The next day, I went to the place where the Blue Fists trained.
Dressed in blue martial robes, they were clearly different from the White Fists. They possessed the composure that came from a gap in skill.
Since the Fist Demon had yet to arrive, I exchanged greetings with them comfortably. Naturally, they already knew that I had trained with the White Fists.
One of them asked me,
"Have you learned everything you need to learn from the White Fists? I heard you've only been here about seven or eight days?"
"How long did it take you?"
"About two years. If you didn't learn properly from the White Fists, Blue Fist training won't be easy."
He seemed to be warning me out of concern, but in truth, he was revealing his displeasure. We suffered for two years, yet you passed in just a few days. He was subtly expressing his dissatisfaction, questioning whether I was benefiting from my status as the Second Young Lord—a matter of status rather than skill.
I didn't bother making excuses to him. There would be others with similar grievances anyway, and this wasn't something that could be resolved with words.
Shortly after, the Fist Demon appeared. I learned after coming here that he personally guided martial arts training from the White Fists all the way to the Black Fists. While other Demon Lords only guided their direct disciples, leaving their subordinates to be taught by those disciples, the Fist Demon personally looked after all his subordinates.
"I believe that personally guiding all the Iron Fists is truly something worthy of respect."
I spoke loudly. Everyone probably thought I was sucking up, but I meant every word. No one asked questions in this atmosphere, and the Fist Demon had probably never heard such words before. That's why I said it.
The Fist Demon's gaze turned toward me. Looking at his fierce, stony face, I spoke even louder.
"Magnificent!"
Better to say it once in front of everyone than a hundred times when we're alone. At least in this regard, it wasn't the Divine Art of Bootlicking. He deserved the praise. It truly wasn't easy for a Demon Lord to look after subordinates so far beneath him.
Nevertheless, the Fist Demon's eyes said this:
—Your tricks won't work.
My eyes answered thus:
—Then they will work, since it isn't a trick.
Once formal training began, the Blue Fists all removed their tops.
From the Blue Fists onward, they trained with their upper bodies bare. This was to scrutinize every movement of their muscles.
Everyone had stripped their tops, and their gazes turned to me. Their eyes said, "Let's see the body of our pale Second Young Lord."
I too slowly removed my clothes. When they saw my body, everyone was startled.
Battle-hardened muscles forged through training, and countless scars. If they knew who I had received each one from, even the Fist Demon would have been appalled.
I smiled brightly and said to everyone,
"I came here so I wouldn't get hit anymore."
A clear sneer brushed the Fist Demon's lips. He still regarded me with doubt, waiting to see how long I would last.
Formal training began.
This time as well, the Fist Demon didn't teach a single movement, so I watched them perform and followed suit. From the forms these practitioners learned, breathing techniques were also important, and I mastered those breathing techniques as well. Using the Divine Eye Technique, I carefully observed their noses, throats, bellies, and mouths to figure out the breathing method.
And I asked the Fist Demon to verify it.
"Please check if this breathing technique is correct."
"From whom did you learn the breathing technique?"
"I learned it by watching the martial arts being performed just now."
The Blue Fists looked as if none of them believed it.
But the Fist Demon would believe it. He was definitely reading my energy. How was he evaluating my skill?
Father's words came to mind. He had said that if I became entangled with the Fist Demon through martial arts, we would inevitably clash.
Looking at him, I raised my hand high and spoke,
"I have another question!"
* * *
The next day, and the day after that, I trained diligently.
The somewhat hostile gazes of the Blue Fists toward me had vanished before I knew it. I worked hard, I performed better than anyone, and above all, I drew out a new side of the Fist Demon.
"How should this form be utilized in actual combat?"
Strictly speaking, this question wasn't for the Blue Fists, but for the Fist Demon.
Surely the Fist Demon had wanted to tell his subordinates about the practical combat applications of the forms. If it were me, I would have wanted to. Wouldn't the Fist Demon feel the same?
Indeed, the Fist Demon explained in such detail that one wondered what would have happened if I hadn't asked. The Blue Fists also looked surprised—they probably hadn't expected the Fist Demon to explain so well.
"Is there a special mindset for not fearing swords?"
