Chapter 230

Luoyang, the thousand-year-old capital.

This historic city, whose legacy stretched back thousands of years, was one of the foremost centers of commerce, literature, and art under heaven.

Even in vast Henan Province, Luoyang was unrivaled in size. Wherever one went in the city, crowds filled the streets.

The same was true of a small inn on Luoyang’s outskirts.

“Two bowls of huimian noodles!¹”

“Yes, yes! Coming right up!”

“Three more bottles of baijiu!²”

“Right away!”

Merchants who had just completed a long journey clinked cups in broad daylight. A group of scholars held a heated debate nearby, alongside shabby singers who looked down on their luck.

And of course, there was one group found wherever people gathered.

Martial artists.

Crash!

The inn’s door exploded into splinters, and five or six swordsmen poured inside.

The one-eyed man leading them shouted without hesitation.

“Get them!”

His shout was directed toward a secluded corner of the inn.

A group of fierce-looking men had been guzzling strong liquor straight from a large jar. They overturned their table and leaped to their feet.

“Damn it, the Dongcheon Sect?”

“Kill them!”

Clang! Clang-clang!

With a deafening cacophony, more than a dozen martial artists drew their weapons and clashed.

Blades tangled and sprang apart, throwing sparks into the air. Tables split, and everything on them went flying in all directions.

“R-run!”

“It’s the Dongcheon Sect! The dark-path men are fighting!”

The Murim was not made up solely of righteous heroes.

The orthodox faction, the unorthodox faction, and dark-path figures coexisted, while thousands of li away³ stood the Demonic Cult, said to be filled with fiends and monsters.

Among them, the Dongcheon Sect was a dark-path faction that ruled Luoyang’s nights.

“…I’m ruined!”

The innkeeper, who had been cheerfully taking orders moments ago, collapsed onto the floor.

The Dongcheon Sect was no common gang of ruffians. Despite being a dark-path faction, it had more than fifty years of deeply rooted history and strong connections within the government.

If he dared report this incident, they would beat him to a pulp.

Please, just don’t let anyone die.

The innkeeper’s desperate wish crumbled the very next moment.

Slash!

“Grrrk.”

With a chilling sound, one of the men clutched his throat and fell.

He was one of the dark-path swordsmen who had recently gotten into a minor dispute with the Dongcheon Sect.

“Gungsu!”

“You goddamn bastards!”

Driven mad by their comrade’s death, the swordsmen charged at the enemy, swinging their weapons.

But in a fight between evenly matched dark-path swordsmen, nothing mattered more than numbers.

“One of them’s down!”

“Finish off the rest!”

The Dongcheon Sect’s swordsmen were experienced and ruthless. They exploited every opening, stabbing and slashing without mercy. Blood sprayed each time their blades flashed.

Swish-swish-swish! Thud!

“Gaaaaah!”

“Guh!”

“P-please, spare me!”

The one-eyed man burst into laughter at the last survivor’s plea. He was a lower-ranking officer of the Dongcheon Sect.

“What? Spare you?”

“Please, just this once. If you let me go, I’ll never—”

“You should’ve known who you were dealing with.”

Thunk!

A dagger shot from his sleeve and buried itself in the last swordsman’s forehead.

“Gueugh.”

Thump!

With a grotesque groan, the corpse toppled backward like a rotten old tree.

“You’ve got no pride at all. And you call yourself a dark-path man.”

The one-eyed man retrieved the dagger from the corpse’s forehead and crooked a finger at his underlings.

“Clean this up.”

“Yes, sir!”

With a vigorous reply, the swordsmen gathered the bodies and piled them together. The once-peaceful inn had long since become a sea of blood.

Step. Step. Tap.

The one-eyed man blocked the wrecked entrance and swept his gaze over the terrified innkeeper and guests.

“Some of you know who I am, and some of you don’t. So I’ll trouble myself to tell you again.”

In the suffocating silence, everyone froze beneath the cold, murderous gleam in his eyes.

His harsh voice sounded as though he had swallowed iron filings.

“I am Heukgeol, the lone beast of the mighty Dongcheon Gang—”

Smack! Boom!

Everyone inside the inn blinked, stunned by what had happened so suddenly.

Heukgeol, the lone beast of the Dongcheon Gang who had been blocking the entrance like Mount Tai,⁴ was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood a short old man.

“You son of a bitch. Why are you blocking the entrance?”

“…”

An unseen tremor swept through the inn.

Only then did the guests notice Heukgeol embedded in one of the walls. Their eyes widened.

Gasp!

A martial artist!

He’s a master. An incredibly powerful one!

While everyone was still reeling in shock, a young man who had entered behind the old man spoke with an incredulous expression.

“Still, was it really necessary to beat him like that? What if he dies?”

“Who cares whether some dark-path piece of garbage lives or dies?”

The old man answered gruffly and jerked his chin toward the inn, which had become a sea of blood.

More precisely, he pointed at the Dongcheon Sect’s swordsmen, who were gathering the corpses and severed limbs.

They stared at the old man with vacant expressions.

“Look. Can’t you see? That’s the kind of people they are. There’s nothing in their heads, so whenever they meet, all they can do is swing swords at each other.”

“Wow. They really deserve to die.”

“Right?”

“Yes. Shall we eat now?”

“Order the drinks first. I’ve inhaled so much dust that my throat’s scratchy.”

“Got it.”

The young man answered brightly and hurried over to the innkeeper.

“You have rooms, right?”

“Y-yes?”

The innkeeper, only half-conscious, answered automatically.

“Of course, sir.”

