Martial Arts Masochist

I was climbing the stairs in a panic, anxiously following after Cheongwol, when the door to the basement slammed shut right in front of me.

That massive sound echoed.

It felt like the sound of my life closing shut.

If I was going to keep up the high-pressure sadist act, I should have stormed out and confronted Cheongwol about her behavior right away…

“…Ah…”

Plop.

My legs gave out.

I couldn’t follow her. What was I even going to do if I did catch up?

Cheongwol was genuinely pissed right now. Keep up the sadist act from here?

And was it just Cheongwol who was mad? Dang Soran was furious too.

Two women renowned in the Central Plains for killing without hesitation and wielding their blades with deadly skill—how was I supposed to face them?

I’d hidden my fear well in front of Cheongwol up until now, but this time, my resolve had truly broken.

That chilling gaze from earlier resurfaced in my memory.

When she had been staring only at the wall, then stood up saying she was leaving with Dang Soran.

When she walked right up to me afterward and looked up into my eyes.

…The same eyes she had when she slaughtered the Mount Emei bandits.

The gaze of the Life-Pursuing Ghost, Cheongwol.

I’d momentarily forgotten while worrying about Dang Soran, but Cheongwol was a being who would one day become one of the Demonic Cult’s Seven Heavens. Countless followers would worship her as a goddess, kneeling before her and shedding tears.

A monster who rose to that position solely because of her overwhelming strength.

A woman who had mastered the art of killing.

And yet… had I let my guard down just because we’d played around a couple of times?

I’d been so focused on the fox that I’d ignored the tiger.

No, honestly, it wasn’t ignoring her—I’d just treated her too carelessly.

I’d started to delusionally think that playing the sadist role made me a real sadist.

I’m insane! I’m fucking insane…!

One mistake and one delusion, and it felt like everything was crumbling down.

“…Fuck…! Fuuuuck…!”

Even the self-mutterings I never usually did came spilling out.

If I could, I’d melt into this basement and disappear.

Forget earning Dang Soran’s grudge—for the fragile tightrope I’d been walking with Cheongwol felt snapped now.

Everything was ruined. That’s all I could feel.

“Ah… Aah…”

My butt slid slowly down the stairs as I sat there collapsed. I didn’t resist.

Before I knew it, I was lying upside down on the stairs.

This was the most utterly fucked feeling I’d had since falling into the novel Blood Path.

Even when I lived as a beggar. Even when I chewed on grass roots because there was nothing to eat. Even when I got beaten black and blue while scavenging. Even when I first met Cheongwol on the mountain.

None of those compared to now.

The day I’d truly pissed off Cheongwol and earned Dang Soran’s grudge.

Lying sprawled upside down on the stairs, I finally made the decision I’d been putting off.

…I’ll live somewhere else.

I couldn’t stay here anymore.

Even knowing how this world would unfold, even with that powerful knowledge, I hadn’t become a martial artist because it was all for survival.

Chewing on grass roots to endure—that was for the same reason.

Life is good! Even if it wasn’t constant happiness, fiddling with SM toys alone in the basement… occasionally tasting something delicious…

Those small joys were all I wanted.

But now, this place had become too dangerous.

My modest daily life was under threat.

From Cheongwol… and now Dang Soran too?

Both of them knew exactly where I lived.

Wasn’t staying here just asking for trouble?

Had I only realized this too late?

Maybe thinking I could endure by doing SM play with Cheongwol was too naive from the start.

Let’s run away. The vague resolve slowly settled in my heart.

There were many reasons I’d set up my home on Mount Emei.

Because the uncles who’d raised me were here.

Because with walking as the only means of travel, going anywhere felt burdensome.

Because I’d just escaped beggar life and was finally living like a person.

Because I had no money.

Because Mount Emei was one of the rare areas untouched by the Demonic Cult’s influence.

But all those reasons paled in comparison to what had happened today.

This place was no longer livable.

“…Haaa…”

Of course, I couldn’t run away right this instant.

