The three grabbed Do Pyeong-su by the neck or strangled him, and Geom Woo-bin worked hard to stop them. Meanwhile, Hangzhou Sageon quietly left. They knew very well that there was nothing to see in the presence of such an excited Blood Lion.

So Gi-cheon’s short club split the air dizzyingly. The eight-second pursuit of the tagu-bong method, which was an open-ended, self-sufficient martial art, turned out to be a rare cutting edge that had both pleasure and side. The colorful ropes hanging from his waist danced as he jumped and turned around. The fact that the string had six knots was proof that he had officially become a disciple of the Open Ark.

―If you achieve that level of achievement, there would be no human beings who would argue that I made you an official disciple. At the words of No Dae-sul, who suddenly came to me six months ago, So Ki-cheon became the 22nd disciple. And he still didn’t know who the twenty-one executioners above him were. So Ki-cheon, who had been immersed in training for a while, suddenly stopped. He noticed that someone was watching from behind the pillars of the bridge. The figure was invisible, but the drooping shadow informed the existence of an uninvited guest. “Don’t hide like a mouse, come out.”

Needless to say twice, a man appeared from behind the pillar. It was very rare for Sogi Chun, who saw so many people on his street, to be surprised just by his appearance. It was a man with three scars on his forehead and cheeks on his face, with his hair matted like a magpie’s house. Of course, So Ki-cheon is not surprised at that level. It was the man’s body that made So Ki-cheon’s eyes wide. Wide shoulders, a narrow waist, thighs that could tear pants, and calves as thick as a normal woman’s waist were a body type that could only be seen in a Moorim man who had mastered the martial arts to the utmost. Only the limbs were exposed outside of the clothes, but the firmness of the skin was sufficiently recognized. “Who are you?” “Gong Seong-tak.”