I stared into the White-Robed Scholar’s eyes.

His gaze lingered on the name Giseongja, then drifted downward.

“Yi Zaha. Master of Haomun.”

The White-Robed Scholar stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, and watched me.

“Let’s speak honestly. I say this not to boast, but I know how Jianghu works—more than most. But you…”

The moment he sensed my killing intent, he smirked.

“I’m not looking for a fight. Relax. Let’s keep our distance. I’m not asking only you to be truthful—it’s time for us both to speak plainly.”

I nodded.

“Right. One should be honest in all things.”

Satisfied, the White-Robed Scholar’s expression softened.

“Indeed. You lingered on Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual, didn’t you? According to my disciples, you also mastered an extreme yang martial art. And then you absorbed Moonlight Cold Heart Technique—which I gave you—and even went on to create a technique that fuses extreme yin and extreme yang. Frankly, all of that alone is shocking. But what I couldn’t predict was the original yang technique you’d trained in… Your face just told me. I can’t help but be stunned. It was Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual, wasn’t it?”

This bastard is sharp.

There must’ve been several reasons he brought me here, but now it’s clear—the Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual was one of them.

He pointed at me with a finger and warned:

“I’ll be honest first. I haven’t distributed the Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual to Jianghu yet. So how did you learn it?”

I chuckled.

“Distributed?”

Distributed? What nonsense.

His expression darkened.

“Don’t you dare claim you’re Giseongja’s descendant. Even Iryong Nogun’s faction only mastered Guiguzi’s mechanism arts because we passed them a scroll long ago.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“That so?”

So this is before he’s publicly released the Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual. Which means in my past life, I came across it before it was ever made public.

The White-Robed Scholar was puzzled by this.

That meant the fortuitous encounter I had in my previous life—where I found the Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual in an ancient tomb after solving a trap described in the Jang Bo-do map—had been orchestrated by him all along.

I slowly scanned him from head to toe.

In the end, I was just realizing now that I gained a martial art so fearsome I’d be dubbed Mad Demon—because of him. A cold sweat ran down my back.

Back then, my martial skills were likely still crude. Even if the White-Robed Scholar had been observing me, I wouldn’t have noticed. In other words, I was no different from the Butcher I once killed.

I too had been a test subject—like the Butcher.

So perhaps it wasn’t fate, but manipulation, that led me to meet Magunja… and join the Swift Party.

At this point, it’s hard not to think: Maybe everyone in the Swift Party was being controlled by the White-Robed Scholar, or at least considered his test subjects.

Perhaps not slaves, but elevated test subjects—disciples, even.

The White-Robed Scholar smiled.

“Alright. You clearly have your reasons. You’re thinking carefully—I can tell… But I advise you not to lie in front of me.”

With my hands behind my back, I continued browsing the tightly packed bookshelves. Though he glared at me from behind, I didn’t particularly care. That’s just how I am.

“Amazing... these scrolls. So martial arts from the White Path, Dark Path, Demonic Path, even Murder Path—they all originated from the Hundred Schools of Thought, didn’t they? Isn’t that so?”

When I changed the subject, he responded with a bitter tone.

“Don’t spout nonsense. You know as well as I do that under the heavens, it’s hard to find anything truly new. And my disciple wouldn’t have stolen any scrolls. Your movements have been too simple. Lie to me again, and I’ll go to Ilyang County, round up everyone who knows you, and cut off their limbs to dig deeper into your past.”

I sighed.

“You pathetic bastard. That’s your idea of reasoning?”

The White-Robed Scholar slowly circled me.

“Do you know what shocked me the most during my investigation of your history? You were a Jomsoi. I couldn’t believe it. That inn burned down, didn’t it? I was actually planning to gift you a martial art specialized in True Fire of Samadhi. Can you guess what it was?”

“Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual, perhaps.”

“Correct. Your fiery temperament, the way you killed the Great Rakshasa and Iryong Nogun… I thought Flame suited you best. Imagine my surprise—you’d already mastered it.”

He waved his finger side to side.

“But no secrets can stay hidden from me. Tell me everything. I never intended to kill you. In fact, I want to help you refine your martial arts. If you speak the truth, I’ll pass on the most powerful secret art I know.”

I moved in a slow circle, matching the Scholar’s pace as he trailed me. I read the titles of the scrolls, noted the names of forgotten masters from the Hundred Schools.

“Most martial sects seem to have originated from here. Fascinating.”

I suddenly noticed a shift in his tone.

At first, he’d been suppressing his killing intent. Now, a trace of anxiety had crept in. He was a man who knew more secrets than anyone in Jianghu—yet one truth still eluded him, and that uncertainty was gnawing at him.

Naturally, I had no intention of telling him.

If anything, I’d lie.

But the problem was, he was too smart. Obvious lies wouldn’t fool him.

Yet intelligence alone isn’t the peak of thought.

Psychological warfare isn’t won by intelligence—it’s won by how well you grasp human emotion. Like a seasoned Go player weighing moves, I considered my options, then opened my mouth. A reckless move—one meant to disrupt.

“What if I wanted to tell you the truth—but someone else is stopping me?”

He responded while trailing behind me.

“You mean… someone told you not to speak?”

“Otherwise, why would I keep the story of how I learned it to myself?”

