Lee Wang-chul’s mind raced, calculating his next move.

Tactician Bang Jeom-myeong was already beyond saving.

The damage to his twisted arm was severe enough that he would live as a cripple if he survived at all. But that was a moot point—the wound on his neck was the real issue. The killer, someone well-versed in murder, had clearly intended to finish the job. After all, how could you stop the bleeding from such a deep neck wound? If you tried to stop the blood flow by pressing on the wound, you’d choke the victim to death before the bleeding even stopped.

So, Lee Wang-chul’s dilemma wasn’t about saving Tactician Bang.

“Damn it, the tactician we borrowed from the Sadyoryun.”

The real problem was the Sadyoryun.

One of their senior tacticians had been loaned to them, and not only had they failed to treat him properly, but they also hadn’t even been able to protect him. Now he was dead. (Well, not quite dead yet.)

How could he possibly explain this?

It wouldn’t be enough to say, "We found him dead on the way to the bathroom." The response would be, "You let a fragile tactician go to the bathroom alone? Your low-level gang didn’t have the decency to escort one of the senior tacticians, laying out silk to make sure he didn't get even a speck of dust on him?" Any attempt at an excuse would only lead to more fury.

No one expects an escort on their way to the restroom, but this was the burden of a minor gang.

The only way to avoid total wrath was clear.

Revenge.

At the very least, they had to hunt down the culprit who killed the tactician and exact brutal revenge. They needed to loudly proclaim that anyone who dared touch someone from the Sadyoryun would meet the same fate. That way, they could salvage some honor in the eyes of the Sadyoryun.

A fire sparked in Lee Wang-chul’s eyes.

But it wasn’t because he cared about the death of his long-time partner, Tactician Bang.

Lee Wang-chul was a man from the Sapa faction, and hating intellectuals was just part of the job. Tactician Bang, who had barely passed the threshold of third-rate martial skills, had always rubbed him the wrong way. His death didn’t bother Lee Wang-chul at all. In fact, he thought Bang had died like the annoying, overbearing cripple he was.

No, Lee Wang-chul’s anger came from the inconvenience this caused him.

Damn it, now he couldn’t ask the Sadyoryun for more help. Just one more crate of their miracle medicine could have turned his gang into a major force, surpassing the smaller ones in their region.

But now, because of that incompetent scholar and the monster who killed him…

“Find out who did this. Even if there’s no one, find someone.”

The instruction wasn’t a motivational speech about leaving no stone unturned. He was saying, "If you can’t find the real culprit, make one up."

The Salwolmun warriors immediately began sliding open the paper doors one after another, searching for any signs of the killer.

Outside the guest room, on the railing of the observation deck, the night breeze was cool. It was the perfect place to get some fresh air. That’s when Gyeon Po-hee appeared like a magician, stepping in from the opposite hallway.

“What the—why are you coming from there?”

She smiled shyly and leaned in to whisper sweetly into Cheong’s ear.

“I just went to pee.”

Hmm. That was definitely information Cheong hadn’t needed.

And did she really have to tell him that while he was in the middle of eating some soup? At least it was refreshing to know.

But, then again, this was Po-hee. She was always like that.

In truth, Cheong wasn’t the type to get upset over something so trivial. Instead, he chuckled and asked her.

“So? Feeling better now?”

“Yup.”

“How was the bathroom? Clean?”

“Yup. Must be a high-class inn.”

Well, that was good news. Clean restrooms were hard to come by. Cheong made a mental note to visit it himself later.

Just then, a loud crash and the sound of something shattering erupted from outside. Someone was shouting, and a high-pitched scream followed.

Immediately, the Hwaryong team froze, falling silent as if they had rehearsed it. Jo Hak-che, who had been glaring at Changbin with bloodshot eyes just moments ago, turned serious and tapped the table. The young warriors seated near the railing opened the paper doors, letting the cool night air in.

A heavy fog of alcohol vapor rose into the air as all the Hwaryong members expelled their intoxicated breaths at once, filling the space with a boozy mist. It quickly dissipated into the night air, but it had been impressive while it lasted.

Cheong was impressed.

This was the strength of the political factions—or rather, it was because the drinking party included two of the most beautiful women in the martial world, plus one more extraordinary beauty. If it had been just a bunch of men or if they were entertaining courtesans, they probably wouldn’t have reacted so smoothly or prepared for battle so quickly.

In a way, Cheong’s unexpected presence had been a lucky break. His insatiable appetite for food and drink had somehow led to this well-coordinated reaction.

Meanwhile, the crashing and shouting grew louder until finally, BANG! The paper door exploded off its frame, flying through the air.

Ignoring the typical etiquette of opening doors by sliding them to the side, a Salwolmun warrior dramatically shoved the door forward, stomping in with an air of arrogance.

“Kneel, you bastards…huh?”

He had stormed in to make an impressive entrance, but as soon as he saw thirty or so blades aimed at him, his voice trailed off.

Thirty members of the Hwaryong team. Plus three more.

Dozens of swords and daggers were extended toward him, as if asking for a handshake.

The Salwolmun warrior hesitated, and in an instant, he began to back away, as if trying to rewind time and undo his entrance.

Whizz! A sharp sound sliced through the air by his ear.

He hadn’t even seen what had passed by.

The Salwolmun warrior froze, then his expression became grave as he asked solemnly:

“Should I kneel?”

Jo Hak-che gave a dignified nod.

The Salwolmun warrior collapsed to his knees and placed his sword on the floor.

Of course, all but two of the people present were honorable heroes from the political factions. They wouldn’t kill someone who had already surrendered and peacefully disarmed.

Jo Hak-che, his demeanor much calmer now, spoke in a composed tone. Although he was known for losing his wits around women, his core nature was that of a true gentleman, admired by all the men in the righteous factions. However, among the women, he was often voted the most burdensome and the person they least wanted to encounter.

