Chapter 324

Chapter 324
## Chapter 324

Title Match (1)

Zhengzhou, the capital of Henan Province.

This metropolitan hub, situated a short distance from Mount Song, managed to preserve a semblance of order and peace even as lawlessness and turmoil ravaged the rest of the land.

The Shaolin Temple, upholding its legendary status as a foundational pillar of the Murim world, placed the protection and welfare of ordinary citizens at the forefront during these dark times. Their righteous authority radiated outward, anchoring the local sects and clans.

Naturally, that protective reach grew faint the further one traveled from the center, and across distant provinces, numerous scoundrels falsely invoked the Shaolin name to perpetrate heinous crimes…

However, because Zhengzhou sat practically in the shadow of Mount Song and served as the provincial capital, it enjoyed the direct guardianship of the Shaolin Temple, rendering such anxieties entirely irrelevant.

And out near the fringes of the territory, where the distant shape of the city skyline was only just visible on the horizon—.

“Tsk! Traveling all this way just for this…”

A traveler sporting wildly tangled, messy hair grimaced, roughly rubbing his overgrown beard.

“I have a nagging suspicion that I’ve been manipulated. I acted far too impetuously.”

Stopping in his tracks, he folded his arms in deep deliberation, then gave his head a firm shake and pressed forward once more.

Turning back was no longer an option. The journey behind him was simply too long.

Besides, he possessed enough self-awareness to recognize that even if he were granted the chance to alter the past, his final choice would remain identical.

‘Word has it that his martial prowess is formidable…’

Glancing through the tangled strands blocking his vision, his eyes flared with a savage, burning vitality.

It was a display of pure, unbridled fury.

Abandoning any attempt to mask his volatile state, he let out a low snarl, mimicking a predatory beast defending its territory from an intruder.

“The impudent fool actually presumed to steal my identity?… No, considering the path he’s carved, this goes far beyond simple imitation.”

Crack—

A stray stone beneath his boot disintegrated into fine powder as his stride advanced.

The surrounding vegetation withered and collapsed, choked out by the heavy pressure of his radiating aura.

“This is an open declaration of war. He intentionally insulted me, dragging me out to this location… The man must believe he is untouchable.”

A brutal, bloodthirsty smirk pulled at his features.

He was a warrior who thrived on the thrill of a lethal conflict.

“Ha, we shall soon discover exactly what you are capable of.”

His given name was Mok In-gwang.

Yet, across the length of the land, he was feared and revered as the ‘Mad Demon’.

—

Mad Demon.

It was an alias that flawlessly mirrored Mok In-gwang’s unruly and untamable disposition.

The moment something provoked his ire, he would launch an assault without a second thought, acting like a rabid hound that bit and tore at its target with zero regard for the aftermath.

He paid no heed to honorable strategies or underhanded tactics, and he had thrown his own existence into jeopardy on countless occasions purely to bring ruin to his adversaries.

His volatile temper, combined with a total indifference toward morality or the sheer scale and authority of those he crossed, ensured that peril and the grave were his perpetual shadows.

Had his martial foundation been even a fraction weaker, he would have ended up as just another nameless casualty, completely erased from memory…

‘Yet I am the one still standing.’

…But he had endured and conquered every single tribulation, forging hardship into absolute power, until he ultimately ascended as one of the ultimate masters dominating the Murim world.

He had emerged from obscure beginnings under the trivial moniker of ‘Mad Dog’, and today, he commanded respect as the ‘Mad Demon’.

Carving out a life dictated solely by his own desires, shattering every societal rule and baseline assumption in a collapsing era…

And continuing to breathe despite his perilous behavior…

It served as undeniable proof of his overwhelming capability and his unbreakable spirit.

‘And yet…’

For those exact reasons, the designation of ‘Mad Demon’ carried an immense, irreplaceable value for Mok In-gwang.

It stood as the ultimate manifestation of his life’s journey, an emblem of victory, and a monument to his unyielding soul.

“And he presumed he could drag it through the dirt?”

Two days.

That was the exact span required for him to pin down the precise coordinates of the pretender after his arrival in Zhengzhou.

Swish—

He cut through the terrain like a sudden gale, his physical form reducing to a mere slip of movement.

Naturally, he hadn’t tracked down the intelligence through his own independent sleuthing.

Wherever civilization took root, there always existed individuals pulling strings from the shadows, and within those circles, certain factions specialized exclusively in the trade of secrets.

He had merely tracked them down and… courteously demanded their full assistance.

‘I must admit, their speed exceeded my expectations.’

They had delivered a comprehensive ledger detailing the pretender’s habits and his current whereabouts in an incredibly brief window of time.

Even taking into account that the target was attracting significant attention, he hadn’t anticipated such meticulous precision.

‘Fortune favors me.’

Mok In-gwang let out a dark chuckle.

More than two decades had slipped away since the catastrophic bloodbath inside the imperial palace.

Following the total collapse of the Beggars’ Sect, a multitude of independent information brokers had cropped up everywhere, turning the search for a trustworthy source into a game of pure chance.

