For one hundred and eight days, I sat cross-legged all over the Black Cat Pavilion.

My back stiffened, my knees often locked, and since I rarely washed, my body gradually started to reek like a beggar.

But it was necessary.

In the inner courtyard, Ho Yeoncheong trained Cha Seong-tae, while outside, the subordinates of the Black Cat Pavilion continued their rigorous training.

I practiced breathing and energy circulation even on the roof of the Black Cat Pavilion.

Bathhouse, walls, beneath the plum tree, inner courtyard, outer courtyard, bedroom—it didn’t matter where, I kept channeling my energy.

Sometimes Dokgo-saeng, the Four Ghost Generals, Chief Byeok, Geum Hae, and Hongshin would stop by, but I acted like someone deep in secluded training and gave them no attention.

My response was always the same.

“Do as you please.”

I didn’t interfere in matters my subordinates could decide or judge on their own. The reason I deliberately set the training period to one hundred and eight days was because my mastery over the Flame Circulation realm of Golden Turtle Roaming Art was ambiguous. I felt I could cross over into the Rooster Duel realm if I just focused a little more, so I had no choice but to devote myself.

The subordinates also sensed I was at a critical juncture in martial cultivation, so they did their best to resolve things amongst themselves.

One hundred and eight days is a strangely long yet short period of time.

Some days, I would spend the whole day beneath the plum tree, just watching the falling petals while practicing breathing techniques. I only got up to drink water or put food in my mouth when I absolutely couldn’t endure it anymore.

As a result, I grew noticeably thinner.

When I needed rest, I would quietly head to the inner courtyard and watch Cha Seong-tae training.

His whining was typical Cha Seong-tae, but I didn’t bother interfering.

After thirty or forty days had passed—

The deaths of the Great Rakshasa, Master Su, and Iryong Nogun had become widely known among the nearby underworld forces.

Chief Byeok reported that news had spread among all underworld factions in the Namhwa and Ihwa regions that the Black Cat Pavilion Master was now the one in control.

He asked me,

“Shouldn’t we correct the rumors to say you’re the Master of Haomun instead of the Black Cat Pavilion Master?”

For the first time in a while, I responded to Chief Byeok.

“No need for that.”

“Yes, sir.”

I intended to keep wearing the mask of the underworld for a while. The main base of Haomun being constructed in Ilyang County wasn’t even finished yet.

And just because I had taken over two small underworld regions didn’t mean it had any real impact on the martial world or the power map of the underworld.

This was still the outskirts.

None of the foes I’d clashed with in my past life had shown themselves yet, and no expert since my return had truly given me trouble.

In the big picture, taking out the Great Rakshasa and Master Su had bought me considerable time for training.

So Gunpyeong and the other subordinates of the Black Cat Pavilion were training furiously.

Cha Seong-tae too was training each day like a man possessed.

But I can say for certain—I was the one training the hardest.

Thinking this was the role of a commander, I burned myself into breathing practice.

By pouring all the trivial daily matters into my focus...

Sometimes, I’d open my eyes to find it was already dawn, and other times, it was night.

The moon, the sun, the wind, the rain, reports from the subordinates, and occasional hunger couldn’t break my focus.

I am the kind of man who forgets everything when I concentrate on cultivation.

After I lost track of how many days had passed, the internal energy drawn from the Heavenly Pearl completed my mastery of the Flame Circulation realm. I had now entered the Rooster Duel stage and began repeating the cycles of internal circulation.

At that point, I began listening to the subordinates again.

Meals, which I had been taking once every two days, increased to three times a day. As I reduced the number of internal cycles, I began training my external martial arts alongside the Black Cat Pavilion subordinates.

I blended in among them, taking exact stances to the shouts of So Gunpyeong, building up physical strength without complaints like any other grunt.

At first, everyone was tense seeing their mad pavilion master training alongside them, but eventually, they grew used to it. So much so that it became unclear whether I was their pavilion master or just another lackey.

In the first half of the one hundred and eight days, I was scrawny.

