“You’ve never had pepper steak? Wow...”

The Lecher looked at me with exaggerated surprise. There are times when even surprise can have an agenda—and in his case, it was clearly to mock me.

Honestly, I’d only heard of proper pepper steak. I’d never actually eaten it.

Food varies from region to region. How the hell would I have eaten them all? I’m someone who trains in martial arts, not a chef.

“No, I haven’t. I’ll be fine as long as there’s Tangcho Richuk. I’m having three plates today.”

“You never get tired of that damn Tangcho Richuk? You eat it every damn day.”

“I’ve got about seventeen more years to go before I’d get tired of it.”

“Incredible. Why are you so obsessed with it?”

“It’s like picking one guy and beating the hell out of him when fighting a crowd.”

“Oh, I get it now.”

As we walked down the mountain path from Manjang Gorge, the fact that we were all grown men having an in-depth discussion about what to eat made it feel like the most childish conversation in the world.

Which is probably why the more dignified ones—Drunk, Sword Demon, and White-Robed Scholar—didn’t dare join in.

Honestly, I find childish conversations entertaining.

The Lecher snorted and said,

“Never had something as common as pepper steak? What a country bumpkin. Fine, I’ll use my expert eye to find a good diner. Just follow me—I’ll show you what the real deal tastes like.”

For some reason, I started getting annoyed. I wasn’t sure why.

The Lecher turned to the Sword Demon.

“Master, you like pepper steak, right?”

The Sword Demon stared at his disciple with a blank expression.

“Never had it.”

“......Sorry.”

“Not something you need to apologize for.”

“Yes, sir.”

Naturally, there was no decent restaurant right under Manjang Gorge. After walking for about half a sijin, we finally entered a developed commercial area and looked for a place to eat.

***

“Three plates of pepper steak, four plates of Tangcho Richuk, five orders of regular dumplings, one bottle of Dugangju, two bottles of Bunju, bring out the corn soup first—and do you have Gyuhwagye (cold osmanthus chicken dish)?”

At the Lecher’s question, the jomsoi nodded.

“We do.”

“We’ll taste everything and order more if it’s good. Start with these.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Lecher looked at the Drunk.

“That should be enough, right?”

The Drunk replied,

“Planning to burst your stomach?”

“Strangely, that fish made my appetite go wild. Maybe it’s the greasiness. I’m craving every unhealthy spice in the world right now.”

Honestly, I felt the same.

We sat around a large round table and watched the street outside the second floor window. We tried finding a proper inn or diner, but ended up going with the biggest restaurant in the area.

The White-Robed Scholar, who had been silent the entire time, asked quietly,

“Do any of you have money?”

All four of the Four Villains looked at me.

I answered,

“I do. Eat up.”

That’s when I realized why the White-Robed Scholar had followed us so quietly. Apparently, he usually didn’t carry money.

What a ridiculous beggar.

For my part, I always keep track of my coin pouch, whether I’m falling into Manjang Gorge or getting swept into the eastern sea. Gotta eat, after all.

The corn soup (Okmigeng) arrived quickly. A simple dish made by mixing corn and egg. You can usually guess a restaurant’s quality from how this tastes.

As the warm soup filled my stomach, I finally felt alive. Judging by how the others were slurping like beggars, I wasn’t the only one.

Crowds began forming on the stairs, and people started taking nearby tables, glancing at us. But we were too busy eating to care.

The alcohol arrived. Then came the dumplings and pepper steak, rising like powerful martial artists entering the stage. When we lifted the wooden lid off the dumplings, steam poured out like they’d just finished ungijo-sik.

“Ooh...”

The Lecher split open a massive dumpling with his hands and sniffed it. That’s when the Drunk looked at me, startled.

“...You didn’t check it like usual.”

The White-Robed Scholar asked,

“You mean poison?”

We all stared at him. Did this bastard check it in advance?

He continued,

“Eat comfortably. If poison shows up, I’ll wipe out this whole place.”

The Lecher nodded.

“He’s right. If there’s poison, everyone dies.”

At their sharp words, all the customers turned to look at us. A tense silence spread. I scanned the crowd too.

Maybe there was a small local gang or underworld faction here. There were all kinds of folks—some who looked like martial artists, some who didn’t.

