Chapter 623
The nomadic youth, with sun-bronzed brown skin, a lean frame lined with well-shaped muscles, and features distinct from the Han people of the Central Plains, looked down from the hill and thought,
‘……What on earth is this?’
It was only natural for such a question to arise.
Before his eyes, the vast grasslands were ablaze.
Even now, flames spread rapidly, spewing endless black smoke, while cattle, sheep, horses, and other livestock fled in a frenzy.
—Grrr.
At that moment, a low growl and trembling rose from below. The youth gently stroked the mane of the snow-white tiger.
“It’s all right. It’s all right.”
—Grrrk.
“You’re furious, aren’t you?”
Emotions weren’t conveyed by words alone.
Though they were different in species—man and beast—after so many years together, even the slightest gesture or the pitch of a growl was enough to communicate.
Meeting the tiger’s blue gaze, the nomadic youth nodded.
“Yeah. First, let’s stop the fire. Punishing the intruders comes afterward.”
Left unchecked, the fire would reduce the pasture to ashes.
The land could always be restored later, but the livestock being consumed by the flames could not.
And then came the next thought…
‘How dare they commit such an outrage.’
Not only had intruders trespassed without permission into the territory of the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace, but they even set it aflame. Such insolence must be punished.
Through the smoke, faint silhouettes of unknown invaders came into view. The youth stroked the tiger’s mane.
Sensing his intent, the white beast shot forward like the wind.
—Kraaaah!
A thunderous roar cut through the flames.
It all happened in an instant.
From the hill appeared a white tiger and the nomadic youth, moving as though they were one, rushing in all directions.
Whoosh! Boom!
‘This looks like something I saw in a children’s comic back when I was little.’ Wasn’t this called a backfire?
Fire meeting fire, each consuming the other until one disappeared. The youth skillfully set a counter-blaze, and its effect was remarkable.
The flames quickly subsided, as if they had never spread at all.
Out of conscience, I stepped forward to help.
Bang!
A short, sharp punch sent the flames flickering like candles in the wind… only to grow bigger.
Fwoooosh!
“…Huh?”
“What the hell?”
As I faltered, Nam Ho screamed.
“You crazy bastard! What the hell did you do?!”
“…Are you really one to say that, Nam Elder? That’s like the one who farted complaining about the smell. You’re the one who set the fire in the first place.”
“I didn’t know it would turn out like this!”
“Same here.”
“Is that the point?! Put out the fire first—ah! Behind you! Behind!”
Fwooosh!
“Quit exaggerating. It’s fine.”
The flames weren’t yet overwhelming, but it was true they needed to be controlled quickly.
Growing anxious, I lashed out with successive palms at the swelling blaze.
And then I realized.
‘Oh, right.’
The technique I had just used was called the [Flame God Palm].
Whooooom!
It hadn’t been the case before, but now I could confidently say it. The flames had grown far stronger.
In a way, it was almost miraculous—fire that had been nearly extinguished now blazed several times greater than before.
Of course, for the livestock fleeing madly, it was nothing short of hell.
“…Uh.”
As I stared blankly between my palms and the fiery inferno, two pairs of eyes glared at me through the flames.
The white tiger and the nomadic youth from the hill.
Different in eye color and species, but both were absolutely furious.
“You bastard! What have you done?!”
—Kraaaah!
A kid who looked younger than me had the nerve to speak informally.
It was disrespectful, sure—but I was the one who fueled the flames. Staying calm like a civilized man of the 21st century, I reassured them.
“I don’t know who you are, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of this.”
Of course, just because I reassured them didn’t mean they’d feel reassured. Case in point:
“No! Don’t!”
—Kraaaah!
The man and beast cried out as one. I tried to placate them.
“It’s fine. I can do this. But could you quiet the tiger down?”
“No! You fool!”
—Kraaaah!
“Don’t?”
“Don’t!”
—Kraaaah!
Hmm. As fierce as the fire itself.
But I shook my head.
“No. I’ll do it. I believe in myself.”
“You damned Han bastard—!”
—Kraaaah!
Before their shouts even ended, I struck with lightning speed, thrusting out both palms.
Boom! Boom-boom!
Twin bursts of force split and tore through the fiery waves.
But stopping there would only make the flames grow again, repeating my mistake.
Without hesitation, I unleashed more blasts.
Bang! Boom!
