Chapter 42
Chapter 42: SSS-Class Only Hope
[Japan — Tokyo]
A penthouse overlooking the entire cityscape of Tokyo.
Jang Masayoshi stepped out of bed in his underwear.
The woman sprawled across the bed was still asleep.
"Hey, wake up."
Jang Masayoshi kicked the woman lightly with his foot to rouse her.
"Na, nani?"
"Get out."
He tossed her underwear and clothing at her and drove her out of the penthouse.
Jang Masayoshi brewed a cup of coffee.
Trickle.
He poured the leftover whiskey from last night into his coffee.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
The phone he'd buried at the head of the bed kept blaring as messages streamed in nonstop.
He knew without looking.
"Telling me to hurry up with the conquest. Son of a bitch."
The current floor being challenged in Japan's Murim Tower: 36th floor.
Stuck there for months.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
"Damn it!"
He grabbed his phone and hurled it, shattering it against the wall.
Crack!
"It's not like I don't know — I just can't!"
It was suffocating.
36th floor? He could conquer that today if he wanted.
But what came after was the problem.
Move on to 37th floor immediately, and Poison Valley awaited.
A Murim Tower saturated with poison.
He knew it instinctively.
That stepping inside might mean death.
Ring-ring-ring!
This time, the apartment intercom buzzed.
Those damned Japan Murim Tower Headquarters people. When he wouldn't pick up the phone, they'd resort to the intercom — that was their play.
Click.
He picked up the receiver.
"Ah, Masayoshi—"
"Bakayaro! Bakayaro! You son of a bitch!"
Letting the curses fly made him feel marginally better.
Korean really was the best language for swearing.
"You bastards, all that fuss about bringing me in like I was something precious."
They'd called him the hero of Japan, the reincarnation of Musashi, showered him with praise — and now?
Now they treated him like a traitor.
All because of—
"That damn Golden Tower!"
As if the heavens were mocking him, the news happened to be playing on the top-of-the-line 100-inch TV he'd left on.
[The Republic of Korea's Murim Tower has turned golden up to the 20th floor. Our Japanese Murim Tower Headquarters is currently taking measures to address—]
Crash!
He flung his cup and smashed the TV too.
A salary exceeding 100 billion won.
A Tokyo penthouse.
Nightly entertainment and pleasure, taken however he pleased — none of it was filling the hollow space inside him.
And on top of that, news kept coming that rubbed salt in the wound.
The news that America had finally conquered 39th floor! With a rating of Yellow — B-rank, no less!
After breaking through 37th floor and then powering through 39th floor by practically bathing in their expensive antidotes — throwing money at the problem until it caved.
"So give me the antidote too!"
No matter how many times he asked, the antidote never came.
Word had gotten out that China had independently developed its own antidote to conquer the Poison Valley on 37th floor.
Japan Murim Tower Headquarters had said they'd source the Chinese antidote for him, but—
"Are you insane?! What if I drink that and drop dead?!"
Word was that even the American antidote came with severe side effects — what on earth made them think he'd trust a Chinese one?
"Incompetents! Incompetents! You're the ones who broke your promises!"
They'd sworn that if he only naturalized as Japanese, they'd deliver antidotes by the boxful!
And on top of that, the Japanese National Murim Bureau had promised to put the entire building — penthouse included — under his name.
But keeping promises? Not a chance.
Not even this single penthouse was in his name yet.
His fists trembled.
Masayoshi irritably shook a sedative into his mouth and swallowed it.
Ring-ring-ring—! Ring-ring-ring!
The intercom buzzed again. He couldn't dodge it any longer.
Click.
"Ah, Masayoshi."
"Speak Korean. I can't understand a word of what you're saying."
Halting Korean came through the line.
"It's about that matter from before. The prosecutors seem to have caught a scent — they keep reaching out."
This referred to the woman he'd killed in a fit of rage not long ago.
"Are you joking? You said you took care of all of that."
"The thing is, Masayoshi. Somehow it leaked—"
"You're the ones who let it out!"
"Dame yo. Masayoshi. No, it wasn't us."
