After checking the list of martial world figures I hadn’t even known existed…

I also discovered that I’d been lumped in with the so-called Six Dragons—rising stars of the Demonic Faction.

I am Yi Zaha, Lord of Haomun and one of the Six Dragons.

But clinging to titles or fame only turns life into a dull, pitiful mess. So I made my way to the shabby Cheonri Inn, where the cleaning was likely just wrapping up.

The dandy-looking man with unexpectedly refined taste—Ghost Demon—spoke up.

“Must you really stay in such a filthy place? You have plenty of money.”

“A quiet inn suits me. I’ll have my subordinates do the cleaning.”

“I plan to stay at Baek Eung-ji’s residence for a while and challenge the Sword Demon again. His sword technique left quite the impression. Still, I can’t pester him too often…”

Ghost Demon glanced toward the Lecherous Demon.

“Give me a heads-up, and I’ll drop by then.”

Seems Ghost Demon hadn’t gotten over losing that duel. He’s always been like this—someone who plots revenge slowly and finishes it meticulously. Honestly, that’s the right way to grow stronger in Jianghu.

The Lecherous Demon answered.

“He’d welcome a proper duel, {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} but if you go in without any insights, he’ll find it even more annoying. Train first. I’ll let you know when the time’s right. But not now.”

“Understood.”

Ghost Demon made it clear: he’d set his sights on the Sword Demon and would throw himself into training.

Soon, I arrived in front of the Cheonri Inn and said to the two who had followed me here as if on a casual stroll:

“A clean inn with a nice scent and tasty food doesn’t come close to this place.”

“Why?”

I pointed to the signboard.

“Look. You can still see the Butcher’s presence here. I killed him, sure, but to be honest, he was stronger than either of you.”

The Lecherous Demon nodded silently.

“And how strong must his master be? Training in an inn stolen by killing the Butcher—it’ll make every day feel uneasy and dangerous.”

Lecherous Demon and Ghost Demon looked at me quietly.

I shared my resolve.

“If bearing that unease makes me stronger, then I’ll endure it. Screw being one of the Six Dragons or whatever. For now, I’m putting Haomun, my subordinates, and even the Demonic Cult out of my mind. That Butcher… he was strangely strong. You two be careful.”

Truthfully, Ghost Demon—defeated by the Sword Demon—and I, who killed the Butcher, probably felt the same. Right now, the only thing that mattered was becoming stronger.

After confirming the change in their gazes, I concluded with one word:

“Confirmed.”

They responded in kind.

“Confirmed.”

“I confirm as well.”

I watched the two walk off and stepped into the Cheonri Inn. Martial artists from the Wind-and-Cloud Mong Family were standing by and greeted me.

“Lord of Haomun, you’ve returned?”

“You’ve worked hard. Master Mong just left, so follow him.”

The broken door at the entrance had been repaired, and the corpses had already been carted away. A few men remained, reinforcing the second-floor wall with wooden panels for a temporary fix.

When I casually reached for my pouch, all the martial artists waved their hands in refusal.

“Master Mong told us not to accept payment, so we’ll be on our way.”

“I’m not Mongrang’s subordinate.”

I pulled out some silver usable as drink money and forcibly pressed it into the front man’s hand.

“Have a drink before you go.”

The warriors, clearly awkward, accepted it with hesitant voices.

“Alright, we’ll make good use of it.”

As they began filtering out one by one, a man in his mid-twenties turned back to speak.

“Lord of Haomun?”

“Yes?”

“We didn’t know Master Mong had a male friend. He’s wild and hard-headed, so it must be tough dealing with him.”

I nodded.

“We’re not friends, so there’s no need to thank me.”

“I see. Still, please continue looking out for him.”

I waved them off.

“Oh, I’ll beat the crap out of him whenever he steps out of line. As you probably know, the guy needs regular thrashings.”

The young man answered flatly.

“True. He’s nearly been kicked out of the family, so please do. We’ll pass that on to the patriarch.”

I finally laughed.

“Now you’re speaking my language. Take care.”

“Yes.”

I checked the kitchen and found the Third Young Master’s guard scrubbing the floor. Something about it struck me as odd.

‘He could’ve run.’

If only members of the Mong Family were here, it wouldn’t be strange for him to have fled.

“…Did you eat?”

“I had some dumplings.”

“Where’d those come from?”

“The Mong Family warriors shared them. There were still some ingredients left, so I made do.”

“Why didn’t you run?”

He replied while wiping the floor.

“I promised to clean up. I’ll think about it after that.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

I stared at him, smiling. I couldn’t tell what this guy was thinking. I had the distinct feeling that life’s major and minor variables were hitting me all at once—but I chose to just accept them as they came.

***

That evening, after dark, I was sitting cross-legged upstairs when someone entered the inn.

For a second, I was confused. Then I remembered—this was still an inn that served guests. I should’ve put up a sign saying it wasn’t open.

Sitting in a space where tables had been joined together, I waited quietly to hear what the guest had to say.

Then a man seated himself and spoke.

“Isn’t this place open?”

From the kitchen, the guard replied.

“Nope.”

“Where’s Butcher Brother?”

My eyes shot open.

‘Butcher Brother?’

He was talking about the Butcher—likely a senior disciple or acquaintance.

I unfolded my legs and walked to the railing, looking down at the man.

A man in his forties sat at a table, a pitch-black fishing rod laid across it. He looked up at me.

“And who are you?”

I stared into his eyes and answered.

“The one who killed the Butcher.”

He smirked.

“You? No way. Where’s my junior?”

This bastard didn’t believe me even after I told him directly.

Just then, a woman in red entered and addressed him.

“Senior Fisherman, apologies for being late.”

