Episode 82. Why Heroes Are Strong.
“You keep visiting even when nothing’s wrong. You’ll end up troubling your old teacher.”
For some reason, every time I saw Mo Yong-baek, it felt as though ages had passed since our last meeting. I couldn’t explain why.
He studied my expression and said, “You’re always welcome here. Did you wait long?”
In truth, I’d waited half an hour, but I gave a casual answer. “Just a few minutes.”
As usual, Mo Yong-baek took my pulse and continued, “You seem stronger every time I see you, Lord.”
It wasn’t the kind of praise one heard often, so I smiled. “That’s what I’m striving for.”
He released my wrist and said, “There’s nothing wrong physically. But, as always, your heart interests me more.”
He gazed into my eyes, silently prompting me to speak. I began rambling about the strange experience I’d had recently with the flames.
“When I fight, I sometimes lose myself watching the fire that surrounds me. Once, I almost got burned to death.”
He smiled faintly. “And why do you think that is? I’m no fortune-teller, but I believe you already know part of the answer.”
I searched for a reason and spoke whatever came to mind. “I once owned an inn in my name. It burned down completely. At the time, I didn’t realize it, but I suppose when your home vanishes like that, you stop expecting life to go smoothly.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because I knew my own temperament even before it burned.”
Mo Yong-baek asked calmly, “Does such a temperament hinder your cultivation?”
“No.”
He pondered for a moment, then asked, “If you were to meet someone far stronger than yourself—how would you feel? Have you ever?”
I knew exactly what kind of feeling he meant. “When I meet someone stronger, I feel like I’ll go mad.”
“Why?”
I looked at him with a serious face. “Because only madness lets me win. When my skill falls short, I have to endure through sheer insanity.”
“You said ‘endure.’ Explain that further.”
“Anyone who fights feels pain. To win, you must endure it. At some point, you feel a line being crossed—you should faint but don’t, should collapse but refuse. Somewhere near that threshold, madness waits and leaps out.”
“Aren’t you afraid? Of defeat or death?”
“Defeat doesn’t scare me. I’ve lost too many times since childhood. That’s how I grew stronger.”
“And death?”
I thought back to being trapped in the Heavenly Net Formation, to being beaten senseless by Gwang Seung. Through countless failures, fear of death never took root. Perhaps I’d accepted it ever since my inn first burned down.
“When I fight, I don’t think about it.”
Mo Yong-baek replied with a troubled expression. “Then when you gaze into the flames and lose yourself, it’s not fear—it’s your awareness of that madness, or your struggle with it.”
“Awareness?”
“To defeat the world’s strongest, your current mindset demands madness, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps, when you stare into those flames, you’re reminded of that question—whether it’s right to live like a madman who’s already accepted death, or whether you should pursue a different heart.”
“And if I decide?”
“Would such a decision come easily? Especially when you don’t even know how far you intend to climb.”
“I intend to become the strongest under heaven.”
He suddenly tapped the table. “And when exactly will that dream come true?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly. If it were to take ten years, then perhaps you’d be better off meditating in seclusion for nine of them. But will you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Too hollow. I want to drink, sing, dance, fight—there’s too much to do.”
“Then you must simply live each day fully. Someone, someday, will become the strongest—but only if they survive. Men’s hearts are fickle, Lord. I think your dream isn’t merely to become the strongest.”
“Then what is it?”
“To drink, sing, and dance your way to the top—that sounds more like your kind of dream.”
I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “Ah, perhaps it is.”
After a quiet moment of reflection, I said, “I feel somewhat lighter.”
He nodded. “Just a personal thought—but perhaps you should try confining that madness to moments when you face the truly strong. Outside of battle, cultivate calm. Separate your fighting spirit from your daily heart.”
Mo Yong-baek seemed to understand me remarkably well. Perhaps because, in his Poison Demon days, he too had been utterly insane. If a god could paint his heart, the character for ‘madness’ would crouch somewhere in its corner.
“Have you ever felt that same madness yourself?” I asked.
“Of course.”
He spoke with a weary look. “When I heal someone with great effort, and they treat me differently once they’re cured—it turns my stomach. Each time, I fall ill for days.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
He understood me, and I understood him—the former Poison Demon. Truly, this man had gone mad for that very reason.
After baring our weaknesses, we both laughed together.
“Mo Yong, may I ask something? It may sound trivial, but I mean it sincerely.”
