Watching such a prideful man standing there covered in blood gave me a strange feeling.

Honestly, it couldn’t be helped. His opponent was Cheonak, one of the Three Calamities, and also the White-Robed Scholar’s friend. So you could say the Scholar still fought fairly. Even if his external technique was dirty, he’s the kind of guy who’d be even more insidious if he fought properly.

Suddenly, the White-Robed Scholar, his face a mess, looked at us from next to Cheonak and said something unexpected.

“I won.”

“...What?”

A chill ran down my spine at the Scholar’s bizarre declaration of victory. Maybe he got hit too hard and lost his mind?

I asked,

“Your face looks like it clearly lost. So how exactly did you win? I’m curious.”

The White-Robed Scholar shamelessly explained his victory.

“As you all saw, during the fight, I blinded Cheonak with these two fingers.”

He held up two fingers.

“...”

“The fight only dragged on because I don’t have internal energy. But I’d already won by then.”

Cheonak looked at him with a pitiful expression.

“Fine. Let’s say you won.”

The White-Robed Scholar murmured calmly.

“Did you see? That makes it 21 wins and 82 losses.”

I had to admit the Scholar was something else. Seems like he and Cheonak really were close enough to be each other’s lifeline.

Twenty-one wins, eighty-two losses?

The tally sounded oddly poetic.

Still, it was impressive that he managed to win even twenty-one times against someone like Cheonak. Though I guess he was counting victories from when they were kids.

I picked up the clothes the White-Robed Scholar had tossed aside and approached the two of them.

“...Those were expensive clothes I bought you, and now they’re ruined.”

I got close, but had a hunch Cheonak might hit me, so I tossed them over. The white clothes that had been spotless even during our sprint here were now rags. The Scholar picked them up and started putting them back on.

To be honest, while watching the fight, I’d been coming up with a plan to defeat Cheonak.

First, I’d wear him down by attacking with external techniques, then Ghost Demon would jump in. Knowing him, he’d fight to the death. After that, the Lecher would fight dirty, as he rarely does, and finally, the Sword Demon would bash Cheonak with his external strength.

But thinking again, a fight without internal energy requires mutual trust.

Just like Cheonak and the White-Robed Scholar.

There’s no reason Cheonak would go easy on us.

The moment I realized that, I abandoned the plan. Even if we somehow beat him one after the other, it wouldn’t benefit us at all.

Cheonak folded his arms and beckoned to me with his chin.

“Master of the Hao Clan, come here.”

“Mm.”

It sounded like a tiger inviting me over for a taste.

Reluctantly, I scratched my cheek and walked over, sitting across from him.

Cheonak asked,

“What’s going on? You hanging around that Baek family bastard is odd enough, but now you show up here for drinks?”

He didn’t seem intent on hitting me for now, so I crossed my arms and replied.

“Yeah, it’s weird. It’s not a normal thing.”

“Explain.”

“As you know, I’m not a normal guy.”

“I know that.”

“Then that’s your answer, no? When we fought before, I already offered to share a drink.”

“And?”

“Today, I came for your answer. The White-Robed Scholar had to guide us here. How else would I know where you live?”

Cheonak glanced at the Four Villains and spoke.

“You, I can understand. But what about those strays?”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Strays? Really?”

“So why did you show up with such a force? I’ve never met these people before.”

What kind of phrasing is that? Seems Cheonak acknowledged the Four Villains as top-tier masters.

I introduced them.

“Allow me to introduce them. Eldest, the Sword Demon. Second, Master of the Six Harmonies. Youngest, Mongrang. I’m the third. We travel together due to various circumstances. We had a huge fight with the ghosts. Before that, we killed the top disciple of the Cult Leader. We had a few duels with top orthodox experts at the Murim Alliance. During one of those, we reunited with the White-Robed Scholar who had defeated Seomun the Unrivaled. We ended up sharing elixirs, grilled meat, and drinks. So I asked, could we share a drink with Senior Cheon? Honestly, the Scholar didn’t want to come, and now I know why. If he gets beaten like this every time, I wouldn’t want to come either.”

Is there anyone else in the world who can summarize recent events this neatly?

Only me.

Only I could lay it out like this. I looked at the White-Robed Scholar, who looked like a wreck.

