Hyeok Ryeon-hong introduced me to the man sitting alone by the campfire.

"Master, I have brought Yi Zaha, the Pavilion Lord of Plum Blossom Pavilion."

It was peculiar how they called him 'Pavilion Lord' earlier, yet here he was being addressed as 'Master.' Just from the way his subordinates spoke, it was clear that he was an ambitious man.

Of course, that ambition would eventually lead to his body being torn apart.

Ban Sa-ung, the Golden Phoenix Pavilion Lord, was draped in an outer coat made of animal fur. He set down the bow he had been working on and spoke.

"So, it's you? The bastard who devoured three pleasure houses whole? You look even younger and more insolent than I expected. Step closer."

Curious about his usual temperament, I responded briefly to avoid revealing my own nature.

"Yes, it's me."

I slowly made my way forward while scanning the mountain lodge.

Judging by the heavy and gloomy atmosphere, it seemed that a lot of people had died here. It felt as if restless spirits, unable to pass on, were watching us from the darkness.

Ban Sa-ung resembled the wild boar he had hunted. It was like a boar had caught another boar with a bow. That thought made the corners of my mouth twitch slightly.

The boar—no, Ban Sa-ung—opened his foul-smelling mouth.

"Close the door."

As soon as he finished speaking, the iron door shut with a resounding clang.

I grabbed a nearby chair and set it down in front of the campfire. As I naturally took a seat across from him, Ban Sa-ung spoke again.

"Did I tell you to sit? Are you insane?"

I stared at him intently and replied.

"Yes."

Ban Sa-ung turned to his subordinate and ordered,

"Oh, I see. You're crazy. The best match for a madman is a rabid dog. Bring out a starving one."

***

A man approached, leading a massive black dog.

The beast looked fierce yet sat calmly, its haunches pressed against the ground as it waited.

The man tapped the dog's head with his blade, turning its attention toward me.

Ban Sa-ung spoke.

"That is how you should sit."

"Oh, is that so?"

I carefully observed the starving dog, the handler who controlled it, and Ban Sa-ung, who treated the handler like a dog.

Even from a distance, others were glancing over, curious about how I would respond.

When I made no move to rise from my seat, Ban Sa-ung gave the order.

"Bite."

The handler immediately echoed,

"Bite!"

With a deep, guttural growl, the massive black dog lunged at me with terrifying speed.

The moment it got close, I flicked my finger, striking its snout precisely.

The dog was flung back, its body scraping against the ground before tumbling away. It writhed in pain where it landed, overwhelmed by the force of Tangjigong, a technique imbued with the internal energy of Wood Affinity.

As the people in the lodge watched the black dog thrash on the ground, a heavy silence descended.

.

.

.

Having disposed of the beast so effortlessly, I turned to Ban Sa-ung and said,

"Tell me—how should you behave so that I might let you live? Take a deep breath and think about it carefully."

Raising both hands like paws, I panted mockingly.

"Should I beg like this to spare your life?"

"……."

"Or should you hand over all the money you've hidden in this estate to ensure my mercy? Or maybe you'd rather swear loyalty to me and serve as my spy in the Black Cat Gang? I wonder if the right answer is among these choices. You pathetic parasite of the underworld."

As I spoke, those who had been cutting meat, carrying food, or simply standing by began to gather as if preparing to surround me.

Ban Sa-ung grinned and waved them off.

"Amusing. A genuinely crazy bastard. I want to continue this conversation. Return to your tasks."

His subordinates responded in hushed tones.

"Yes, sir."

I chuckled lowly.

Fate truly had a twisted sense of humor.

Those destined to be torn apart limb by limb would inevitably meet a cruel end.

I was merely curious—what would I gain from killing this man?

Money? Perhaps his dog-like subordinates? Maybe a few hunting hounds?

Ban Sa-ung, noticing my contemplative silence, asked,

"You look young. How old are you?"

"I doubt you called me here to ask my age. I'm younger than you. Can’t you tell just by looking?"

Ban Sa-ung slapped his knee and laughed.

"Hahaha!"

That was my cue. I rose from my chair.

"I'm somewhat skilled in reading faces. You have the look of a greedy boar—one that will be caught embezzling money and be torn apart by the Black Cat Gang Leader. However, if you pay me a generous consultation fee, I might be able to save you. What do you think?"

Still chuckling, Ban Sa-ung shook his head.

"Even if I wanted to let you live, that’s no longer possible."

I swept my gaze around the room before speaking.

"Will you die alone, or will you send your subordinates to their deaths first? If you’re truly a leader, you should at least consider your men before you… well, perish."

Ban Sa-ung responded.

"I'm not exactly—"

Before he could finish, I drove my left foot into his chest.

He barely managed to cross his arms to block the blow, unable to draw his sword in time.

Boom!

Ban Sa-ung’s body was hurled backward in a wide arc.

He was sturdier than I expected.

As he reached for the sword at his waist, cursing under his breath, I grabbed a burning oak log from the edge of the fire.

There was no need to draw my blade just yet.

Infusing the log with Flame Affinity, the fire flared up violently.

Whoosh!

Ban Sa-ung's eyes widened.

Without a word, I swung the flaming log, clashing against him in a dance of fire and steel.

***

Third-rate underworld martial artists do not rely on the sophistication of their techniques to win.