“Please, ask freely.”
“What do you think of heroes?”
Even in our past lives as Mad Demon and Poison Demon, we’d never discussed such a thing. So what he said next was new even to me.
He pondered deeply, then said, “A hero is a fool, isn’t he?”
“A fool?”
“If one who gains nothing for himself is a fool, then yes—a hero is a fool. They stake their lives for righteousness, but what is more precious than life itself? To throw away the most precious thing for an ideal makes them the greatest fools of all.”
“Then… are they strong?”
It was a foolish question, but he answered wisely. “If we speak not of martial skill but of humanity itself—could anyone be stronger? True heroes have always been rare. A man who hunts criminals may be noble, but a true hero’s strength lies not in his martial arts, but in his very being.”
Coming from the former Poison Demon, that was quite something.
“I once had a senior who claimed heroes were stronger than any master. I never understood that.”
“If he meant influence rather than combat, then of course—it’s true. A hero’s reach surpasses that of any martial artist. But you’re wondering if it’s also a method of cultivation, aren’t you?”
“That’s all my mind knows.”
He suddenly said, “Then try it yourself.”
“Try what?”
“Being a hero. It doesn’t always mean risking your life. Any man of strength can act in ways worthy of the title. Especially you—stronger than anyone I’ve met. Why not?”
I laughed at myself. “Me, a hero?”
“Did the heroes of old ever consider their status, wealth, or background before acting? No. They became heroes because they didn’t.”
“Could you become one, then?”
“I’ve already chosen the path of medicine. But come to think of it, many founders of great sects were once called heroes in their youth. You’ve read their stories—young heroes who later retired to the mountains, trained disciples, and became sages. So perhaps the saying that heroes are strong carries another meaning.”
I nodded, feeling an odd sense of relief.
He watched me and asked curiously, “Have you decided something?”
“I have.”
“May I hear it?”
I crossed my arms. “I won’t become a hero. It doesn’t suit my nature.”
He chuckled in surprise. I explained further. “But if I meet someone upright and pure-hearted, I’ll support them. Teach them martial arts, fund them if I must.”
Money was no issue—I’d been taking plenty from the scoundrels of the underworld.
“If I can nurture a hero with both strength and virtue, maybe I’ll find my answer through them.”
“You won’t do it yourself?”
I grinned. “I’m far worse than you think, Mo Yong. I’m better suited to playing the villain. There are still too many bastards who deserve to die. If I clear the path of such monsters, my foolish disciple can play hero a little more safely.”
He burst into laughter. “Hahahaha…”
I joined him. After catching his breath, he said, “Somehow, that relieves me. Very well—when that disciple of yours appears, I’ll lend my aid as well. Together, we’ll help bring one foolish hero into this cruel world.”
“You’ll do that?”
“Gladly.”
I met his gaze and nodded. “Let’s do it. I’ll keep looking for such a person. To raise a strong hero, I must first grow stronger myself. I’ll prepare through martial arts; you, through medicine. Together, we’ll create the strongest fool in the world.”
He smiled. “Not a fool, Lord—a hero.”
“Come to think of it, anyone too clever and calculating could never become a hero.”
“So fools and heroes are one and the same, then.”
He asked softly, “And what of the fire you mentioned earlier? Does it still burn dangerously in your heart?”
“It burns, but not dangerously. That fire will drive my enemies mad.”
I rose to leave for the Black Cat Clan. “Mo Yong, are you short on female assistants?”
“Their skills vary greatly. At times, I do wish for better hands.”
“Two women called Heuk-Baek-So-So are staying at my clan. They’ve learned little except how to charm men, and my men are already falling for them. If you’d teach them medicine, I’ll send them your way—they can serve as guards too.”
He answered honestly, “If they work well, I’ll keep them. If not, I’ll throw them out—and you can take them back.”
“Deal.”
“Take care, Lord.”
We exchanged farewells, and I left the Mo Yong Clinic for the Black Cat Clan. As I walked back, my memories of the Poison Demon Mo Yong-baek from my past life faded, replaced by those of the healer before me now.
What a strange feeling.
As one memory vanished, another took its place.
Gi Seong-ja’s riddle about heroes—I’d found my own answer.
If I cannot be a hero, I’ll create one stronger than any other.
A man who raises a disciple to become the mightiest hero under heaven—that man is I, Ja-ha, Lord of the Hao Sect.
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Me.