Chapter 12
The Fire Spirit
The scream that burst from the flower was identical to the most powerful sound technique in the martial world—the Shaolin Lion’s Roar.
“I told you. This isn’t easy.”
“What in the world is this? Why is a flower screaming?”
“Cheonma, your brushstrokes are too rough. You have to paint gently, along the grain.”
Clicking her tongue, Jang Chaewon brought her brush to the tree standing beside the flower.
“I’ll handle this one.”
Whoosh—
But as soon as she approached, the tree twisted its trunk and dodged her touch.
“Uh, could you please stay still?”
Despite her polite request, the tree only snorted and kept spinning around, dodging her brush like a mischievous child.
“Mudfish Technique (Ni Chu Gong)?”
The way the tree moved perfectly mimicked the evasive martial art derived from the wriggling of mudfish.
“What is this, shopkeeper? Are these beings masters of the martial world?”
“No, no! They’re just… disobedient flowers and trees.”
—Kyaaaaa!
Whoosh, whoosh.
It was only then, as the flower screamed and the tree dodged Jang Chaewon’s brush with its eyes closed, that Cheonma finally understood what the Fire Spirit had meant.
“They’re extremely temperamental beings… so they must be handled delicately…”
‘So that’s what passes for “temperamental” here,’ Cheonma thought grimly, watching the half-insane flora.
“Shopkeeper, how about we switch?”
“Switch what?”
“I’ll paint the tree, and you paint the flower.”
“Fine by me.”
As Jang Chaewon stepped aside, Cheonma crossed his arms and glared at the tree.
“The Mudfish Technique is nothing before me.”
Whoosh.
The moment Cheonma reached out with his brush, the tree flailed like a rubber doll, twisting away in every direction.
But his opponent was none other than the Heaven’s Demon—Grandmaster of Absolute Martial Arts.
“Futile.”
The hand holding the brush split into dozens of afterimages, each one tracking the tree’s evasive movements with surgical precision.
It was the Heaven-Transcending Illusory Circles—Cheonma’s ultimate chain technique.
Whirrr.
The faster the tree moved, the more Cheonma’s brush-shadows multiplied—tens, then hundreds.
Thud.
Finally, the tree, overwhelmed by countless brushstrokes, knelt down, covering its body with its hands.
“My victory.”
—Kyaaaaa!
At that moment, the flower beside them screamed again, unleashing another Lion’s Roar.
Jang Chaewon, who had been painting carefully, must have pressed just a little too hard, causing the flower to go berserk.
Watching the scene, Cheonma’s red eyes gleamed dangerously. He raised a finger.
“I’ll seal that noisy mouth of yours.”
“No, don’t! You’ll scare them!”
Stopping him, Jang Chaewon leaned close to the flower and whispered softly.
“I’m sorry. I know it hurts, but please bear with it for just a moment. It’ll be over soon.”
Her eyes, shimmering like a deep blue ocean, emitted a mysterious light.
The flower froze, staring at her in awe—then shyly turned its face away, as if blushing.
“Thank you. I’ll finish this quickly.”
“Hmph.”
Cheonma squinted one eye, watching her resume painting with a strange expression on his face.
“Now there’s just one left.”
Before them stood an enormous, ancient tree, its height reaching toward the clouds.
It looked to be hundreds of years old—towering ten jang (over thirty meters) high—but aside from its size, it seemed like an ordinary tree.
“So this one is the most withered.”
Cheonma frowned, his thick brows knitting together.
“And of course, the withered part is… at the very top.”
Only thin branches remained near the crown of the tree—painting them would be impossible without floating in midair.
“Can you paint it?”
“Of course. I may not have the inner power to perform sky-flight anymore… but I have other methods.”
Setting down the white bucket, Cheonma dipped his brush deeply into the liquid.
“Huup.”
He activated his body technique, soaring into the air in an instant.
Tap.
His heavy body landed lightly on one of the thin, upper branches. The wind made the branch sway—and with it, Cheonma’s body wavered slightly.
If any martial artist had seen him, they would have applauded him for executing the Crossing the River on a Reed technique to perfection.
Swish, swish.
Carefully painting the dried branches, Cheonma began to descend. But then—
Thud, thud, thud!
The ground suddenly collapsed beneath them, swallowing the white bucket whole.
“Ah! No, stop!”
Hearing Jang Chaewon’s scream, Cheonma’s eyes widened.
The liquid in the bucket—gone. Vanished completely.
“You dare steal before my very eyes?”
Cheonma landed, dropping to the ground instantly.
His crimson eyes blazed, and his ears twitched like those of a living beast.
He unleashed the Heaven-Shaking Eavesdropping Art.
“You wretch!”
With a thunderous roar, Cheonma leaped twenty jang in a single bound. In the air, he spotted the earth writhing near a large boulder.
“Divine Dragon’s Tail Whip!”
He dove downward, striking the ground with his palm.
BOOM!
Dust erupted, and from the ground burst a yellowish serpent.
“Kh-h!”
The snake spun in midair and transformed into a young man wearing a yellow robe.
“Who are you!”
“Who are you?” the man sneered.
Flames erupted in Cheonma’s eyes like a volcano about to explode.
“You steal from me and dare to call me ‘you’?”
“Tch, a mere servant working on this land, and you dare—”
But the words never finished.
Cheonma appeared before him like lightning, one hand gripping the man’s throat.
“That will be your last will and testament.”
As the aura of the supreme demon flared from Cheonma, even the mountains and trees around them seemed to tremble.
