Chapter 159
IRL Fight (3)
Humanity developed language and, eventually, built civilization, learning to resolve problems through words.
People exchanged words to bridge differences of opinion that could not easily be narrowed, striving to minimize conflict.
That was the decisive difference between humans and beasts: the possibility of resolving problems through words.
However, because humans ultimately pursued their own individual interests, some matters could not be resolved through dialogue alone.
At times like those, they resorted to force—which, in a way, was actually more convenient than conversation.
A binary method that clearly determined a winner and a loser. It was truly simple.
The Gallery was no different.
In fact, unlike the real world, the Gallery was a place dominated by anonymity.
That made people less inclined to persuade the other party.
When a conflict arose, it was more common to mock the other person or stubbornly insist on one’s own opinion than to try to bridge the difference between them.
Since no one could swing a sword on a message board, the person who lost their temper and went berserk was essentially considered the loser.
But occasionally, someone would issue a challenge to an "IRL showdown."
Since they could not settle their differences, they would decide the matter through force instead. That was roughly the idea.
Title: Isn’t challenging someone to an IRL showdown basically admitting defeat?
Your logic is so fucking amazing that I’ve got nothing left to say, so let’s fight.
Isn’t that basically what they’re declaring when they issue the challenge?
└ Yeah, exactly. That’s why almost nobody actually accepts an IRL challenge, lol. Have you ever seen one? Because I haven’t, lmao.
└ Gallery fights should be settled in the Gallery. What’s the point of fighting IRL? lol
└ The person who issued the challenge is the only one who ends up looking pathetic, lol.
Title: Upvote if you’re hyped for the IRL showdown between the Heavenly Demon and the Blood Demon Corps, lololol
Starting with me, lololol.
└ I’m so fucking jealous of the people in the Central Plains. They get to watch such an entertaining match.
└ I live in the Central Plains, but I can’t upvote this.
└ Why?
└ I don’t live anywhere near that region... The Central Plains are so huge that it takes several days just to travel from one city to another.
└ Doesn’t the Central Plains have something like a teleportation system?
└ It does, but I’d have to transfer several times, so it would cost way too much money. T_T
Since issuing the challenge itself was considered an admission of defeat, IRL showdowns were rarely proposed or accepted.
The person being challenged had nothing to lose whether they accepted or refused.
That was why such showdowns rarely happened in reality.
Most users merely chuckled and moved on.
But when an IRL showdown was actually arranged, nothing could be more entertaining.
And if the participants were registered users who were famous even among other registered users?
No one could resist watching that.
The Heavenly Demon, in particular, was even a moderator, so the showdown naturally attracted even more attention.
└ Haven’t moderators fought IRL before?
└ Yeah. A demon and an elf. The junior mod accused the head mod of not doing any work, so they fought IRL.
└ They said the winner would get the moderator position, but they both died, lol.
└ And they still didn’t ban IRL challenges?
└ Why would they? They said they wanted to fight, lololol.
└ I’ve fought someone IRL before too. I’m on my way to dig that bastard’s grave right now.
└ Holy shit, did you actually kill him?
└ No. We became friends while fighting, but he died of natural causes. Human lifespans are really short.
└ Oh dear...
└ Damn...
└ That’s actually kind of sad.
└ You must’ve been really close if you’re going all the way there to dig his grave.
The users eagerly anticipated the first IRL showdown between registered users in a very long time.
Most showdowns ended with the participants throwing their arms around each other’s shoulders and becoming friends.
But that only accounted for roughly seventy percent of them.
In the remaining thirty percent, they fought bloody battles until one of them died.
After all, this was not Earth, protected by a complex society and strict laws.
Furthermore, people fighting each other was simply an everyday occurrence in the Central Plains.
Clamor— Clamor—
A public square in Shaanxi Province of the Central Plains.
As Shaanxi was one of the Central Plains’ major regions, many people came and went through it.
Yet for some reason, an unusually large number of people were standing around the square today, waiting.
"Excuse me."
"Hmm? What is it?"
"Just what is happening here for so many people to have gathered?"
A martial artist who had been observing the situation approached a passerby and asked.
The passerby examined the martial artist’s appearance.
Unlike a commoner, he had a neat, well-groomed appearance and a carefully maintained beard.
Finally, his black martial robes provided a rough indication of his origins.
"Ah, it’s nothing serious. It just looks like there’s going to be a fight here soon."
"A fight? Between martial artists?"
"I don’t know that much. Have you ever heard of the Gallery?"
"The Gallery? You mean that vulgar invention?"
The martial artist frowned as he replied. He was clearly not fond of the Gallery.
Regardless, the passerby explained why so many people had gathered.
"You don’t know much about the Gallery, so I’ll keep it brief. You know that anonymity is the norm there, correct?"
"Of course. That is precisely why all manner of vulgar words are exchanged there."
"That means even when people fight, they usually don’t carry it over into the real world. But this time..."
The passerby gave him a rough account of everything that had happened so far.
As the explanation continued, the martial artist’s expression gradually changed.
