Art is the same as martial arts.

You have no choice but to discard countless pieces before completing a truly good one.

Facial reconstruction sketches are no different.

Chief Byeok did draw the Left Guardian’s face, but none of them satisfied me. I threw this one out, then that one.

No matter what it is, to get a better result, you have to keep discarding.

While the bottom-feeders of the dark world gathered at Hwahwa Pavilion, discussing how to subdue me, I was working hard with Chief Byeok, crafting the facial sketch.

“Chief, his cheekbones aren’t that prominent. His jawline is more like mine. Take another look.”

Chief Byeok studied my jawline and said,
“A man’s impression is also shaped by his hair. Whether it’s curly or flows like a woman’s—it matters.”

“What kind of hair would that bastard have?”

“Flowing, I’d say. How about the eyebrows?”

“Mostly straight, like a sword, but the ends curve out like feathers.”

“He’s clearly shaved them meticulously with a blade. A serious womanizer, no doubt.”

Chief Byeok took everything I said and redrew it. A moment later, he finally produced a sketch that looked strikingly like the Left Guardian. With a smug smile, he asked,
“Is this to your liking?”

“Perfect. Let’s track him down with this. He’s from a martial family, though only from a collateral branch. He’s around twenty.”

“If it’s a martial family, this’ll be simple.”

“How come?”

“Because martial family disciples care deeply about appearances—they’d never dress shabbily. And if he’s a womanizer, he’ll stand out even more. We narrow it down by family, then by age, then by attire, and compare it with the sketch. It won’t take forever. What about his martial arts skills?”

“Stronger than most from a similar age, even among later-stage disciples of martial families.”

Only then did Chief Byeok’s eyes widen.

“Then he’s a formidable master.”

“Exactly. Just find out where he is and report back to me. My subordinates won’t be able to handle him.”

“Understood.”

Thinking back, he was from a collateral branch, strong in martial arts, and had caused trouble—he was probably despised by the main family’s top fighters.

If they had seen him as a potential future head of the family, they would have crushed him completely to prevent any chance of a comeback. That’s likely why he had no choice but to join the demonic cult.

“Chief, just focus on finding him. Leave the fighting to me. I’m more comfortable with that.”

“Yes, sir.”

I looked at the status board that Chief Byeok had drawn up.

“By tonight, the leaders should still be at Hwahwa Pavilion, exchanging opinions. Probably drinking, too.”

“Most likely. Who gets what region, how to handle the money—once someone brings that up, the meeting won’t be brief.”

It’s one of the chronic diseases of the dark world.

Honestly, the only dark factions that don’t argue over such things are the ones already at the top.

Whether it’s a person or a faction, the truly powerful don’t care too much about money.

I scratched my head in the main hall for a bit.

Some of my subordinates had already left for Ilyang County and Heukseon Post. I would also have to wait until evening to gather the rest of the forces.

While I was lost in thought, Chief Byeok spoke up.

“Sir, may I offer a suggestion, even if it’s presumptuous?”

“Go ahead.”

“Though we are a dark faction, people in the southern region are familiar with us. If we put a stop to all the oppressive deeds of the Great Rakshasa, they’ll likely welcome us even more. If another dark faction takes control, things will change again—and not for the better. More people could die or be injured. Fortunately, many of the Twelve Divine Generals still remain, and your forces are not small. I urge you, as our leader, to act with caution.”

Did he see a flash of rebellious youth in my eyes?

I nodded with a serious expression, but his advice went out the other ear.

“Of course I should be cautious. You’re saying I shouldn’t storm into Hwahwa Pavilion alone just because the enemy leaders are all gathered there, right?”

Chief Byeok slightly bowed his head.

“Thank you for your understanding.”

“So what you’re saying is, I shouldn’t act like I’m storming into a martial arts competition with the Twelve Divine Generals, shooting flaming arrows into the pavilion and setting it ablaze like some immature fool. Right? Because flowers and trees are precious.”