"Damn it…… Fine. I'll conquer 36th floor."
"Hai! We'll have everything prepared. Three days should be sufficient, yes?"
The Japan Murim Tower Headquarters' coercion was ongoing.
They were threatening to hand information to the Japanese prosecutors over some hostess bar girl's life — as if that amounted to anything.
It would end in a non-indictment regardless.
There was no one among Japan's climbers who posed a threat to his position yet.
But he had his honor to consider.
'Jang Ae-guk — the traitor of the Republic of Korea.'
In a vote for Korea's Most Despised Figure recently held by a broadcast network, he had been the first ever to dethrone Yi Wan-yong from the top spot.
"Like I'm not already eating every curse Korea has to offer."
Being pointed at with contempt in Japan too — that was something he would sooner die than endure.
Snap.
The intercom crumbled in his grip.
* * *
[The Choi Brothers' Gangwon-do Villa]
"Martial arts are about accumulation. It means you must build it up."
I told the brothers plainly.
The eyes of the Choi brothers listening to my lesson were gleaming.
"And the best method for building it up is……"
Crack!
"The switch."
"……"
The brothers swallowed hard as they stared at the switch in my hand.
"Found it on Coupang. Eighteen thousand won, free shipping."
I grinned and called out to the brothers.
"Three hundred round trips — begin!"
"Agh!"
Crack!
Swinging the switch, I was reminded of my master from long ago.
The master who had taught me the sword.
No — the madman.
……Ugh.
Just the thought made me shudder.
Through relentless training, the brothers' lower body was gaining stability day by day.
Now that they had grown accustomed to Big Dipper Eighteen Steps, three hundred round trips was over in an instant.
Hmm. A single sack of rice on their backs — is that no longer enough?
I'd need to add more.
Through rumors picked up at the Black Market, I'd heard that the brothers had secured their Elder positions without any real skill to show for it.
They were currently on 27th floor.
A disgraceful number for Elders representing one of Korea's prominent sects.
Of course, not all sect Elders were excellent climbers, and they did hold their positions through Korea's web of connections, but—
"These two are chaebol heirs."
They already carried the stigma of being parachute appointments, and now they'd gone and claimed Elder positions on top of that — it was no surprise people looked at them sideways.
Sometimes a gaze and a pointed finger cut deeper than any blade.
The brothers' eyes blazed with fire.
For most climbers, there were two ways to master the martial arts manuals obtained inside the tower.
The fastest shortcut was applying them like skills in a game.
The body moved, but the inner understanding was never attained.
With the mind failing to keep pace, the heart, energy, and body each went their separate ways.
The other way was like the warriors of the old Gangho — learning the forms, chewing over the formulas, grasping the principles, and training through them.
Heart, energy, and body could be brought into alignment, but it took a long time and the process was grueling.
'So everyone just chases shortcuts. Pathetic.'
That was exactly why the Secret Manual Nanpa Fighting Blade I'd obtained on Floor 1 sold for a billion won.
After applying it like a skill, of course.
Ideally, one would study the manual, train through it, and internalize the principles of its formulas through cultivation — but once someone tastes power the easy way, they only chase greater power and easier paths.
Everyone had strayed from the true way, fixated solely on destructive force.
'Forgetting the basics.'
Park Jeok-sa. The Choi brothers.
Climbers with pitiful skills.
Ten years since the Murim Tower appeared.
I understood them — unable to break past 40th floor, crawling along pitifully.
Compared to warriors who had tempered themselves with blood and sweat over decades, they were mere greenhorns.
Even if the fraudulent ability to apply manuals like skills somehow got them past 40th floor—
"It's reckless. They'd all die."
Once past 50th floor, true powerhouses would emerge, and these lives would fall like autumn leaves.
At the very least, I had no desire to see the Choi brothers die that way.
My plan was to develop them as far as I could, then naturally guide them toward stepping back at the right moment.
Or else—
……actually raise them right and carry them with me to the very end.
"Are you struggling?"
"No!"
"Do you want to give up?"
"No!"
"Three hundred rounds of archery — begin!"
"Agh!"
