The Twelve Divine Generals all had varying levels of martial prowess, but regardless, they were considered equal to the Black Cat Gang Leader.

Jo Il-seom couldn’t even lift his head.

‘Why the hell is one of the Twelve Divine Generals here…?’

The moment he heard the name Baek-yu, he instinctively treated me the same way he would the Black Cat Gang Leader. And for good reason—Baek-yu was someone Jo Il-seom had no desire to cross.

Lately, Jo Il-seom had been sticking close to Black Rabbit, one of the Twelve Divine Generals, which meant Baek-yu, who had the worst relationship with him, would naturally be displeased.

Jo Il-seom knew this, yet because he was too low in rank, he had never actually met Baek-yu before. That was the problem.

His thoughts grew increasingly tangled.

"…Have you come because you have orders for me?"

"I do."

"Please, speak freely."

"Kill yourself."

Jo Il-seom clenched his teeth and didn’t respond. No matter how high the status of the Twelve Divine Generals, who would willingly accept such an order?

He finally spoke.

"If you say something so sudden and unreasonable—"

"I’m joking."

"…Hm."

I smirked and continued.

"The Twelve Divine Generals? That was a lie. I’m just from Ilyang County. Why are you so easy to fool, Ruju?"

Jo Il-seom immediately lifted his head, his expression shifting in an instant.

"Ilyang County?"

As soon as I said I was from Ilyang County, the tension in his body eased—but at the same time, anger flared in his eyes.

I held his gaze steadily.

"Your memory’s foggy. Come closer and take a good look. It’s me."

Jo Il-seom, still gripping his sword, stepped closer and examined my face.

Watching his shifting expressions was amusing. At first, disbelief. Then, in an instant, sheer rage.

He slowly drew his sword.

"You… are you that errand boy from Zaha Inn?"

With a smirk, I answered.

"You recognize me. Did you stop by for a tasteless bowl of noodles at some point? How was the Chicken Head Noodles, Lord Jo Il-seom?"

Only then did a terrible realization dawn on him.

"My younger brother?"

"What about him?"

"He left to kill you. What happened to him?"

I answered with a blank expression.

"He came."

"Tell me."

"He didn’t come for noodles, though. He started spouting some nonsense—I don’t really remember. Oh, right. He dramatically started digging his own grave. Why he did that, I have no clue. If you’re curious, ask him in the afterlife. Don’t ask me."

The moment I spoke, rage overtook Jo Il-seom, and he closed the distance, thrusting his sword at my face.

His attack was solid—a precise stab, as if expecting me to counter.

I drew my sword and deflected his blade.

Clang! Sparks flew.

The moment our swords clashed, information about each other’s abilities transferred through our arms.

Strength, internal energy, speed, even the quality of our blades.

Jo Il-seom was a swordsman in his late thirties, wielding a blade for nearly twenty years.

Since he never formally learned martial arts, he had developed his swordsmanship purely through experience—by killing.

His technique was crude, a mix of external strength and unstable internal energy. But because he had killed many, his attacks carried an undeniable bloodlust.

However, from a broader martial world perspective, his swordsmanship was third-rate at best.

Even though I had only reached the first stage of Golden Ninefold Roaming Art, Wooden Rooster, my refined internal energy was already far deeper than his.

After all, my power was rooted in the Heavenly Pearl. Jo Il-seom and I weren’t even playing the same game.

Skill, experience, reaction time—there was no comparison.

"You should’ve just killed yourself."

With a cold expression, I launched my counterattack.

The spacious banquet hall echoed with the clash of blades as we closed the gap and separated again.

Jo Il-seom’s expression darkened by the second.

His instincts, sharpened by years of fighting, screamed at him to run.

The realization struck—there was no way a mere inn errand boy should be fighting him like this.

The moment Jo Il-seom tried to retreat, I threw my sword at him like a rock.

Whoosh!

Startled, Jo Il-seom barely managed to deflect the flying sword.

At that moment, I uncoiled the whip from my waist and lashed it toward his sword hilt.

As I infused my whip with the energy of Wooden Rooster, Jo Il-seom was dragged toward me like a pig being led to slaughter.

Realizing he was trapped, he let go of his sword and spun around, launching himself toward the exit with light footwork.

But my whip was faster.

As he tried to flee, I lashed my whip around his waist and pulled him back, shortening the distance between us in an instant.

Panicked, Jo Il-seom spun and thrust both palms forward.

At that moment, I struck back with Wooden Rooster Finger.

Depending on our internal energy levels, one of two things would happen: either my fingers would break, or his palm force would be pierced, causing severe internal damage.

The outcome was obvious.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

A sickening crack echoed as his flesh tore open. Jo Il-seom stumbled back, coughing up dark blood.

His face twisted in disbelief.

"H-How did you…?"

"You mean how did I learn martial arts?"

I infused my whip with internal energy and lashed at him again.

Jo Il-seom, now gravely wounded, flailed desperately to block, but there was no efficient way to stop a whip.

With each strike, fresh red lines carved into his body.

Even as he was being beaten, Jo Il-seom roared.

"Zaha! You bastard, Zaha! Wait a minute—!"

I wrapped my whip around his throat and yanked him toward me, channeling Wooden Rooster Palm Force into his forehead.

Thud!

A sickening crunch followed as his neck snapped.

Jo Il-seom’s massive body crumpled to the floor.

The entire Ihwaru trembled with the impact.

Boom!

Jo Il-seom’s death didn’t stir any particular emotions in me.

After confirming that he had died instantly, I picked up my Black Dragon Sword.

The hallway was already filled with Jo Il-seom’s guards, but none of them dared to charge in.

I stood at the door, holding my sword and whip, and said,

"Open the door."