Like the beggar uncles said while lounging on the streets, “Stretch your legs only after finding a place to lie down.” I had to do the same.

What if the new place was even worse? That wouldn’t do.

Whether I could make a living in a new spot.

Whether I could escape the Demonic Cult’s grasp.

Whether I could live quietly, hiding away.

I’d have to check each factor one by one.

And once I ran away like that, I could start anew.

Even if Cheongwol or Dang Soran suddenly felt the urge to eliminate me.

The Hao Gate or Beggars’ Sect were good at finding famous people, not nobodies like me scattered everywhere.

The Central Plains are vast, and full of people.

If you decide to vanish, you can vanish.

But as I said, I couldn’t move right away.

It’s not easy to vanish overnight.

I needed to save some money too.

And at least scout out a new place to live with my own eyes.

…And until then, I hoped Dang Soran wouldn’t tell her father about today.

…And that Cheongwol wouldn’t turn me into a lump of meat over today’s humiliation.

…

…But damn.

It had been kinda fun smacking Dang Soran’s soles.

Not worth trading my life for, though.

****

Mount Emei consists of numerous peaks.

Among them, the main peak, Golden Summit, hosts Fuhu Temple.

A strict no-men-allowed zone and the primary living quarters for Emei Sect disciples.

But if you descend far from Golden Summit, another temple quietly reveals itself.

At the mountain path entrance connecting Fuhu Temple and the village on Mount Emei’s outskirts—a space for receiving outside guests.

Wannian Temple.

Also a no-men zone, but less strict than Fuhu Temple, and used to host important visitors arriving at Mount Emei.

Right now, in one of Wannian Temple’s pavilions.

The Tang Clan Leader, Poison King Dang Jeokcheon.

And the Emei Sect’s current Sect Leader, renowned in the martial world for her serene dignity—Muwol Satae.

On the small table between them, freshly brewed tea steamed gently.

The scent of incense brought tranquility, and birdsong cleared the mind.

Dang Jeokcheon spoke.

“…Coming here always puts my mind at ease.”

“That’s fortunate.”

“Wannian Temple is like this, so Fuhu Temple must be even more beautiful. It’s a shame I never get the chance to see it.”

Dang Jeokcheon subtly expressed his regret, but Muwol Satae quietly lifted her teacup without responding.

A moment later, as the breeze deepened the silence and the incense grew thicker.

Muwol Satae opened her mouth.

“…Please speak now, Clan Leader.”

It had already been several days since Dang Jeokcheon arrived at Mount Emei.

There must be a clear reason for him to be this quiet—and to climb all the way here himself.

If it was just to check on well-being, a letter would have sufficed.

If that wasn’t enough, sending a messenger would have been plenty.

But for the Poison King to come in person carried weight beyond mere courtesy.

After a brief silence, Dang Jeokcheon smiled faintly and said.

“I just wanted to see you after so long.”

Even at his jest, Muwol Satae replied only with a smile, saying nothing more.

Only then did Dang Jeokcheon’s expression settle quietly.

“…In truth, it’s a story we’ve touched on briefly before. Do you remember the sparring? That short conversation we had then.”

“We spoke of heart demons.”

He nodded.

“…Sect Leader. It feels like relics of our old era are trampling new roots.”

“Pardon…?”

“…Do you know of Wudang’s Yeongcheon?”

“Yeongcheon… You mean the Sword of Faith? The one the Sword Sovereign particularly cherished…”

The title of Sword Sovereign had gone to a master from Wudang.

Dang Jeokcheon continued.

“…There were suspicions he was afflicted with a heart demon as well. That child has vanished.”

“…Pardon?”

Muwol Satae quietly set down her teacup.

Having worried over Cheongwol, and Yeongcheon being a junior talent like her, this was no light matter to brush off.

“Strictly speaking, it might not be accurate to say he’s vanished. He’s wandering, leaving traces behind. The Sword Sovereign is pursuing him personally. He even stopped by Sichuan recently and asked me directly—if I ever encountered the boy, to inform him by letter without fail.”