I asked questions about such psychological aspects.
"Why fist arts?"
I even asked fundamental questions.
In truth, this was a question that should be continually asked from the White Fists to the Black Fists, and even by the Fist Demon himself.
At the same time as asking that question, I naturally asked myself,
'Why the sword?'
How one sought the answer to this question would determine how far that person could grow.
Five days after beginning Blue Fist training.
In front of the Blue Fist martial artists watching, the Fist Demon spoke to me.
"Come out for Red Fist training starting tomorrow."
"Yes."
None of the Blue Fists harbored dissatisfaction with this decision. In just a few days, I had perfectly executed the forms they had learned.
So much so that the man who had spoken to me on the first day came to apologize.
"Please forgive my rudeness on the first day."
"Anyone would have thought the same. I'm sure there will be someone in the Red Fists who says the same thing."
"That person too will come to apologize like me in a few days. Thank you for opening the eyes of us foolish and lacking ones."
All the Blue Fist martial artists standing behind him lightly bowed their heads to me. I also bowed my head to them in return. Just being able to see this new side of the Fist Demon must have been a deeply meaningful time for them.
* * *
"I heard Geom Mugeuk is training under the Fist Demon."
Geom Muyang was keeping a sharp eye on his younger brother's movements.
"They say he broke through Blue Fist training in just over ten days and started training with the Red Fists a few days ago."
Mabul, sitting across from him, answered.
"Given the Second Young Lord's martial arts skill, that's entirely possible."
Mabul knew what the First Young Lord was worried about. He must be concerned that the Second Young Lord might actually become the Fist Demon's disciple.
"There's no need to worry about the Fist Demon. If the Second Young Lord tries to pull him in, it'll only backfire."
At that, Geom Muyang recalled past events.
"Do you remember what you once told me?"
"What did I say?"
"Chwima is an unpredictable person. Once he starts stirring things up, even the Second Young Lord won't be able to handle him easily. The Second Young Lord will lose the Demon Lords he has carefully gathered."
These were words Mabul had spoken to Geom Muyang when he received the broken liquor bottle from Chwima.
But the news that eventually came was that Geom Mugeuk had been drinking and merrymaking with Chwima.
"Please don't take it the wrong way. I only mention it because I can't ignore what happened with Chwima."
He had told him not to take it badly, but Mabul felt quite displeased. Was it really necessary to bring up his own words so accurately? Didn't that mean he had been holding onto that incident all this time?
Was it true that once a crack formed between people, it could never be repaired?
At first, he had deliberately ignored the crack, been careful not to let it widen further, and eventually convinced himself that as long as it didn't break completely, it would be fine.
But Mabul was beginning to realize.
That in human relationships, the important thing wasn't whether the crack shattered or not. The very existence of the crack was the problem.
If the other party hadn't been Geom Muyang, this relationship would have already been ended one way or another. But he couldn't do that. Because Geom Muyang was the path he had chosen. Because he had staked his life on him.
Geom Muyang spoke to Mabul.
"Would you meet the Fist Demon and find out what he thinks?"
"Yes, I shall meet with him."
Mabul readily accepted the request.
As Mabul rose from his seat, he looked back at Geom Muyang. He wanted to tell him something. That it was okay to show his anxiety. That he could tell him everything. That his younger brother was too strong to handle. That he would feel a little better if he got it all out.
But those words were stuck in his throat and wouldn't come out.
"Is something wrong? Do you have something to say?"
"No. I'll be back."
Leaving the office, Mabul reproached himself.
If the First Young Lord couldn't do it, then he should have spoken frankly... It wasn't Geom Muyang's fault.
* * *
The next day, Mabul's steps halted as he entered the East Fist Gate.
He saw Geom Mugeuk together with the Red Fist martial artists.
"Spread your legs wider. Lower your arms."
Geom Mugeuk was checking their movements. He knew the boy wasn't ordinary, but had it only been a few days since he started acting so friendly with the Red Fist martial artists?
Then Mabul saw it. Geom Mugeuk's eyes and expression. He was talking with the Red Fists with the passion of someone truly immersed in fist arts.
Yes, that's how it is. That's how one gets drawn in. That strange heat that could have made even him fall for it.