The Lecher stuffed a heap of pepper steak into a dumpling with his chopsticks, slapped the other half on top, then grabbed it with both hands and started eating his custom pepper steak dumpling.

He looked like he was silently asking: Ever eaten it like this before?

So I copied him. Split the dumpling, stuffed it with pepper steak, and grabbed it with both hands. Just as I was about to take a bite, an unfamiliar voice cut in.

“...Country bumpkins.”

I paused, mouth open, and turned toward the dumb bastard who dared mouth off. A few of them were standing by, ready to make eye contact.

I stared them down while chewing, but the taste of the pepper steak spreading in my mouth quickly drowned out any irritation.

“Wow, that’s good.”

Only the Lecher and I ate the steak dumplings. The others picked at the pepper steak with their chopsticks.

I poured Dugangju into five small cups, then spun the rotating table. The Four Villains and the Scholar each took a cup.

I spoke softly.

“Why are there so many people who stake their lives on one comment?”

The Drunk advised calmly,

“Let’s just eat and leave.”

“Yeah, we should.”

Unfortunately, the Lecher and I were seated with our backs to the window, while the Sword Demon, Drunk, and Scholar were facing the other customers. To onlookers, we must’ve looked like a table of cocky youngsters.

“Your Tangcho Richuk is here.”

My anger faded instantly. Not that I planned to hit anyone, but still—Tangcho Richuk just saved a man’s life.

The Lecher said,

“You said you’d eat three plates, so I ordered four.”

I looked at the Scholar.

“White-Robed, eat up. You’re nibbling like the most boring man on earth.”

The Scholar sneered but continued nibbling at the food without change. We ignored him and ate like beasts.

Three plates of Tangcho Richuk was too much.

After one and a half, I started feeling like everything in life was too much work. Since we couldn’t openly talk about Cheonak here, we just chatted about climbing Manjang Gorge. To others, it would’ve sounded like a hiking story.

Only after we finished eating did the Scholar ask quietly,

“...You’re all really planning to go see him?”

Everyone looked at me. I took a sip of Dugangju and nodded.

“From what I sensed, his vibe is similar to the eldest. Losing a martial brother or sister? That’s like the second. If he has madness, that’s like me. We’re not going to use him. He’s not someone to trick with schemes. Even if it’s just a normal drinking session, that’s fine.”

I looked at the White-Robed Scholar.

“Let’s go see him. The world might not understand him, but we do. And sure, people like us understanding someone might not be comforting, but... to me, it feels like visiting someone in prison. You get what I’m saying?”

“...”

“It feels like you’re acting like his jailer.”

The Scholar nodded.

“Fine. Let’s go. If I’m the jailer, I should at least clear up that misunderstanding.”

Just then, a voice from another table said,

“...Looks like they’re going to visit a convict.”

“Sure seems like it.”

The Lecher furrowed his brows and snapped at them.

“Why the hell are you inserting yourselves into someone else’s conversation? Are you nuts?”

I looked at the Lecher. Had my madness rubbed off on him? The local martial artists had already snarked at us twice, so even the Sword Demon and Drunk stayed quiet.

As I looked around...

Martial artists who clearly weren’t locals were glaring at the Lecher. One of them responded to his words.

“When did we interrupt your conversation?”

We all watched as the Lecher slowly stood up.

I had no intention of stopping him.

Strangely enough, the Sword Demon didn’t stop his disciple either. With the way things were going, it wouldn’t have been strange if the Lecher ended up breaking all their arms and legs.

There were thirty or forty people on this floor—all now staring at him.

The Lecher calmly walked to another table, picked up a bottle of liquor, and in front of everyone, began pouring it onto the floor.

But before it could even hit the ground—

Crack—!

It froze instantly, like a miniature winter waterfall.

Holding the bottle like a sword hilt, the frozen liquor turned into a pale white blade.

Holding it in one hand, the Lecher slowly walked between the tables, glaring at the martial artists.

“...Anyone else got something to say to me?”

“...”

“No? Personally, I hope someone does. Don’t squeak like a rat—get up and speak clearly. I can’t make sense of your mumbling.”