“It’s a clever tactic, but not quite fitting for a general commanding many soldiers. They’ve got quite a few masters over there too, so it’ll end up in swordplay. And yes, flowers and trees are precious.”

I nodded at Chief Byeok.

“My hands were already itching, but you’ve helped me realize something. Truly, you’re the pillar of Black Cat Pavilion. Our military strategist. Once we catch that womanizing bastard, you’ll be handsomely rewarded. Write it in the books—or collect it yourself, I don’t care.”

With a satisfied expression, Chief Byeok folded his hands together.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’ll take some time to gather all the troops, so I’ll make a quick trip to the Moyong Clinic. Might as well check in on the physician.”

“Oh? You’ve grown close with the young master of Moyong Clinic?”

“Like sworn brothers, more or less.”

“I see. Then I’ll keep an eye on the clinic too. And sir, given the current situation, please take a carriage. I’ll have one prepared.”

“Sounds good.”

***

As I headed for the waiting carriage, I muttered to myself,

“If he wants to boss me around, he should just be the leader himself.”

The coachman, thinking I was talking to him, asked,

“Pardon?”

“Never mind.”

As I boarded the carriage, the coachman, already informed of my destination, said,

“Sir, I’ll take you to the Moyong Clinic.”

“Let’s go.”

As soon as the carriage turned the first corner, I spoke again.

“I’ve changed my mind. The breeze is nice—let’s not go to the clinic.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Drop me near the Woonwoo Society and then head back.”

The head of Woonwoo Society is Master Su, who should be at Hwahwa Pavilion right now. The coachman fell silent for a moment.

“………”

Then, as if to double-check, he asked,

“Sir, would it be alright if I report back to the officers or Chief Byeok before departing? The Woonwoo Society is dangerous, and it might be better to let them know your real destination…”

Thinking he wasn’t wrong, I answered,

“I said the Woonwoo Society, not because I care about the name, but because they use the phrase ‘Woonwoo Joy’—clouds and rain—as a sect name. Makes me feel left out, like they’re always enjoying romance without me.”

“Understood.”

Riding in a carriage is always fun.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Watching the scenery as we traveled toward Ihwa County where the Woonwoo Society resides, I felt good—like my madness had taken a vacation on a breezy spring day.

The coachman looked concerned, so I reassured him.

“Master Su is busy with other affairs at Hwahwa Pavilion. Don’t worry too much.”

“Yes, sir.”

As I sat in the carriage, I began to wonder what exactly had happened between Master Su and the Murim Alliance member.

What crime had he committed that led the Murim Alliance to behead him in public, only for their own member to end up imprisoned?

Was that Alliance member someone I once knew?

I couldn’t be sure.

Still, while I have returned to the past…

Some things, I know only the process, not the outcome.

Others, I know the outcome but not how it came to be.

I’m just heading near the Woonwoo Society because I’m curious—and bored.

***

“We’ve arrived in Ihwa County, sir.”

I looked out to find that the coachman had stopped the carriage in a discreet, quiet spot.

I gave him a warning.

“You picked just the right place. Waiting here would be boring, so head back first. Just tell them I’m at Moyong Clinic.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take this with you.”

I took off my black martial robe and handed it to the coachman. Underneath, I was wearing plain martial clothes—nothing too eye-catching.

Martial artists wear black robes like this even on warm days out of instinct. You can hide multiple weapons inside, and if you get slashed, the thick robe can offer some protection. When imbued with internal energy, loose robes like this can even deflect most hidden weapons. They’re surprisingly versatile.

But that robe was unmistakably a combat uniform—it drew too much attention.

After sending the coachman off, I took a stroll through Ihwa County.

I was curious about how Master Su’s influence had rivaled the Great Rakshasa’s, and also what kind of business the Woonwoo Society ran to make their money.

Now that I thought about it, I was oddly curious about the name “Woonwoo Society,” too.