But after entering the Rooster Duel realm, muscle started clinging to my limbs, and I regained my previous physique.

One day, while maintaining steady breath beneath the plum tree with a calm heart—

I heard Cha Seong-tae’s voice.

“Master, today marks one hundred and eight days.”

I opened my eyes and replied.

“Already?”

“Yes.”

In the meantime, Cha Seong-tae had turned into a hairy beast gripping a sword. Truthfully, his gaze and posture had changed enough that I didn’t even need to confirm it. Still, it was only natural to offer a word of praise.

“You feel stronger?”

Cha Seong-tae grinned.

“I’ve become so much stronger, it’s incomparable to who I was one hundred and eight days ago.”

For a moment, I almost told him to train another hundred and eight days, but barely stopped myself. I’m good at wielding the whip, but constantly whipping isn’t always the right thing.

This time, I looked over to Ho Yeoncheong.

“Seong-tae, is he really stronger now?”

Ho Yeoncheong replied,

“Master, he’s become a proper swordsman. Though the time was short, he learned the basics, intricacies, and forms of the Light-Splitting Swift Sword. I also passed on the internal cultivation method, so he spent his evenings accumulating internal energy with me. Though the time wasn’t enough to build up much, his dantian has formed, and he’s learned how to draw power from it.”

I stroked my chin.

“You worked hard. How was it, teaching him?”

After a brief hesitation, Ho Yeoncheong gave an unexpected answer.

“If you allow it, Master, I’d like to keep teaching him.”

I looked at Ho Yeoncheong with a puzzled expression.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Now that I thought about it, the image of Ho Yeoncheong from when he was captured was completely gone.

Had he reached some realization while teaching Cha Seong-tae?

He was quite different from the first impression I had of him.

“What about you, Seong-tae?”

Cha Seong-tae replied,

“I want to keep learning too.”

I said to the both of them,

“Stand side by side.”

With arms crossed, I looked them over. Ho Yeoncheong was more than ten years older than Cha Seong-tae. It was a typical master-and-disciple pairing.

I studied them both and nodded.

“Since the three of us made a pact together, do as you please from now on.”

Ho Yeoncheong and Cha Seong-tae responded with calm expressions.

“Thank you.”

“Yes.”

I asked Cha Seong-tae,

“Seong-tae, how does it feel to have entered Jianghu?”

Cha Seong-tae answered plainly.

“Not bad.”

“If you had just stayed in the pleasure quarters drinking and eating, you’d never have died from weak martial arts. But now, surviving has become harder because of what you’ve learned.”

That, to me, is the essence of Jianghu.

Cha Seong-tae looked at me and replied,

“This is only the beginning. I don’t regret it. I didn’t know what it meant to grow stronger day by day. It just feels good.”

I figured he’d say that.

Most martial artists are like that.

Unless they’re staring down a sword in their chest, they rarely regret their lives. Once you experience the thrill of growing stronger, you get hooked.

“Ho Yeoncheong, you’ve done well too.”

“Yes.”

As for Ho Yeoncheong, I didn’t have any particular thoughts left. If he ever disappeared one day, I’d assume he went off to find his own path. If he ever returned to the Black Cat Pavilion like the Four Ghost Generals or Dokgo-saeng, then it meant some # Nоvеlight # bond still remained.

I’d just let things flow however they may.

***

The breeze was cool, and the sunlight was just right.

For the first time in a while, I washed myself clean, changed clothes, and packed the gold and silver taels the Muak Sect Master had given me into my coin pouch.

As I passed through the inner courtyard, Cha Seong-tae asked,

“Where are you going?”

“I’m off to do some Biwu Gambling. Might swing by the Ihwa region too.”

Behind me, I could hear Cha Seong-tae and Ho Yeoncheong talking.

“What’s Biwu Gambling?”

“It’s fighting for money. What else?”

“Why would the Master suddenly…”

“I have no idea either.”

I had always planned to visit the Biwu Gambling House at least once.

The reason my face had become so rough in my past life was because of the Biwu Gambling House. Got beat up a lot. When you get hit often enough, your face changes.

