Episode 2: No Paradise at the End of the Road
Everyone grows old.
Even me.
Once, I could run for seven days and nights without rest, outpacing the martial alliance (murim-maeng). But not anymore. I feel ten years older than before the chase even began.
If I’d known it would come to this, I would’ve trained a little harder.
Humans are creatures of repetition — always making the same mistakes, always regretting them too late.
Since I hadn’t planned an escape route, I realized too late that I’d gone the wrong way. The curses of my pursuers grew clearer by the minute.
Their vocabulary was… creative.
In the span of an hour, I’d been called bastard, son of a whore, mongrel, and even an orphan.
That last one was technically true — I am an orphan — but I still heard them cursing my parents.
Can you believe that? Cursing the parents of an orphan? This world is mad.
Normally, I’d have already killed a few for running their mouths like that. But there were too many this time, so fleeing was the wiser choice.
Still, a man like me, running for his life like some common thief… what disgrace.
But remember this—
The ma-gyo (Demonic Sect) is that terrifying.
Even while running, I’d killed and killed again, and yet there were still plenty of their masters left to chase me.
Once upon a time, I had a foolish dream — to become the Martial God (mu-shin, 武神).
Why does that old dream always resurface when I’m being hunted?
I have no idea.
People called me insane whenever I spoke of it. Maybe they were right. Becoming a Martial God is a dream so absurd, so unreachable, it sounds like madness itself.
But let me say this — if it’s easy to achieve, it isn’t a dream.
Dreams should be impossible.
And maybe that’s why I’m being chased not by some third-rate thugs, but by the ma-gyo itself — the worst of the worst.
If you call yourself a man, you should at least once in your life be hunted by the ma-gyo.
That’s the true test of manhood.
Maybe it’s because those bastards are so vile, but being chased by them has a strange thrill to it.
I may never have become a Martial God, but I’ve been hunted by both the Martial Alliance and the Demonic Sect.
That’s an achievement ordinary men can’t boast of.
Still… whatever I stole from them this time must be no ordinary thing.
Otherwise, why would they chase me this desperately?
I already knew tormenting the ma-gyo was fun — I just didn’t have the strength to try it before.
Now I do.
Although, maybe I should’ve waited just a bit longer before starting this mess.
Humans, as I said, repeat the same damn mistakes.
Damn it all…
I’ve always considered myself skilled in psychological warfare, tactics, deception, and strategy.
I’m immune to honeyed words, gifted at manipulation, and a master of light-footed movement (qinggong).
The most versatile madman in the janghu — that’s me.
And the man who hid those talents best — also me.
It’s not that beauty traps (mei ren ji) never worked on me — it’s that beautiful women simply never liked me in the first place.
Years of experience have confirmed that fact.
As I ran, I saw the mist ahead thicken — a fog-shrouded place, perfect for hiding or dying.
Where the hell had I ended up?
Judging by the cliffs ahead, it looked like Manjangae, the Thousand-Fathom Ravine — a place steeped in blood and legend.
Once, the masters of both the baek-do (Righteous Path) and the ma-do (Demonic Path) clashed here, fighting across the narrow bridge known as Geommyeonggyo — the Bridge of Sword Cries.
When the baek-do side claimed victory, they cut the bridge in two, as if declaring a truce.
Since then, no one could cross this place.
So this is where my escape ends.
There’s no paradise at the end of the road — only a cliff.
From the ma-gyo’s headquarters, I had fled over Mount Taeul, Mount Myeongri, Mount Chuhon, and countless unnamed peaks and rivers.
Along the way, I was slashed in the arm, stabbed in the face, and impaled through the shoulder.
When I looked down at the ravine, it seemed as empty as my life itself.
And even now, in the face of death, I found myself wondering —
Why have I never once dated a beautiful woman?
Maybe it’s true what they say: at death’s door, a man remembers the one he loved most.
I had no one to remember.
A sigh escaped me.
“…Should’ve at least tried a short romance.”
I lived far too seriously.
I hope someone engraves this on my tombstone:
‘The Mad Demon — died of seriousness.’
A gust of wind brushed my back.
Someone powerful was approaching.
Judging by that aura, it could only be Gwangmyeong Left Envoy (Gwangmyeong Jwasa) — one of the ma-gyo’s top masters.
He was infamous — a cunning strategist who sent his underlings to die first, only to appear flawless at the decisive moment.
He was also a pervert of legend, once called the Lust Demon, infamous for preying on women from noble martial families — the Namgung, the Seomun, the Baekri clans.
Disgusting.
Not that I can claim moral high ground — I simply never had the chance to be a pervert.
Still, rage bubbled up from deep inside me — maybe at him, maybe at the world, maybe at myself.
The most feared man among baek-do women — the ma-gyo’s own Gwangmyeong Jwasa — landed gracefully before me, the picture of arrogance.
So you have to be handsome to be a pervert, huh?
Pretty boy bastard.
Seeing that sharply defined nose, that smug face — no wonder cults are terrifying. Even the devils have style.
“Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?” His voice slithered toward me, low and cold. “Damn you. I’ll admit, your qinggong is even better than the rumors said.”
