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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Disciple Yi Pung - [1]
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If eternal virtue does not depart,
One can return to the infant state.
— Tao Te Ching, Chapter 28
When a certain Taoist priest claims he's lived from the late Joseon era to now at 120 years old, over a century of cultivating martial arts and the immortal path, people can't help but be amazed.
They might expect him to be the world's greatest master. Or believe he's reached a spiritual realm beyond ordinary comprehension after a century of practice.
That's exactly why Heo Pung-gae always halves his age when he mentions it. He couldn't live up to those expectations.
He was undoubtedly a master, but not the supreme one under heaven. Nor was he a sage matching his years. In crude terms, he didn't live up to his age.
He felt ashamed of that fact.
So now that Return to Youth had made him look young, Heo Pung-gae was secretly thrilled he no longer had to try proving his worth.
He looked about twenty now. At that age, no one worries about social standing.
And so Heo Pung-gae strode confidently into Starbucks, ordered a caffe latte with equal confidence, and sat there blankly without drinking it.
Only when the appointed time arrived did the man he was meeting show up. A middle-aged guy who looked about forty-five stood before Heo Pung-gae.
"Invincible BB Bullet hyungnim?"
It had been ages since he'd heard his old moniker. A nickname the cops had given him—cringey as hell, but he'd used it so long it became famous.
"Yeah, long time no see. Yi Pung."
Yi Pung fiddled with his bushy beard as he eyed Heo Pung-gae. His eyebrows twitched.
"I heard the bullshit about Return to Youth, but... shit, I can't even recognize you."
"Quiet. I told you not to tell anyone I got younger."
"Right, you said you'd pretend to be someone else entirely. Didn't explain why, though."
Yi Pung scrutinized Heo Pung-gae before continuing.
"But seriously, is it really you, hyungnim?"
"What, you doubt it?"
"Of course I doubt it. Does Return to Youth actually work?"
"Of course it does."
"If you'd pulled off something that amazing, you wouldn't need to work with me again, right?"
"What're you talking about?"
"You could teach longevity arts to rich chairmen and rake in the cash. 'Learn martial arts from me and you'll rejuvenate too.'"
"Cut the crap. Who teaches longevity arts when they've cultivated Virgin Boy Skill?"
"Fair enough. But I never even heard you'd been released."
"Got a sentence reduction."
"Checked the records—no change in release date. Just said you were transferred to another prison."
"I faked it."
"How?"
"President Park handled it."
"That's allowed?"
"Guess so. Something about a prisoner protection program—he didn't give details. But my voice is the same even if my looks changed. How could he not know?"
"It's been four years since I last heard it. How would anyone tell? Even moms who hear their kids' voices daily fall for scam calls impersonating them."
He kept switching between polite and casual speech. Clearly suspicious as hell, but Heo Pung-gae didn't care.
Doubt him or not—what did it matter? It'd be clear soon enough.
After about ten minutes of back-and-forth, they stood up.
"We'll talk details in my office. Can't blab important stuff where people might hear..."
Yi Pung led the way as he spoke. Heo Pung-gae followed, scanning the surroundings.
Familiar scenery. He'd operated here for over a decade.
Five years had passed in prison, but nothing around Dong Incheon Station had changed.
Not Chinatown, yet shop signs bore faded Chinese characters—rusty, stained, barely legible.
Just like thirty years ago.
Dong Inchon's old Harlem, left behind by national progress and development—that's where Yi Pung and Heo Pung-gae's office sat, in the corner.
"It's been a while, huh?"
The moment they opened the office door.
"Take him down!"
A shout rang out, and a baseball bat swung at him.
Sudden ambush, but Heo Pung-gae didn't flinch. He calmly assessed.
Yi Pung must've tipped them off earlier while fiddling with his phone. 'Jump anyone who comes in.'
Heo Pung-gae casually dodged the bat aimed at his head. But there were three attackers.
A hammer and mop handle came from the sides. No dodging those, so he counterattacked.
No flashy limb flailing.
"Hup..."
He simply thrust out his hand, jabbing their chests with his fingers. The two struck at acupoints froze mid-swing.
Acupoint Strike—a technique paralyzing the body via pressure points. To outsiders, it looked like magic. Proof enough he was a true master.
"What the..."
The remaining one, the bat-wielding youth, panicked at the failed ambush and his comrades neutralized.
Quitting now?