Biwu Gambling is split into two types.

Fights with weapons, and barehanded combat. I learned a lot there. First of all, I realized there’s much to learn from defeat. I also figured out how to counterattack while getting beaten, and naturally picked up how to gauge someone’s strength from their appearance, aura, and gaze.

The reason people at rock bottom flocked to Biwu Gambling was simple—

Even when you lost, you could still make a bit of money.

I’m younger now than I was when I actually visited that place in my past life. But the guys who had been rotting there for years would still be there.

The Biwu Gambling House was a complete mess.

Sometimes high-level underworld martial artists would hide their identity and come to earn pocket money.

And sometimes, two of them would accidentally clash, leading to massive, ridiculous fights.

The most well-known Biwu Gambling House in the area is in a place called Siryun County. What’s interesting is that the entire economy around it revolves around gambling. Food and drinks are sold to spectators and fighters, pleasure quarters flourish, and regular gambling dens line the streets.

Even though it had been a while, walking around restored my memory perfectly.

I knew every single person here, and none of them knew me.

It was laughable, truly absurd.

‘This dogshit place… hasn’t changed at all.’

I stepped into a tavern I used to frequent and poured myself a drink.

With the thought of washing away the old grime built up in my chest, the alcohol went down smooth.

The other guys in the tavern were all brawlers who participated in Biwu Gambling, so the atmosphere was downright vicious.

And unlike my past life, where my face had turned rough, now I looked softer. In this place, I’d probably come off like some pampered aristocrat.

As I chewed on some dried snacks and looked around, a huge brute approached and took a swig of my drink without asking.

When I chuckled, the brute laughed with me.

He sat across from me and said,

“First time seeing you. Buy this big bro a drink. I’ll explain how things work around here.”

I drained what was left in my bottle and the moment I grabbed it again, I smashed it over his skull.

With a loud thud, the bastard bowed his head.

I grabbed his hair and repeatedly slammed his face into the table.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

I yanked up his bloodied head and looked at his face. His nose was broken, and he was missing three or four front teeth. I shoved his head away and looked around for Jomsoi. After making that much noise, locking eyes with Jomsoi wasn’t hard.

“Bring me more Dukang liquor.”

Jomsoi replied casually,

“Yes, sir.”

I looked at the bloodied bastard still staring at me and said,

“Get lost.”

He suddenly jumped up and pushed his way through the crowd as he stumbled off somewhere.

Guys like him—when you tell them to get lost, they always come back.

Laughter erupted from all around. Jomsoi came running over with a flurry of movement, quickly wiped the table, set down a new plate of dried snacks and a fresh bottle of Dukang, and said,

“That guy’s a brothel manager from Heukgyeong. He might come back with his goons. Will you be okay?”

“How many does he usually bring?”

“About ten.”

“That right?”

“Yes.”

I snapped my fingers at Jomsoi and said,

“Think we can make some money off it?”

Jomsoi looked at me, letting out a surprised, “Huh?” as he examined me more closely.

“Have you been here before? I don’t recognize you.”

“I’ve been here before.”

“Got it.”

Jomsoi started dashing around, then brought out a big basket and rang the bell hanging from the ceiling.

Ding ding ding!

Everyone in the tavern turned to look at Jomsoi.

He announced,

“Anyone want to join in the tavern Biwu match? This unfamiliar guest here will fight the brothel manager from Heukgyeong who just got beaten up. Heukgyeong’s manager usually brings about ten subordinates, right? There’s no entry fee—just place your bets on the winner. Left side is the young guest, right side is Heukgyeong. Our tavern will even throw in an extra five hundred nyang to those who bet on the winner. Alright, place your bets!”

As Jomsoi walked around the tavern with the basket, coins began clinking into the partitioned sides—left and right.

Meanwhile, every Biwu gambler in the tavern was staring straight at me.

Someone shamelessly asked me where I was from. I answered plainly.

“Pay to ask questions.”

I added an insult, just for old times’ sake.

“...You sons of bitches.”