The rain fell in a relentless drizzle, turning the narrow alleyway into a slick, treacherous path. Shadows clung to the crumbling walls, flickering in the dim light of distant lanterns, their glow barely reaching the depths where Gun stood, watching. Faint sounds of revelry—the clink of coins, the raucous laughter of gamblers who believed luck was on their side—drifted towards him from the gambling den at the alley’s end.
Gun tightened his grip on the rake, its cold, metallic handle a comforting weight in his hands. The weapon, once a simple farming tool, had been transformed by his hand, improved to deadly perfection. Greed and ambition swirled in Gun’s heart. The den was more than just a haven for gamblers and drunks; it was a vault of wealth, guarded by men who had no idea of the storm about to descend upon them.
Gun’s lips curled into a cold, mirthless smile. The shadows shifted as he stepped forward. The rake glinted under the faint light, each of its tines as sharp as any blade. As Gun approached the gambling den with his body completely dry and holding a rake behind his back, the establishment’s servants were already ready to block his entry. Simply looking at the pitiful clothes and the state of his body was enough for them. Unfortunately for them, Gun was not here to talk to anyone.
“Go on about your way, bum.” The servant shook his head.
“Do you even have enough coin to feed yourself?” The other laughed.
Gun’s answer was a casual swing. Gun and the other servant watched as the man was bisected into meat pieces. “Holy shit!” Gun exclaimed with a laugh. “I only wanted to scratch him up a bit.” The remaining servant could only let out a scream before Gun brought the tines of his rake down on the man's skull. The tines effortlessly pierced through his skull and brain before Gun recovered his weapon in a shower of brain matter and skull fragments.
Gun entered the gambling den covered in blood with a smile on his face. “Alright everybody! Drop everything in your pockets, pouch, and clothes and you'll be able to make it back home tonight.” His demands were met with uncontrolled laughter.
“Attempting to steal from the Black Hand Gang? This beggar really does not care for his life!”
“If I had half the courage of this fool, I'd be the bravest martial artist in the city.”
“Doesn't he know that the Black Hand Gang is one of the top forces in Cheonha? He's dooming his family to a life of slavery by being retarded enough to attack them!”
Gun’s outrageous proclamation was not entirely ignored. Several guards made their way to him from all sides. Smiles on their faces, eager to teach him a lesson. “Welp, I gave you all a chance to live.” Gun shrugged as he rushed toward the Black Hand Gang members.
Not expecting the farmhand to make the first move, the martial artists were slightly caught off guard. This allowed Gun to surprise the martial artist he ran toward. The swordsman looked down on the crude rake however that didn't mean he would ignore it and just allow himself to be hurt by it. He raised his sword to block the wild downward swing fully intending to push back the untrained kid and punish him for ever thinking of disrespecting the Black Hand Gang.
Gun’s rake sliced through the martial artist’s sword and body, leaving deep wounds on his torso. As he fell to the ground, quickly dying, Gun smacked the nearest gang member with the side of his rake. The impact sent him crashing to the ground with a sizable dent in the side of his head. “Get him!” Someone yelled.
They rushed toward Gun on all sides. Gun ran toward the entrance. “Shit! Why me?!” A Black Hand Gang member cursed as he prepared himself to fight Gun. His eyes focused on the rake. Gun grinned as he tossed the rake directly at the man.
His eyes widened in horror as he attempted to catch the rake by its tines. Unfortunately for him, it was no ordinary rake. The martial artist was split in two as Gun leaped over his corpse, picked up his weapon, and faced the remaining guards. But before he could swing, one of the martial artists landed a sword strike on his chest.
“What?!” The swordsman exclaimed.
The sword didn't even leave a mark on Gun’s raggedy cotton shirt. “You motherfucker.” Gun gutted the man with an underswing. The tines of his rake digging into the man’s stomach before being pulled out. He fell to his knees as his insides spilled out. Gun grinned at the remaining guards who simply turned and ran while screaming for help.