“So you can’t betray your master, is that it? What an incredibly shameless lie. You have no master. You were born in Ilyang County, never left until the inn burned down. Lived like some quiet neighborhood youth.”

“You speak as if you watched me grow up. Unbelievable, you bastard.”

His threats continued from behind.

“Master of Haomun, tell me the truth while your limbs are still attached. I’m reaching my limit.”

I stopped walking and turned around.

“Scholar.”

“What?”

“You still don’t get my nature? If your curiosity is driving you mad, I’m happy to die right here. Let’s go. You might kill me, but you’ll never know how I learned Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual. Even if your idiotic disciples scour the world, they’ll never find the answer. I’m sure you’ve already tried.”

“……”

“You’ll never learn unless I tell you myself.”

I grinned and stared him down.

The moment I saw him raise his right hand, I wrapped Flame’s Resentment around mine.

“Scholar, you trying to turn me into a tyrant? I may not be able to execute scholars, but I can burn books just fine.”

He lowered his hand and pointed at me multiple times.

“Fool. Look around. One fire and this place would be finished? You think we’d fall for another book-burning? This isn’t the only archive.”

“Oh?”

“Even rabbits dig three burrows. You think we’d repeat such a mistake after what we lost to the flames? Go ahead, start a fire if you’re that bored. You’re the kind of Jianghu trash that doesn’t respect records. That’s why I treat your kind like insects. Tsk tsk…”

He sat back down at the table and looked at me.

“Listen, Master of Haomun. I was simply curious—didn’t mean to be harsh. It’s not even that serious, so why so stubborn? How did you obtain the Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual? I’m truly curious. Even if I offer you a technique greater than it, you’ll stay silent?”

I stayed consistent with nonsense.

“Maybe one of your predecessors handed it out early?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We keep thorough records—every practitioner, every result. We refine martial arts based on that data. I wasn’t joking about burning these scrolls. We document everything—arts with severe side effects, arts that damage character, arts with rapid progression. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Then I suppose you also know which martial arts most often lead to internal deviation.”

He laughed.

“How could I not? Honestly, the fact you managed to combine yin and yang into one ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ technique—it’s practically a miracle. Either that or you’re a true martial genius.”

I stared into his eyes.

“Why? Because the latter half of the Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual is full of traps that cause internal deviation?”

Suddenly, he hugged himself and laughed with trembling shoulders.

“Creepy. You already figured that out? I’ll have to revise my evaluation of you. You’re right. According to Giseongja, no one but him has ever fully conquered Golden Nine. No matter what, deviation will come.”

But the copy I saw didn’t mention that.

Which means when they copied the bamboo slips into books, the White-Robed Scholar added that annotation on his own. At this point, it’s practically a mockery of Jianghu.

What kind of martial arts did he master?

Curiosity won out.

“What did you study? Must’ve been nice—having access to all this. You could’ve chosen the best technique from the entire library and mastered it. Did you ever study Golden Nine Free-Wandering Manual?”

He laughed.

“Of course not. That manual is nearly impossible to master in a single lifetime. If you don’t want to end up an invalid, you should stop after the Cockfighting Realm. Anyway, Master of Haomun, is this how it’s going to be? How about I go to Ilyang County right now, butcher everyone, then we talk? Your choice. If not Ilyang, how about the Black Cat Pavilion? Namyeonghui? Or maybe the Moyong Clan? I’d hate to lose Master Moyong, but oh well. If I start the massacre there, will you feel like chatting? If I leap off that cliff, you’d better keep up. Your light footwork isn’t exactly stellar.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“It is.”

I made a regretful expression.

“...Ah, then I guess I can’t join the Swift Party?”

The White-Robed Scholar’s eyes widened. He straightened his posture and stared blankly at me.

“……”

His brows furrowed. His eyebrows arched sharply. Watching him be so shaken, I felt something strange.

He was cursed—too smart for his own good. Every time he encountered something he couldn’t understand, it broke him.

So brilliant, he’d gone brilliantly mad.

At this point, I just followed my nature.

“You dumb bastard, what’re you so shocked about…”

I turned my back and resumed browsing the scrolls.

“Damn, there were a lot of Demonic arts back then. Even Yin-Yang techniques already existed. Sun and Moon Art, too. I guess there really is nothing new under the sun. Seems like during the Hundred Schools era, all of this already existed. Then it makes sense that First Emperor Qin’s inner circle had elite martial artists. That’s why they wiped out both scholars and martial heroes, right? So the strongest under Heaven must’ve been in Qin’s camp. Or… was there a traitor in Jianghu who sided with the emperor?”

I glanced back at the White-Robed Scholar.

“So which are you descended from?”

“……”

“A descendant of the strongest warrior loyal to the emperor? Or the lineage of Jianghu’s traitor? If it’s the latter, maybe go leap off that cliff. No? I hope not.”

As I watched him silently wrestle with the urge to kill me, I turned back to the scrolls.

“I really hope not. But you people… with your capabilities, you could start your own Demonic Cult. You’re something else.”

I clapped sincerely.

They really were monsters. Because…

They could build a demonic faction if they wanted, or shape an ordinary man into a righteous warrior.

And…

They could turn someone like me—who had entered Jianghu far too late—into the Mad Demon.

If the White-Robed Scholar hadn’t existed in my past life…

Would I have lived a life less insane?

I’ll never know.