With a creaking sound, the door slid open, revealing a group of warriors gripping their sabers, their auras filled with hostility.

There was a simple reason they hadn’t rushed in.

According to the reports they had received, Jo Il-seom had been fighting a martial expert from the Black Cat Gang.

And from their perspective, it wasn’t clear whose side they should be on.

When judgment is difficult, self-preservation takes priority.

Jo Il-seom might have been terrifying in the moment, but everyone here knew that he and his brothers had been desperately entertaining powerful figures from the Black Cat Gang day after day.

These were not warriors bound to a sect’s discipline—they were just a bunch of street thugs.

It wasn’t hard for me to read their thoughts.

I stared at a few of them, and they quickly avoided my gaze.

Then I announced my reasoning for the kill, framing it as an order from the Black Cat Gang.

"The Gang Leader has changed his mind. The plan to establish a martial sect in Ilyang County has been put on hold. The Jo family was used as an example. If anyone dares to push for the sect’s formation again, they will end up like him. Step aside unless you want to die."

The men, who had been blocking the hallway, pressed themselves against the walls to make way for me.

Some even ran toward the entrance to check Jo Il-seom’s corpse.

As I walked down the corridor, I delivered my next command.

"From now on, all matters related to the brothels will be reported to Cha Seong-tae at Maehwaru."

When I reached the end of the hallway and glanced back, hesitant voices responded from all directions.

"Understood."

"Keep the funeral as simple as possible. Those three brothels exploited miserable lives to amass their wealth, so I’m sure they have enough money for the afterlife."

The moment I turned away, someone spoke.

"Aren’t you the errand boy from Zaha Inn?"

The words were spoken clearly, as if for everyone to hear.

"……!"

Silence followed, then murmurs spread among the crowd.

I stood still as warriors gripping their sabers slowly lifted their heads and fixed their gazes on my back.

"The errand boy from Zaha Inn? Is that true?"

"It is. His clothes are different, but I’ve seen him enough times to recognize him."

Someone had finally recognized me.

I cracked my neck from side to side before turning around.

Now, they were all staring at my face, meeting my eyes.

I grinned.

"That’s right. So what? Does calling me an errand boy suddenly make you braver? If anyone here wants to die, step forward."

As expected, no one did.

"If any of you desperately want to lick Jo Il-seom’s feet in the afterlife, I’ll be happy to send you there. I’m sure the Jo brothers will treat you like the obedient dogs you are. No takers?"

There were over thirty of them standing in the hallway.

Yet not a single one dared to step forward.

Completely exposed, I asked again.

"A bunch of stray dogs without a master, tucking their tails between their legs."

If any of them had the courage for revenge, they wouldn’t have spent their lives working under the Jo family in the first place.

Someone finally asked,

"Why did you kill Ruju?"

"Why?"

I didn’t owe them an explanation.

"Why don’t you ask Jo Il-seom? If anyone’s curious, feel free to come looking for me. I’m not going anywhere."

I turned and walked away.

Nobody moved.

Even if they wanted to strike at my back, none of them were better than the Jo brothers. A sneak attack wouldn’t work.

***

When I returned, Cha Seong-tae nearly choked, looking at me as if he’d seen a ghost.

"Gasp! What about Jo Il-seom?"

"He ascended to heaven."

"Liar!"

Drunk as he was, Cha Seong-tae immediately sprang to his feet and sprinted toward Ihwaru without another word.

To him, this was unbelievable news.

By the time I sat back down and finished my seventh cup of liquor while eating the now-cold snacks, Cha Seong-tae returned, panting heavily and shaking his head.

"It’s a disaster! An absolute disaster! Jo Il-seom is dead! He’s really dead!"

"You drunk?"

"I ran, and it made the alcohol hit harder."

Cha Seong-tae collapsed into his seat and continued.

"But no one else died? How the hell did you kill only Jo Il-seom?"

I pointed my finger at him.

"Manage those three brothels properly."

"There are a few stubborn ones, but fine. Leave it to me."

There had been two other men on the same level as Cha Seong-tae, but he always thought of himself as the strongest among them.

In a single night, the masters of Maehwaru and Ihwaru had both died, leaving only the youngest, the one responsible for supplying the brothels with kidnapped women—Siwharu’s master.

Cha Seong-tae asked,

"What’s next?"

"I need to kill the human trafficker too."

"I’ll find out where he is right away."

I had been planning to train for a while, but there was no need to tell Cha Seong-tae that.

I could train in Zaha Inn or disappear into the mountains for some peace.

Right now, my priority wasn’t training with weapons or sword techniques—it was refining my internal energy.

I needed to figure out how to draw out the power stored in my dantian and wield it properly.

I planned to observe Ilyang County for a few days before deciding whether to hide away for training or stay here.

Looking at the mess on the table, I said,

"Clean this up before you go."

Cha Seong-tae started to protest but immediately shut his mouth.

He knew that saying no would earn him another beating.

Instead, he thought for a moment and cautiously suggested,

"I’ll send some cleaning experts. Some of the best in Ilyang County. They’ll remove the weeds, dust the place, clean the floors—hell, even the kitchen is a mess! No wonder this place had no business. Just wait a little, and I’ll get them here right away."

"Have you ever heard of someone dying because they didn’t clean up?"

"There was such a story?"

"It’s an urban legend in Ilyang County."

"Really? I’ve never heard of that before. Anyway, I’ll just clean up the table before I leave. You should stay at Maehwaru instead—it’s more comfortable, and you’ll have guards."

I ignored him and walked into my room, sitting in a meditative position.

Cha Seong-tae sighed, then looked around for a rag.

"Son of a bitch… making me clean? Seriously?"

Grumbling, he started wiping the table.