Chapter 8 …
A small child walked toward the bandits’ mountain hideout. The bandits standing guard stared in disbelief.
“Hey, that brat’s coming this way.”
“What are you doing? Chase him off.”
One of the bandits approached Jeok Wigang, waving his hand dismissively.
“This isn’t a place for kids. Go home.”
Then another bandit spoke from behind him.
“Wait. Look at his clothes—kid’s from a rich family. Catch him.”
“Oh? You’re right.”
A young boy in fine silk.
Treasure walking in by itself.
Still, they didn’t drop their guard. The boy’s parents might be nearby.
“You alone?”
Wigang nodded.
“Hand over everything you have. Clothes too. Do that and we’ll let you live.”
“If you don’t listen, we’ll cut your head off and take everything anyway. So behave.”
But Wigang completely ignored him and asked a question instead.
“Is this that infamous Evil Mountain Stronghold?”
“Look at this brat. You came here knowing that?”
“Pretty gutsy, aren’t you?”
“If you came here on purpose, we can’t let you go alive. Shame, really.”
The bandits replied with leering grins.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven.”
“Well, you lived long enough to enjoy the world. Won’t regret dying now.”
They were telling him he’d die.
“Too lazy to talk. Let’s just cut his head off and strip him.”
“Yeah, let’s.”
One bandit drew a large blade, stroking it as he stared at Wigang.
“Any last words? We’ll grant you that much mercy.”
Wigang grinned and murmured:
(Samyang Fire, Heartbound Fire Cannon)”
Three fireballs formed in his palm and floated up. The bandits stumbled back in shock.
“Wh-What the hell?”
“He’s a kid who learned martial arts?”
“So that’s why he came here so confidently.”
“Sorry to say, but we aren’t ordinary bandits.”
The startled men regained their composure and raised their internal energy.
“We’re heroes of the Great Green Forest, you know.”
The Green Forest was a martial world faction composed of bandits. Naturally, all bandits here practiced martial arts. Their reputation among the public was awful—and Evil Mountain Stronghold was the worst among them.
But because they were under the Green Forest banner, even government officials avoided touching them, and martial sects didn’t interfere lightly.
So for an eleven-year-old who merely learned a bit of martial arts to walk in here—what a joke.
Being startled by a kid’s fireball was embarrassing enough. There was only one way to erase that shame: eliminate the one who caused it.
They charged toward Wigang.
Just then, the floating fireballs shot forward.
“Like hell that little flame—!”
A bandit swung his blade, splitting the fireball cleanly in two.
Too easy. They laughed and stopped running.
“Oh dear. Your ultimate attack shattered pretty nicely.”
“Got anything else?”
Wigang pointed behind them.
When they turned their heads, the fireball they had split was coming back.
“What—?”
Wigang said calmly:
“That won’t disappear until it hits its designated target.”
The casual, observing expression on Wigang’s face made the bandits furious.
How much did this brat look down on them?
Determined to destroy the childish fireball and slice his neck, a bandit smacked the incoming fireball with his blade and completely shattered it.
He then rushed at Wigang—
Whoosh—
He aimed to take Wigang’s head off in one strike, but the blade missed—by the thickness of a sheet of paper.
Did he misjudge the distance? That’s how close it felt.
It didn’t even look like the kid dodged. Maybe they just misjudged because he was small—
BOOM!
“Ah! Hot!”
Flames burst on the bandit’s back.
He thought he had destroyed it, but the fireball had survived and returned again.
When he raised his internal energy, the flames quickly flicked off. His clothes were burned, and he glared at Wigang with murderous rage.
“I was going to make it quick, but I changed my mind. You’ll die in agony.”
The bandits raged while Wigang muttered to himself:
“This level of power really is useless against martial artists.”
Wigang was adjusting the power of the Five-Element True Word Technique. This was why live combat was important—practice alone couldn’t provide real data.
The bandits lost patience as the boy continued ignoring them and rushed again.
“Get him! Peel off his skin and rub salt in!”
Wigang summoned fireballs again—but the heat was on a completely different level from before.
He threw them at the charging bandits.
“You little brat! We’re done playing with your toys!”
The moment the bandit swung to deflect—
BOOM!
The fireball exploded like fireworks, sticking flames onto their bodies.
They tried to shake the flames off like before.
But the result was horrific.
