RM-Bab 474

Chapter 474: If You’re Short on Money, I Might Take This Too

Once again, the reactions were split in two.

The majority reacted as if they were dealing with a madman.

The number ninety-nine gave them a sense of absolute relief, and they sneered.

A few, however, were tense.

One worry surfaced in their minds.

What if he’s not a madman?

If that assumption turned out to be true, then his words about reducing mouths to feed were no different from the Grim Reaper opening the Book of the Dead.

Among those few who were worried was Yeomje.

He stared intently at Geom Mugeuk, trying to gauge his hidden strength, but he couldn’t come to any conclusion.

He was too young—far too young.

No matter how he looked, he didn’t seem like a top expert.

And yet, he was saying such things in this situation.

“The Lord of the Pavilion must have grown fond of them, whether in love or hate, so I’ll take care of it. Which mouth should I start with? From what I see, all of them could disappear and it wouldn’t matter.”

The immortals all frowned at once.

More than a few wanted to rush forward and kill this arrogant brat.

Yeomje had never seen anything like it.

No expert in the world would dare say such madness in front of them.

Even the Martial Alliance wouldn’t dare invade when they were all gathered.

‘Could it be that he’s pretending to be a master with such outrageous words?’

He couldn’t help but think that.

The more he looked, the more confusing this man became.

‘Fine, let’s see his skills first.’

Before the guy made a move, they would strike first.

Yeomje smiled leisurely and said,

“Hard to kill someone with a tough life. Reducing mouths won’t be easy.”

At Yeomje’s signal, nine men stepped forward—from the ninety-first to the ninety-eighth.

It wouldn’t be too late to decide the next steps after gauging the opponent’s strength.

They surrounded Geom Mugeuk.

Geom Mugeuk glanced around at them and said,

“Are these the youngest ones?”

He asked as if guessing, but he had already accurately assessed their strength.

Judging by their aura, they were weaker than the others.

Among so many people, Geom Mugeuk had figured out their level just by looking briefly.

But that wasn’t all.

“Looks like they’ve never fought together before.”

He was right again.

They’d never had a chance to fight in unison.

Most of the time, they’d just rushed in for revenge and carried out one-sided massacres.

Even that had become rare lately.

‘Trying to test my skills?’

Of course, Geom Mugeuk wasn’t the type to play along with their plans.

With his sword hanging low, Geom Mugeuk seemed to walk slowly toward the one standing in front of him.

Whoosh.

Suddenly, he veered to the right and charged.

It was so fast and unexpected that the man on the right didn’t even have time to swing his sword before his throat was slit.

Splurt!

As blood sprayed in all directions, Geom Mugeuk was already rushing toward another immortal.

The opponent instinctively thrust his sword.

The two blades brushed past each other in the air.

Because Geom Mugeuk had hidden his true strength, his sword was just half a step faster.

Thud!

That’s why, when he killed the second immortal,

sighs erupted from all around.

If he had been just a little faster, that immortal might have won—that’s what they regretted.

The sword that pierced the second opponent’s heart spun wide and flew toward another charging enemy.

Swoosh!

Blood from Geom Mugeuk’s sword flew through the air and hit the immortal’s eyes.

Whether it was intentional or not, no one could say, but the man instinctively closed his eyes.

He would never open them again.

Another round of sighs followed.

Of all things, why did blood have to get in his eyes?

When the third man was cut down, an ambush came from behind.

The attacker was confident of success, but the strike narrowly missed.

It was so close that he thought, ‘Just one more time,’ but he wouldn’t get a second chance.

His blood sprayed again, blinding the remaining immortals.

Was he really spraying blood on purpose to block their vision? No way, right?

That’s what the onlookers began to wonder.

So much blood was spraying like a fountain.

Geom Mugeuk’s fighting style wasn’t elegant.

It was rough and fierce.

A fight soaked in the stench of blood.

Of course, Geom Mugeuk had a reason for fighting this way.

The battle was razor-thin.

If they had been just a bit faster.

If they had attacked from a slightly different angle.

With such regrets, the remaining immortals fell one after another.

Sighs of disappointment continued, and by the ninth sigh, they were all corpses on the ground.

The smell of their blood filled the hall.

The silence that followed was heavier than when the ninety-nine had died earlier.

No one had expected that nine top experts would die without even scratching their opponent.

But that didn’t mean they thought the opponent was amazing.

Most of the onlookers thought, ‘What a lucky bastard!’

To their eyes, it looked like a fight barely won by luck.

Moreover, Geom Mugeuk’s swordsmanship was too ordinary.

‘That’s how you defend, and that’s how you attack.’

It was the kind of fight perfect for showing to beginners just starting to learn martial arts.

You could draw it out and publish it as a textbook.

Of course, to Yeomje’s eyes, the fight looked different.

‘It looked like he fought on instinct.’

The nine subordinates never managed to coordinate a proper joint attack.

If two or three had attacked at once, they might have had an easier time.

They must have tried to coordinate, but the opponent’s movements didn’t allow it, and in the end, they were picked off one by one.

‘What if it was all intentional? What if this seemingly lucky, close fight was actually a thoroughly calculated one?’

Yeomje knew.

How hard it was to kill with just the basics.

It was far harder than using flashy techniques.

‘This guy… he’s hiding something.’

After wiping the blood off his sword, Geom Mugeuk looked at Yeomje and said,

“Well, I’ve reduced the mouths. Time to pay up, don’t you think?”

Yeomje said nothing.

‘Where the hell did they find this guy?’

Geom Mugeuk saw the greed on Yeomje’s face—something he couldn’t hide.

He already knew from his prior investigation that Yeomje was that kind of man.

