I was tempted to ask the White-Robed Scholar for more secret manuals, but held back. Honestly, I’d already obtained something more important. The bastard wouldn’t suddenly launch an attack on Haomun anymore.

It wasn’t quite an alliance, but at least I could rest easy for now knowing this lunatic wasn’t going to start killing my subordinates out of nowhere.

The question was, how to part ways...

As I stood in silence, the White-Robed Scholar spoke.

“At the very least, if you intend to raise wandering knights, you’ll have to surpass the Cult Leader first.”

I took a moment to think about what that meant. I was already considered the Cult Leader’s enemy, so if I started training disciples or knights openly, they’d all just end up slaughtered by the Demonic Cult.

“Guess I will.”

“Do you know what martial arts the Cult Leader uses?”

“No. If I had, would I still be alive? It’s not like I’m one of the Three Calamities.”

“What do you think it means that, like you, he uses both yin and yang techniques?”

“I’d figured as much.”

Suddenly, the White-Robed Scholar pinched a sheet of paper between his thumb and index finger and held it out. Just as I thought he was trying to show me something, the paper crumbled into dust.

Come to think of it, something similar happened earlier, when he’d thrown the desk off the hilltop.

He asked,
“How do you think I did that?”

I scratched my cheek with a finger and answered,
“Each finger was infused with opposing energies that collided at the paper’s center.”

“Can you do it?”

I answered honestly,
“Not right now.”

The Scholar tore out another sheet of paper and this time held it between his thumb, index, and middle fingers. Without any fanfare, the paper vanished like it had been erased from existence.

“And this?”

“Three separate energies.”

“Can you do it?”

“No.”

The Scholar nodded.

“If you can’t even do this, you won’t be able to block the Cult Leader’s attacks. He uses the Five Element Demonic Arts. Metal, water, wood, fire, and earth—all five energies. Do you know why he can use them all?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“Exactly. No one knows. There’s nothing like it among the Hundred Schools. Not in Kunlun, not in the martial arts of the West, not in the old Demonic Cult, and not even the Grand Dukes know. So then, what martial art in Jianghu do you think could counter the Cult Leader’s?”

I thought briefly and then replied without difficulty.

“Alliance Leader’s Six Combat Blade.”

“Why?”

“It’ll break all five energies in an instant. They’ll blend and cancel each other out.”

The Scholar nodded.

“Correct. And what if Sword Demon were to achieve perfect sword-and-blade invulnerability while wielding the Bright Sword?”

“He’d be filled with metal energy. That would make him weak to the Cult Leader’s water or fire techniques.”

“That’s precisely why the Cult Leader hasn’t killed him yet. And I suppose now you understand why he’s keeping you alive, too.”

I nodded.

“He can extract more water and fire energy. Like using me as a living elixir.”

At that moment, a question came to mind.

So what exactly is the Heavenly Pearl?

I didn’t have time to think too deeply about it with the Scholar right in front of me.

He asked,
“Do you know why the Cult Leader is preparing so meticulously?”

“Because he can’t overcome the other top masters in the Three Calamities?”

The Scholar smiled.

“That’s part of it, yes. But also because he hasn’t fully grasped us. He’s cautious by nature, and he still can’t clearly distinguish friend from foe. Though he probably suspects that confusion itself is part of our strategy. And you, Innkeeper, are the same. I’m both your enemy and your ally. The Cult Leader, Kunlun, Im Sobaek, the Emperors among the Ten Great Masters, me, you… Let’s see who survives in the end.”

I asked him a question that had long lingered in both my past and present lives.

“How did Kunlun survive against the Demonic Cult?”

“Kunlun is a sect that fundamentally understands the five elements. Their survival came from their sword formations and the martial arts of their ancient masters.”

“Is Cheonak on your side?”

The White-Robed Scholar gave a faint smile.