“…”

“At first, I thought it was just youthful wandering, the kind young martial artists go through. But…”

Dang Jeokcheon’s voice lowered.

“…Blood flows in Yeongcheon’s wake wherever he goes.”

The word he tossed out casually: Blood Path.

Muwol Satae’s fingertips trembled faintly. A certain figure rose in her mind as well.

“…This news won’t stay hidden forever. We can only hope the Sword Sovereign finds him before it spreads. Before the damage grows worse.”

Dang Jeokcheon quietly drew a small poisonous herb from his sleeve.

As if to lighten the mood, he offered it to Muwol Satae.

“Ah, this is a poisonous herb I enjoy… Would you like some, Sect Leader? No, I’ll have it alone.”

He placed a leaf in his own tea and lifted the cup.

“…Hearing of Yeongcheon made me think of Soran.”

The emotion in those words was heavy.

The shadow of a father settled in the eyes of the man called Poison King.

“That good child is withering away. She harbors something in her heart… and I feel so powerless, unable to do anything. I saw myself in the Sword Sovereign. If Soran ever crumbled like Yeongcheon… if she started harming countless innocents…”

Muwol Satae briefly averted her gaze.

A distant shadow clouded her eyes, and a forced smile bloomed on her lips.

Too poignant to call a laugh, too quiet to call a sob.

“You came seeking solace from me, yet here I am only adding to your worries, inadequate as I am.”

Just as the Poison King thought of Dang Soran upon hearing of the Sword of Faith, Muwol Satae thought of Cheongwol.

Dang Jeokcheon gave a wry smile as well.

“I was shocked too when I heard young lady Cheongwol was afflicted with a heart demon.”

For a moment, the two masters gazed quietly at each other.

Giants of the martial world, yet burning inside over their inability to help even one cherished child.

At the end of the silence, Dang Jeokcheon spoke.

“Sect Leader. I am afraid.”

Even the Poison King, who struck terror into countless unorthodox sects, was powerless before worry for his child.

“…If only I could resolve Soran’s heart demon somehow, I’d do anything.”

Gently swirling his tea, he took a sip and said.

“So I thought. What if we gathered the young talents in one place?”

“…”

“If the children faced each other, trained together, shared stories… wouldn’t it give them a chance to reflect on themselves?”

Muwol Satae nodded.

“You’ve come to take Wol-i with you.”

Dang Jeokcheon chuckled.

“To relay Yeongcheon’s story, watch Soran’s sparring, and if possible, bring young lady Cheongwol along too. And of course, to see you, Sect Leader.”

Muwol Satae had been pondering Cheongwol herself, so her response came easily.

“I’ll ask Wol-i’s intentions.”

****

Frustration steadily pooled in Cheongwol’s chest.

Even as night passed and day broke, her heart didn’t lighten in the slightest.

The events in the basement the previous day kept circling in her mind.

Han Seojin, focused only on Dang Soran. Herself, staring at the wall beside him.

Why had it felt so unjust?

She never wanted to experience it again, even if it killed her.

From now on, no matter what, their play would be just the two of them.

And she’d never again suggest letting someone else experience it.

Doing it with Dang Soran hadn’t eased her heart demon at all.

Far from easing, it had only stirred up irritation.

She’d waited so long to return to that basement, only to build up more anger.

The unfulfilled desires tormented her from within.

Cheongwol recalled Han Seojin, his lips curling up slightly as he punished Dang Soran.

Why had that irritated her so much?

…Forget treating her heart demon—maybe Han Seojin was just a filthy man who enjoyed seeing women in distress.

‘…Disgusting.’

Cheongwol muttered inwardly.

To an Emei Sect nun, such a being was no different from a bug.

…

Yet Cheongwol couldn’t tear her attention away from that filthy pervert.

The awkward parting with Han Seojin lingered heavily in her chest.