“Then give us the best room you have, and three bottles of baijiu.² As for the food…”

The old man, who had already claimed a table, shouted from behind the young man.

“Crisp-roasted duck and huimian!¹ You have to eat huimian¹ when you come to Luoyang.”

“Sir, you heard him, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How much will that be altogether?”

Such was the power of habit.

The innkeeper instinctively calculated the entire bill and was just about to name the price when—

“You crazy bastard!”

“Fuck! Get him!”

They were not called dark-path figures for nothing.

They lived mayfly lives, born in the back alleys and destined to die in them.

Armed with their innate simplicity and ferocity, the Dongcheon Sect’s low-ranking swordsmen rolled their eyes back and charged at the young man.

“Die!”

The bald man at the front let out a thunderous shout and swung a crude, broad-bladed saber.

The blade, red with rust, came down toward the crown of the young man’s head.

Or rather, it was about to.

Whoosh! Crunch!

With a chilling sound, the bald man crumpled. His jaw had been shattered, and he was already unconscious.

The saber slipped from his limp hand.

Clunk. Clatter.

“I thought hair was the only thing you were missing. Turns out you’ve got no skill either.”

The young man muttered without much interest and turned back to the innkeeper.

“So, how much was it?”

“…”

“…”

The atmosphere inside the inn, already frozen solid, somehow froze even harder.

As countless people watched with bulging eyes, the young man paid the bill and even collected his change.

He was walking toward the old man’s table when he suddenly stopped.

“Hey.”

The Dongcheon Sect’s swordsmen, frozen like statues beneath his gaze, flinched.

“Yes, sir?”

“Were you talking to us?”

The young man nodded.

“Yeah. What are you going to do?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“That thing in your hand. If you’re going to swing it, hurry up and swing. Otherwise, put it away. It’s ugly.”

Shk-shk-shk!

The swordsmen sheathed their weapons with lightning speed.

“Now collect the bodies and your friends. Move.”

“Yes, sir! Moving!”

“Clean up the mess you made while you’re at it.”

Repeating the order like men desperate to stay alive, the swordsmen moved in perfect unison.

They gathered up the corpses and the bald man, then pulled the one-eyed man out of the wall. Afterward, they swallowed nervously and waited for their next order.

“Why are you standing there gawking? Get the hell out.”

“Th-thank you!”

That was precisely what they had been praying to hear.

Afraid they might be stopped, they hurried out of the inn. The young man’s next words shot after them like an arrow.

“If I see your faces one more time, you’re dead. Remember that.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Yeah, take care.”

A suffocating silence filled the inn.

As the young man walked toward the old man’s table beneath everyone’s horrified gazes, he suddenly drew a sharp breath.

Gasp!

Had the Dongcheon Sect attacked again?

The people who had been watching his every move jumped and looked around.

But the young man’s gaze was fixed on only one thing: the roast duck that had appeared on the table.

“H-how could you?”

His eyes bulged, his pupils trembling as though an earthquake had struck.

After a brief silence, the young man shouted,

“How could you eat both legs by yourself?!”

“…”

Seven days and nights.

That was how long it had taken us to get from Taiyuan to Luoyang.

Even riding at full speed, the journey would normally have taken ten days. There was no point explaining what it had been like to cover that distance in only seven.

The important thing was that I hadn’t complained even once.

But still…

“This isn’t right!”

I was genuinely furious.

He had eaten both legs! And this was my first proper meal in an entire week!

He had even left me with only one wing.

“Even dark-path bastards don’t do this!”

I kept shoving whatever food I could grab into my mouth as I vented my outrage. Across from me, Jeok Cheongang looked utterly dumbfounded.

“Look at this ill-mannered brat. You dare shout at this old man over something so trivial? What was that? Dark-path bastards?”

“Am I wrong? Even the Demonic Cult Leader would eat only one duck leg.”

“You little—”

Whoosh!

A gentle heat began to rise from Jeok Cheongang’s palm when a gruff voice suddenly cut in.

“Hey, let me ask you something.”

A hulking man entered the inn with heavy footsteps. His face was covered in scars.

Behind him came dozens of dark-path swordsmen with equally menacing faces.

His face alone is rated 18+.

The one-eyed man Jeok Cheongang had dealt with earlier had looked vicious enough, but compared to this giant, he could have passed for a model prisoner.

Is looking the part half the job around here?

Well, at least it made them easy to identify.

Jeok Cheongang didn’t even bother looking at them, so I answered in his place.

“Yeah, that’s us.”

“I heard some very interesting news, but…”

Confusion flickered across the giant’s face.

“What?”

“I haven’t even asked yet.”

“It’s obvious. The interesting news you heard was that some old man and a fresh-faced young guy showed up and beat a bunch of your lackeys half to death. Something like that, right?”

“…”

“Yeah, I know. Come on in. And bring all the friends you brought along just in case. You can attack together.”

This outcome had been entirely predictable.

Maybe the men I’d let go had called them, or maybe someone among the onlookers had informed their gang. It didn’t really matter.

I can just beat them down as they come.

The difference in strength was overwhelming.

Against men at this level, the result would be the same whether ten or a hundred of them came rushing in. There was no need to kill them. I could brush them aside like flies.

“Not coming? Then I’ll come to you.”

“You little bastard!”

Still, the man who had come this time had some instincts.

Perhaps sensing something ominous, the giant edged backward and waved his hand.

“Get him!”

Schliing.

Dozens of weapons had just begun to emerge from their sheaths when—

“Amitabha.⁵ C-could we pass through for a moment?”