain spread a vast open field, lined with dozens of tents and swarming with hundreds of martial artists.
People shouting. Others moving the injured. Some running off in various directions. It was clear at a glance.
‘A battlefield!’
Everyone who had been in the carriage with him had volunteered for war.
“You lot, this way.”
A martial artist who had taken charge began dividing the group from the carriage into different tents.
“Take the new recruit.”
Geom Mugeuk entered one of the tents.
Inside, there were three or four martial artists. Some were sleeping, others were eating, and one sat on a cot, tending to his weapons. All wore the faces of fatigue and hardship.
One of the men frowned as he looked at Geom Mugeuk.
“Damn it! They sent another rookie.”
He didn’t yet know why he had been thrown into such a situation, but as always, Geom Mugeuk did his best with whatever he faced.
“I’m Geom Yeon. Fortunately, I’m extremely lucky. I’m sure I’ll be of help.”
The man who had frowned at the word “rookie” got up from his cot and tossed a small utility pouch from the corner to Geom Mugeuk.
“I’m Jeong Dae, the Unit Leader of the 117th White Tiger Squad. Cut the nonsense and just follow my orders. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Your spot’s over there.”
And just like that, he was assigned to an old, worn-out cot, roughly carved from wood.
Geom Mugeuk considered asking Jeong Dae about the situation but decided to take a look outside the tent first.
‘But where exactly is this place?’
He had traveled all over the Central Plains, visited every kind of place imaginable—but this place felt unfamiliar. If this was a world created by the Secret Box, then perhaps the entire place was fictional.
Yet it didn’t feel like that. The people here moved and spoke too realistically.
‘Secret Box, what do you make of this situation? Is this some kind of trial where I have to survive a war?’
No, it couldn’t be such an easy trial. With his martial arts skills, even without internal energy, he would surely survive.
Just then—
“The Martial Alliance Leader is here!”
“The Alliance Leader has arrived!”
The shouts around him startled Geom Mugeuk. Martial artists began running toward the same direction.
‘The real Alliance Leader came here?’
Geom Mugeuk ran toward where the crowd was gathering.
A middle-aged man clad in a long robe adorned with a dragon and a tiger walked toward them.
A presence that was truly overwhelming!
The moment Geom Mugeuk laid eyes on him, he was shocked. It was not Jin Paecheon, the Martial Alliance Leader he knew.
The surrounding martial artists raised their voices in unison, cheering toward the man.
“Martial Emperor Divine Sword! Martial Emperor Divine Sword!”
At the sound of that name, Geom Mugeuk was stunned. The Martial Emperor Divine Sword was someone he knew—no, more precisely, someone he had heard of.
He was one of the most renowned leaders in the history of the Martial Alliance.
From that alone, Geom Mugeuk could understand. The world he had awakened in was not his own time.
This was the martial world from three hundred years ago.