Descent of The Demon Master [EN]: Chapter 1871

What is martial arts?

Bang Jin-hoon was once again reminded that he couldn’t properly answer this question.

He had trained because he was told to train, and he had learned because he was told to learn.

Not once had he ever pondered what he was learning or why he had to learn it.

Perhaps that very diligence had brought Bang Jin-hoon to where he was now.

But that was until now.

To move forward, to create something more solid, he couldn’t continue as he had been.

Bang Jin-hoon put down the paper he was holding.

Characters.

Only characters.

The densely filled paper, as well as the office floor and walls, were covered with illegible scribbled Chinese characters. Bang Jin-hoon’s eyes, half-glazed over, continuously read and reread the characters that filled his world.

‘Now, there’s enough data.’

No, it was excessive.

Everything related to what he was trying to create was in his head. And it was on this paper, on the floor, and all over the walls.

He read and read again, understood and understood again.

But all of that didn’t necessarily lead to success. Data was just data; it was solely Bang Jin-hoon’s role to combine it and create something new.

After agonizing and agonizing to find a clue, Bang Jin-hoon finally reached the root.

‘What exactly is martial arts?’

How could he create martial arts if he didn’t know what it was?

If someone making a chair didn’t know what a chair was, or if someone making a car didn’t know what a car was, could they really create a proper product?

Of course not.

So, he had to start here.

What is martial arts?

What on earth is martial arts?

However…

‘Can I answer this question?’

This was a Zen koan [a paradoxical question used in Zen Buddhism to provoke enlightenment].

Who on earth had the perfect answer to define what martial arts was?

A definition was ultimately a regulation.

That regulation couldn’t be a perfect meaning for everyone. It was just believing that it was a perfect meaning.

So, he shouldn’t be trapped by the meaning that people in the world spoke of. What martial arts was, was something that only Bang Jin-hoon could think about and answer.

That’s why it was difficult, so very difficult.

Because there was no one to tell him whether his judgment was right or wrong. Even verifying whether his answer was correct was entirely up to Bang Jin-hoon.

So, a Zen koan.

He had to seek and seek again for the answer to a question that had no answer.

Endlessly…

“Bullshit.”

Bang Jin-hoon scoffed.

“There’s no way I’d be like that.”

Some might seek the truth, but that wasn’t the path Bang Jin-hoon had to take. No, he couldn’t even take it.

Not everyone in the world could fly in the sky. He was a realist who kept his feet on the ground, worrying about each day.

The lofty meaning of martial arts?

He could give that to the dogs.

Bang Jin-hoon slightly gritted his teeth.

‘I learned because I was told to learn, and I trained because I was told to train.’

The only reason he had overcome that terrible ordeal was because he believed that if he tried and tried again, someday that effort would light his way.

A desire to reach a higher level through martial arts?

He didn’t have that.

Hopes of gaining enlightenment through martial arts and transcending humanity?

There was no way he’d have that.

“I just wanted to eat well and live well.”

If he hadn’t learned martial arts, he would have worked. Maybe he would have even studied.

He had just learned martial arts because it was what was in front of him. That was all there was to it.

‘I’m different from the other directors.’

They were people who were obsessed with martial arts itself, not what they could achieve through it. Even when there was no one left to stand in his way, Kang Jin-ho didn’t let go of martial arts.

Bator would be the same. His competitive spirit didn’t just stop at defeating his opponent. If there was no one left to fight, he would fight himself.

Wiggins wouldn’t stop his research to see the other side of the world, and Jang Min wouldn’t neglect his training until the day all the cultists disappeared.

But Bang Jin-hoon was not like that.

For him, martial arts was just a means to take care of his own well-being. If he hadn’t learned martial arts, his life, which might have ended as a local thug or a gang leader, wouldn’t have been made so brilliant.

He didn’t want more.

Some might push themselves with a sense of duty and academic zeal, but for Bang Jin-hoon, that was like pie in the sky [an unrealistic or unattainable goal].

“What do I know about what martial arts is?”

Does a doctor fully understand what medicine is before treating a patient?

Does a lawyer start defending after perfectly understanding what the law is?

Absolutely not.

The important thing wasn’t understanding, but doing. And doing was enough as just a means.

Attaching a grand meaning to the reason was just deceiving himself. It might be different for others, but for Bang Jin-hoon, it was clearly so.

Then…

Bang Jin-hoon looked at the characters that filled his world.

“…It doesn’t need to be grand.”

He didn’t need to create some great ascending martial art. After all, only those who were meant to learn it would learn it. Bang Jin-hoon’s gaze wasn’t on those ‘prodigies’ in the first place.

They didn’t need Bang Jin-hoon.

They would find their own way, and if they couldn’t, they would seek out someone who knew the way. Bang Jin-hoon wasn’t needed by those who could fully take responsibility for their own lives and goals.

The ones he had to focus on were those who couldn’t.