“Senior Fisherman”—clearly a nickname meaning ‘old angler.’

I scanned the woman. She held a horsewhip. That told me everything I needed to know.

I greeted her.

“Welcome, Sister Whip.”

She looked surprised.

“Who are you?”

So it’s Fisherman, Butcher, Whip.

If I break it down: fish, slaughter, whip.

Their professions? Fisherman, slaughterer, horse handler.

They were practically a mirror of Haomun’s Black Blade sub-branch that I created.

The angler addressed the woman.

“That guy claims he killed Butcher Brother. And you in the kitchen—come out unless you want to die.”

A large man then squeezed in through the doorway, ducking his head.

“Senior Fisherman, I’m here.”

I looked at the newcomer.

“What are you? Late because of a sideshow? Or stuffing your face?”

He placed a hand axe on the table and answered.

“Who’s the dumbass? Where’s Butcher Brother?”

The fisherman shook his head.

“No clue. We’re figuring it out.”

I’d never seen a hand axe look so tiny. Judging by his sleeveless animal-hide bandit outfit, he was probably a lumberjack.

I nodded toward him.

“You must be Junior Lumberjack.”

Judging by their skills and energy, the trio formed the Fisherman, Butcher, Lumberjack, Whip set.

Then the Third Young Master’s guard casually emerged from the kitchen and said,

“Do Senior and the Young Master are chasing the Lord of Haomun. Please wait. Would you like a drink?”

The lumberjack waved him off.

“No point. The booze probably sucks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Finally, the fisherman chuckled and addressed me.

“Ah, so you’re the reinforcements summoned by the Third Young Master. Come on down. We should at least exchange names if we’re working together.”

I smiled back.

“Name exchange my ass.”

The fisherman, lumberjack, and whip-handler looked up at me.

If seniority among them matches skill, then the fisherman outranks the Butcher. The others were on par or slightly below.

Together, the three posed a serious threat to me.

Of course, killing and dying are two different matters.

Just then, voices echoed outside.

I was just steeling myself to deal with the trio when I heard two more people arrive.

“Another pair?”

The voices outside went like this:

“Let’s have a drink before we go.”

“This place looks filthy. The food probably sucks.”

“Oh stop fussing. Let’s just have one drink here and head to Geumhwa Pavilion.”

“Why here of all places?”

“Because Baek Eung-ji’s booze is pricey—Geumhwa is the worst. Drinking here saves money. Honestly, you’re so clueless. Why are you like this?”

The two entered, looked around, and took a seat.

I was relieved to see that it was none other than the Lecherous Demon and Master Yukhap.

Judging from the chatter, they’d spotted the newcomers while returning to Baek Eung-ji and decided to tail them. Makes sense—they’re not the kind to overlook skilled strangers.

The Lecherous Demon looked up at me.

“Hey, Jomsoi. Take our order already. Guests are waiting—what the hell are you staring at?”

Master Yukhap nudged him.

“Why’re you so rude to the tavern boy?”

“Look at his face. He looks like an asshole.”

Yukhap studied me for a second, then nodded.

“…True.”

The fisherman, lumberjack, and whip-handler all turned to glare at the newcomers. They clearly recognized each other as martial artists.

And of course, that damn guard opened his mouth again.

“The Third Young Master is out. Please wait. We’re under renovation, so all we can serve is alcohol.”

What kind of atmosphere was this?

Chaos had descended on the humble Cheonri Inn.

The Lecherous Demon looked at the whip-handler, who was glaring at him.

“Why’re you staring like that? Never seen a handsome man before?”

The Red-Clad Whip scoffed and fiddled with her horsewhip. Their leader, the fisherman, stepped in.

“Ah, you two also came to assist the Third Young Master? The Wind-and-Cloud Mong Family’s second son and Master Yukhap? Mongrang’s Demonic Faction now, and Master Yukhap—you’re from the Orthodox side. When did you two latch onto the Demonic Sect?”

The two of them awkwardly went silent.

“……”

The fisherman looked up at me again.

“You’re so young, I wasn’t sure—but you’re Haomun’s leader, huh? Did you really kill the Butcher? With your skills? Impossible. Or did the Third Young Master sell us out to the Cult?”

I crossed my arms and sighed.

“Well, truth is…”

“Go on.”

“Killing him took about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. Shocking, I know. But you three need to avenge your brother, don’t you?”

The fisherman replied.

“Not many could kill Butcher Brother that fast. But you’re not one of them. We’ll torture you and find out what really happened.”

Then he warned the Lecherous Demon and Master Yukhap.

“You two—don’t interfere unless you want to get hurt.”

I pressed my palms together and asked the trio.

“Fine, fine. But let’s take this outside. I’m tired of seeing inns collapse.”

“……”

“I am the Lord of Haomun. I did kill the Butcher. I’m not running. Let’s go outside where there’s room to fight. Please.”

The fisherman, lumberjack, and whip-handler stood up.

“Move out.”

As they headed outside, I looked at the Lecherous Demon and Ghost Demon. I had nothing to add.

“Confirmed.”

The Lecherous Demon stood and grinned with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I’m taking the Red-Clad Whip.”

Still unsure whether his companion was really the Lecherous Demon, Master Yukhap asked in confusion:

“Why?”

With a chilling expression, the Lecherous Demon answered.

“I always grow stronger after fighting high-level female masters. It’s instinct. Don’t overthink it.”

Master Yukhap stared at him, then replied with understanding.

“Confirmed.”

Thus, the matchups were set:
Lecherous Demon vs. Red-Clad Whip,
Ghost Demon vs. Lumberjack,
Crazy Demon vs. Fisherman.

And the judge? Likely the kitchen-cleaning guard of the Third Young Master.