The old martial artist once called the Great Rakshasa was dead.

Killed by me—an inn boy from Ilyang County, Master of Haomun, liberator of Black Line Hall, new Lord of the Black Cat Pavilion, a regular at Chunyang Restaurant, and a patient of the Murong Clan’s physician.

At this rate, my rise was nothing short of explosive.

I thought I was doing quite well.

Even sparing the disciples hadn’t been easy. After all, in my past life, I would’ve dragged in those already demoralized and beaten them to death. If I’d followed that path again, the nickname Crazy Demon would’ve stuck to me immediately.

Can’t have that.

I’m trying to delay it as much as I can.

After all, even Gwangseung—the previous Crazy Demon—hasn’t arrived in the Central Plains yet.

If the name Crazy Demon starts spreading, there’s a real chance Gwangseung will come looking for me first.

And I have no intention of being dragged off to Zhejiang to watch fish before I’ve even stabilized Ilyang County my way.

Even now that I’m strong enough to kill the Great Rakshasa, my opinion of Gwangseung hasn’t changed.

Because I know better than anyone just how terrifying that man is.

I glanced over at Baek-in, Cheongjin, and Baek-yu, who hadn’t run and were still waiting. Judging by their expressions, they planned to recover the Great Rakshasa’s body and give him a proper burial. But since I was still staring at the corpse, they didn’t know whether to move or stay.

I said to them,

“You three take care of the body.”

Only then did they jump down from the wall and approach.

They’d already seen my light footwork earlier, so none of them entertained the idea of running.

“The master’s final request was for you to remove your masks.”

Baek-in, resigned, nodded and took his off. Cheongjin and Baek-yu followed suit and revealed their faces.

I memorized each of their faces and spoke to Chief Byeok.

“Chief Byeok, if any of these disciples defy the Great Rakshasa’s will, draw up wanted posters and spread their faces far and wide. You can handle that, right?”

Chief Byeok looked over at them and nodded.

“It won’t be a problem.”

I began organizing the interior as well.

“Clean up Black Cat Pavilion. Clear the bodies off the street. As for the Twelve Divine Generals’ disciples—have a word with me. Take the body after we talk. Chief Byeok, Hongshin, Geum Hae, you come too.”

***

I sat in the upper seat and looked across at the disciples seated in a row.

“From now on, I’m your senior brother.”

“……”

“If I’d taught you anything, I could call myself your master. But I’m younger, as you can see, so senior brother fits just right. Anyone object?”

The mood was grim—probably because the Great Rakshasa was dead.

Baek-in, who looked about twenty-six or twenty-seven, was the only one who replied.

“It was our master’s dying wish, so I’ll follow it.”

Right now, Hongshin and Geum Hae understood me better than anyone. They’d shared meals with me, had conversations, and even nearly fell into deviation.

In short, the things I’m saying make sense to Hongshin and Geum Hae, but to the rest of the disciples, I probably sound like a lunatic babbling nonsense.

But that’s fine.

This is how I operate. And people need time to understand each other.

The important thing is—the Great Rakshasa is dead, and they no longer need to hide behind masks.

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. If I have to say it twice, I’ll challenge you to a death match, so listen carefully.”

Hongshin responded boldly on her own.

“Yes, senior brother.”

Sure enough, sharing a pot of pork bone stew builds deep bonds.

Geum Hae stayed silent, probably because he feared me and also used to fear Baek-in.

“Baek-in, did you respect the Great Rakshasa?”

“Not exactly respect—it was a mix of love and hate.”

“What part of it was love, not hate?”

Baek-in answered.

“He kept other Black Path sects out of Namhwa. Even when there were larger powers around, our master had the bearing of a war general. That was what the mask was for too. It said, ‘Don’t mess with me, I train assassins.’ So, despite all his flaws, Namhwa remained untouched by other Black Path factions.”

“In summary, his personal life was trash, but he did his job as leader well. That about right?”

Baek-in nodded.

