There are several reasons why I suspect the Man in White Robes to be the Demon Gentleman of the Swift Party.

The first is that he gifted me the Moonlight Cold Heart Technique. Why would he give me a cold-based technique just because we met once?

In truth, his intentions are unclear.

Most likely, before handing Moonlight Cold Heart Technique to Moyong Baek, the Demon Gentleman also investigated me.

And what would he find through such an investigation?

He would have come across information about how I ruthlessly beat to death most of the black faction’s leaders—Black Line Pavilion Lord, the Great Rakshasa, Master Su, Iryong Nogun, some of the Twelve Divine Generals, the Sword-Breaking Society Lord, and so on. Especially those at the top—they all died brutal deaths at my hands.

So, I likely made it onto the roster of people he’s interested in.

Like a butcher. Or a woodcutter.

Second—was Moonlight Cold Heart Technique really a proper martial art?

It was not.

The manual of Moonlight Cold Heart Technique describes the method of harvesting extreme yin energy through a technique called Yin Extraction—essentially killing people to absorb their energy. It’s a demonic technique and a cold-based one at that. Moyong Baek, who read through this method repeatedly, became visibly emaciated and spiritually devastated.

He was clearly on the verge of internal deviation. I still remember what Moyong Baek said to me back then.

“If the one who created this technique is still alive somewhere… I would like to find him and kill him.”

That’s how devoid of mercy this training method was. So this Demon Gentleman bastard blackened Moyong Baek’s heart with a single manual—and then passed it on to me.

But there’s one thing the Demon Gentleman absolutely could not have known about me.

From the beginning, I possess the Heavenly Pearl.

Which means I have no need to use the Yin Extraction method to cultivate extreme yin energy.

Perhaps the Demon Gentleman gave me Moonlight Cold Heart Technique because he wanted to see the birth of another martial scourge, like I had become through brutally killing the black faction.

Just like the Butcher.

Had I not possessed the Heavenly Pearl… if I had been completely consumed by slaughter, revenge, or martial obsession, I would’ve trained in that cold art and continued an even crueler massacre than now.

Of course, given my disposition, my blade would’ve still been pointed at the black faction...

But if I had killed someone every other day, extracted their energy, and used it as the foundation for Moonlight Cold Heart Technique, I would’ve turned into the Crazy Demon faster than in my previous life.

In that case, the Demon Gentleman’s hidden intention would’ve hit the mark.

So, this whole chain of thought begins with one simple fact—the Demon Gentleman had no clear reason to hand over Moonlight Cold Heart Technique to me.

“To test his light footwork against mine?”

He’s not such a simple-minded man.

As my suspicions hardened that the Man in White Robes is the Demon Gentleman, more questions came to mind.

In my past life, how did he go from the demonic faction to the righteous path?

And how did he manage to hide his identity as the Evil Emperor that the Martial Alliance was so desperate to find?

Also—what was his motive for entering the righteous path in the first place?

I was going mad with curiosity.

Just then, the escort of the Third Young Master arrived first, bringing alcohol and snacks at the entrance. I had yet to wipe the blood from my body, lost in thought, and shot him a glare.

“…You’re here?”

“Yes, Pavilion Lord. I’ll place the alcohol and snacks here.”

“Fine.”

Still deep in thought, I kept staring at the Third Young Master’s escort.

A method to shift from the demonic path to the righteous path…?

Suddenly, I felt a shiver crawl across my whole body, and a low chuckle escaped me.

When I laughed to myself, the escort looked at me, startled.

“Why did you suddenly laugh?”

“Life’s just too damn funny.”

“…Yes, sir.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t really have much to laugh about, sir.”

“Understood.”

Because I know what happened in my past life, I know that the Butcher would later become a martial hero.

But I didn’t know he had sworn brothers like these. If all of them had lived, not even the Martial Alliance would’ve been able to take them down easily.

If the Butcher, the Woodcutter, and the Fisherman joined forces, someone within the top ten martial experts in the Alliance would’ve had to lead an elite squad just to confront them.