“To think the Unrivaled who defeated the head of the Seomun Clan would end up beaten like this. I almost feel bad. Just look at his face. Though I’ll admit—it’s satisfying.”

The White-Robed Scholar glared at me.

“What?”

I glared back.

“What’s with the attitude? Guys like us naturally enjoy seeing others’ faces after they’ve been pummeled. It’s not like I’m the one who got hit.”

“You bastard.”

So that’s why the Scholar had such a sour look when he said he had a place to visit earlier. He probably predicted this whole situation.

Cheonak looked at the Scholar and muttered,

“Count yourself lucky I didn’t kill you.”

I nodded and chimed in to support him.

“Well said.”

I answered in place of the White-Robed Scholar.

“But that goes both ways, doesn’t it? Unrivaled or not.”

Cheonak glared at me.

“...What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. He may wear white on the outside, but inside he’s pitch-black. He’s got a scheming nature, and he plans everything meticulously. His personality is obsessive. If he really meant to kill someone, he’d be more thorough. He’d gather subordinates, elite warriors, mercenaries, use every dirty trick he had. He wouldn’t show up like this. He’d wait and strike only after observing everything for a long time.”

Cheonak looked at me, a little surprised.

“You sure know that Baek family bastard well. You’re right.”

Cheonak glanced around at the Four Villains.

“Now that I think about it, Shin Gae didn’t come.”

Seems the conversation helped ease his anger a bit. Cheonak really was human, after all. I let out a breath of relief.

Cheonak looked at the eldest.

“Are you the Left Envoy who clashed with the Cult Leader?”

The Sword Demon replied,

“That I am.”

Naturally, the eldest didn’t bother with honorifics. Cheonak didn’t seem to care. He turned to the Lecher.

“You’ve got an unlucky face.”

The Lecher answered with a grimace.

“Thank you, Senior.”

To Ghost Demon, Cheonak said,

“You’re just plain ugly.”

Ghost Demon tilted his head and said,

“You’re not exactly handsome either.”

“...”

We all stared at Ghost Demon.

Cheonak blinked, then looked at me.

“Master of the Hao Clan, you really do keep birds of a feather. Everyone acts like they’ve got two lives.”

I nodded.

“I admit it. But I came to drink with a Calamity. You think I’d bring a bunch of brown-nosers? These are my people.”

Only then did Cheonak chuckle dryly. Thank goodness he still knew how to laugh. Guys like him tend to hate sycophants.

Cheonak stood up quietly and walked toward the manor.

Was he leaving?

Standing at the entrance without a word, Cheonak glanced inside and called out,

“Habok, we have guests.”

Someone inside answered.

“Yes, Master.”

From the entrance, a man who looked like a servant appeared, hurrying over.

“Oh dear, Young Master Baek, are you all right?”

“No, I’m not. You’re still alive, huh? The longest-serving servant ever.”

“Nothing ever happens to me.”

As the White-Robed Scholar reached out, Habok helped him up.

Still holding him up, Habok turned to us.

“Please come in as well, honored guests. Welcome. It’s so rare to see new faces around here.”

The White-Robed Scholar muttered,

“Shut up.”

“Yes, sir.”

As we headed toward the manor, we overheard them talking.

“You should’ve held back. Why provoke him and end up fighting again?”

“If not me, who else could deal with Cheonak?”

“That’s true.”

“Twenty-one wins. Eighty-two losses.”

“Amazing. Though I always saw you getting pummeled. When did you even win twenty-one times?”

The Scholar began limping, so Habok just carried him on his back. From the way he walked, it was clear he was trained in martial arts. Hearing them talk, I thought: this servant must really be something to survive Cheonak’s wrath. He was personable, but not obsequious.

We passed through the entrance and looked around the inner manor.

“...Whoa.”

“What is all this?”

“Are these training tools for external techniques?”

“Looks like it.”

The surrounding scenery had the feel of flowers and ponds, but the inside was nothing but a training ground. Rows of weapons, massive iron training equipment, all neatly organized.

Seeing all the gear, I thought: King of Fists would love this place. I knew he usually trained in the mountains with logs tied with rope. But here? Cheonak’s place was full of pure iron. Lifting and swinging this stuff all day? No wonder the Scholar had no chance in a fight.

There were no flowers, ponds, or plants worth admiring—just a training ground. A truly unique mountain lodge.