As I spoke with the disciples, I sized up their personalities.

Baek-in was calm and composed from start to finish. Cheongjin seemed like a man of few words—pure martial bones.

Baek-yu was the clever type, but clearly less skilled than the other two.

Their hierarchy was so deeply entrenched that even someone like Hongshin, who usually joked around, kept quiet in this room.

Sensing the stiffness in the air, I started rambling freely.

“Now that your master’s dead, let’s try being cheerful.”

Saying that after killing their master, of course, made the disciples’ expressions stiffen even more. But I’m not one to back off from awkwardness, so I doubled down.

“Cheer·ful·ly. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Understood.”

“I don’t know how many underlings each of you has or how big your territory is, but after we hold the funeral, clean up all the stupid shit. The Black Path doesn’t suddenly become the White Path. But I’ll get rid of the stain of the Black Path from your public image.”

Geum Hae finally responded.

“Is that even possible?”

“Join Haomun. I was never Black or White Path to begin with. Wasn’t before, won’t be in the future. Haomun is just Haomun. A sect built by people who work. Secret sects, garbage sects, chaotic messes—doesn’t matter. All the factions you Divine Generals managed will come under me. It’s a sect for people who actually work. So, what’s the first thing you should do?”

No one answered right away.

There was probably too much to do—they didn’t know where to begin.

Truthfully, I don’t either.

I have no choice but to leave it to them.

“Come by often to report. If something goes wrong, come find me. For now, I’ll let you run things your way. But clean up the Black Path shit. When I took over the Black Cat Pavilion, I didn’t even bring my own subordinates.”

For example, one of my personal subordinates is Cha Seong-tae.

After thinking for a bit, I couldn’t come up with anyone else, so I left it at that.

“Anyway, if I don’t like how things are going, I’ll bring all of Haomun’s forces, crush everything, and hand the whole district over to the local inn boy. I’ve given you a chance to live—don’t make me your enemy again.”

Baek-in, ever the calm one, was the only one who replied.

“I’ll take care of it.”

His answer didn’t satisfy me, so I nodded half-heartedly and added a threat.

“I’m not going to micromanage grown men. You’ve taken off your masks—start acting like it. I’m not a good man. I’m not particularly patient either. To spare someone, I have to hold myself back dozens of times. Like I did when I spared the three of you.”

Cheongjin replied.

“Then we must discard everything we did while masked—along with the masks themselves.”

“Exactly. Is that so hard?”

This time Baek-yu answered.

“It’s not easy.”

“Speak. What part’s difficult?”

“Our master had both allies and enemies. One in particular—Elder Illyong—is especially close. He often gave our master money… and women. He’s likely to be furious.”

“And?”

“There’s the Cloud Rain Society. They were the worst enemies of our master. Our factions were similar in size, but their leader cut off our master’s right arm. Now that our master is gone, their leader will be thrilled. And there are others too—many people held grudges against him. We can’t predict how they’ll react.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

I let out a long breath.

“Phew… thank goodness.”

Hongshin immediately asked,

“Senior brother, what part of that is good news?”

I replied in a flat tone.

“Means I’ve still got people left to kill. And… wait, Cloud Rain Society? Is that Cloud Rain as in the 'joy of coupling'?”

“Yes.”

I tilted my head slightly. Cloud Rain Joy—a term for the pleasures of sexual union.

Not once in my past life had I heard of a sect with such an overtly perverse name. But a sudden thought struck me, and I asked the disciples:

“What’s the leader’s name?”

“Seomun Sugyeong.”

I immediately remembered the bastard’s nickname.

“Is he, by any chance, called ‘Mr. Water’?”

“Yes, you’ve heard of him?”

“Just in passing.”

So that guy’s sect was the Cloud Rain Society.

There had been a scandal where the Martial Alliance was heavily criticized for publicly executing Mr. Water and over ten others by beheading them in the marketplace. It was later revealed that the act hadn’t been ordered by the Alliance—it was carried out by one of its members acting on a personal grudge.