But what if someone like the Man in White Robes personally killed such martial scourges and went to the Martial Alliance asking to join?

What I mean is…

Killing multiple martial scourges would be enough of an accomplishment to gain entry.

The world would see him as a new hero who eliminated martial villains. And the few who knew the truth would think of him as a rare devil who severed the heads of his own disciples just to enter the Alliance.

Of course, by that point, those few in the know would probably be dead—killed by the Man in White Robes.

At any rate, for now, I only suspect that the Man in White Robes is the Demon Gentleman. I can’t yet prove that he’s the Evil Emperor either.

It feels like I’ve caught a glimpse of a massive evil that’s completely different from the Cult Leader. Strangely enough, if my guess is right, the Man in White Robes will live up to the nickname he later earns—

The Evil Emperor.

My thoughts were tangled and heavy, but thankfully, there was alcohol in front of me.

The escort, having set out the alcohol and snacks neatly, spoke to me.

“Pavilion Lord, please drink.”

I asked him in a casual tone.

“Is it poisoned?”

“It is not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not that brave or foolish, sir.”

I nodded and then said,

“Verify it yourself.”

“Understood.”

He pulled out chopsticks and began tasting the alcohol and food.

A thought came to me.

When there are too many villains around, you start to suspect that everyone is a villain.

That’s where I am now.

Maintaining a middle path between suspicion and rational judgment isn’t easy. In a way, perhaps I’m only having these thoughts because the Man in White Robes influenced me.

This bastard sure is making Jianghu life interesting.

I snorted and stood up to wash.

I could tolerate the smell of blood by now, but the sticky sensation all over my body was unbearable.

“I’ll go wash up.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Behind the inn, I solemnly washed myself at the well. I had to rinse off the blood before I could bathe. And I had to bathe before I could scrub off the grime. That’s how deeply blood is embedded in my body and soul.

When I kill an enemy, it’s Asura’s slaughter; when I wash the ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) blood away, it’s peace like a flowing river. Even if the Demonic Cult chases me again or the Man in White Robes captures and tortures me, I pray I won’t lose my mind. I washed every part of my body clean.

Better to be a clean, confident prisoner…

Than a filthy, foul-smelling one.

I scrubbed thoroughly.

Then another thought struck me.

If things spiral out of control…

If the man known as the Crazy Demon goes to the Martial Alliance and claims that the Man in White Robes is actually the Evil Emperor—who would believe him?

No one.

But if a man known as a chivalrous warrior says the same thing?

The weight of the words would be completely different.

Which means those called heroes are strong…

Because there’s truth behind their words.

If the truth spoken by a hero is stronger than the martial arts of a madman—

Then truth is mightier than martial arts.

So if I want to clearly reveal some truth that the world doesn’t want to believe, I need to live properly first. That conclusion made my skin crawl, even as I washed blood off myself.

In my past life, I was simply mad.

Now, I might go mad trying to become a hero.

I swore to myself I wouldn’t let that happen and washed off the blood with caution.

I’m no hero.

If anything, heroes are people who do the hard, bothersome, often ignored tasks for the sake of others.

Now that I think about it, there are no lunatics quite like them.

For the first time in my life, I felt a quiet respect for those once called heroes. Not because they were strong, but simply because they were heroes.

***

After changing into the clothes brought by the Pervert, I returned to the table. Master Yukhap briefly took out his silver needles to verify that the food and drink weren’t poisoned.

None of us trust the Third Young Master’s escort.

Not killing him on the spot and remaining wary of him are two very different things. People can only be trusted over time.

Anyway, the three of us silently reviewed our respective fights while eating and drinking. The Pervert and the Ghost Demon had joined me here at the Thousand Li Inn because they anticipated that the masters of those I killed might be too strong for me to face alone.

Just look at the Butcher and the Woodcutter—it’s obvious.

In any case, the Pervert and Ghost Demon don’t want me to die at someone else’s hands.

