“Have they lost their minds?”
A thick vein popped on Jin Cheonwoo’s temple, the Black Reaper Sword (黑煞劍).
It was infuriating enough that these people were stubbornly clinging to their seats, but what?
Leave the food and go?
For a moment, he thought he’d misheard.
“Could they be martial artists?”
He glanced at the sword sheathed at their waist.
Though their appearance was shabby, seeing that sword now made him think the possibility couldn’t be ruled out.
Honestly, he wanted to beat them to a pulp right then and there…
But hey, there’s a saying in the martial world: “Beware the old, the young, and women.”
And now, right in front of him, an armed woman and a boy were sitting together?
It was suspicious—far too suspicious.
More than anything, their attitude was utterly insane.
In this tense and ominous atmosphere, most people would be wetting themselves.
And yet these two were this nonchalant?
There were only two possibilities:
Either they had something up their sleeve…
Or they were just plain insane.
Jin Cheonwoo glared coldly at Cheongun.
If you want to survive in the martial world, you need sharp instincts.
The fact that he’d survived this long in the murim meant he’d been reading the room his whole life.
And right now, those instincts were sounding the alarm.
It was time to reveal his identity and explain the situation.
So Jin Cheonwoo cleared his throat loudly and declared:
“I am Jin Cheonwoo, the Black Reaper Sword. I carry out the will of the Bloodflame Pavilion’s Lord, hunting down traitors. I would be grateful if you outsiders could step aside for a moment.”
Jin Cheonwoo was no stranger to situations like this.
So with the level of courtesy he’d shown, he expected them to respectfully vacate the area.
Anyone who didn’t was basically declaring war against the Bloodflame Pavilion.
But even after all that, the two showed little reaction.
In fact, they just kept eating and chatting like nothing was happening.
“Chomp chomp… Bloodflame Pavilion? Ah, that spy organization?”
“You know about it too, Cheong Daehyup?”
“Roughly. Now that you mention traitors, I think I remember. Those were the guys who stole the secret techniques, right?”
In the martial world, there are always conspiracies lurking in the shadows.
To prevent this, most well-known sects have their own intelligence networks.
Among them, the Bloodflame Pavilion was known to be one of the larger ones.
Cheongun, who had sunk over 20,000 hours into the game, couldn’t not know about them.
He looked casually at Jin Cheonwoo and asked,
“Hey mister, you’re part of the Blood Dragon Unit, right?”
“What?”
“You’re the one barking orders at the front, so I figured you must be their captain or something?”
Jin Cheonwoo was dumbfounded.
He was indeed a member of the Blood Dragon Unit—Bloodflame Pavilion’s elite assassination squad.
“Those guys stole the secret scroll, right?”
“Yes, they did.”
“And you’re here to teach them a lesson?”
“That’s correct.”
“The Pavilion Lord’s real name is Wi Young-hwa, right?”
“He is known as the Bloodflame Sword Sovereign, but…”
“I didn’t ask for his title. I meant his actual name. Am I right or wrong?”
“…R-right.”
Jin Cheonwoo felt his face flush.
His pride as a captain, his rising anger, and the deep sense of unease radiating from the boy clashed—and the unease won.
The reason he had survived so long in a world where one wrong move could get you stabbed was simple:
He was extremely good at reading danger signs.
“Shit, is he some kind of expert or what?”
He just casually said Lord Gakju’s name out loud?
You’d have to have nerves of steel to even think about doing something like that.
And somehow, he seemed to know all the inner workings of the Hyeolyeon Clan too.
Whoever this guy was, messing with him without knowing who he really is could end in serious regret.
While he was deep in thought, one of the four warriors standing guard in the corner with swords drawn suddenly shouted in a booming voice.
“Young master! Please help us! That man is a vile scumbag who preys on honest, hardworking people! The secret manual he stole doesn’t even belong to him! We’re just trying to take back what’s rightfully ours!”
At that, Jin Cheonwoo let out a snort of laughter, clearly unimpressed.
“Bullshit! You’re talking crap like it’s your day job! I sold it fair and square for a proper price, so what the hell do you mean, ‘stolen’?”
“You wicked bastard! You used all sorts of shady tricks to force us into selling that manual! And now you want to act like it was a clean deal? Aren’t you afraid of the heavens?!”
“Sure, I fear the heavens. But I don’t think they’d mind too much if I killed bastards like you.”
“No more words! Let’s settle this right here and now!”
“Fine by me. Then die!”
They started circling around the table where Cheongun and Namgung Yul were sitting.
It was a tense standoff, weapons drawn, heavy breathing, sharp glares—yet no one dared make the first move, wary of accidentally provoking the mysterious young man and causing all hell to break loose.
Jin Cheonwoo, who had been about to step forward, glanced awkwardly at Cheongun.
If this dragged on any longer, they were bound to ruin the young man’s meal.
Clearing his throat, Jin Cheonwoo cautiously spoke.
“Ahem! Excuse me.”
“What now?”
“The space is a bit tight. Could you perhaps move your seat a little?”
“Move my seat? Why should I? Can’t you see I’m eating?”
“You could always eat at another inn.”
There were plenty of inns around.
No real reason to insist on this one in particular.
But Cheongun clearly saw things differently.
“Ha! And what about the food I already paid for?”
“Well…”
“And the food is still on the table? The emotional distress from having to abandon a perfectly good meal? The time and effort I’ll waste finding another place? What if the new inn doesn’t taste as good? What if it’s more expensive? What if there’s no seat available?”