He stopped in front of one man and pointed the sharp ice blade at his face.

“Got something to say?”

The man shook his head. Despite the packed room, you couldn’t hear a single sound.

The Lecher walked around, still holding the icy sword.

“Just eat your food. This is a good restaurant. Eat good food, drink good booze—and don’t start shit with other people.”

Then, with a solid thud, he set the frozen liquor blade back where it came from and returned to his seat.

The restaurant became noticeably quieter.

When the Lecher sat back down, the Sword Demon asked,

“What was that about? Thought you were going to throw hands.”

The Lecher replied,

“I held back.”

The Sword Demon crossed his arms and let out a dry laugh. Then the Drunk chuckled, tapping the table.

I crossed my arms and looked at the Lecher.

“...You shit-stained brat, you’ve grown. I’m proud of you. The Mad Dog of Baek Eung-ji is now becoming a legend. You actually held back.”

While the Sword Demon and Drunk laughed out loud, the White-Robed Scholar covered his mouth with a strange smile. Looked like he didn’t want to laugh in front of us.

The Lecher muttered,

“I seriously...”

“...”

“I didn’t think you’d keep calling me a shit-stained brat for this long.”

The Sword Demon and Drunk, who had some idea of our past fight, burst into louder laughter.

The Drunk said,

“Anyone who messes with the third usually ends up regretting it. He’s the kind of guy who’ll eat Tangcho Richuk for seventeen more years. That ‘shit-stained’ nickname? You’re stuck with it for seventeen more years too.”

The Lecher groaned,

“What am I supposed to do... I don’t care when it’s just us, but if you say that in front of beauties like the One Phoenix Two Immortals... Please don’t. I’m begging you in advance.”

I called out to him.

“Fourth.”

“What?”

“Say ‘third brother.’ And use honorifics for second brother too.”

The Lecher nodded and replied,

“Eat shit.”

“Good.”

The Sword Demon stood up and said,

“Let’s go.”

We all stood at his words. I pulled out my coin pouch and said,

“Go ahead. I’ll settle the bill and catch up.”

I called the jomsoi, paid, and even grabbed the change. Then I looked around and walked toward the frozen bottle. The Lecher must’ve really gained something during his training—he still looked deadly.

With all the local martial artists watching...

I tapped the bottle with my index and middle fingers. The ice, sharp as a winter waterfall, instantly shattered. Some of it fell into the bottle, some scattered onto the table.

The Four Villains and the Scholar had already stepped outside.

Naturally, everyone on this floor was now staring at me.

I glanced around and said,

“I’m Yi Zaha of Haomun. Just out for a walk around town. If anyone’s out here harassing merchants, my crew and I will absolutely wreck you. Got that? That guy who used ice arts just now? He’s the youngest in the group. No need to explain what the rest of us are like, right?”

“...”

No one answered, so I grabbed a guy by the shoulder. He flinched like he’d been electrocuted. This was the bastard who called us bumpkins earlier. Of course I remembered.

I leaned in and whispered,

“Did you understand? Answer me.”

“Yes.”

I patted his back and said,

“By the way, the pepper steak here is better than the Tangcho Richuk.”

“A-ah, yes. Of course.”

“Bumpkin’s leaving. Take care.”

Outside, my group was waiting for me. Seeing them like this, they all looked a bit shabby—probably because of the climb up and down Manjang Gorge.

They were all looking at me when I made a suggestion.

“I’ll buy us all a new set of clothes. Let’s change into fresh outfits before we go.”

The Drunk asked,

“What for?”

I looked at the White-Robed Scholar. Even this neat freak had dirt and dust on his robe.

I spoke to all four of them.

“Let’s all dress in white. I think our ragged clothes got us more disrespect than usual.”

We started walking as a group. While strolling through the market, the Lecher asked,

“Why suddenly buy new clothes?”

I glanced around the shops and replied,

“We’re about to meet the strongest master of our time. That much etiquette is the least we can show. And if we all wear crisp white clothes, I think it’ll feel kinda nice. Just shut up and do it. I’m buying.”

“Got it.”

Anyway, I planned to observe even a small gesture of respect.

Not just out of regard for Cheonak...

But even more because he was the White-Robed Scholar’s friend.