“I’ve told you—there’s no clear line between enemy and ally here. Even those within the same group can be both. It’s a meaningless question. All I can say is what I know. But I can’t track Cheonak’s movements. Maybe he’s still recovering after the Three Calamities were all injured. Maybe he °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° died during that time. Maybe he’s in closed-door training. I don’t know.”

There was one thing I’d always been curious about, across lifetimes.

“Who the hell was the third person? Everyone knows the Three Calamities name came from the fact that three people fought.”

“You must have a suspect.”

The Scholar looked at me and offered a trade.

“If you want to know, you’ll need to reveal a secret of your own. Either the story behind the Golden Turtle Free-Wandering Manual, the Swift Party, or your Zaha Divine Art. Deal?”

“…Tch.”

So that’s why the bastard had been running his mouth so smoothly. He’d been scheming all along. Get me curious, then pry into my secrets…

Fucking absurd.

“Knowing the truth doesn’t always help. You might just end up disappointed. But if you insist, I’ll trade. Tell me who the last member of the Three Calamities is.”

He responded in the same tone I’d used.

“You won’t be surprised once you hear it. But you go first. You’re almost certainly going to lie.”

“I overheard the name Swift Party while napping in Musan Gorge.”

The Scholar sighed.

“You really are out of your mind.”

“Why?”

“That’s all?”

“Your Swift Party bastards are the ones who couldn’t shut up.”

“Who was it?”

“Can’t say. They might end up dead if I do.”

“So you do know.”

“Of course I do. I remember their faces, their clothes. Now spill—who’s the third?”

“You think that counts as a fair trade?”

“Getting talkative, huh.”

The White-Robed Scholar let out a laugh, then said:

“It’s Nosin’s master.”

“That’s a surprise. That beggar bastard’s master was that incredible?”

The beggar’s master had no presence in my past life either.

“Nosin’s the fastest man in the Beggar’s Union. Of course his master had to be great.”

“If he was the Beggar’s Union Chief, that’s not exactly a minor figure. Why didn’t anyone know he was one of the Three Calamities?”

“Who’d rate the beggars’ leader that highly? The witnesses were all regular folks. They wouldn’t know. And the man himself wasn’t one to brag. He rarely fought at all.”

In my memory, the Cult Leader’s identity was revealed by the demonic side. Cheonak’s name came out later. People had guessed the final Calamity was some master from the white path, but no one suspected the Beggar’s Union.

Even Im Sobaek probably didn’t know.

And since all the Emperors among the Ten Great Masters had denied it, the final Calamity remained a mystery—until now.

The fact that the White-Robed Scholar knew the identity meant Cheonak had to be tied to his side. It all lined up. The man seemed like a weapon forged from the hatred and legacy of the Hundred Schools, mastering all their techniques.

It fit the name Cheonak.

Then the Scholar said:

“The fact that I shared this information and gave you those manuals will eventually become known internally. If you don’t want to get into fights with the other librarians, there’s only one way.”

“What’s that?”

“Join the Swift Party. Once we hold the general assembly, you’ll be summoned. There’ll be plenty who want to challenge your footwork. Deal with them as you see fit.”

“I’ll join. So then, who’s the Swift Party Leader?”

The White-Robed Scholar blinked and asked:

“You’re saying you’ll tell me about the Golden Turtle Manual?”

“Oh, fuck off, you meticulous bastard.”

I’ve never met such a calculated businessman. He only gives when he gets. And now, having received three secret arts, I was starting to feel increasingly uneasy.

He said:

“Innkeeper, take care of those three techniques. This is my version of a diversified investment. If something happens to our side, this library will be lost. If your forces get wiped out by the Cult Leader, those techniques will vanish. Both sides getting destroyed is unlikely.”

“You’re thorough. Then hand over more if you’re really diversifying.”

“Are you a thief? Don’t push it.”

“Fine.”

“If you ever hear that Nosin became the new Beggar’s Union Chief, take it to mean one of the Three Calamities has fallen. The Cult Leader will start moving faster.”