First came curiosity, then contempt, and finally—
"What?! The Blood Cult bastards are coming here?!"
"Yes. That’s why the other martial artists have come as well."
His expression became one of shock.
None other than the remnants of the Blood Cult had issued an IRL challenge.
The Blood Cult was a faction that continued to cause trouble at every opportunity. Even its remnants could not be ignored.
No matter how many times they were stamped out, they never disappeared. Calling them cockroaches would be the most fitting description.
Their mere existence inflicted emotional distress upon others.
’Come to think of it, I heard a rumor that the Blood Demon attained immortality...’
The rumor had begun circulating approximately two days ago.
It claimed that Wi Hochang, the Blood Demon—the source of the Great War of Righteousness and Blood and the vilest demonic fiend of all—had actually ascended to immortality.
Since the rumor had originated in the Gallery, he had only half believed it. But that was no longer the case.
After hearing the complete story from the passerby, something about it felt unsettling.
The timing was far too coincidental.
’What if the Blood Demon really did attain immortality, and the Blood Cult intends to use that as an opportunity to regain its influence?’
More importantly, they had accepted an IRL challenge in the Gallery, where anonymity was the default.
Only someone utterly confident in their martial arts would dare to do such a thing.
That was why he could not bring himself to leave.
Had the Blood Cult’s name not been involved, he likely would have simply clicked his tongue and dismissed the matter as pathetic.
The same was probably true for the other martial artists gathered here.
"Place your bets on who will win!"
"I’m betting on the Heavenly Demon!"
"The Heavenly Demon, my ass! Are you underestimating the Blood Demon Corps?!"
"What Blood Demon Corps?! They’re probably six of one and half a dozen of the other!"
’Should I just ignore this?’
His seriousness lasted only a moment. As soon as people began wagering money, the martial artist sighed inwardly.
Normally, whenever a fight broke out in the Central Plains, people fled to avoid getting caught up in it.
From a civilian’s perspective, a battle between martial artists was nothing short of a natural disaster.
But this situation was slightly different.
This was a fight between registered users of the Gallery.
It belonged neither to the government nor to the murim, but to an unrelated third party.
Even now, the government soldiers were watching from a safe distance.
Was this a matter of the murim or not?
Should the principle of noninterference between the government and the murim apply, or should it not?
The situation was so ambiguous that they could do nothing but observe.
As the appointed hour gradually approached, more and more people gathered.
"What did you just say? How dare you insult our sect?!"
"You were the one who insulted us first, you bastard!"
Whenever people gathered, conversation naturally followed—and so did conflict.
With so many people present, fights both large and small began breaking out everywhere.
The Central Plains was a place where fists flew before words could be spoken.
Scattered fights began erupting among the martial artists.
"Now, now. Everyone calm down. We didn’t come here to watch you people fight, so keep it quiet."
"What did you just—!"
"I said keep it quiet."
And the only thing capable of suppressing force was even greater force.
It would hardly be surprising if the occasional so-called "master" were mixed in among the spectators.
As a result, time passed surprisingly peacefully.
Then, just as the appointed hour was nearly upon them—
"Why isn’t anyone here yet?"
"Don’t tell me they were all talk and ran away."
"Come on. That would be seriously disappointing."
Neither of the two registered users known for speaking like senile martial arts fossils on the Gallery had shown so much as the tip of their noses.
Normally, they should have proudly declared their usernames and presented themselves.
But with the appointed time nearly upon them and neither one in sight, the crowd could not help becoming suspicious.
’Of course. The Gallery is ninety percent lies and only ten percent truth.’
The martial artist who had first questioned the passerby clicked his tongue as well.
Disappointed, he turned around.
Thud!
"Urgh!"
He collided with something enormous, as though a boulder had been standing behind him.
The impact knocked him backward.
Falling over was humiliating enough, yet the passerby he had collided with merely continued walking forward in silence.
The martial artist’s face twisted into an angry scowl as he shouted at the man pushing his way through the crowd.
"Hey! Aren’t you even going to apologize?!"
"..."
At the martial artist’s shout, the passerby slowly glanced back at him before turning away again.
It was the reaction of someone who did not consider him worth responding to.
The martial artist’s pride was wounded. His expression hardened with anger as he rose to his feet.
"How dare you treat me—!"
Clench!
Just as the martial artist was about to continue, an enormous hand seized his head without warning.
It was large enough to engulf a man’s entire head—calling it the size of a cauldron lid would not have been an exaggeration.
Crack!
The hand squeezed, and the martial artist’s head burst like a watermelon.
Bright-red blood sprayed in every direction as fragments of his shattered skull rained to the ground.
A human life had been snuffed out in an instant—and in a horrifyingly brutal manner at that.
"Aaaaargh!"
"W-What have you done?!"
The gruesome sight sent the crowd screaming into a panic.
Even the people of the Central Plains, who were accustomed to combat and killing, found the scene far too brutal.
Yet the giant completely ignored their reactions and hurled the corpse forward.
It landed precisely where the IRL showdown was supposed to take place.