I’m the kind of person who gets curious about things like this.

I didn’t come here with the intent to cause trouble for them—just curiosity brought me here.

The street scenes here weren’t that different from those in the southern region.

The stronger a dark faction is, the more people you’ll find in their territory. That’s because dark factions basically live by squeezing money out of regular working folks.

At that thought, I became irritated—after all, even Black Cat Pavilion, now under my control, was originally that kind of organization.

I walked through Ihwa County with the mindset of checking myself. The method was simple. I could tell everything just by looking at the shopkeepers’ faces. Whether their businesses were doing well, whether someone was harassing them—I could see it in their expressions.

This was a matter of pride.

If, after I became the leader of Black Cat Pavilion, the common people in the southern region walked around with anxious, gloomy faces—that would be my fault.

So then, what kind of dark faction leader was Master Su here?

I wandered about, peeking into this and that. I entered inns, browsed the tea houses. There were a lot of street vendors here, too. These folks are usually the most resilient during hard times, so in truth, they didn’t reveal much.

That’s what happens when you underestimate working people.

After finishing my little inspection of Ihwa County, I headed to the Woonwoo Society.

Seeing their front gate, I had a familiar thought.

Shady places always have little sliding windows built into the main door. Just like the first time I saw the main gate of Black Cat Pavilion.

Knock knock knock!

I rapped on the gate with my fist. A small window creaked open with a clunk.

“Who is it?”

Staring at a man speaking with only his eyes showing, I felt like I was visiting a prison inmate.

“I said, who is it?”

I clicked my tongue and answered,

“I’ve come to collect a debt.”

Clack! The small window slammed shut, and the main gate swung open with a long creeeak.

And that’s how I knew these guys weren’t good with debts. The way they opened the door was fast, precise, and clearly practiced. There was even a tinge of irritation when they opened and closed it. I knew this kind of psychology. It’s the mentality of someone half-trying to intimidate the person coming to collect.

The man who opened the gate tilted his head with attitude and looked me over.

“Get in.”

I replied with a stiff expression.

“If this is a bad time, I can come back later.”

He shot back instantly.

“I said get in, you bastard.”

“Well then. In I go.”

This is the difference between the dark and the righteous paths.

When “I’ve come to collect a debt” sounds like a secret code, that’s the dark path.

The righteous path doesn’t even create debts in the first place.

And the righteous path divides again into sects and martial families.

Martial families are wealthy by ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) nature. They’re far removed from the concept of debt. So no secret code would ever work there.

As for martial sects, they live and die by honor. If they have no money, they’d rather forage wild herbs than eat on credit.

That’s why the great sects tend to reside in the mountains.

No matter how flashy the dark path is, the righteous path is more fearsome—and this is why.

Whether they live in the mountains or the cities, they’re defined by an unshakable sense of pride and dignity.

The gatekeeper interrupted my train of thought.

“Whose debt is it? Don’t tell me it’s the Society Leader. Is it the Vice Leader’s bar tab?”

As I followed the gatekeeper inside, I muttered quietly,

“Scary bastards…”

“What was that?”

He turned around with a face caught between disbelief and irritation.

“What’d you just say?”

I answered flatly,

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Maybe this gatekeeper had some confidence in his martial arts. His palm came swinging in a wide arc toward my face.

I grabbed his wrist and gave him a gentle scolding.

“I said I was talking to myself.”

Then I let go of his hand and locked eyes with him.

“First one to blink loses. Loser gets a flick to the forehead.”

“……”

“Just so you know, I’ve mastered Finger Flick Arts. It’s not just any flick—it’ll knock your soul out. It’s called the Violet Mist Finger Flick, one of the Three Great Finger Arts of Jianghu.”

The gatekeeper’s eyes narrowed. Whatever the situation was, his gaze said he wouldn’t blink first.

His eyes were starting to bloodshot as he asked me,

“Where are you from?”