I rifled through memories of my past life but didn’t recall hearing such news. Come to think of it, the Scholar had likely approached Nosin on purpose because of that master above him.

If the Scholar hadn’t thrown in with the Martial Alliance, he’d probably have joined the Beggar’s Union just to gain the Calamity’s martial arts. But a guy like him probably couldn’t follow the beggars’ strict rules, so he went with the Alliance.

Realizing he wasn’t going to hand over any more manuals, I tucked the three volumes into my robes and stood up.

“I’m off.”

As I headed toward the cave entrance, the White-Robed Scholar slowly followed behind. Walking through a narrowing cave with a master like him behind me made my back feel icy.

I suddenly stopped and looked up at the murals on the wall.

“……”

The images vividly depicted white-robed scholars falling into pits, getting beheaded, and being impaled by spears. Spending your days transcribing bamboo scrolls while staring at that all day… what man wouldn’t go mad?

Near the exit, I turned to him.

“Scholar.”

With his hands behind his back, he replied:

“Speak.”

“Erase the murals. Remove the paintings in the study too.”

“Why?”

I studied his face and replied in a calm tone:

“There’s an old man in Haomun who likes painting. He can draw flowers and trees. Vases too. Even maps. Sometimes he sketches mountains and rivers.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Life is already too short just to chase beauty. Why spend it staring at death? It’s a waste of time. Stop fixating on death and draw your own life. Your disciples may be your slaves, but you’re still just a slave to the Hundred Schools. Sit in this cave and reflect on that.”

The White-Robed Scholar stared at me quietly, then answered:

“Innkeeper, save that presumptuous talk for your underlings. Be careful.”

Careful? I barely had time to wonder before he thrust his right hand forward. Light shot from three of his fingers.

I instinctively countered with Burning Force Palm.

A thunderous boom, and I was already airborne.

That bastard…

The Scholar, standing at the entrance with a grin, touched his forehead and said,

“Innkeeper, stay alive until we meet again.”

Twisting in midair, I looked down at the ground rushing up to meet me. Even after I expelled Palm Force repeatedly in bursts of wind, my fall didn’t slow much. Just before hitting the ground, I completely relaxed my body, then swept out a half-moon arc of Palm Force to bounce back into the air and land softly.

I turned and looked toward the cliff, but it was already swallowed by clouds.

Yet I could still hear the Scholar’s voice clearly.

“Don’t come looking for me until you’re summoned.”

For a moment, I considered blowing up the cliff with Ilwol Gwangcheon, but held back. He wasn’t normal, so nothing he did felt out of place.

More importantly, I’d just exchanged energy with the White-Robed Scholar—and I had a lot to think about. Reflecting as I walked, I realized it wasn’t energy—it was a finger technique.

Like when he made the paper vanish, he’d used thumb, index, and middle fingers for a technique-based attack. It hadn’t shifted to fiery red or anything extreme, but the glow from each finger had been slightly different.

White, gray, and dark gray, maybe?

It wasn’t like my Ilwol Gwangcheon. It felt more like the Five Element Demonic Arts the Scholar had mentioned.

Whatever his intentions, I made sure to memorize it.

.

.

.

Back at the study, the White-Robed Scholar activated a mechanism in the desk. As the wall flipped open, his disciples entered.

When they quietly stood by, the Scholar pointed at a corpse with his chin.

“Dispose of it.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And for now—”

The disciples paused and looked up at him.

“Yes, Master.”

Looking over his subordinates, he said,

“Leave Haomun alone. Call back those who were waiting in ambush.”

“Understood.”

They began removing the bodies and cleaning the blood without a single question. Meanwhile, the Scholar held a brush and stared at a blank sheet of paper for a long time.

Eventually, he closed his eyes, then opened them again.

“……”

Even making a single dot on the white page felt daunting.

He took a deep breath and pressed the brush to the paper.

It felt like taking the first step into a vast, unmarked snowfield.