Thud!
The headless corpse fell into the open space the spectators had deliberately created.
Naturally, the startled crowd turned toward the direction from which it had come.
Step. Step. Step.
Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd split before the approaching giant.
The people of the Central Plains were generally not very large, but this man looked well over two meters tall.
He wore a rough, tattered martial robe, and his hair had been grown out like a lion’s mane.
Drip. Drip.
Finally, there were his palms, red as blood.
The sight made everyone think of a single organization.
The Blood Cult.
The giant looked around at the frozen crowd, drew a deep breath, and roared.
"When the Blood Demon returns, all blood shall bow! I am Geumjang! Where is the Heavenly Demon?! I shall announce the Blood Cult’s return with your blood!"
The giant revealed both his registered username and his true name.
The instant he declared his objective as well, the crowd descended into terror.
"Th-The Blood Cult! He’s one of the Blood Cult’s remnants!"
"R-Run! A real Blood Cultist is here!"
"Aaaaargh!"
They had assumed it was merely another one of the Gallery’s usual jokes.
But the moment they realized it was a vicious reality rather than a prank, they fled for their lives.
Once the civilians had escaped, only the martial artists remained.
They were the ones who had decided that a remnant of the Blood Cult had to be eliminated immediately.
"It really is the Blood Cult..."
"If that’s Geumjang... isn’t he one of the Blood Demon’s disciples?"
"I can’t believe he’s still alive."
The Blood Cult might be mocked as a meme on the Gallery, but the real Blood Cult could never be taken lightly.
Furthermore, Geumjang was not someone who could simply be dismissed as a "remnant."
He was a demonic master who had made a name for himself during the Great War of Righteousness and Blood.
The martial artists charged at him, but—
"Aaaaargh!"
"B-Brother! This is— Aaargh!"
"Kahahahaha! Blood! Show me more blood!"
They were no match for him.
Geumjang was a master who had survived the Great War of Righteousness and Blood.
There was no way the martial artists of the present age, whose overall standards had declined, could contend with him.
The longer the battle continued, the redder his palms became with the martial artists’ blood.
Crack!
Geumjang casually crushed another martial artist’s head in his grasp and surveyed his surroundings.
Corpses without a single intact part littered the square, and the ground had already been dyed scarlet with blood.
Geumjang smiled in satisfaction and checked whether anyone else remained.
There was no one.
’Good.’
He immediately looked into the air and did the following.
Title: I hereby announce the Blood Cult’s return.
When the Blood Demon returns, all blood shall bow
(Photo of the blood-soaked square)
(Photo of the square littered with corpses)
As of today, I hereby announce the Blood Cult’s return. Descendants of the Blood Cult, come to our former sacred ground so that we may fulfill our long-cherished ambition.
The Blood Demon is watching over us from the heavens. We shall never be broken!
He had logged into the Gallery and written a post.
A post this graphic would naturally get him banned, but he did not care. He had written it fully expecting that consequence.
His goal was to reunite the members of the Blood Cult scattered across the world.
That was what made the Gallery so useful.
’It saves me the trouble of searching for them one by one.’
Rumors spread slowly in the real world.
But not on the Gallery.
Rumors on the Gallery blazed as though someone had poured oil over them.
That was precisely what Geumjang was counting on.
Even a short amount of time would be enough.
’That Heavenly Demon bastard was nothing special either. The moment they saw this, they turned tail and—’
Just as Geumjang was about to leave, satisfied—
"What a wicked pastime. To befoul the ground so thoroughly."
"?!"
A delicate woman’s voice pierced his ears.
Geumjang could not help but jump in surprise.
He had remained alert, ready to respond to anything that might happen at any time or place.
Yet he had failed to sense her presence.
He turned toward the source of the voice.
"You wench..."
"You are quite tall. How many cheok are you?"
A woman stood there wearing a traditional black hat angled strangely enough to conceal her face.
She was dressed in black, and her figure appeared slender overall.
Even so, it could not conceal her mature femininity.
Her beauty could be inferred from the lower half of her face alone. She could certainly be called a peerless beauty.
"Kneel."
"What?"
"This lady commanded you to kneel."
The woman had abruptly ordered him to kneel simply because he was tall.
Geumjang was dumbfounded.
Why were so many people begging to die today?
Not that he minded.
Nothing could please him more than spilling even more blood across the ground.
Geumjang snorted and spoke to the woman.
"You tell amusing jokes. Are those your last words?"
"This lady is entirely serious."
Thud!
The instant she finished speaking, Geumjang closed the distance between them.
Moving faster than the eye could follow, he thrust out his blood-red palm.
It was the exact same stance—and the exact same attack—as the one a certain gorilla had once demonstrated.
The strike seemed certain to burst the woman’s head, but—
Tap.
"Wh-What?!"
It was stopped by a single impossibly slender index finger.
The woman spoke once more to the bewildered Geumjang.
"Did I not tell you?"
Her tone was arrogant.
But it came not from conceit, but absolute confidence.
"This lady was serious."
The Heavenly Demon had descended.