Then Geom Mugeuk saw Mabul and ran over to greet him.
"It's been a while. How have you been?"
Geom Mugeuk smiled brightly. How wonderful it would be if Geom Muyang smiled at him like that?
'No. Stop thinking such needless thoughts. He smiles like that because I'm the enemy.'
Don't people smile brightly at complete strangers while frowning at their own people when things are hard? I mustn't be deceived by that smile. The First Young Lord gets annoyed because he's on our side, and the Second Young Lord smiles because he's the enemy.
"Rumors say you've been quite immersed in fist arts lately."
"It's because serving as the Lord of Yellow Heaven Pavilion makes me want to punch too many people."
"Now, now, let's not put on airs between us. You've come to win the Fist Demon over to your side, haven't you?"
"The phrase 'between us' sounds truly wonderful."
My ears kept melting at that silver tongue so obviously weaving words to please me.
"Stop putting on a show and go swing those cotton fists of yours."
After deliberately responding coldly, Mabul headed toward the Fist Demon's office. From behind, Geom Mugeuk's shout reached him.
"The Fist Demon said his hands are like a baby's, but are yours cotton fists, Lord Mabul?"
* * *
"You're a busy man, so I'll get straight to the point. I came today because of the Second Young Lord."
As if he had expected as much, the Fist Demon waited silently for Mabul's next words. The contrast between the tall, bulky Fist Demon and Mabul—who was much smaller than an average person—was truly stark.
"The Second Young Lord's desire to learn fist arts is a ploy to pull you to his side."
In truth, Mabul hadn't been particularly close to the Fist Demon until now, but he harbored a sense of internal kinship. He considered his short stature and the Fist Demon's frightening face to be equals. He had thought of them as similar physical weaknesses in that people frowned when they saw them.
Of course, he had never revealed such private thoughts to anyone.
"So? You came here because you're afraid I'll fall for the Second Young Lord?"
"Exactly. I was worried about that. Blood Sky Saber Demon fell for him. One Flower Sword Ancestor fell for him. Even Extreme Evil Lesser Demon and Chwima."
Mabul spoke honestly. Beating around the bush might cause trouble later. He had to tell him like this.
"The Second Young Lord is a fox. A fox with a hundred tails. His silver tongue is sweeter than a sycophant's. If you let your guard down, you'll find yourself having taken him as your disciple before you know it."
The Fist Demon stared intently at Mabul and suddenly asked,
"Did you almost fall for him too?"
Mabul inwardly flinched for a moment but spoke confidently.
"From the beginning until now, and in the future as well, I am on the First Young Lord's side."
"The Second Young Lord does so too. He told me to protect the First Young Lord."
Mabul was startled. He had been told something similar before.
"He said he would end the succession struggle without bloodshed."
"Do you believe those words?"
"Do you?"
Mabul gave no answer. It was a moment where he should have said he didn't believe it, but those words wouldn't come out. He had come to give the Fist Demon confidence, yet he was only confirming that he himself had been shaken by Geom Mugeuk.
"Go and tell the First Young Lord. Tell him my resolve to support him has not changed."
He couldn't tell what the Fist Demon truly felt, but Mabul thought giving such a warning was enough.
"The First Young Lord will be greatly pleased."
With that, Mabul left the office.
On the way back, he saw Geom Mugeuk again. Far away in the training ground, he was still honing fist arts with the Red Fists. Even from a distance, one could feel that he was training with his whole heart immersed in fist arts. Just like when Mabul himself had been consumed by martial arts in his youth.
He had thought Geom Mugeuk impressive many times before, but today's feeling was slightly different.
It was probably because of the Red Fists training with him. Have you already been deceived too? How long have you even known him, and what do you like so much that you're swinging fists together?
Suddenly, Geom Mugeuk became terrifying to Mabul.
Doubts surged forth like a demon. What if that scheme to sway people's hearts was sincere? What if, in truth, I was the fool and he was the one employing schemes? What if I had chosen the wrong side?
But soon Mabul shook his head. He had to push himself harder precisely because of this. Emitting a golden radiance, he strode forward vigorously. Though he was confused, pushed back, and cracked.
"First Young Lord, let's fight on."