Chapter 15: Celestial Emperor Palace (2)
[Mission Failed.]
[Mission Failed.]
[Mission Failed.]
There were tis when playing a ga made one want to throw the controller.
Even Cheon Bigang, experiencing a simulation ga for the first ti, felt that urge right now.
[Mission Failed.]
“You little—”
As a curse was about to slip out, Cheon Bigang cleared his throat and composed himself.
If the master of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, feared by all, went around spouting vulgar insults, it would be a disgrace to the entire Martial World.
Engraving the character for patience (忍) in his heart, he focused again.
[Ti Up.]
[Mission Failed.]
[Retry?]
“You piece of—! This is ridiculous! Why is it ti limit?! Why! I don’t understand!”
He exploded.
The simulation was simple.
Control an avatar, infiltrate the Celestial Emperor Palace, and find the Emperor.
The avatar was set as the “Supre Martial Artist,” with maxed-out stats—immune to poison, hidden weapons, artillery, and biochemical weapons.
Enemies exploded just by colliding with him.
An invincible existence.
Yet—
After 10 minutes—
[Ti Up.]
BOOM!
[Retry?]
“I’m angry. This is infuriating.”
He collapsed onto the sofa after failing more than ten tis.
Jo Wol, watching, asked,
“So? Can you catch the Emperor?”
“There’s always a point where you’re detected. After that, once a quarter-hour passes, it’s over. Explain this. What is all this?”
The simulation was too precise.
Guards, weapons, systems—everything mirrored reality.
Jo Wol explained,
“This is based on data shared on the dark web by infiltrators. It’s called the ‘Project When the Map is Exhausted, the Dagger Appears.’”
“Fitting.”
“After the Night Moon Society attack 25 years ago, the Emperor built the Celestial Emperor Palace as a fortress.”
“A coward.”
“Exactly.”
The Emperor had nearly died once.
Since then, paranoia ruled him.
At the first sign of intrusion, he fled through escape routes.
“Escape ti: 10 minutes. At most 15.”
“aning I have to search that massive place in 10 minutes?”
“Yes.”
“Escape routes?”
“Over twenty. Planes, helicopters, subways, cargo routes, jet propulsion.”
[Mission Failed.]
“Anyone ever escape after attempting assassination?”
“No. All were executed or imprisoned.”
The Emperor commanded elite warriors.
They carried out global operations—terror, war manipulation, assassinations.
Jo Wol continued,
“All evidence points to him, but no one has killed him. And the shield protecting him is—”
Beep.
The hologram changed.
A helted commander appeared.
Shin Yawol.
Cheon Bigang’s mortal enemy.
“…Hmm.”
He understood.
Even if one was invincible—
You couldn’t catch soone who only ran.
“Exactly.”
“But…”
Cheon Bigang looked at Jo Wol.
“You didn’t explain all this just to say it’s impossible.”
“Of course not. I lost my family too.”
“Then?”
“I found another way.”
“Speak.”
She smiled.
“Senior, want to get a Sword Certification?”
---
Sword Certification.
Most aspiring martial artists took the exam.
Pass or fail.
No fixed format.
Only the written test on laws was standardized.
The rest varied wildly.
Unfair.
But the Martial Alliance didn’t care.
“If one place is easier, go there.”
Despite complaints, crowds gathered.
Because—
It was the only official certification.
Records of achievents were stored.
Battles, tournants, duels.
So data was public.
People ranked them.
Top 10 swordsn.
Undefeated legends.
Famous sects.
Popular martial artists beca influencers.
Millions of followers.
A glamorous life.
And people followed.
Like moths to fla.
All starting with certification.
---
“So, I’m getting certified.”
“Who are you to speak casually?”
“It’s .”
“Who are you?”
Smack!
Sa Gyeom’s cheek snapped sideways.
He lunged—
“Brat!”
“Don’t you ever learn unless you’re hit?”
“…Huh?”
Thud!
He rolled twice.
Then realized—
“Wait… when did you change your look?”
“Beggar style?”
“I didn’t an that! Why do you look like a kid now?!”
Sa Gyeom fud.
He hadn’t recognized him.
Cheon Bigang clicked his tongue.
“Your thoughts are shallow.”
“Don’t hit ! Talk it out!”
“Quiet. Do you have a Sword Certification?”
“I had one… but I don’t.”
“What nonsense?”
“It expired.”
“Why?”
“I was mistaken for a criminal.”
“Yeah right.”
“People fight, you know—”
“Enough.”
“…Yes.”
“Why do you need it anyway?”
“To enter through the front door.”
“…Huh?”
“If the owner runs, it’s troubleso.”
“….”
“Better to be invited.”
“…Ah.”
“So, I need certification.”
“…What?”
Ignoring him, Cheon Bigang asked,
“Where’s Gyojin?”
“He went out… ca back… seed upset.”
“I see.”
As Cheon Bigang turned to leave—
“Sa Gyeom.”
“Yes?”
“You’re not leaving?”
“…Huh? Oh! Is that a custor outside?”
He slipped away.
Cheon Bigang narrowed his eyes and headed downstairs.
---
The training room.
Thwack! Thud! Crack!
Gyojin was striking a target.
Breathing ragged.
Balance unstable.
No trace of martial arts.
Only frustration.
“Stop!”
“…Master?”
Cheon Bigang grabbed his wrist.
Blisters burst.
“What are you doing?”
“….”
Gyojin collapsed.
“Master! Please teach martial arts!”
His forehead pressed to the ground.
Cheon Bigang felt sothing off.
He sat and asked calmly,
“I was going to ask.”
“….”
“Disciple, your body… this Severed ridians condition—was it from birth?”
Gyojin’s eyes filled with tears.
“…Sob!”
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