Chapter 169: Artist (5)

It was a silence so suffocating it felt like drowning. The air stung his nose like it had been dusted with pepper in an instant.

Art Master. Jamukha.

It was because of the razor-sharp aura she exuded. This wasn’t some metaphor—the very atmosphere was churning. Ugh, his head was spinning.

Lee Taebaek had to buff his Mental stat just to barely stay on his feet.

‘That so-called master of hers is no joke.’

It was the kind of scene where foaming at the mouth and passing out wouldn’t have been surprising. And yet, amid it all, the man wearing the shell of Jamukha’s master stood tall and composed.

Even then, Lee Taebaek couldn’t help thinking: that guy was definitely a cultured human.

His entire body gleamed like it had been polished with wax. So pale it was almost like looking at a porcelain doll. His skin was something else—blue veins faintly visible beneath. The crowning touch was his bald scalp, shaved to a perfect purple sheen. Not a single dark mark anywhere; that was the mark of a cultured human.

His vision was still shaking. Lee Taebaek forced his eyes to focus and glanced at Art Master. Her tightly clenched fist trembled violently.

“…Master…!”

She spat it out through gritted teeth, glaring daggers.

“…How the hell did you end up looking so pathetic?”

“Pathetic, you say. Jamukha, daughter of Temujin—through your eyes, I suppose it must seem that way.”

“I…!”

Unable to hold back any longer, Art Master bellowed. The torches lining the pillars snuffed out all at once. In the pitch-black temple, only her eyes gleamed white.

“Am the daughter of Temujin, son of the steppes, and Saika from the mountains. And your daughter, Kublai!”

“Ha, haha.”

Kublai let out a dry laugh.

“I discarded the name Kublai along with my previous body. Jamukha, daughter of Temujin—you’re still trapped in that vast steppe, poor child.”

His eyes were adjusting to the dark. Against the pitch-black backdrop, a silhouette began to faintly emerge. Kublai’s.

“It’s been years since plastic arrived in this world, and yet you’re still fighting it bare-fisted. Ah, poor Jamukha. Temujin, look at your daughter. You’ve shackled that poor child yourself.”

“Shut—up—!”

Whoosh!

Sparks ignited around her fists.

Crack, crack—the ground beneath her heels crumbled. Debris floated up lightly, about two inches. As if gravity had vanished only around her.

The muscles in her legs were sharply defined, twitching. Their rough pulsing warped the space itself.

It was about time. On the way here, Art Master’s patience had been tested to its limit.

She had endured this far on the hope of reuniting with her master, a milestone in her life.

But now, that very master was denying Jamukha’s entire existence. And it wasn’t just words. Anyone could see it—that was a cultured human. Her master had abandoned his true body for this repulsive clone.

The ethics of cultured humans? She couldn’t care less. Art Master followed Haragusa’s orders to kill without hesitation, even if she grumbled about it. Playing the hypocrite now didn’t suit her. Besides, until moments ago, the term “cultured human” hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Even so.

“Anyone else, maybe!”

Art Master charged. Even with Bullet Time activated, all Lee Taebaek could do was track her shadow.

This might be the first time he’d seen the full power of one of the Three Calamities. Even in the eyes of Lee Taebaek, now one of the Seven Dignitaries, she was chillingly far beyond reach.

“Jamukha’s father shouldn’t be like that! At the very least, not you…!”

She bared her teeth and thrust her arm forward. Clashing with that fist wouldn’t just kill—it would vaporize his blood down to the molecular level.

If you thought it was just a heat-of-the-moment swing, you’d be dead wrong. Art Master belonged to Haragusa; she knew exactly what cultured humans were.

They were clones—literally dolls. Only implantable souls via soul transfer devices made them move. Siesta, the originators, produced them for that exact purpose.

For rich old monsters terrified of death.

Or.

‘For those dissatisfied with their own flesh…’

Which was her master Kublai? In Art Master’s judgment, both.

That made the bitterness even harder to swallow. The Kublai she remembered never blamed his frail body. He might have occasionally soured at reality, but he never denied his origins. He was a true son of the steppes.

The distance closed in an instant, but the memories flashing by were endless.

‘I’ll fix this.’

Smash that plastic shell to pieces, then cram his soul back into his true body. Even if he refused, she’d force it. That was the way of the steppes—and it held in lawless Lake City too.

Art Master’s fist rocketed toward Kublai’s eye. The fist wind pushed back his unnaturally smooth skin. He closed his eyes, then opened them.

“Don’t judge my life, Jamukha.”

Thud.

“…!”

“…!”

Both Lee Taebaek and Jamukha were stunned. The Three Calamity’s fist… had been blocked by Kublai’s palm.

It hadn’t connected. Buffing his Strength and sharpening his vision, Lee Taebaek saw the faint gap between fist and palm.

Ouch. Kublai wiped his nosebleed and grinned, flashing bloodstained teeth.