I turned to Chief Byeok, who was quietly sketching wanted posters of the disciples beside me.

“Chief Byeok, first issue a bounty for Elder Illyong.”

“Understood.”

“And send a letter to the Cloud Rain Society in the name of the Black Cat Pavilion Lord.”

“What should it say?”

Nothing came to mind, so I pushed it onto Chief Byeok.

“Something like, don’t act up and behave yourselves. You're better at brushwork than me—use your judgment.”

Chief Byeok nodded while still holding the brush.

“So essentially, a declaration of war disguised as a diplomatic letter?”

“Correct.”

Chief Byeok chuckled awkwardly and returned to seriously drawing the wanted posters for the disciples.

Baek-yu opened his mouth again.

“The Cloud Rain Society is not to be underestimated. Is it really necessary to provoke them first…?”

“Chicken disciple.”

“Yes.”

“Shut it. The sect’s name alone offends me. I have no intention of letting them be.”

Baek-yu closed his mouth with a sour expression.

I looked around and said,

“And if he cut off our master’s arm, it’s only natural we take revenge.”

Baek-in furrowed his brows slightly, then met my gaze and nodded.

“You’re right.”

He must’ve had a long-standing grudge against the leader of the Cloud Rain Society, being the Great Rakshasa’s oldest disciple.

Chief Byeok, considering the disciples’ concerns, offered a clever solution.

“Would it be alright to hold off on sending the letter until things have settled a bit? I’ll focus on the bounty for Elder Illyong first.”

“Do that. Baek-in, Cheongjin, Baek-yu—you three handle the funeral properly. Set right the wrongs your master committed. And if, during that process, you find you still harbor resentment or can’t accept me, feel free to leave and join Elder Illyong or the Cloud Rain Society.”

I spoke to the disciples, including Hongshin and Geum Hae, and laid my feelings bare.

“If it comes to that, you won’t need to treat me as your senior anymore. Now, go take care of your business.”

The three stood up and glanced at the masks on the table.

I looked at the masks too and said,

“Leave them. You can use them again when it’s time to do something bad.”

“Senior brother, we’ll take our leave.”

“We’re going as well.”

Once they were gone, Geum Hae asked,

“Can the Divine Generals really be trusted?”

“What does trust matter? The only thing I believe in is martial arts. Betrayal or not, if I keep growing stronger every day, then all plots, all betrayals, all rebellion—none of it means a thing. If Haomun is to become a better force, then it’d be better if one of them turned traitor and gathered all the dissenters to stand against me. We’ll go with the flow. Cheerfully…”

Hongshin nodded.

“Let’s go cheerfully.”

That reminded me—there was something I could have her do.

“Hongshin, head over to Ilpyeong Inn and settle my tab. Chief Byeok will handle the money. Also, there’s a house in front of it with an old lady who weaves fabric. Be polite, and in the room used by a woman, retrieve the Black Rabbit Fang and my mask. I left them in the drawer and under the bedding. Leave her some money, too.”

“Understood.”

I looked at Geum Hae.

“You won’t be paying tribute to the Great Rakshasa anymore.”

“That’s right.”

Geum Hae swallowed and tried to make a joke he clearly didn’t mean.

“Should I offer it to you now, senior brother?”

“No need.”

“Then…?”

“Use all the money you used to pay him to make yourself stronger. If you were strong, you wouldn’t have needed to hand over your family’s hard-earned money. Baek-in is much stronger than you. Go train.”

Geum Hae replied,

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Your internal energy…”

I paused mid-sentence and regretted it.

“Ugh, sorry about that.”

“Yes.”

“I mean it, but I’ve got no way to return it. The martial art I’ve learned is weird—great at taking, but not at giving. That’s just how it is. At least you didn’t die like the ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Great Rakshasa. Accept it cheerfully.”

As the words left my mouth, I realized—

I really did feel like the Lesser Rakshasa now.