The exhausted Choi brothers began to loose their arrows.
The reward the brothers had received for clearing 22nd floor at Scarlet rank.
Secret Manual of Demon Wind Archery Arts.
I had them learn that manual as a skill, and then I broke down the formulas of the Secret Manual of Demon Wind Archery Arts and taught them directly.
I had also guided them to the energy pathways for circulating their energy.
Thud!
A single arrow carrying a bewitching wind split the target clean apart.
The brothers' skills were rapidly advancing by leaps and bounds.
All thanks to the Poison Demon's high-priced private tutoring.
"Huff, huff……"
Morning training came to an end.
I set out rice mixed with medicinal herbs to replenish their energy, and asked them,
"Brothers, what are your monikers?"
"Ah, our monikers?"
"Hold on — let me guess at least one character."
Easy enough.
"White."
"Oh! That's right."
Surprised looks.
How could it not be?
"I'm White Bow Emperor."
"I'm White Bow Demon."
Choi Jae-jun and Choi Jae-hwa.
I was at a loss.
Wasn't this practically a disorder?
"Why didn't you include 'Bow' in the first place?"
The brothers scratched their heads and answered.
"When you think of martial arts, it's swords and blades, isn't it. Bow felt a bit weak."
……I had something to say to that.
I shoved it back down.
"Let's change them. Let's put 'Bow' in."
"Why?"
"A moniker is your identity. It's good to steady your resolve by saying it yourself and hearing it."
The final monikers were decided.
Choi Jae-jun — White Bow Emperor. Choi Jae-hwa — White Bow Demon.
……It really is a disorder.
I had a separate reason for asking.
In this era, monikers were composed like this:
The front part represented one's symbol; the back part, one's aspiration.
So by asking indirectly, I was probing what the two brothers were aiming for.
Choi Jae-jun's was Emperor.
He seemed to be gunning for the position of group chairman.
Choi Jae-hwa's original moniker had been Demon of Battle.
A demon who fights. But fights whom?
'Our father has lost consciousness, so we cannot be certain, but he had been growing close to Bell Tower Sect recently.'
Words I'd heard when I first met the brothers.
Bell Tower Sect — its influence growing by the day, now counted among the Five Great Sects of the Republic of Korea.
Ah. So that was it.
The reason the chaebol heirs had so badly wanted Elder positions in Goryeo Sword Sect—
It was to stand against Bell Tower Sect, an opponent difficult to face with money alone.
I could roughly guess why they'd added the Elder position to their list of demands when we'd first met.
I guessed — and said nothing.
"Excuse me, Senior."
The Choi brothers finished their meal and shared information they knew.
"I heard this at a Goryeo Sword Sect Elder meeting."
"America's successful conquest of 39th floor — apparently it wasn't simply a matter of antidote power."
"Then?"
The brothers told me carefully.
"Apparently, a monster with a score of 966 appeared in the American Murim Tower's energy aptitude test a few years ago."
"966?"
"Yes! America is said to have it locked away as a state secret."
"That person is almost certainly the one who broke 39th floor."
It was an astounding score.
Hadn't America's previous highest been 913?
"That's impressive. Isn't it approaching China's 988?"
At my words, Choi Jae-jun waved his hand.
"Come on — 988 is nonsense. Word is that's completely made up."
"Exactly. They say that 988 still hasn't cleared 38th floor."
Fair enough.
Still, it was better to keep the possibility open.
"966……"
America, armed with capital and technology.
They'd be pouring energy into that artificial dantian like madmen — and if you added a once-in-an-era talent with a score of 966 to that?
"They'll tear right through the tower."
Good news.
As it was, I'd been feeling as though the net was slowly tightening around me because of the Golden Tower — if attention shifted that way, I'd have far more room to move.
It seemed like I could return to training in the brothers' house rather than this distant Gangwon-do villa now.
Choi Jae-hwa spoke up.
"Apparently S-rank climbers are increasing in China as well."
"That figures. 1.4 billion people."
Perhaps rattled by America's score of 966, China seemed to be slowly declassifying information on S-rank climbers it had kept under wraps.