“Looks like it's your turn then.” Gun shrugged as he focused on the patrons now.
“Hey! Do you know who my father is?! You won't get away with this if you lay a finger on me!” A young man threatened.
“Get your grandfather for all I care.” Gun sliced the youth into pieces.
“Stop! Wait! I'll give you whatever you want! Just spare me!” Another begged for their life.
“It's too late for that shit.” Gun slammed his rake into the man's side.
“I'll do anything…” A rather attractive woman sensually pleaded.
“You should've gave up your stuff when I asked.” Gun’s rake ripped the woman's face off by her jaw with a swing from down under.
Gun's indiscriminate slaughter was met with heavy resistance as he got further in the gambling den. Young masters from notable clans, sects, families, and groups begin to show up. Despite wasting their time in a place like this, it didn't mean they wanted to be slaughtered by some nobody. They fought for their lives.
Gun spat on the ground with a grin. So they got some spunk, huh? The first young master lunged at Gun, his sword flashing in the light. But Gun’s rake was just better. He swung with brutal force, the tines slicing through the air and shattering the young man’s blade as if it were made of glass. The young master had no time to scream before the rake tore through his chest, sending him sprawling to the floor.
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But the others were quick to react. They attacked in unison, a coordinated flurry of strikes and parries that forced Gun onto the defensive. These young masters fought with a precision and discipline that far exceeded the losers Gun had faced earlier. They were cornered animals, fighting with the desperate strength of those who had everything to lose.
Gun felt the first bite of steel as a sword sliced across his arm, just below the sleeve. He grunted, pain flaring as blood welled up from the wound. Another blade slashed at his leg, just above the shoe, drawing more blood. His clothes, seemingly impervious to their attacks, only served to make him a target for their sharp eyes.
"His clothes can't be cut but that isn't the same for his skin!" one of the young masters shouted, his voice laced with both fear and determination. "Go for the gaps—his arms, his legs, his neck! Don’t let up!”
They quickly adjusted their tactics, aiming for the exposed parts of his body.
“Fuck off, you diamond spoon bastards! Just give me your lives and make things easier for a poor farmer's boy like myself.” Gun’s face scrunched up with rage.
“Shut up and die you bastard!” one of the young masters spat back, desperation edging his voice
His sword thrust aimed at the throat, and Gun barely dodged in time, the blade nicking his cheek. He retaliated with a vicious swing of his rake, the tines cleaving through bone and sinew, sending another young master crashing to the floor. But for every one he cut down, two more seemed to take their place.
The battle became a blur of blood and steel, Gun’s world narrowing to the clash of weapons and the burning pain of his wounds. He could feel the strength of the young masters pressing down on him, pushing him back, trying to overwhelm him. But he refused to give ground. He was Gun, the son of a bitch with the power to give a tenfold boost to anything that wasn't alive! The man who would become king of the world!
He let out a roar, a sound that was more beast than man, and launched himself into the fray with renewed fury. His rake whirled like a storm, each swing heavy with the promise of death. He caught a young master by the throat, the tines of the rake sinking deep and tearing his life away in a spray of crimson. Another tried to strike from behind, but Gun spun on his heel, the rake’s handle slamming into the attacker’s face, shattering his nose and sending him sprawling.
Despite the pain, despite the mounting injuries, Gun fought on. He was a whirlwind of destruction, his rake an extension of his rage. The young masters, for all their training, for all their skill, began to falter. The fear in their eyes grew as Gun pressed his assault, his movements fueled by an unrelenting drive to dominate, to conquer.
Yet the toll of the battle weighed heavily on him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body screaming in protest as blood dripped from his wounds. But Gun didn’t care. He was close, so close, to taking everything this den had to offer. No young master, no amount of resistance, would stop him now. In a final, desperate charge, Gun swept his rake in a wide arc, the tines catching flesh and bone, sending the last of his foes crashing to the ground. He stood there, bloodied and battered, surrounded by the bodies of those who had dared challenge him. His chest heaved as he took in the carnage, the once bustling gambling den now a slaughterhouse.
