The martial uniforms were all white, and the outerwear was chosen according to personal taste.

As I expected, the Sword Demon threw a pitch-black changsam over it, while the others picked colors that suited the white martial uniform reasonably well.

I looked at the Four Villains and the White-Robed Scholar for a moment.

“Hm.”

All of a sudden, they had transformed into neatly groomed men. Since everyone had powerful martial arts, their bodies were lean, and with their unique auras, they looked like senior brothers of a prestigious orthodox sect. It wasn’t just me who was surprised. Everyone was glancing at each other’s outfits in disbelief.

“......”

The Lecher spoke.

“Once everyone gets dressed up, they really look like different people. Master, you look amazing too.”

If I had to pick who transformed the most impressively, it would be the Ghost Demon.

He was originally a rather homely man, but perhaps because of his solid, angular build, he now looked like the head of a rigid orthodox sect or a senior martial brother. His expression was also stern and solemn, so he looked like a completely different person.

Ironically, I was the one who suggested buying clothes, yet I was the most surprised.

“Clothes really do matter, huh.”

The Sword Demon added,

“So that’s why you were so picky about the store.”

We had visited several shops only to leave again and again thanks to the White-Robed Scholar’s high standards before finally getting the outfits tailored. Now, clad in a white robe that fit his own taste, the White-Robed Scholar looked us over and spoke.

Only then did I feel a tinge of regret about not getting an outfit tailored to ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) bring to Cheonak as well. But suddenly handing over a gift wasn’t the kind of relationship I wanted, so I quickly let it go.

I looked at the White-Robed Scholar.

“Is it far?”

He replied,

“At this rate, when the hell will we get there? We’re going by lightfoot, of course.”

“Let’s do that.”

When I looked at the Four Villains and chuckled, the Lecher asked,

“What are you smirking at all of a sudden?”

This whole journey had been odd from the beginning. Even though we were supposedly just going to meet Cheonak, it felt like training.

“The Scholar’s lightfoot is insanely fast. Everyone’s gonna suffer.”

The Lecher answered,

“You’re the one who’ll suffer. I’ve got no problem with flat ground lightfoot.”

Surprisingly, even the Ghost Demon, who I thought would struggle the most, said,

“...I can handle long distances.”

The Sword Demon looked at the White-Robed Scholar and said,

“Let’s all just learn a trick or two from the Scholar’s lightfoot.”

The White-Robed Scholar gave us a quick glance, then clasped his hands behind his back and took the lead.

“We’ll eat dinner at Baekhakru in Bongyang, so do your best to keep up.”

His stride began to lengthen like stretched taffy, and before we knew it, he was unleashing Cloud Step and shooting forward like a gust of wind.

He was absurdly fast.

As soon as we took a deep breath, we shut our mouths and rushed after the White-Robed Scholar. After chasing him at full tilt for about thirty steps, he accelerated again.

The Ghost Demon let out a sigh.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake.”

I was in no condition to worry about the others either, so I immediately activated Cloud Step and took off after the White-Robed Scholar.

Did I make a mistake feeding him that fish?

His speed was even faster than last time, to the point I couldn’t even spit out a joke. But since I decided to treat this as training, I had no choice but to run like hell. Since all of us had enough pride to be ranked among the top ten masters of the martial world, no one said a word as we all chased the Scholar in silence.

***

I didn’t expect Cheonak to be in a place crowded with people, and as expected, he wasn’t. We unleashed lightfoot at full speed, stopped to eat five times along the way, and even took a nap. Because we traveled such a vast distance so quickly, it felt like we’d crossed into another country.

We followed the White-Robed Scholar up Mount Baekun.

The mountain terrain was rough, and because of the dense mist, the path ahead was often hidden, but the White-Robed Scholar walked up like it was a casual stroll through the backyard. Soon, we passed through the thick sea of clouds, and our view opened up to reveal a wide plain surrounded by sheer cliffs. Backed against the cliff was a secluded manor naturally blended into the scenery.

Instead of heading straight to the manor, the White-Robed Scholar paused to catch his breath.

Looking around, it was obvious this place was hidden by the terrain and fog—essentially a secret retreat.

The White-Robed Scholar looked at us, then called out toward the manor.

“...You home?”

I had never seen someone announce their arrival from this far away.

From within the manor, Cheonak’s languid voice drifted out like someone who had just woken up.

“What is it?”

The White-Robed Scholar stared at the ground and, unlike his usual self, fumbled his words.

“Well, that is...”

We all turned to the manor’s entrance. Cheonak stepped out, his tangled hair covering half his face as he glanced around at us. His eyes weren’t clearly visible through the mess of hair.