I replied flatly, “The pervert arrives.”
“…”
“I’ve never seen a pervert run this hard before. Impressive stamina.”
His expression twisted with rage.
“You insane bastard. This is no time for jokes. You’re cornered — at the edge of the Manjangae itself!”
“Cliff or paradise, you’re still a pervert. And tell your dogs to mind their manners. I’m not a bastard, nor a mongrel. But I am an orphan.”
Silence fell for a moment.
“…You mad bastard.”
“To insult parents I’ve never met — that’s why you’re called ma-gyo.”
“Enough talk. Return what you stole.”
I smirked.
“If I gave it back easily, would I still be the Mad Demon?”
“What nonsense—”
“I used to work in an inn once. Hence the joke.”
He sighed long and deep.
Behind him, the ma-gyo forces arrived — dark uniforms gathering like thunderclouds before a storm.
Why do they all love black so much?
They sealed every escape route, waiting for the Left Envoy’s signal. Their eyes burned with hatred — I had killed over a hundred of their comrades during the chase.
If this doesn’t earn me “Hero of the Year” from the Martial Alliance, I don’t know what will.
Though, admittedly, I’d caused enough havoc myself to be branded a public enemy long ago.
Even so, the nickname Mad Demon (Gwangma) was first given to me by the righteous side.
Guess the Hero of the Year award is out.
The Left Envoy studied my grin. “How can you still laugh at a time like this? What the hell is wrong with your head?”
“Pity,” I said.
“What?”
“You probably even forced laughter when your cult leader farted. That’s your limit.”
“…”
“When your leader told bad jokes, you laughed, didn’t you?”
“I did not.”
“Shut up! That’s what we call a pathetic flatterer. I laugh when I damn well please. Tell me, bootlicker — is your precious leader really that scary?”
He scowled. “Who in the janghu does not fear the Cult Leader? Even the Alliance Chief avoids his duels! There may be stronger men, but none who aren’t afraid of him.”
“What are you babbling about? I’m not afraid.”
“Then why are you running?”
“Because you are terrifying, pervert. If you want peace of mind, you should leave the cult and focus on your… hobbies. Oh, by the way, your man behind you is laughing.”
I pointed past him, but he didn’t look. His eyes stayed fixed on me.
“Nice try,” he said coolly. “That won’t work.”
I shrugged. “Worth a shot. Anyway, this is what you came for, isn’t it?”
I drew from my robe a small, gleaming orb — the Heavenly Jade (Cheon-ok, 天玉).
The Left Envoy’s frog-like eyes sharpened like a starving cat’s.
“…!”
“Judging by that look, you want it too. Makes sense — why else would the mighty Gwangmyeong Left Envoy chase me himself? Since we’re far from your cult now, how about this — we split it fifty-fifty? You and I rule the janghu together. You’d be free to… indulge.”
He said nothing.
“It belongs to the Cult Leader,” he finally growled.
“Then why are your eyes so greedy?” I called out, raising my voice. “Disciples of the ma-gyo! Your Left Envoy covets your leader’s treasure! One of you go report him — you’ll be a hero!”
No one moved. Cowards.
Still, I pressed on. “Look! He’s so torn he can’t even answer me!”
The Left Envoy snapped, “Enough nonsense. Hand it over and we’ll leave you be. It’s not your life we came for — only the relic.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. The Heavenly Jade is worth more than your miserable life. We’ll deal with you later — one on one, like you love so much.”
Ah, the lies.
“One on one?” I scoffed. “You’re saying that after setting up a cheon-ra-ji-mang trap? If you’d come alone from the start, your hundred men wouldn’t be dead! You’re a fool, pervert. I’d sooner become a monk than believe your words. Step aside — this Heavenly Jade would make a fine moktak (wooden bell).”
His expression darkened. “Then you leave me no choice.”
“Come, you bastards! Today, I become the Mad Monk!”
Despite shouting for battle, I raised my arm as if to throw the Heavenly Jade into the abyss.
“Don’t—don’t you dare!” The Left Envoy’s face twisted with panic.
Seeing that fear, I felt oddly satisfied.
Now I knew for sure — what I stole was truly something extraordinary.
I still didn’t know what it was. But whatever it was, it terrified them.
If I dropped this orb into the Manjangae, even the Demonic Sect would have to jump in after it.
The Left Envoy’s tone softened, his mind racing for a way out.
“Listen, Gwangma. We tolerated your madness because keeping you alive caused the Alliance more pain. But this—this is different. You stole a sacred relic. That’s beyond redemption.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But since your men cursed my parents, I can’t give it back.”
“We’ll apologize! It’s not you we fear, but the Cult Leader’s wrath. Please, return the relic.”
“Is that how you ask for something?”
“Is that how you stole something?”
I lifted my hand again toward the cliff.
“I’m throwing it. Let’s end this.”
“Wait! Let’s talk this through!”
I paused. “Fine. Then tell me — what the hell is this Heavenly Jade? Speak plainly.”
Come on, pervert.
I’m dying to know.