The world was vast, and the strong were many.
"India and England are apparently saying they won't spare any support for their S-rank climbers either."
"And each country is said to be competing fiercely to secure the items their A-rank climbers are requesting."
The prices of manuals and weapons would be going up then.
Good news.
Ah, but rare herbs and poison plants — would those become harder to come by?
A blessing and a curse.
"Goryeo Sword Sect's Sect Master Kim Guk-bong has been getting called to the Blue House frequently."
"The Blue House — not Gukmubon?"
"Yes. It seems the president is urging conquest of 37th floor."
Of course.
Given how the president's approval ratings were shooting up because of the Golden Tower — if they went and cleared 37th floor on top of that, it'd practically pave the way for a constitutional amendment allowing a second term.
The stream of foreign heads of state rushing to the Blue House to beg for the secret behind the Golden Tower had already been tapering off lately.
Perhaps that made him restless?
Well, regardless.
"Right — leave matters of state to the heads of state."
I picked up the switch.
"Let's keep going. Be prepared to pull an all-nighter today."
"……Ugh."
* * *
The following dawn.
We rushed back to Seoul.
An emergency Elder meeting had been convened at Goryeo Sword Sect.
Because of news that a Murim Tower in a certain nation in far-off Africa had collapsed.
A 15-kilometer radius around the tower had vanished without a trace.
Mountains, trees, animals, people — all gone, leaving nothing but shadows dark as spilled ink.
In terms of area: 707 square kilometers.
The total area of Seoul is approximately 605 square kilometers — an expanse larger than the entire city of Seoul had been wiped off the map.
A damage toll beyond comprehension.
Equivalent to 88 Hiroshima-class nuclear bombs detonating simultaneously.
Damage from which recovery was utterly impossible.
Nations that housed Murim Towers called emergency meetings.
[Blue House — National Cabinet Meeting Room]
"This is insane! When you stop climbing at a measly 21st floor, of course the tower collapses!"
The Minister of National Defense cried out in disbelief.
The African dictator, apparently struck by some kind of madness, had banned all tower climbing outright.
'The tower is possessed by a ghost!'
His reason: he'd had a dream that the ghost would eventually topple the nation if climbing continued.
"What an absurd man. Insane…… We could see it coming from the time he kept a thirty-year dictatorship going with guns and bayonets."
The Minister of Foreign Affairs added.
The ruthless suppression of Murim Tower climbing.
The dictator's madness had produced irreversible, catastrophic damage — the likes of [00 : 00 : 00].
Republic of Korea President Park Jae-yeol.
He opened his mouth, heavy with gravity.
"Minister Han Seung-pyo."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Have you found the Golden Tower's ghost?"
Chief Han of Gukmubon lowered his head.
"Not yet."
"Didn't you say there was a connection to the unnamed hero of 21st floor?"
"That is the current hypothesis."
"Put everything into finding the ghost. I'll provide whatever support is needed."
"Understood."
"Mobilize the military, prosecutors, and police if necessary."
"Y-Your Excellency!"
Other ministers rushed to voice their concerns.
"Your Excellency. Chief Han already commands the formidable armed force of Gukmubon's climbers!"
"If you give him authority to mobilize the military, prosecution, and police force on top of that—!"
"It would be tantamount to concentrating the entire power of the state in Han Seung-pyo's hands!"
Too much power for any one man to hold!
President Park Jae-yeol addressed Chief Han.
"Chief Han — an S-rank conquest of a Red rank floor in the Murim Tower, is that what they call it?"
"That is correct."
"Then should a Golden rank be called SS-rank?"
Chief Han shook his head.
"No."
"Then?"
"SSS-rank. And even that may fall short."
The cabinet meeting room fell solemn in an instant.
"You all heard that."
Park Jae-yeol swept his gaze across every cabinet minister.
The Golden Tower.
When all words were lost in the face of its unprecedented, overwhelming achievement—
Thud!
President Park Jae-yeol slammed his fist on the desk.
"The ghost—!"
His sharp eyes swept the cabinet meeting room.
"—is the Republic of Korea's only hope."