“Now, tell me. What’s all this commotion in a place where so many people are gathered? I understand you may be angry, especially when alcohol is involved, but—”

“They’re here! It’s them!”

Jo Hak-che’s words were abruptly cut off by a shout.

Suddenly, more footsteps came rushing in, and the remaining paper doors shattered. A line of Salwolmun warriors, swords in hand, formed a blockade.

And finally, the head of Salwolmun, Lee Wang-chul, entered the room, exuding the confidence of a master.

Not because he actually felt confident, but because he thought this kind of entrance looked impressive. It was a tactic he often used to intimidate others.

As he stepped in, his eyes were drawn—not to the most stunning beauty present, but to a more subdued one standing nearby. It was Jin-seol. What was she doing here?

If it hadn’t been for her, he might have dismissed these people as young, inexperienced fighters. But with Jin-seol sitting there, he realized these were not just any amateurs.

“Ahem, ahem. I am Lee Wang-chul, head of the Salwolmun sect. It seems there’s been a misunderstanding. My men were searching for the murderer who killed the Sadyoryun tactician, and in their fury, they may have caused an unfortunate disturbance.”

His strategy was clear—make a tactical retreat. He wasn’t happy about it, but there was no other choice. With the odds against him, escalating the conflict could bring a disaster far beyond the Sadyoryun.

Jo Hak-che paused to think.

Salwolmun? Definitely a Sapa faction.

They had more men, but their older members were likely more experienced. Still, as the leader of his squad, Jo had a duty to protect his comrades. Plus, the Hwaryong team was made up of young fighters who needed this kind of experience to grow stronger.

If only he had brought some of the senior brothers from the Bamboo Alliance with him.

He had no choice but to play along for now.

“A murderer who killed the Sadyoryun tactician? What are you talking about? Did something tragic happen during the night?”

Lee Wang-chul’s eyebrow twitched.

This kid was speaking to him as if they were equals. Even if they were from opposite factions, shouldn’t the younger one show some respect to an elder? But he understood the signal. Jo Hak-che was telling him to resolve this quietly.

“Ahem. While taking a break from the banquet, the Sadyoryun tactician was found dead. His blood is still fresh, so we believe the murderer is nearby. We were searching the area when we, unfortunately, disrupted your gathering.”

“Ah. Is that so? Hmm…”

At that moment, Cheong spoke up, raising his voice.

“Well, it’s not like you can undo the disturbance now. If you’re truly sorry, why don’t you cover our tab? What good is an apology without action?”

The Hwaryong team members grinned at Cheong’s words.

If they could make the Sapa scum pay for their drinks as an apology, that would be a story worth bragging about for years to come.

But Lee Wang-chul’s expression soured.

Who was this little brat trying to humiliate him in front of everyone?

However, even a minor squabble between the political and Sapa factions could turn into a serious fight. Lee Wang-chul realized he had made a mistake by apologizing in the first place. Now he was trapped. If he paid for the drinks, he’d look like a fool who kowtowed to a bunch of kids. If he refused, he’d seem petty for not being able to cover a simple round of drinks. And if he said he wasn’t sorry after all, it would be a direct insult, and they would immediately have cause to attack him.

A true dilemma.

Of course, Cheong took great pleasure in tormenting evildoers. His mind worked at full capacity when it came to this, devising clever ways to trap his opponents.

He was only half-joking when he started the fight, though. He thought, I’ve already dealt with two, one more to go. If I crush this sect leader’s skull, the rest will scatter like chaff. It’d be easy to wipe them all out, then leave with a clear conscience.

Meanwhile, the other members of the Hwaryong team were inwardly bursting with admiration.

The legendary Cheonhwageom not only possesses unrivaled beauty but also unmatched wit!

But then, Gyeon Po-hee pointed toward the body of Tactician Bang being carried out behind Lee Wang-chul.

“Oh, that guy. I took care of him earlier.”

Cheong blinked. “Po-hee, what do you mean, ‘that guy’?”

“He kept trying to drag me off, saying we should drink, kiss, and do what men and women do when they meet. So I broke him.”

Silence.

Oh. Po-hee did that.

Well, Po-hee would definitely do something like that. She’s Po-hee, after all.

Ah. So it was our fault after all.

Everyone had the same thought at once.

Cheong was the first to speak up, launching into an indignant tirade.

“How dare you! Trying to harass my sworn sister, the Cheonhwageom’s sworn sister! These lustful, depraved bastards tried to assault Po-hee, thinking they could get away with it. Unforgivable!”

“What—?”

“No need for words!”

BANG! A fierce black mist swirled as Cheong shot forward, his body stretching out in a blur of motion.

Lee Wang-chul barely had time to draw his sword.

Suddenly, the deep, resonant sound of a temple bell echoed across the battlefield.

When you think of the Cheonhwageom, you think of the Buddha Palm, and when you think of the Buddha Palm, you think of Shaolin Temple, and, of course, the legendary Master Wuhak. It was Master Wuhak who had given Cheong his title, Cheonhwageom, so the connection wasn’t entirely far-fetched.

In that moment, Lee Wang-chul recalled the stories of this legendary technique. But it was too late.

The earth-shattering force of the Buddha Palm struck the ground beneath him, and with a crack, the floor gave way.

Martial power begins from the feet. And if the ground beneath you collapses, your martial prowess is useless.

Cheong was already upon him.

In Cheong’s delicate, translucent hand—so pale and perfect it was like white jade—was his weapon, glowing with a faint, golden light.

Lee Wang-chul’s eyes widened in shock.

“Wait…a pig’s trotter?!”

No, I cannot die from being hit with a pig’s trotter!