The lower their rank, the cruder their swordsmanship. Whether it was the Black Cat Gang or Ban Sa-ung of Golden Phoenix Pavilion, their level was inevitably inferior to the swordsmen I had faced from prestigious martial clans.

Here is how I see the strengths and weaknesses of both orthodox and unorthodox martial sects.

The orthodox sects have superior sword techniques, but their experience is often limited to formal duels. As a result, they frequently lack real combat experience.

This is because they are closed-off.

Moreover, since many of them train in competition within their own sects, unless they are widely recognized masters, they tend to be inexperienced in handling a variety of combat situations. Their remarkable swordsmanship often fails to translate into practical fighting ability. This is the chronic weakness of young prodigies from the orthodox sects.

On the other hand, unorthodox sects learn martial arts that are inferior to those of prestigious clans. However, they make up for this with an overwhelming amount of real battle experience.

For them, survival is everything.

Even with basic swordsmanship, their combat experience makes them formidable, and if they later acquire proper martial arts, their battle-hardened nature allows them to improve at an explosive rate.

The demonic sects, the orthodox sects, and the underworld sects all have different ways of life and different martial arts.

But ultimately, they all converge at the peak of martial excellence.

I was a man who had once strived to reach that ultimate point.

Ban Sa-ung, however, was not.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

That was my conclusion—he was nothing more than a third-rate fighter.

***

By relying on his battle experience, Ban Sa-ung managed to block about ten of my attacks.

I had been attacking aggressively with the burning oak log in my right hand while feinting with my left. Then, I brought the oak log down diagonally in a heavy strike. Forced into pure defense, Ban Sa-ung had no choice but to parry it with an upward swing of his sword.

At that moment, I withdrew the internal energy I had infused into the oak log, causing his sword to get stuck in it instead of deflecting it.

Thunk!

He had been expecting the log to repel his sword as before, so when the blade suddenly embedded itself into the wood, his shock was inevitable.

That instant, I drew my own sword and slashed in the direction of my unsheathing motion.

Ban Sa-ung barely dodged as expected, but I pressed forward.

It didn’t matter if he evaded my initial strike.

Just like an arrow drawn and loosed from a bowstring, my blade shot forward, releasing a burst of sword energy.

A thin, crescent-shaped wave of sword energy soared toward Ban Sa-ung’s face, like a sliver of the moon descending from the sky.

Dodging desperately, he leaned back, narrowly avoiding the deadly arc.

Slash!

A deep cut was carved across his face.

Before he could regain his balance, my follow-up attacks rained down mercilessly.

Ban Sa-ung had never considered that a mere pawn of Ilyang County would be capable of unleashing sword energy.

That was his fatal mistake.

As he staggered, barely keeping himself upright, I swung my blade sideways, carving into his body.

Each slash sent arcs of blood spraying into the air.

Despite his grievous injuries, Ban Sa-ung refused to collapse.

Truly, a wild boar of a man.

Even amid this, I heard the footsteps of the dog trainer attempting a sneak attack from behind.

Without turning, I twisted my body and swung my sword in a perfectly horizontal arc.

Thwack!

The dog trainer had been charging at full speed.

His head flew into the air.

Without stopping, I pivoted and lunged at Ban Sa-ung, kicking him directly in the torso.

Crack!

His shoulder crumpled with a sickening sound as he was forced to his knees.

I stomped on him relentlessly.

I crushed his head, his torso, his legs—pressing him deeper and deeper into the dirt.

As his body was gradually buried, the ground beneath him sank in a perfect circular depression.

I watched the faces of his terrified subordinates, then gathered a great deal of internal energy into my foot and slammed it into the ground.

BOOOOOOOM!

Ban Sa-ung no longer needed a grave.

I wanted his subordinates to witness firsthand what happened to their leader when he dared to challenge a mere county pawn.

That was why I made his death as gruesome as possible.

There were plenty of reasons.

This man was involved in loan-sharking, illegal money-lending, and contract killings. He didn’t even swear loyalty to the Black Cat Gang Leader.

Some people betray their organizations no matter where they belong.

Ban Sa-ung was one of those people.

And after witnessing such brutality, no one dared to charge at me.

I kicked some dirt over his half-buried corpse and turned to his subordinates.

They all {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} stared at me in stunned silence, their faces pale.

These were the same lackeys who had once feared Ban Sa-ung. Now that he had died so pitifully, their fear had doubled.

I asked them,

"Who wants to die alongside Ban Sa-ung?"

One of them hesitantly spoke up.

"What will you do about the gang leader later?"

"The Black Cat Gang Leader?"

"Yes."

I looked at the man who had spoken and said,

"And why do you care? You're all about to die anyway, you third-rate underworld scum. Life and death are decided in an instant. If you don't kneel by the time I count to three, I’ll send the stiffest ones to join Ban Sa-ung first.

"One."

One of them immediately dropped to his knees.

"Two."

The rest hesitated, but after seeing the first man kneel, they quickly followed.

There was a slight delay, but in the end, every one of Ban Sa-ung’s men had quietly fallen to their knees.

I liked this kind of atmosphere.

This silence.

This was why, in my past life, I beat mad monkeys into submission.

This was why I endured Juhwaipma, pushing my body beyond its limits in my martial training.

This was why I meditated without eating, holding in my own filth for days on end.

I believed that all the pain I had endured existed for moments like these.

And so, I existed.

.

.

.

Or maybe not.