Someone who valued money more than his subordinates.

If he had to give up all his earnings, he’d rather give up his life.

That’s why, to open Yeomje’s vault, he couldn’t rush.

He could wipe them all out at once, but instead, he had to slowly build the tension with blood, breaking down Yeomje’s resolve bit by bit.

Today’s goal wasn’t to kill them—it was to collect the money.

“Killing a few errand boys and getting cocky, are we?”

Of course, they weren’t just errand boys, but Yeomje forced himself to act tough, suppressing an unknown unease.

‘Who sent him?’

He was just about to consider sending out the Ten Immortals to cut this off at the root, when—

Geom Mugeuk did something unexpected.

“Excuse me, let me pass.”

He suddenly started walking toward the immortals standing on the right.

Caught off guard, the immortals there drew their swords and stepped back.

As they moved aside, a path naturally opened.

Though fierce-looking immortals glared at him from both sides, Geom Mugeuk walked through them without a hint of fear.

His steps looked so natural that they seemed full of openings.

They hesitated, unsure whether to attack or not.

The openings were too obvious—it felt like a trap.

But one immortal couldn’t resist.

He had already calculated that this one move would raise his rank by ten levels.

Swish.

It was a sneak attack that anyone would say was perfectly executed.

Thud.

Geom Mugeuk twisted his body to dodge and stabbed his sword in.

Once again, he narrowly avoided the attack and landed a counter.

Even in that moment, a few immortals flinched.

They were tempted to strike, but the man who had just died was actually a Fifth Immortal.

One of the mid-level experts here had failed in a sneak attack.

Even the Ninety-eighth Immortal had barely managed, and now the Fifth Immortal had failed too.

They should have drawn a wise conclusion from this, but Geom Mugeuk wasn’t giving them time.

“Is this painting the real deal?”

With blood dripping from his sword,

he walked over to the painting on the back wall.

Yeomje asked with a puzzled look,

“Why are you asking about that?”

“If you’re short on money, I might take this too.”

Yeomje’s expression hardened.

The man was openly mocking him.

There was a reputation to uphold in front of his subordinates.

But the strange unease this young man gave off was still stronger.

“Do I look like the kind of man who’d hang a fake where people come and go?”

To say such a thing in a place reeking of his subordinates’ blood? Geom Mugeuk felt a strange sense of disconnect.

But he was the only one who felt that way.

The subordinates didn’t find it odd at all.

To them, face and money were more important than their comrades.

Geom Mugeuk began taking the frame off the wall.

Was he really going to take the painting? Yeomje’s face stiffened even more.

Whoosh!

An immortal nearby didn’t miss the chance and launched a sneak attack.

It was the moment Geom Mugeuk lifted the painting with his right hand.

The man couldn’t hold back.

But he should have.

Crack!

The sword missed by a hair, and Geom Mugeuk’s left fist struck the attacker’s jaw.

If it had been the Thirty-ninth Immortal, he should’ve been able to take one punch—but he died instantly.

And it wasn’t even a particularly impressive punch.

Yeomje’s eyes weren’t on the dead subordinate.

They were on the painting.

He was caught in a single thought.

‘Why take the painting now? If he really wanted it, he could’ve taken it later.’

Geom Mugeuk placed the frame on the table stacked with promissory notes.

As if to say, everything here is mine now.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Yeomje asked.

Geom Mugeuk calmly replied,

“You’ve lived your lives this way, so I don’t have many options. Don’t blame me.”

The immortals stared at him like he was spouting nonsense.

A bad feeling rose in Yeomje’s chest.

‘No way… it can’t be…’

And then it happened.

Whoooooosh!

Yeomje saw a line.

Not just him—everyone saw it.

A single line, drawn cleanly and swiftly, then vanishing.

The line had appeared to Geom Mugeuk’s right—where he had gone to take the painting.

It passed through the immortals standing in front of it.

The first row, the second, the third—through them all.

Then they saw Geom Mugeuk drawing his sword toward them.

Only then did they realize.

The line they had seen was the sword line created by Geom Mugeuk’s blade.

‘Can Sword Qi really fly like a single line?’

It wasn’t a flashy light.

It didn’t leave an afterimage.

It was like a line drawn with a ruler—clean and straight.

They had never seen such a pure Sword Qi in their lives.

Silence fell.

Clack.

Geom Mugeuk’s Black Demon Sword slid back into its sheath.

Ssshhh.

The bodies of the immortals on the right began to shift.

Their torsos split in half, and they all collapsed in a spray of blood.

“Uwaaaaah!”

One immortal watching from the front screamed.

Even for seasoned experts, seeing twenty people cut in half in a single strike was terrifying.

And now they understood why he had taken the painting.

The Sword Qi that cut through the immortals had left a long line on the back wall.

Yeomje’s eyes widened.

He had faced many crises in the Martial World, but had he ever been this shocked?

He knew the man had a hidden move, but he never imagined he could kill twenty subordinates in one strike.

The other immortals were the same.

No one was sneering anymore.

The thick scent of blood filled the hall.

“He must’ve used up all his inner energy!”

A statement that would never come from someone who had seen Geom Mugeuk’s dantian.

But at Yeomje’s shout, the immortals all drew their swords.

They all revealed killing intent, but Geom Mugeuk showed no fear.

“I told you not to draw your swords. Just pay the money.”

Even after thirty subordinates had died, Yeomje still didn’t say he’d pay.

Their lives hadn’t even scratched the surface of the three million nyang owed.

“Looks like I’ll have to reduce a few more mouths.”

This time, Geom Mugeuk looked to the left and said softly to the immortals standing there,

“Good thing there’s no painting on this wall.”