“I mean, that’s…”
“Damn it! Would you like getting kicked out in the middle of your meal? Think about it! Imagine walking into an inn on a happy, special day!”
“It was a special day?”
“No? Not really?”
“…Right.”
What the hell.
Then why bring up a “special day” in the first place?
“Anyway! You’re enjoying a nice meal on this so-called special day, and suddenly a bunch of ugly-ass dudes barge in. Then they start saying you better get lost, or they’ll take a dump right in front of you!”
“I never said that!”
“You didn’t? Isn’t talking crap still crap?”
It was a wildly biased interpretation, but Cheongun’s mouth was now firing like a motor engine, spitting words a mile a minute.
“Now my appetite is gone.”
“Well…”
“Maybe I got indigestion from that nasty scene? My stomach’s not feeling great. Who’s gonna take responsibility for that?”
“What are you—”
“Damn it, I’ll probably get PTSD every time I walk past this inn now. Actually, I’ll probably see your face every time I try to eat. I might never be able to enjoy food again. I’ll slowly waste away and die of malnutrition. Wait a minute. That means you basically killed me!”
“Now that’s just ridiculous—”
“I feared for my life. Compensate me. Take responsibility.”
Jin Cheonwoo couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer absurdity of Cheongun’s logical gymnastics.
What kind of lunatic is this kid?
All he did was ask him to scoot over, and somehow he was being painted as a murderous psycho!
Up until now, he had roamed the martial world and seen all kinds of lunatics, but Cheongun was, without a doubt, the craziest of them all.
“Fuuuuuck!”
At that moment, Jin Cheonwoo’s patience hit its absolute limit.
No matter how cautious he normally was, he wasn’t so pride-less as to just sit there and endure this.
Even if he lost, it didn’t matter.
The feeling of “I think I might lose” and “I think I might die” were fundamentally different on a visceral level.
At the very least, Jin Cheonwoo didn’t think he would die here.
Even if he lost, he was confident he could preserve his life.
He had more men on his side. It was a winnable fight.
Jin Cheonwoo drew his sword and assumed a battle stance.
With a flick of the blade, he pointed it toward Cheongun.
He was planning to unleash a sword wind—something only a select few elite warriors could perform.
Just as he began drawing up his inner energy with that intention—
Cheongun’s eyes lit up with a chilling blue glow, scattering fierce light.
The aftershock of inner energy flowing as naturally as thought—it was the mark of someone who had reached the level of Yi-Jeon Breathing, where internal energy moved in perfect sync with intention.
Before long, an overwhelming killing aura began pressing down on everyone present.
“!!!”
A sticky malice crushed down on Jin Cheonwoo and the other men like a physical weight.
It was the manifestation of will made visible—the realm of expressing intent through aura.
Jin Cheonwoo broke out in goosebumps as he stared at Cheongun.
‘Holy shit! He’s a master!’
He was only being pressed by killing aura, but his mouth was drying up, and breathing felt heavy.
The sheer pressure emanating from Cheongun’s body was so immense, he couldn’t even keep his head up.
Then Cheongun opened his mouth.
“I felt it again… the threat of death.”
Jin Cheonwoo wasn’t part of the Demonic Cult.
And yet, Cheongun was able to summon such inner power because his danjeon (energy center) was currently brimming with energy.
How was that possible?
The secret lay in that moment when Cheongun had first saved Namgung Yul—when he subdued that Seoncheon from the Black Forest Sect or whatever it was.
When facing Seoncheon, a member of the Demonic Cult, Cheongun’s unique trait “Demonic Cult Nemesis!” had been triggered, activating one of its sub-abilities: Body of the Spirit-Vessel.
The Body of the Spirit-Vessel was a rare physique that could absorb the natural energy of the world directly.
At that time, Cheongun had used the technique One-Danjeon Storage Art to store as much natural energy as possible from his surroundings into his danjeon.
Only someone like Cheongun—with absurdly high perception and stats—could pull off something like that.
Of course, the natural energy crammed into his danjeon was fundamentally different from true inner energy.
Real inner power was the result of decades of painstaking cultivation, purified and refined within the body.
What Cheongun had was just temporarily stored natural energy.
Once used, it leaked like a sieve, and its efficiency in combat was poor.
But that didn’t matter.
Because for someone like Jin Cheonwoo, it was more than enough.
On the other hand, Jin Cheonwoo was sweating bullets as he asked Cheongun,
“Wh-what esteemed sect might you be from, senior?”
“Why do all you demonic cult bastards sound the same?”
“Eeek!” Jin Cheonwoo let out a yelp and immediately dropped to his knees.
“I didn’t recognize a master before me and have committed a grave offense! Please, have mercy!”
“Mercy? Why would I? That was no minor offense, you know? You almost killed me just now!”
What the fuck? Killed you?!
All Jin Cheonwoo had done was politely ask him to move to a different inn!
He was choking on the injustice, but he kept his mouth shut and bowed deeply.
In the martial world, strength is law.
Mess with a lunatic like this, and it’s a one-way ticket to the afterlife.
“Please, spare my life! I’ll compensate you fully for any damage caused!”
“Oh yeah? Then hand it over!”
“W-what do you mean, hand what over?”
Jin Cheonwoo blinked dumbly.
Cheongun smirked at the sight.
“What else? Money. And your clothes. Look at me—I look like a damn beggar because of you!”
“Wait, how is that my fault?! You looked like a beggar from the start—”
“Talking back?”
“Eeeek!”
Namgung Yul, who had been silently watching the whole exchange, thought to herself:
…This, too, must be a side effect of someone who’s been disconnected from the world for far too long.