The reason fire is so hard to control is simple—either there isn’t enough water, or the wind isn’t strong enough to blow it out.
So the solution is obvious: more water, or stronger wind. In this case, the latter.
Boom!
The final strike was especially fierce.
A typhoon-like wind swept across the pasture, lifting fleeing livestock off the ground and flattening every blade of grass and tree.
And then—
Swaaaah.
The spreading flames died in an instant.
What remained was a few smoldering embers and patches of blackened grass.
Only the nomadic youth and the white tiger stood frozen in disbelief.
“Wh-what is this…?”
—Grrr?
Stamping out the last ember with my foot, I shrugged.
“Told you. I could do it.”
The youth’s eyes widened in astonishment. He raised his spear toward me.
“I am Yal Mok of the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace. Who are you?”
As expected, he was from the Beast Palace.
I nodded, ready to answer, when—
“He is Jin Taekyung of the Taewon Jin Clan,” came an old voice from behind.
Turning, I saw the Fire Dragon Pavilion members approach, with Nam Ho at the front.
“In the Central Plains, he is called the Blazing Fire Dragon, the foremost prodigy of his generation, and also the Pavilion Master of the Fire Dragon Pavilion under the Murim Alliance.”
I didn’t know if my name and epithet were known this far south, but Yal Mok seemed to understand.
“Murim Alliance…”
Murmuring in a low voice, he stroked the tiger’s mane.
The beast’s growls subsided, and Yal Mok lowered his spear, turning away.
“Follow me. Since the Murim Alliance has been mentioned, I’ll let it go this time. But never pull such foolishness again.”
Nam Ho shrugged.
“A mistake. But I’ll remember.”
“You’d better. Unless you want to die screaming.”
Watching Yal Mok ride ahead on the tiger, I muttered sourly to Nam Ho,
“The brat’s got no manners. Sure, setting the fire was my fault, but still.”
“Han, I can hear you.”
—Grrr.
“I meant for you to.”
“What?!”
“Talking like that to your elders. Don’t you have a grandfather?”
Yal Mok’s face flushed, but he only glared once before moving on.
As he turned back, Nam Ho gave me a cold look.
“Mind your tongue.”
“I was defending you. Saying ‘die screaming’ to someone at your age isn’t exactly polite, is it?”
“I never said—forget it. I shouldn’t expect anything. Is it some illness, that you’ll die if you go a day without causing a stir?”
“And do you have an illness that makes you lose your mind if you don’t set fires on Beast Palace land?”
“Before I take your staff for three months, reflect on yourself.”
Nam Ho sighed, defeated.
“Fine, I admit it. My fault. I should’ve been careful with something I’d left unused for fifty years.”
“Refreshing to hear you own up. The pasture’s still smoking, though.”
“…Every time you speak, my bones ache. But still—be careful with that youth.”
“Why?”
“He told you himself. Yal Mok.”
“Yal Mok, Yal Mosquito, whatever…”
I trailed off, as if recalling something forgotten.
‘Yal Mok. Yal Mok…’
Turning, I asked Ju Hwaran,
“Miss Ju, what’s the Beast Palace Lord’s name again?”
“You mean the Beast Miao King?”
“Yes.”
The Palace Lord was head of the Miao, one of the strongest tribes of the Southern Barbarians, and one of the Ten Kings despite his foreign origins.
Ju Hwaran smiled kindly.
“Yal Cheok.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Yes. Yal is the family name. Very rare, even in the Southern Barbarian Region.”
“So that brat’s surname is Yal, and his name is Mok.”
“…Do you want that to be true?”
“And if I do?”
Ju Hwaran was about to reply when, ahead, the forest blocking Yal Mok’s path shook.
Rustle. Crackle!
I hadn’t seen this many animals together since visiting the zoo at age seven.
Jaguars, tigers, leopards, even elephants, all covered in dark fur.
Nomadic men and women atop these beasts dismounted upon seeing Yal Mok and bowed deeply.
“Young Palace Lord!”
“Are you unharmed?!”
“We received word of a fire. If you act so recklessly, the Palace Lord will be gravely concerned… but who are these people?”
Dozens of eyes—beast and human—turned on us.
Chewing over the words “Young Palace Lord,” and remembering I’d just asked if he even had a grandfather, I casually slung an arm over Yal Mok’s shoulders.
“We’re friends. Right, Mok?”