Honestly, she should have gotten even angrier.

He’d made her stare at the wall, while lavishing all his attention on Dang Soran.

He’d washed her feet clean, caressed them. And the praise—he’d showered it so generously.

Her chest boiled with rage.

She wanted to confront Han Seojin again and pick apart yesterday’s events point by point… but now, even Cheongwol felt reluctant to break her promise with him.

Especially since she’d felt the price of crossing him with her own body.

In truth, Cheongwol was reflecting too.

She knew better than anyone that she’d been wrong.

If only she’d listened to Han Seojin, there wouldn’t have been a problem.

His words had never been wrong.

…Still, she couldn’t shake the thought that the punishment had been too severe.

Cheongwol let out a deep sigh.

Sometimes, she felt so foolish and awkward agonizing like this.

If she stepped back for a moment and thought calmly, what was Han Seojin that she should even entertain such thoughts?

Of course, she’d shown him sides she hid from everyone else.

She’d bared her thighs, her armpits.

Worn embarrassing outfits and frozen in place.

Blushed at his praise, shuddered at his touch.

Even shed tears as her stifled heart demon unraveled before him.

…Even so.

He was just the owner of a lowly Leather Room.

Just one of the countless ordinary folk.

…

Cheongwol sat in her quarters at Hyunbi Hermitage, gazing down at the Leather Room from afar.

Han Seojin’s figure looked like a mere dot.

She caught glimpses of him bustling about inside, carrying on his day.

Acting as if yesterday’s incident was nothing, so naturally—it even made her want to smack him.

So infuriating.

Showering Dang Soran with such care. Parting with her on bad terms. And now he looked utterly unbothered.

Her pent-up frustration only grew.

“Here you are.”

At that moment, someone entered Cheongwol’s space.

Startled, she turned to see her master, Soun, standing there.

“…Master.”

“You look displeased. What happened?”

“…”

Cheongwol didn’t answer.

Soun didn’t press her reticent disciple.

Instead, she explained why she’d come.

“Wol-a. Want to visit Chengdu?”

“Chengdu?”

Soun nodded.

“It’s a proposal from the Tang Clan Leader. He wants to gather the martial world’s young talents for a time of exchange. Why not go? It could be a chance to make new connections.”

Cheongwol didn’t respond, turning her gaze downward.

Far off, the Leather Room at the mountain’s base was faintly visible.

She caught a glimpse of Han Seojin tidying something inside.

“…How long would I be away?”

“Well, that’s up to you. But at least twenty days or so—”

“—I’m sorry.”

Cheongwol cut her off.

Even she herself was surprised.

An answer without a second thought.

She tried to insist it wasn’t because of Han Seojin, but a nagging guilt lingered in her denial.

Being apart from him like this for twenty days?

Too long. No, far too awkward.

The rift between her and Han Seojin—leaving it unresolved and drifting away felt… unsettling.

Besides, what would she even do mingling with other young talents?

She might face similar humiliation amid sly foxes like Dang Soran.

“I… have no intention of going.”

Soun quietly peered into her disciple’s eyes.

Then, she accepted her will.

“…If that’s what you say.”

****

The opportunity came surprisingly soon.

“What did you say?”

“I’m heading to Chengdu for a bit.”

Gwak Du Uncle said, sprawled out.

Gentle sunlight bathed his face, eyes closed as he lounged lazily on the ground.

“With the corpses found on Mount Emei this time, and young ladies Dang Soran and Cheongwol’s sparring… I need to report directly at the Sichuan branch.”

Gwak Du Uncle visited Chengdu regularly.

Even beggars had their duties as Beggars’ Sect members.

“…Going with the Tang Clan on their way back?”

“Why would tagging along with the Tang Clan benefit me? I’d just be in the way. They’re leaving tomorrow anyway—”

“—Me too!”

I seized the chance.

Sichuan, Chengdu.

The Tang Clan was there, but it was a good starting point.

“I’ll come with you this time, Uncle.”