Gun’s vision blurred, but he forced himself to stay upright. He had won, but at a cost. The injuries, the blood loss—he was barely holding on. Yet, as he stumbled towards the back of the den, towards whatever riches remained, a greedy satisfaction welled up within him.
“You’ve made quite a mess of things out there, haven't you?” An older man in robes spoke to him when he reached the back of the gambling den.
“And who the fuck…” Gun’s words got stuck in his throat as a heavy force exerted itself on him, paralyzing him.
“A mess that not even I can make up for with my life.” He chuckled. “Years wasted… getting close to the Black Hand Gang just for some insignificant trash to ruin everything.” He rambled.
“...” Gun was starting to realize maybe he was in over his head. It really was impossible for mortals to face cultivators.
“Now I have to go on the run and start all over somewhere else just because of you. How do you think you can make up for this?” He asked, the mysterious force no longer preventing Gun from talking or moving.
Gun began shoving food into his gullet without hesitation. The cultivator tilted their head in confusion, not quite sure what the boy was doing. Then when he noticed he shouted in rage. Gun's wounds were being healed as he ate! With an enraged cry, he rushed the boy with his sword.
Gun barely managed to raise his rake in time to block the blow. Yet, he was still sent sliding away from the force of the man’s attack with his hands shaking. “You're a strong son of a bitch, ain't cha? Ain't nobody made me feel pain by just blocking yet!” Gun laughed despite his shaking legs.
“You may be worth more alive than dead…” The cultivator noticed there was not a trace of injury on Gun's body after he ate the food. No scars or anything.
“Of course I'm worth more alive than dead. I'm gonna become King! Hehehaha!” Gun ran forward.
The fear in his heart being silenced by his ambition and greed to change his station in life. He wildly swung his rake to eliminate the source of that fear. Watching with calm eyes as the farm boy attempted to murder him, the cultivator easily dodged and avoided the attacks. Then just as Gun overextended a downward slash intending to slice him in half from the skull down to his feet, the cultivator made his move.
His sword glowed with a visible white energy as he slashed upward. A loud horrific screech left Gun’s mouth as he looked at his arms falling to the ground. Another slice and his legs went too. His cry became gurgled as Gun glared at the man. “I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I'M GOING TO BECOME KING YOU SON OF A BITCH! A FUCKING KING! YOU DARE TREAT THIS KING THIS WAY!?” Gun screamed.
“You’ll be easier to transport this way, don't you think?” The man coldly laughed as he inspected Gun’s rake, admiring the sharpness and sturdiness of it.
As he does this, Gun is screeching at the top of his lungs rolling around in a bloody puddle. Much to the amusement of his captor. After doing some practice swings with the rake, he finally moved toward Gun and picked him up by his hair. “Should I cut your tongue out as well?” He briefly debated before his eyes widened in a panic. “You-!”
Gun spat out the bone fragment enhanced tenfold from his mouth toward the cultivator. He tried blocking with his hand covered in qi, however the shard easily tore through the energy, his hand, and lodged itself in his brain. The cultivator fell over dead on top of the limbless Gun who simply cursed in frustration. But at the same time he was incredibly overjoyed that he was able to kill the cultivator.
A maniacal laugh filled the gambling den as Gun bit open the cultivator’s pouch filled with medicine-smelling pellets. He placed one on his tongue and enhanced it by tenfold in quality before swallowing it. Then the areas where his limbs were cut off started to itch before an incredible pain struck him as his limbs grew back. Gun's laughter grew in volume as he got to his feet feeling better than when he came in, grabbed his rake, and began to take his rightfully earned spoils.
Time passed as Gun managed to gather all of valuables from the corpses and already present valuables in the casino’s vault. With the tenfold boost, he just became ten times as rich in an instant! By using the tenfold boost, he could choose whether to focus on quality or quantity. And with riches, there was no reason to choose quality when he could be richer!
“King of the World! Here I come!” Gun laughed while sitting on a small mountain of gold.