Martial God

“H-hey. Pinch my cheek. I must be dreaming.”

“Did we really call a Master like that a Scholar Bastard?”

“M-my neck is still attached, thank goodness.”

The Peng Family warriors stared at Yeo Un-hwi, who stood some distance away, unable to close their mouths.

But among them,

“Ha, hahahaha... hahahaha!”

No Il-bong, who had occasionally taught Yeo Un-hwi the Peng Family's Martial Arts, was laughing with a half-crazed expression.

His past self, who had lectured Yeo Un-hwi about what Martial Arts were and how Internal Qi functioned, felt so ashamed that he wanted to crawl into a mouse hole, especially when Yeo Un-hwi was now effortlessly overwhelming these powerful Masters renowned throughout the Murim.

He had even told Yeo Un-hwi that it was too late to start at his age, so he shouldn't train with high expectations but rather calmly and comfortably accept his own limitations.

Thus, every member of the Peng Family was utterly astonished...