And currently, the tides of luck were turning in his favor.

‘An intact Beggars’ Sect certainly would have streamlined this process.’

But dwelling on what was lost was pointless.

Even panhandlers required wealthy benefactors to sustain them.

In an era defined by such systemic breakdown, an alliance consisting primarily of destitute vagrants, entirely devoid of esoteric martial techniques, stood no chance at survival.

The lower-tier gatherers had either dispersed to carve out new lives or coalesced into minor splinters clustered around the remaining competent mid-tier figures. The Beggars’ Sect had transformed into nothing more than a historical footnote, a fading echo.

‘No matter, the minutiae are irrelevant. If this lead proves false, I will simply retrace my steps and… compel them to be more thorough.’

He crested the ridge of a modest mountain fortress, his gaze sharpening with murderous intent.

He had reached his destination at last.

The lair of the pretender.

As his steps brought him directly to the threshold,

It became clear that the operatives of the information ring wouldn’t need to panic over a secondary visit from him.

“Huh? Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

The fortress grounds lay completely demolished, the perimeter utterly shattered… and amidst the wreckage, a lone individual lounged in a relaxed posture, acting entirely oblivious to the devastation surrounding him.

‘…It’s him.’

The realization struck him instantaneously.

This was undeniably the architect who had engineered his arrival.

“Hmm? Going by the way you look, are you a mountain bandit too? Wow, talk about a step up in quality! Those pathetic water bandits can’t hold a candle to you! Hahaha!”

The stranger, completely untroubled by his sudden intrusion, adjusted his stance effortlessly, his demeanor remaining entirely at ease and untroubled.

Furthermore, it wasn’t merely his confidence that departed from the norm.

‘Does he hail from the outer regions?’

His garments, reminiscent of a tribesman originating from some isolated and primitive frontier, were so utterly alien and bizarre that Mok In-gwang’s brow furrowed automatically.

Yet he rapidly cleared his mind of the distraction, refocusing his intent entirely on his target.

He planted a foot forward.

“Enough, none of that matters.”

“Ah, so you’ve come seeking vengeance, correct? Looking to balance the score for your slaughtered lacks?”

“I couldn’t care less about those worthless maggots. My business here is strictly with you.”

“Huh?”

The stranger tilted his head to the side, simulating complete bewilderment. Annoyed by this flippant display, Mok In-gwang unleashed the full weight of his internal energy, his words dropping to a chilling, low rumble.

“Mad Demon.”

“Oh, are you calling out to…?”

“That title belongs to me.”

“…Oh?”

“You have been parading around under my name without authorization. The hour has come to settle that debt.”

“…”

Total quiet fell over the space.

A momentary freeze in the air, and then,

“Therefore—”

Mok In-gwang gave a low, predatory growl,

“…Let us determine if you possess the strength to retain it.”

“Pfft!”

The stranger, Harley, who had maintained an entirely unbothered posture until now, abruptly split his face into a massive grin, his jaw stretching to an impossible, unnatural width.

And from behind that terrifyingly wide grin, rows of razor-sharp, jagged teeth came into view.

“Ah— now I understand! Hehehe— Please accept my regrets. I failed to recognize that I was hosting a… proper guest. Hehehe.”

He let out a series of disjointed chuckles, his amusement sounding warped and deeply jarring.

Simultaneously, the nature of his presence shifted drastically, the atmosphere around his frame warping and rippling visibly.

“I had fully intended to seek you out at some juncture, but I never anticipated you would journey all this way on your own accord. You’ve spared me quite a bit of exertion.”

A subtle, shimmering heat wave began to radiate off his flesh.

Rumble—

The surrounding air hummed with raw currents of force, the local temperature spiking drastically within seconds.

His physical appearance remained constant, yet the malicious, suffocating aura beginning to blanket the area altered his entire essence.

He transformed from a gorged apex predator, resting lazily in the wake of an easy slaughter…

…into an incomprehensible nightmare, his eyes glowing with an insatiable, murderous malice as they locked onto a fresh plaything.

A sudden shiver cascaded down Mok In-gwang’s spine.

Occupying the closest proximity, he absorbed the full brunt of the transformation.

The bottled-up brutality of Harley, his authentic monster identity, was forcing its way to the surface. A sharp, stinging sensation of imminent mortality jolted through him, forces locking his awareness into hyper-focus while his survival drives screamed in panic.

‘Ha.’

The true scope of the situation was now completely transparent to his senses.

The concentrated, oppressive, fathomless insanity that lay buried deep within his adversary.

‘Is it truly feasible for a mortal vessel to harbor such concentrated… madness? And still hold onto a functioning intellect?’

The reality defied his comprehension.

The sheer absurdity of the spectacle nearly provoked him to laughter.

Every defensive instinct within him demanded full retreat.

This entity was lethal.

Engaging him meant certain demise.

Flight was the only logical course.

And yet—.

“Huu…”

…He completely disregarded the inner warning.

He merely allowed a grin to form on his own face, mirroring the expression of his opponent.

