Since returning to this life, one thing I think I’ve done right is making sure the Lecher doesn’t end up pledging himself to the Demonic Cult. In other words, it’s still an ongoing project.

Even if words like “The Villains' Society” or “Four Great Villains” were mostly just my jokes…

My goal is to make sure these bastards don’t join the Demonic Cult or go scattering off in all directions committing atrocities.

Originally, I considered the Lecher—who would’ve become the Left Guardian—the most important, but thanks to him, I came to know Geomma. Maybe I was inspired by that, and luck helped me bring in the Drunk too.

So here I am, dragging villains back toward the light.

Because with these bastards, normal lectures don’t work. I had no choice but to mix nonsense with total bullshit whenever I talked to them.

Even so, the intent was always the same.

Villains…

The light over here is warmer.

Don’t go that way.

That path is dark, lonely, desolate, and cold.

If I use these villains for my own purposes, does that make me a villain too? Honestly, I don’t care.

I was the Crazy Demon to begin with.

Outwardly, I always berated them, cursed them, beat them, and mocked them—but inside, I was begging these pathetic bastards a dozen times a day.

Come with me.

Come stand here with me, where I’m barely balancing on the razor’s edge between black and white.

It’s not easy, dragging people who’ve rotted to their core back into the light.

So what does the defection of the Third Young Master mean?

Right now, I don’t know.

In the past life, he probably got caught by the First or Second Noble and died in some dark hole somewhere.

The Lecher and the Drunk had gone back inside to catch up on sleep.

Sam Bok, exhausted from piggybacking all day, was dozing off in a chair, but the Third Young Master just kept staring endlessly at the ordinary inn scenery.

I had nothing to say, nothing to offer, and talking felt like a hassle…

So I just sat beside him and watched the sunset in silence.

The sun dipped below the horizon, the crimson glow spread across the land, and soon enough, darkness arrived. As the pitch-black sky deepened, stars began to appear—one by one at first, then all at once, lighting up the heavens.

Both the Third Young Master and I looked up at the night sky.

If he found the stars beautiful, maybe his emotions—his joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure—were finally changing. But if they seemed just as cold and meaningless as before, then so was he.

I didn’t ask him about it.

Anyone could see the Third Young Master had been staring at those stars for a long time.

Thanks to him, I too took in the cool night air and gazed up at the sky in peace for the first time in ages.

***

Geomma had set down his wooden sword and was sitting on the porch, staring at the star-filled sky.

He would occasionally wonder, as he looked at the scattered constellations, whether the paths of swords might be hidden in those patterns—an illusion that left him slightly dizzy.

Sometimes, staring at a particularly bright, lone star, he felt envy. He wondered if that was the star of Alliance Leader Im Sobaek or the Cult Leader. After all, he still wasn’t on par with either of them.

So Geomma searched the sky to see if there might be a star that matched his level. Even if it was a foolish thought—equating brightness and size to martial skill—he took it seriously. But the sky was so full of stars, so full of warriors shining in the martial world, it wasn’t easy to pick one as his own.

Before he could find it, he dropped his gaze toward the entrance.

“……”

A voice came from beyond the door.

“This is Hong Mok-han, messenger of the Right Guardian.”

Geomma answered,

“Come in.”

The door opened, and the messenger stepped inside, dressed in deep red robes. He knelt on one knee.

“Have you been well, Senior?”

Geomma nodded.

“No issues. ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) It’s been a while, Hong.”

Hong Mok-han looked up and met Geomma’s eyes.

“I’m not sure how I should address you.”

“No need to fuss over titles for a defector. Speak comfortably.”

Hong revealed the purpose of his visit.

“Senior, the Cult Leader has ordered that those who wish to fill the vacant Left Guardian position must retrieve the Bright Sword. Elders and retired figures from within the organization have expressed interest, and several allied families have sent in candidates. The Right Guardian heard of this and asked me to inform you that a group will likely come seeking the sword.”

“I see.”

“The Right Guardian also told them to ask you for a time and place before they act. If you decide on a location, I’ll pass it along.”

“Hong.”

“Yes?”

“Is the force large?”

Hong hesitated before replying.

“It’s hard for me to gauge. Some of the allied families have sent people too.”

Geomma looked around his room.

“Then this place won’t do. What about the time?”

“Please set it, and I’ll relay it.”

Geomma looked at the sky and asked,

“Will it rain soon, Hong?”

Hong glanced up and answered,

“It should stay clear for the next ten days or so.”

“Then have them come within that window.”

“I’ll relay it. And the location?”

“There’s a quiet inn southwest of here. It’s the only one in the area, so they’ll find it easily.”

“Understood.”

After finishing, Hong glanced around the room.

“Are you comfortable staying here?”

Geomma nodded.

“It’s quiet. That’s all I need. How is the Right Guardian?”

“Busy with external affairs.”

“As expected. And the Cult Leader?”

Hong answered cautiously.

“He said something.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Well…”

“It’s fine. I’ve heard the Cult Leader’s insults more times than I can count.”

Hong lowered his head slightly and said,

“‘It’s a sword unworthy of a man who trains with a wooden stick.’”

“I figured.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hong, do your best with the Right Guardian to rein in those applicants. No need for needless deaths. The Cult Leader must be bored again. So many still fall for his games.”

“I’ll relay the message. I’ll take my leave now.”

As Geomma nodded, Hong Mok-han stepped outside, turned back at the entrance, and bowed quietly before leaving.