“Not bad muscle control.”

Even blocking it seemed to strain Kublai. But in Laykuns, no one could directly take Art Master’s punch head-on.

‘Not even the Heavenly Demon would trade blows with her.’

As far as Lee Taebaek knew, Kublai was the first. Probably the last too. He spoke.

“Who taught you to use it like that?”

“…!”

“Me—the former Kublai!”

Kublai twisted his arm and shoved. Immense force erupted. In the next instant, Art Master flew back like she’d been hit by a gale-force wind.

Wh-what? Why this way…?

No time to freeze. Lee Taebaek nerfed all stats except Strength—’Restriction.’ He exploded his power and caught her back.

‘Guh, ugh!’

He heard his insides crunch and shatter. His heels gouged a long furrow. Clutching Art Master, he slammed into a pillar.

The pillar couldn’t hold and collapsed. Lee Taebaek pulled her closer, twisted his waist mid-fall, and shifted their landing spot.

They tumbled across the floor before bracing. Art Master wasn’t much better off. A rare sight—one of the Three Calamities eating dirt.

Her head hung forward. Not defeat; some other emotion.

“Ha, haha, hahahahaha!”

Mad laughter pierced his ears. Kublai stared at his palm, splitting it open with a grin.

“Me! I…!”

He craned his neck to the ceiling, shouting beyond it.

“Temujin, are you watching? I, Kublai, have brought your daughter to her knees! I’m dying to know what face you’re making right now!”

“…Ptooey.”

Art Master staggered to her feet, rubbing her thumb.

“Dad would’ve said: ‘You bastard, what the hell is that? Shame of the steppes. You’re no friend of mine.'”

“Who knew a victor’s taunt could taste so sweet? Especially against one of the City’s Three Calamities.”

“Pfft. One lucky counter.”

Art Master exhaled. The dust settled, and so did her eyes.

“Hey, gigolo.”

Eyes fixed ahead, she tossed the words at Lee Taebaek. He rose, clutching his knee.

“Need help?”

“As if. I’d sooner borrow hands from those street preachers. Silver Nose Bar—on the way there, those Hundred-Fold weirdos stuck to me like glue…”

Ah, his gut warmed a bit.

“Hell of unbelief, heaven of faith or whatever. Anyway.”

Art Master spread her stance wide, as if refusing to yield another inch.

“Gonna say it myself, but you get why people separate seven from three, right?”

Referring to the Seven Dignitaries and Three Calamities.

“No need to split ’em if everyone’s mediocre. Honestly, it’s childish.”

“…?”

“In this day and age, slapping hanja on nicknames? Even Central Plains ditched that trend ages ago. Sigh.”

Sorry.

“Still, the hive mind’s pretty spot-on.”

Art Master assumed her stance. Left hand pressed just in front of her navel. Right hand fixed at eye level.

It didn’t look like any special martial art. Just a plain, anyone-could-do-it pose.

“Watch close.”

She crumpled her left hand, drawing from her dantian. Right hand followed suit.

“You sly bastard. Think I don’t know you dragged me here to use me as your master?”

Art Master smirked. Lee Taebaek’s jaw dropped. An impossible sight unfolded—one he’d never seen even in magic-ridden, chrome-everyday Lake City.

“Remember this. It’s not some fateful encounter. Don’t expect it again. Pure whim on my part.”

Crunch.

“Lee Taebaek, you’ll see this once in your life. Next time, you’ll be sniffing incense behind a screen while I make my comeback.”

Air currents gripped between her spread fingers. With bare hands, she’d clawed space itself. Gripping the dimension, she yanked.

“Hold on tight.”

“To wha—?”

“Anything you can.”

She plunged in.

Kaboom!

A deafening roar unlike before shattered the chamber. Lee Taebaek’s body lurched back. Sliding like on ice, he barely grabbed a pillar.

His mind reeled from the absurdity. Even buffed Mental took a second to process.

Finally, he looked up.

The world was inverted. Upside down. Sky and earth swapped. Blood surged reverse through his veins. Sour stomach acid filled his mouth.

‘Flipping dimensions?’

Kublai was caught too, floating midair. Midway from floor to ceiling.

Art Master kicked off. Bang, bang, bang. Afterimages traced a dizzying path. Soon, it looked like a net trapping Kublai.

She dominated the entire space, encircling him. Her clones swarmed, pecking at Kublai.

Lee Taebaek exhaled sharply. Just watching made his eyes burn. But he wouldn’t miss a second.

His eyes heated up. Blood vessels burst. Still, no blinking.

As she said, a spectacle he’d rarely witness again. Turning away now? He’d regret it forever.

If he could grasp enlightenment here, he’d sacrifice an eye without hesitation. Lee Taebaek had changed.

‘I want to get stronger.’

He had to. And imitating Art Master was the place to start. Imitation is the mother of creation.