“GRAAAH!!!”
The new flames engulfed the bandit in an instant, and he writhed in agony before collapsing into a charcoal husk.
Wigang murmured, looking at the charred corpses:
“Roughly first-rate level?”
He estimated their martial level.
“For first-rate opponents, three coils of power is enough.”
He had deliberately chosen this place—full of people the world didn’t need.
Perfect for testing the Five-Element True Word Technique while cleaning up evil.
“Well then, shall I go inside?”
He walked forward, already thinking about which true word to test next.
Fwoosh—
Crackle—KRRR—
The entire stronghold was engulfed in flames. Buildings collapsed as burned corpses lay everywhere.
Only one person remained—a trembling man holding half a broken blade.
The leader of the stronghold.
“Wh-Why are you doing this?!”
His desperate cry didn’t reach Wigang.
Wigang was busy modifying the Five-Element True Word Technique.
“If someone attacks while I’m chanting, it’s dangerous. Good thing it was me—anyone else would have died.”
Indeed, he had been struck while chanting. He hadn’t noticed anyone approach because he was too absorbed in the technique.
The attacker was the trembling leader before him.
For a moment, he thought he had finally killed the demon—
But Wigang was unharmed. His blade had broken on Wigang’s body.
Was that even possible?
Wigang simply scratched the spot where he’d been struck, as if it itched.
He concluded the chant was too long. Could he simplify it? No—rewriting the entire calculation formula would take three years.
Too bothersome.
It wasn’t even his main technique—just something he learned to live comfortably.
Fine. Leave it as is.
Wigang slowly raised his head to look at the leader.
Emotionless eyes.
The leader understood.
This child had no intention of letting him live.
Gritting his teeth, he drew out all his internal energy.
“DIE!”
If he struck before Wigang spoke the chant, there was a chance.
But Wigang didn’t chant.
He punched.
The punch shattered the leader’s desperate final strike like nothing and zoomed forward.
Only then did he realize—
That strange fire technique wasn’t the demon’s real power.
That was the last thought he had in this world.
BOOM.
The leader’s upper body flew off as Wigang walked away down the mountain.
The Green Forest fell into uproar.
“More than six strongholds have already been wiped out!”
“You must take action! The others are panicking!”
The man sitting with a grave expression was the Forest Lord—
the Green Forest Emperor.
“Have you determined what martial arts were used?”
“No, sir. Nothing is consistent.”
“Some strongholds were burned, others struck by lightning.”
“Some were frozen. Others have no trace left at all.”
“Frozen? Don’t tell me the North Sea Ice Palace came down to the South Sea?”
“Unclear. Only that ice techniques were used.”
“What do you mean, no trace left?”
“We found signs of a meteor strike.”
“What?”
Ridiculous.
“That’s a natural disaster. Remove that one.”
“It sounded too strange not to report, sir. A meteor falling exactly on a stronghold…”
“Still, it can’t be a meteor. Anyway—minus that, we have fire, lightning, and ice.”
“Yes.”
Impossible to determine which faction had attacked.
“What weapons were used?”
“No traces of weapons.”
“How many people?”
“No footprints.”
“No footprints?”
“None.”
The Green Forest Emperor pondered, then spoke:
“That one… didn’t he operate mostly in the South Sea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send the Eight Green Marshals to the South Sea strongholds.”
“T-The Eight Marshals?!”
“If our people are in danger, we must show we can protect them. Go. Spare no support. Send the elites too.”
“Yes, sir!”
“And no matter the cost—use all our intelligence networks to identify the enemy. Find them. We must show what happens when someone touches the Green Forest.”
“Yes, sir!”
South Sea, Mount Cheonsu — Myungak Stronghold.
The bandits there watched with reverence.
The man they were looking at was one of the eight generals who protected the Green Forest—
Wild Soul Demon, Ma Changhu.
He entered proudly, five golden spears—his beloved weapons—strapped to his back.
His deadly secret martial art, the Golden Demon-Slaying Spear, was infamous for its brutality.
His personality was cruel and merciless, perfectly suited to his technique.
If anyone displeased him, he killed them on the spot.
But to fellow Green Forest brothers, he was warmer than anyone.
No matter how angry he was, if the offender was a Green Forest brother, he would hold back—and vent his anger on someone else.
Countless innocent people had died to his spears for that reason…