He had no intention of retreating.

‘I have never once turned my back on a conflict.’

A quiet chuckle escaped him, a bizarre, almost manic surge of exhilaration swelling within his chest.

His entire life had been defined by confronting adversity directly, never yielding ground regardless of the magnitude of the hazard.

‘And I have emerged victorious every single time.’

This was simply another trial, another barrier demanding to be shattered.

And should he collapse here…

Then that would simply mark the conclusion of his tale.

Swish—

Then, in a synchronized, imperceptible flash of movement,

Both combatants vanished from their starting points.

Kaboom—!

An immense shockwave tore through the atmosphere, obliterating what remained of the shattered stronghold and tearing established trees completely from the earth.

At the exact center of the cataclysmic collision, Harley stood with a fist driven forward, while Mok In-gwang met him with a palm enveloped in dense internal energy, their eyes locked in a lethal glare.

Harley widened his grin and remarked in a conversational tone,

“I find your title quite appealing. I think I’ll claim it permanently from this moment on.”

“Kkuk kuk, what utter garbage. You speak exactly like a low-life thief. Tell me, are the dead bandits littered across this mountain your underlings?”

“Khaha! Those insects failed to meet my criteria! You, on the other hand, show real potential. What do you say to entering my service?”

“We can negotiate after you survive the penalty for your theft!”

Rumble—!

Their respective energies collided once more, producing a thunderous detonation as a wave of concussive force rattled the heavens.

As the confrontation escalated into a true battle of attrition, the very nature of Mok In-gwang’s execution began to evolve.

‘Oh? What do we have here?’

Harley’s eyes burned with genuine fascination as he monitored the erratic shifts in his adversary’s internal power circulation and the resulting changes in his physical form.

His mouth twisted into a malevolent smirk, his eyelids peeling back so far that the stark whites completely encircled his dark pupils.

Thick veins throbbed violently across his limbs, and a solid, visible manifestation of inner energy—a blood-red vapor—shrouded his hooked fingers, multiplying their destructive potential.

His hands, transitioning into implements every bit as razor-sharp and lethal as Harley’s own mutated talons, sliced through the empty air, leaving ripples in the fabric of space.

Kaboom—!

The combat methodology of the Mad Demon was… utterly unorthodox.

Swift, devastatingly forceful, entirely erratic, and driven by pure animal reflex.

Harley possessed superior power, greater velocity, higher resilience, and vastly enhanced perceptions…

Yet the older warrior’s strikes proved remarkably disorienting, manufacturing critical blind spots where none should logically exist, capitalizing on the slightest flaw in form.

‘So this is the essence of what they designate as ‘Transformation’ and ‘Illusion’. I have never traded blows with a practitioner capable of executing it with such absolute mastery…’

The foundational concepts governing the style were becoming clear to him.

Stratagem, trickery, and calculated misdirection.

The adversary’s offensive posture appeared to prioritize raw physical power and velocity, yet the entire display was an elaborate deception, a carefully laid snare meant to compromise his positioning.

The genuine, lethal strikes were delivered through minor, lethal maneuvers concealed beneath the guise of sweeping, aggressive motions.

An incredibly sharp and calculated methodology, masking itself behind a facade of mindless rage.

‘Naturally, all of this is entirely meaningless if it fails to penetrate my defenses.’

He had no immediate reason to manifest his dragon armor. His baseline physiology was already virtually indestructible.

The strikes delivered by his opponent lacked the power to inflict genuine harm.

Consequently, there was no cause for impatience. He would simply deplete the man’s stamina step by step before completely breaking him…

Swish—

In that precise fraction of a second,

Mok In-gwang executed a piercing thrust directed straight toward his heart center, which Harley intercepted cleanly using the flat of his palm. Simultaneously, the veteran’s alternate hand, wrapped in that bizarre, crimson energy, whipped across Harley’s extended forearm.

Screech—!

A screeching, metallic din, reminiscent of iron dragging across iron, vibrated violently through the air.

Harley’s eyelids twitched imperceptibly.

A collection of deep, jagged lacerations—entirely unlike any standard wounds—marred the flesh of his arm, his typically impervious skin effectively sliced open.

The damage immediately began to seal itself, stimulated by his supernatural healing factor, yet the recovery rate lagged significantly behind its normal pace, actively combated by the malicious, anti-healing properties laced into the strike’s energy.

It stood as a definitive warning that his opponent’s offensive capacity scaled far beyond his initial estimates, operating with an incredibly lethal level of refinement.

‘He is… fascinating. Sending him to the grave too quickly would be a waste of entertainment…’

Harley’s gaze flared with a reawakened, predatory focus as he watched his challenger unleash an unrelenting storm of subsequent maneuvers.

Hooking claw strikes, saturated with concentrated internal force, targeted his vital pathways at every opportunity, ready to exploit the briefest lapse in his defensive focus.

Thus, the two avatars of madness, each wielding an entirely distinct brand of devastation, locked themselves in a brutal cycle of violence, their duel for sole ownership of the title properly underway.