The White-Robed Scholar extended a hand to introduce us.

“This is—”

Before he could finish, Cheonak spoke first.

“You really scraped them together and dragged them here. So I’ve finally become useless to you?”

The White-Robed Scholar replied,

“What kind of bullshit is that? I brought guests.”

Sensing the mood was off, I quickly stepped in.

“Senior Cheon, I’m Yi Zaha, Lord of Haomun.”

Cheonak brushed his hair aside and stared at me with eyes that clearly belonged to a madman.

“So it’s you. Unlucky bastard, getting tricked by that Baekga guy and dragged all the way here.”

“Unlucky, huh?”

Cheonak gave a slow smile.

“You gathered some impressive masters, but do you think five people are enough to handle me?”

“We’re just here to have a drink, so save the bullshit for your friend.”

Cheonak let out a low laugh.

“What kind of lunatics show up asking to drink with me? At least make your lies believable.”

There was really no good way to explain that yes, we were lunatics.

I sighed and glared at the White-Robed Scholar.

“This damn bastard, seriously...”

Why did he leave his friend in this state? Even I was starting to get pissed.

The White-Robed Scholar looked at me.

“I told you—he doesn’t trust easily.”

While Cheonak slowly walked toward us, I sat down cross-legged on the ground.

“I don’t even know anymore.”

As I sat, the quick-witted Lecher hurried to sit as well, followed by the Ghost Demon and the Sword Demon who spread out slightly before sitting down too. This was the only way we could fully express that we had no intention of fighting.

As we all settled on the ground, Cheonak watched us silently.

The White-Robed Scholar stepped forward and said,

“Ease up on the paranoia. Yi Zaha here whined about wanting to drink, so I brought him. We couldn’t send a message in advance, and we couldn’t ask beforehand. That’s all. Why would I suddenly try to kill you? I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Cheonak, still approaching, replied with a snort,

“Who knows what you’re thinking? Why would a bunch of masters show up out of nowhere to drink?”

As the White-Robed Scholar approached, he tilted his head and replied,

“If you can’t trust me, then who can you trust?”

In the next instant—just as I saw his robe flutter—Cheonak slapped him with the back of his hand, and the White-Robed Scholar was flung sideways, blocking it with his sleeve.

KWAANG!

Having barely blocked it with his robe, the White-Robed Scholar spun in midair and landed lightly on his feet.

We didn’t move.

Friends often deepen their bonds through fights. Of course, at this level of friendship, the White-Robed Scholar might get beaten to death. But deep down, I didn’t think Cheonak would actually kill him. Still, it was important to show we weren’t here to gang up on him.

I looked between them and said,

“Scholar, you’re not gonna die, right?”

Cheonak looked at me.

“Scholar?”

“White-Robed Scholar beat Seomun Unrivaled not long ago. He inherited the title of Unrivaled.”

Cheonak turned to the White-Robed Scholar.

“This weak bastard is Unrivaled?”

The White-Robed Scholar answered coldly,

“I’m Unrivaled.”

“What a grand title. Arrogant punk.”

The Lecher turned to me and asked,

“Is he really not gonna die?”

Just then, a flicker of killing intent flashed across the White-Robed Scholar’s expression as he glared at the Lecher. That’s when I truly realized just how towering this man’s pride was.

The White-Robed Scholar said to Cheonak,

“How about I eat some dust for old time’s sake?”

Cheonak chuckled in disbelief.

“Did Unrivaled take some miracle pills or something?”

Even I was flustered, glancing toward the Sword Demon. Our eldest brother silently shook his head as if to say, “Don’t interfere.”

“...Let’s see.”

Then the White-Robed Scholar moved first and landed a kick straight into Cheonak’s chest. There was a loud thud, but Cheonak only staggered back slightly. As soon as we heard that sound, we all turned to look at each other.

“Hm.”

Then, the two charged at each other simultaneously. Palm strikes and kicks clashed, and surprisingly, even headbutts came out.

In the midst of this fierce exchange, the White-Robed Scholar got hit painfully in several spots. It was a bizarre fight. The ground wasn’t tearing up, and the blows kept landing too cleanly on their bodies.

The White-Robed Scholar took more of the hits...

But even Cheonak occasionally got staggered by kicks, and at one point the Scholar even poked him in the eye.

To summarize—it was a fight without internal energy.

As the brawl dragged on, the White-Robed Scholar rolled and flew across the area. Their techniques were on par, but Cheonak’s brute-force external skills completely nullified them. Even with an equal number of blows, the Scholar was the one flying and tumbling. It became clear—if it came down to purely external techniques, the White-Robed Scholar was at a huge disadvantage.