No. He gritted his teeth and swung wide, aiming to split Heo Pung-gae's skull. Frowning, Heo Pung-gae decided this one needed a lesson.
He met the incoming bat with his palm. Twisting his wrist, he redirected its momentum—right into its owner's gut.
The youth spewed foam from his mouth and collapsed.
"Your employees, boss?"
As Heo Pung-gae turned to ask, Yi Pung was swinging a whiskey bottle like a club.
Fierce strike at his head, but Heo Pung-gae opted for mercy. Had to save face in front of the underlings.
He pulled his left hand from his pocket and flicked a finger.
As if cursed by dark magic, the whiskey bottle inches from his head—and Yi Pung's grip—halted.
The fallen one and paralyzed pair gawked at their twitching boss.
Acupointed too? But nothing touched him...
Wait, something had.
Clack. A single plastic BB pellet dropped. It rolled across the floor. The four immobilized men's eyes followed it desperately.
Only then did Heo Pung-gae snatch the bottle from Yi Pung's hand, set it on the table, and release the acupoints.
Finally able to speak, Yi Pung replied belatedly.
"Yeah. Trained 'em well, right?"
"They listen good. Really tried to bash me when you said so."
"Damn straight."
Heo Pung-gae whispered so only Yi Pung could hear.
"Doubts cleared up?"
Yi Pung whispered back.
"More or less."
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Yi Pung brushed off his clothes and faced his underlings.
No trace of embarrassment from the botched ambush. If the guy was real Invincible BB Bullet, no threat. If fake, no issue anyway. His attitude screamed it perfectly.
Yi Pung casually introduced his crew to Heo Pung-gae.
"Guys who work under me. They train martial arts with me, help with jobs. Keep their faces in mind—check their forms now and then."
They'd agreed Heo Pung-gae would act subordinate in public.
"Your disciples, boss?"
Their expressions screamed, This punk teaching anyone? Yi Pung explained.
"Disciples? Yeah. Skills are meh, but..."
Teaching martial arts bought loyalty beyond paychecks, apparently.
As Heo Pung-gae pieced it together, the underlings eyed him. One spoke up.
"Who is he? Looks like a total badass."
Yi Pung grinned.
"Think you can spot a master?"
"Nah. So he's not?"
"Fucking master he is. He'll work with us now—treat him right."
"Our junior?"
"Junior my ass. You three got wrecked—now you wanna play senior?"
"But we're legit lineage..."
"What lineage we got?"
"Boss, weren't you partners with Invincible BB Bullet for over ten years? Half-disciple or something. Makes us his direct line, right?"
Yi Pung glanced at Heo Pung-gae.
"Idiot, this guy's his direct disciple."
Just as they'd set it up—and he was already selling it. Sharp as ever.
"Disciple of Invincible BB Bullet?"
The underling's eyes widened. Yi Pung nodded.
"Yep. So don't fuck with him. And don't go bragging our lineage's Invincible BB Bullet's crew. That guy's temper is nuts—he'd come beat down any mutts trading on his name."
Heo Pung-gae glared, but Yi Pung ignored it.
Meanwhile, the three underlings stared at Heo Pung-gae.
Their gazes had shifted. From hidden humiliation and hostility to awe.
Made sense. Invincible BB Bullet was a living legend. His disciple had to be strong.
Heo Pung-gae eyed them back.
Yi Pung's disciples?
Since Yi Pung was his disciple, they were technically grand-disciples.
How good were they? Time to see.
Couldn't spot the intangible with naked eyes. But close them slightly...
The qi flowing through their veins and lymph.
Qi volume didn't make a master, but it gave a rough gauge.
And to Heo Pung-gae, they weren't even close. Their qi matched ordinary folk.
Bottom of the barrel lowlifes—barely qualified as martial artists.
'One's a tad better, but still...'
None satisfied Invincible BB Bullet's standards, who rated even top masters generously.
No surprise Yi Pung's disciples sucked. Yi Pung himself was a scrub. Disciple of a master didn't make you one—but a scrub's disciple was always a scrub.
As he finished appraising, Yi Pung asked.
"Got a place to stay?"
Heo Pung-gae humbly replied.
"No."
"Crash at my spot then. See that building next door? Acupuncture clinic—second floor's a studio. Usually 150,000 won rent, but don't worry about it."
"Thanks."
Heo Pung-gae bowed politely, then whispered.
"Isn't that my building?"
"Yeah. Gotta keep face in front of the crew, though."
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