Alone again, Geomma heard the faint, fading sigh of the departing messenger and murmured to himself,

“…Hong’s light footwork has improved.”

He looked back up at the sky, sensing that soon, many of those stars—both big and small—would lose their light.

In any case, it was time to retrieve the Bright Sword, which had sat untouched in his cabinet for far too long.

Whether it made him angry or just bitter, Geomma couldn’t tell. A quiet sigh slipped from his lips.

Before preparing the sword, he wandered through his quarters, straightening up his belongings.

***

I was still looking at the night sky when I turned toward Baek Eung-ji’s direction.

Even though it was too dark to see clearly, I could tell something—or someone—was approaching.

A figure emerged from the shadows—darkness itself—and quietly stared at me and the Third Young Master.

“Senior, welcome.”

Geomma wasn’t in his usual shabby robes but in his formal uniform, looking like a man about to depart on a journey.

He approached and looked at the Third Young Master.

The Third Young Master, flustered, said,

“Left Guardian, you’re here.”

Without a word, Geomma sat beside me and placed a long, pitch-black sword on the table.

I immediately recognized it.

That was the Demon Sword.

Why had he brought it here? I had to ask.

“Senior, why are you so pissed off? Bringing out the Demon Sword and all?”

As he poured himself a drink, Geomma replied,

“I received word that they’re coming to retrieve the Bright Sword.”

“Ahh.”

“I thought if they came to my place at Baek Eung-ji, the fight might escalate. So I brought it here.”

“Oh-ho.”

“If it bothers you, I can move elsewhere.”

“Hmm?”

I kept responding with sounds, so Geomma gave me a look. I cleared my throat and said,

“You did well. It’s better to receive them here. To be honest, Cheolli Inn stinks of blood anyway. Might as well smash it all up and rebuild. I plan to make it a Haomun branch, so don’t feel bad. It wasn’t mine to begin with.”

Geomma nodded.

“Sorry.”

“I told you already—anyone affiliated with the Villains' Society is under my protection. No way I’m letting the sword of our eldest brother be taken like some pawnshop item. Right?”

I looked at the Third Young Master. He fidgeted, eyes darting. Then, the drowsy Sam Bok, now awake, answered in his place.

“That’s right. Lord’s always right.”

I asked,

“Did you dream?”

“No, I wasn’t asleep.”

Technically, bodyguards aren’t supposed to doze off, so I let it slide.

Geomma asked the Third Young Master,

“Why are you still here?”

I shifted uncomfortably between them. I wished they’d just talk directly instead of using me as a relay.

The Third Young Master replied,

“I was being chased and the Lord saved me. Just tagging along for now. And watching the stars.”

I nodded and said to Geomma,

“So that’s how it is. Really, I’ve saved a bunch lately. The bedwetter, the ugly one, and now even the Cult Leader’s kid. Wow…”

I tried a rare self-pat. No one responded. I muttered,

“Who the hell am I even talking to…”

Geomma asked,

“Who was chasing him?”

“Someone from the Heavenly Alliance. But I talked them down and sent them packing. If they come again, I’ll kill them all. If the Scholar in White sends more disciples or underlings, I’ll kill them all. If the Cult sends someone to take your sword—kill them all. Every last one.”

Maybe I looked unstable, because Geomma placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Calm down, Lord.”

“I’m always calm. I maintain a perfectly cold and rational mindset.”

Geomma urged me,

“Enough nonsense. Go do some breathing exercises.”

I stood up.

“Understood.”

As I went inside, I overheard Geomma speaking to the Third Young Master.

“You don’t need to get involved. Leave with your guards.”

The Third Young Master replied,

“I have nowhere to go. The Lord saved my life. I’ll stay and recover here for a while.”

“In ten days, the Cult’s forces will arrive. Will you become a defector by killing cultists?”

“That’s not the right way to put it, Left Guardian.”

“What do you mean?”

“The ones attacking me are the real defectors. That’s why the Samaa faction got involved in the succession fight. I’m curious too—who’s after the Guardian’s position? This whole thing is getting uncomfortable for me.”

Right—he was still technically a Noble of the Demonic Cult. I still don’t really know what that title means. Doesn’t seem like it’s honorary. More like a designation for those in the line of succession.

The situation at Cheolli Inn couldn’t get more ridiculous.

I sat cross-legged in a familiar chair and reflected on the mess.

What next? A war between righteous and demonic factions?

No, better if it’s just demon versus demon. Let the mad dogs bleed each other dry.

More precisely, Demonic Cult vs. Crazy Demon Alliance. Or Demonic Cult and Heavenly Alliance vs. the Four Great Villains. In the center of it all: one Demon Sword, and the inconvenient Third Young Master.

Feeling a bit anxious, I called out to Geomma outside.

“Senior, when are they coming for the sword?”

“Within ten days. Could be day or night—I don’t know.”

“Got it. Then I’ll get back to breathing training.”

I considered the Four Great Villains my guardians and began my long-neglected energy circulation. I focused on the Moonlight Cold Heart Technique to keep it balanced with the Gold Nine Roaming Technique.

It wasn’t easy to focus after such a long break.

I had to forget the inn, forget the Four Villains, erase the Cult, and ignore the stench of blood stabbing my nose. I had to cast aside my cluttered thoughts, my delusions, my anxieties, and even the joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure the Third had spoken of.

Only then did I begin the Grand Heavenly Cycle.

Maybe it was because I had spent so long staring at the night sky—

But even with my eyes closed, the darkness felt like the sky above. I began gathering those glowing stars, one by one, into my dantian.