If I had to name it in my own style...

Iron Fortress?

As we walked, we saw targets set up and a big chest full of shiny throwing weapons.

I thought Cheonak would train like a lunatic with weird techniques, but the training setup here was more refined than most major sects. Strangely enough, I’d never imagined Cheonak as someone who trained this hard, so I was shocked.

Luckily, there were tables and chairs. Habok sat the Scholar down.

He said to us,

“Please rest here for a moment. I’ll go make preparations and inform the master.”

From beyond the main hall, we heard the sound of water splashing. Cheonak had gone to the well to wash up. We sat around the table, looking like a bunch of wrecks, and stared at the White-Robed Scholar.

“...”

We heard their voices from not far away.

“What should I prepare?”

“Liquor.”

“And the side dish?”

“Slaughter a chicken.”

“Yes, sir.”

Since it seemed the drinks would take a while, I looked around the training ground. There were many unfamiliar devices, most of them heavy. With nothing better to do, I wandered around lifting some of them.

Were these weapons? Or external technique training tools?

As I looked around, a strange thought struck me. Why did this place feel like the final battleground? The iron tools could all be used as Cheonak’s weapons. Even if a horde of martial masters stormed the manor, they’d all be slaughtered. The place reeked of bloodshed.

Watching the training ground, I could finally see the difference between Cheonak and the White-Robed Scholar. The Scholar always focused on reading or transcribing manuals. Cheonak, from start to finish, had lived like a warrior.

The Scholar was basically a strategist with unexpectedly high combat ability.

Cheonak was more like a Lu Bu or Zhang Fei-type figure.

Inside, we heard Habok’s voice.

“Come in and have some tea first.”

Our group and the White-Robed Scholar went inside. I lagged behind, looking around a bit more before joining ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) them. Originally, this place had a hidden mechanism, and the only way to open it was for the White-Robed Scholar to get beaten. Luckily, the house interior looked like a place for humans. Unlike the training yard, it had a completely different vibe. I suspected this more human side was thanks to Habok.

I wandered Cheonak’s residence, then stopped and approached the right wall. I felt strange, like all five senses had shut off.

A woman’s portrait hung there.

“...”

Was it a painting? It was so finely detailed it looked like the artist had drawn her while she sat across from them. I stood still and stared for a long time.

More than anything, she was beautiful.

She wore white and held a folding fan. The detail was so fine I could almost read her fortune. It would be hard for most men not to be drawn to her. Her expression was quite stern—like a woman made of ice. If she died alongside the Senior Disciple, her skills must’ve been formidable. Usually, paintings are signed, but this one had no mark.

But I could tell right away—it was drawn by the White-Robed Scholar.

I didn’t speak to the Four Villains or the Scholar. I just stood there, staring.

Of course, the woman in the painting was Jinhyang.

Drawn by the White-Robed Scholar. Kept by Cheonak.

I’d never been moved by a painting before, but now I felt like I’d been ambushed. Turns out, the White-Robed Scholar was a man who knew art.

“Why are you staring so long?”

I didn’t answer. I kept staring, taking in everything. All my questions about the relationship between Cheonak and the White-Robed Scholar melted away with this one painting.

There are things to ask. And things to leave buried.

This painting was enough.

Suddenly, I realized the room had gone quiet. I turned around.

Everyone was staring at me. Even Cheonak, freshly changed, was leaning against the wall, watching.

“...”

The Sword Demon asked quietly,

“Why were you staring so long?”

I glanced at the White-Robed Scholar, then replied plainly,

“It’s just... really well done. And she’s a rare beauty.”

The Lecher asked,

“Do you know her?”

“Nope. Of course not.”

I turned toward the painting and gave a martial salute.

“Beautiful elder sister, I, Yi Zaha of the Hao Clan, greet you. I’ll be enjoying a drink here today.”

I paid my respects to Sister Jinhyang. I already felt a bit tipsy. I let my guard down and got caught by the painting.

I walked back to the Four Villains and said,

“It’s a masterpiece.”

Sitting down, I looked at everyone who was still watching me.

“What’re you staring at? Let’s drink.”

Only then did the others turn their heads toward the painting.

Along with us, the White-Robed Scholar and Cheonak also gazed at the beauty in the portrait.