Those who didn’t have great goals, didn’t have great will.

Those who, like Bang Jin-hoon, had just started learning martial arts because someone told them to, and had ended up here.

‘What’s wrong with that?’

Not everyone could live like Kang Jin-ho.

Those who were covered in an iron will, and those who had an unshakeable composure that wouldn’t be hurt.

Those who became heroes to some, legends to others, and perhaps even passed down as myths.

Was it wrong not to live like that?

That’s ridiculous.

The martial world forced excessive will upon people. It recognized effort, sacrifice, and pushing oneself as absolute good.

Bang Jin-hoon felt suffocated every time he felt that silent coercion.

Although it was called the martial world, this was still a place where people lived. Just because they were martial artists didn’t mean they weren’t people. They also felt pain when they were hurt, wanted to run away when they were scared, and groaned when excessive pressure came upon them.

For some, this place was a battlefield, but for others, it was just a place to live.

Those who didn’t have the courage to run away and turn a blind eye, nor the courage to step forward and lead.

A place where those who were neither generals nor deserters lived.

“What’s wrong with that!”

Bang Jin-hoon shouted.

Nothing.

Nothing was wrong.

He didn’t know what martial arts was.

But he seemed to know what kind of martial arts he had to create.

‘It doesn’t need to be noble.’

He just wanted to create martial arts that would help those who were trying to find a slightly better life through martial arts.

Not difficult, not strenuous, yet practical.

It didn’t fit the word ‘ascension,’ but this was the martial art Bang Jin-hoon was trying to create.

“So…”

Bang Jin-hoon’s eyes filled with a firm will.

‘No need for complexity.’

It was being erased.

The characters that occupied his mind, the characters that filled his world, began to be erased one by one.

Excessive things were unnecessary. It had to be extremely simple. There were already enough martial arts in the world that were made in a complex way and could only be handled by a very few geniuses.

Just something a little more advanced.

A martial art that anyone who had fully mastered the basics he had created could easily enter and easily learn.

That was Bang Jin-hoon’s ideal.

‘I’m the same.’

He had always worried.

Looking at the directors who were ahead of him, and at Kang Jin-ho. They were different beings from Bang Jin-hoon. They always ran forward at unexpected speeds, and they solved things that he couldn’t even dare to do so easily.

Every time he saw them, Bang Jin-hoon had thought countless times that he wished there was a slightly easier and simpler martial art.

But this wasn’t for him.

It was the path he had to pave as a predecessor for those who would one day have the same worries and reach the same situation as him.

‘More simple.’

It was being erased and disappearing.

The characters that densely filled the world.

The characters that had blackened the world to the point where the white background couldn’t be seen were being erased one by one, and the world was regaining its original bright color.

‘No.’

It was not enough.

This wouldn’t do.

This was suitable for him. But there were many people in the world who were worse than Bang Jin-hoon. Just because it wasn’t difficult for him didn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t be difficult for others.

So, more easily.

More simply.

But at the same time, he must never miss the path to ascension.

Perhaps this was an attempt to reconcile impossible concepts. A process of delicately completing a tower that would collapse with the slightest imbalance, with the most delicate touch.

To be strong, it had to be difficult, and to be simple, it had to give up power.

The middle ground.

He found that middle ground that no one in the world had defined and drew a line without the slightest deviation.

It was as if a huge sword was gnawing at his mental strength. The more he concentrated, the harder it was. His mouth tasted metallic, and his whole body trembled.

He couldn’t help but sense it.

‘It’s too much for my abilities.’

This might be an even more difficult task than creating a proper ascending technique.

But…

Even so, he couldn’t give up.

He couldn’t just stop, saying he had tried enough.

If he didn’t do it, someone would eventually arrive at this place and have to do the same thing. If he gave up now, it would just be passing on what he had to do to someone else.

So…

‘Overcome the wall?’

He could give that to the dogs.

The characters that had filled Bang Jin-hoon’s world began to swirl in his mind. Words intertwined, and concepts mixed.

And a bright ray of light pierced through the chaos of those countless concepts, like a black whirlwind, and paved the way.

‘I don’t care if I don’t achieve anything with this.’

He wasn’t Kang Jin-ho.

He wasn’t Bator, nor Wiggins, nor Jang Min.

He was just Bang Jin-hoon.

Someday, Kang Jin-ho would die and disappear, and the other directors would also die and disappear. But even in this changing world, the General Assembly would leave its name and be passed down to future generations.

Even if it might fall into a miserable decline, or perhaps even struggle to maintain its lineage…

Even so…

Even if the name of the General Assembly changed, even if that name disappeared, as long as the lives of those who had staked their lives here continued…

The martial arts he left behind would never disappear.

So…

“I’ll leave it behind.”

The not-so-great footprints of a not-so-great man.

More clearly than ever.

Bang Jin-hoon closed his eyes and began to wander in the world of his mind.

With an unwavering will.