And since I understand how they feel, I had nothing to say. A little later, I spoke to the escort who returned after disposing of the Woodcutter’s corpse.

“You, stop cleaning up and come eat.”

“Understood. I’ll wash up first.”

Soon after, we sat together at one table, drinking in silence. After a long pause, the Pervert asked a curious question.

“Do you think we could’ve caught that Fisherman if we’d chased him earlier?”

Master Yukhap tilted his head.

“I doubt it. With the Pavilion Lord’s light footwork, catching up was possible, but ending it quickly wouldn’t have been. He was the Woodcutter’s senior. What do you think?”

I nodded in agreement.

“True. Even with equal footwork, he got a head start…”

“What about the fact that he has a master?”

I revealed just enough information.

“Before he died, the Butcher confessed he’d been tortured by his master. With disciples like that, the master is no sane man either.”

Truth is, the Man in White Robes isn’t the type to rush over for revenge just because a few disciples died. I suspect he’s locked away reading books, or hiding out indulging in tea ceremonies, or out searching for new disciples. Or maybe he’s roaming with Swift Party elites having light footwork duels like I knew in my past life…

In short, if it’s outside his interests, he simply doesn’t care.

Still, I was curious about the Demonic Cult’s situation, so I asked the escort.

“You.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s your name?”

The Pervert and Ghost Demon also turned to glare at him. I wondered if he realized it might not be me, but these two villains who would kill him.

In a respectful tone, he introduced himself.

“I have no surname. My name is Sam Bok—‘Three’ as in the number, and ‘Bok’ as in stomach. It means I’m the third trusted servant.”

“Then why isn’t the third trusted servant attending the Third Young Master?”

“I said something to the Butcher, and the Third Young Master knocked me out.”

“So?”

“I thought I was dead. When I woke up… it was all just ridiculous.”

I nodded, and the Pervert sneered.

“Some trusted servant you are.”

The Ghost Demon nodded as well.

“Trusted enough to get beaten, huh.”

I poured Sam Bok a drink and asked him about the Demonic Cult.

“So, who do you think will become Vice Cult Leader? Let’s hear your thoughts with this drink.”

Receiving the drink, Sam Bok answered.

“Yes, sir. First, it’s said that the Cult Leader has three sons.”

“And?”

“We don’t know the exact number. That’s his private business. There may be more, but the three are the ones mentioned as successors. The First and Second Sons are fighting not just for the Vice Leader position, but also the vacant Left Guardian seat.”

“And the Third?”

Sam Bok smiled.

“He tried to kill the First and Second.”

“How?”

He answered blandly.

“That part I didn’t hear.”

“Why are the brothers so desperate to kill each other?”

Sam Bok answered with a shocked look.

“…Isn’t it obvious? Several half-siblings have already been killed by the First Son. It’s less a succession dispute than a blood feud. Of course, there’s no proof the First Son did it himself. But everyone believes it. Since the Cult Leader does nothing to intervene, it will continue until only one is left.”

I let out a short sigh and poured drinks for the Pervert, the Ghost Demon, and Sam Bok.

As the sound of pouring filled the air, a wave of drunkenness came over me.

“Take it. Drink it. Let’s get drunk.”

I downed the drink with these bastards and wiped my mouth.

Strangely, I felt grateful to have villains like the Pervert and Ghost Demon on my side.

Because only villains could endure the kind of story I’m facing.

Just then, creak—the door to the Thousand Li Inn opened, and a man appeared carrying a sealed bottle of liquor under his arm, looking around at us.

Thankfully, it was Sword Demon, a man who felt like a thousand troops arriving at once. The Pervert must have reported what happened here, and that brought him.

I looked at him in surprise.

“Senior, you’ve come.”

“Master, you’re here.”

Sword Demon approached with his usual calm expression and spoke to me.

“Pavilion Lord, I heard the inn had reopened, so I came to check it out.”

I had no choice but to stand and greet this guest.