To make up for this, the Scholar resorted to sneakiness and dirty tricks. But that only seemed to provoke Cheonak even more.

Eventually, it became a one-sided beating.

Even without internal energy, no one could take that many hits from one of the martial world’s top masters without pain. The Scholar was getting utterly smashed, yet he kept charging back.

That’s when I realized—they must’ve been fighting like this for a long, long time.

They’d just gotten bigger.

It was clear from their movements—they’d been brawling like this since they were seven or eight. Grabbing the collar led to immediate strikes; sweeping kicks were blocked instinctively. They knew each other’s moves inside and out.

A palm strike was nullified by Golden Snake Hand.

Then they used Golden Snake Hand against each other to dislocate arms. At one point, the Scholar even bit Cheonak’s shoulder.

We all gasped.

“Whoa... What the hell...”

Even as his shoulder was being bitten, Cheonak flicked his shoulder to throw the Scholar off, then unleashed headbutts, punches, kicks, grabbed his collar, and slammed him into the ground. While being pinned, the Scholar kicked off the ground and sprang up, grabbing Cheonak’s collar and flinging him with some bizarre grappling technique.

As he ran back in—

Cheonak, who had pushed off the ground with one hand, spun into a roundhouse kick and struck the Scholar in the face.

Thwack!

This time, the Scholar went flying.

I thought they were just messing around, but I was wrong. They were going all out—just without internal energy.

The White-Robed Scholar stood up, covered in blood and dust. The white robe I bought him was in tatters. I didn’t know whether to stop the fight or not. Just when it seemed like they might clash again, the Scholar—after taking dozens more hits—stood up slowly in the distance.

And then I realized... this guy’s a freak.

He twisted his neck a few times and stripped off his outer robe. Not just the long coat—he took off the martial uniform too, exposing bare skin. As expected, long whip scars were carved into his body like tattoos. It looked like a map marked with red roads.

They clashed again.

Being overpowered in external martial arts, the Scholar now fully embraced the dirty fight. He grabbed Cheonak’s hair—got punched in the face. Grabbed his pant leg—got lifted and slammed. After being thoroughly turned into a bloody pulp, Cheonak finally muttered,

“...That’s enough.”

To which the White-Robed Scholar immediately replied with a curse.

“What the fuck did you say, you son of a bitch?”

And got beaten even more. After being tossed and rolling several times, the Scholar lay facedown on the ground before slowly pushing himself up.

Blood, mixed with dirt, dripped thickly from his nose and mouth. I was just about to stop the fight—but the look on his face made me swallow my words.

“......”

Strangely, I had this thought:

Maybe he didn’t want to guide us because he didn’t want to see Cheonak.

This fight—was soaked in emotions we couldn’t understand, tangled in blood, dirt, and dust.

Suddenly, I grabbed my forehead.

Ah, fuck...

The Scholar charged again, threw a few more meaningless punches, was flipped upside down, slammed into the ground, and finally passed out after taking a direct punch to the forehead.

When he collapsed—

Cheonak sat down beside him, arms crossed, and looked at us.

“What the hell did you all come here for?”

Everyone turned to me. I looked between the unconscious Scholar and Cheonak and answered the way I wanted.

“To have a goddamn drink. Why?”

Cheonak stared me down, so I opened my mouth again.

“What? Wanna throw down?”

Cheonak looked at me for a moment—then suddenly burst out laughing, shoulders shaking. What the hell was so funny? After laughing for a while, Cheonak slapped the unconscious Scholar on the cheek.

Smack!

He was probably checking if he was dead.

The White-Robed Scholar opened his eyes and silently stared up at the sky.

Having already been beaten to a pulp, Cheonak didn’t hit him anymore.

I looked at the two of them and came to a conclusion.

Maybe I’m the weird one. Or maybe I just have a strange imagination. But watching them like this—I felt like I understood what love and hate looked like.

To summarize...

The White-Robed Scholar probably liked Jinhyang too.

Then why did he let her die with the others?

That part, I don’t know either.

But unless you factor in those feelings, there’s no explaining this fight. Strangely, once I imagined that, the next part also fell into place. The first person who wanted to kill Heukseon and the Senior Disciple...

Wasn’t the White-Robed Scholar.

It was Jinhyang from the start.

And that explained a lot of the tangled mess of emotions behind this mess.

The look on the White-Robed Scholar’s face as he fought, enraged—it told me everything.

I looked at Cheonak and asked,

“You got any booze?”