Episode 53. The Bracket Is Wrong.
As I ate, I occasionally glanced at Hongshin and Geumhae. I wondered if they were enjoying the food—if they could even swallow properly while eating with me at the same table.
Both of them were shoveling rice into their mouths as if digging for treasure.
Some people toil an entire day just to afford one meal, and yet these two, who had thrown themselves into the martial world, were eating without a word. I wondered what they were thinking as they ate—but I didn’t ask. Some meals were just… meals. Meaningless, routine sustenance.
I wasn’t eating as ferociously as Geumhae, but I matched his spirit, complimenting the servants’ cooking while devouring food like a soldier in battle.
“This is good. That’s good. Everything’s good.”
“Agreed.”
Hongshin’s appetite had also returned in full force—no doubt thanks to her recovered stomach.
Whatever each of us was thinking, the meal prepared by the servants was demolished cleanly by the three of us. Then came that post-battle silence—when everyone simply exhales.
“Hopeless bunch…”
Hongshin broke the quiet. “So, Senior, what will you do next?”
“I have to fight Baekyu. But honestly, it means little to me.”
What use was becoming one of the Four Envoys when I intended to kill Daenachal?
“Tell me of Daenachal’s misdeeds. Maybe hearing them will help me improve my martial arts.”
Hongshin blinked. “Hearing about evil deeds improves martial arts? How’s that supposed to work?”
I looked at her sidelong. “To fight well, you need emotion. Anger. You drive yourself right up to the edge of madness.”
“But wouldn’t that make you lose control?”
“That’s where discipline comes in. When the fire rises, you cool it with awareness. You bury the anger deep in your heart, then cover it with a thin layer of ice. Fire and ice coexisting—like the balance between extreme Yin and extreme Yang.”
Geumhae asked with wide eyes, “Have you mastered extreme Yin techniques as well?”
Why did my heart always skip a beat whenever this rich brat asked something? Probably because, as a merchant heir, his connections ran far deeper than he let on.
I answered carefully, “No. I’d like to, but I haven’t had the chance. Do you know any?”
Geumhae nodded thoughtfully. “Extreme Yin techniques are rare, but… I’ve heard of one. A woman who was once the Saintess of the Heavenly Demon Cult founded the Palace of Jade Transformation—Okhwa Palace. It was composed entirely of women, all trained in ice arts. Their leader was exceptionally strong, and the sect grew rapidly. The Heavenly Demon Cult crushed them soon after resolving its internal strife. Okhwa Palace requested aid from the orthodox sects, and a coalition called the Okhwa-Baekdo Alliance marched to their defense. That was about twenty years ago.”
Oh?
That would’ve been around the time I was born. Naturally, no one had ever told a tavern boy like me such stories of the martial world.
“And then?” I asked.
“Both sides suffered heavily, but the Heavenly Demon Cult won. Okhwa Palace burned, and the orthodox forces retreated. Some survivors fled—women who feared being taken as the new Saintess. They scattered, marrying into various families across the land. The art of Okhwa Ice remained alive in secret. It’s not a pleasant story. Some disciples even took lowly positions as concubines just to avoid being chosen.”
That fit with what I knew—Gwangmyeong Jwasa was from a distant branch family.
“Any notable descendants?” I asked.
“None that we know of. They would hide it well. To the orthodox world, they were a source of shame; to the demonic sect, they were heretics.”
So, Gwangmyeong Jwasa might be a heretic’s child—born from the Okhwa line, yet drawn back to the demonic path. The cult wouldn’t have rejected him; they likely welcomed the return of the Saintess’s bloodline and the lost ice arts.
That would make him a bastard son, the offspring of a traitor, descendant of Okhwa Palace—an outcast to both sides. Scorned by the orthodox, distrusted by the demonic, and probably treated as a lesser child at home.
Twisted roots produce twisted men.
Whatever his story, I wasn’t going to let that pervert start preying on women this time. He’d been in his late twenties when his crimes began in my past life—so right now, he was still “innocent.”
Kill Daenachal. Stop the pervert. Avoid the previous Mad Demon. A thrilling and busy schedule indeed.
This was why a martial artist must grow strong. If I were weak, Daenachal would live, perverts would roam free, and the old Mad Demon would drag me across the land again—to watch the fish in Zhejiang, of all things.
Fish, turtles, sea fishing— watching a monk cast lines into the ocean makes you question the very order of the universe. He’d talk about wanting to smell the flowers on Mount Hua or chase the legendary roc across the sky. At those times, I’d rather have begged him to recite sutras. But every time, he’d just laugh and say, “I’m a defrocked monk. I forgot them.”
“Junior. Disciple.”
“Yes, Senior.”
“You must become strong. In this world, there’s nothing more pitiful than weakness. Do you even know what fish live off the coast of Zhejiang?”
“No.”
“Then you’ve already failed.”
I was about to continue my nonsense when the main hall doors swung open and So Gunpyeong rushed in.
“Master, the Yellow Ox, White Rat, Black Cow, and Red Sheep Generals are outside.”
“Out of nowhere? Have I been found out?”
“Uncertain.”
“How many men?”
“Just the generals.”
I turned to Geumhae. “Why do you think they’re here?”
“It might be that Commander Baekyu is coming. The others probably came to watch the Four Envoy duel.”
“Let’s go.”
I stood and told the two juniors, “You don’t have masks. Blend in with my subordinates later and watch quietly.”
“Understood.”
Outside, the four masked generals—Yellow Ox, Black Cow, White Rat, and Red Sheep—looked like performers at a masquerade.
When I appeared wearing the Black Cat mask, all four greeted me at once. “Brother Myo.” “Long time no see.”
Their tone was casual. No tension. That meant Baekyu must really be on his way. Then one of them snickered. “So today’s the day one of the Four Envoy seats changes, eh? Looking forward to it.”
I ignored the fool and said to So Gunpyeong, “You and the others—stay still. Be like mountains.”
“But Master, aren’t you stronger than Baekyu?”
“It’s not that kind of day. Stay put.”
Everyone wore masks, so it was impossible to read their faces. A few moments later, a man wearing a white mask marked with a rooster’s crest landed on the wall.
Baekyu.
The other generals who had greeted me so lazily bowed deeply to him. “Brother Baekyu.”
He waved them aside. “Clear the center.”
The crowd shifted, forming an open space for the duel.
Baekyu sat on the wall and looked down at me. “Junior Myo, how have you been?”
“Same as always. And you, Brother Rooster?”
“No complaints.”
Seeing him perch up there confirmed my suspicion—there were more guests on the way.
My lieutenants filled the courtyard behind me. The lesser generals lined the walls around the inner courtyard. Which meant the remaining walls would soon have other visitors.
So Gunpyeong murmured, “Looks like all the Four Envoys are coming.”
“So it seems.”
Soon enough, Baekin, Cheongjin, and Jeoksa arrived almost simultaneously, each claiming a spot along the walls. It could’ve been the best view for a spectator—or a formation to prevent anyone from escaping.
Either way, all surviving Twelve Generals were now gathered.
The lesser generals scurried to bow and greet each new arrival, but the Four Envoys barely nodded in return.
I ignored the formalities and focused forward.
The main gate of the Black Cat Hall burst open, followed by the outer and inner gates in succession. The line of sight through the entire complex cleared, forming a straight path from gate to courtyard.
And there—appearing in that open path—was a gaunt man with long black hair and a sleeve fluttering empty at the elbow.
His face was full of ridges—thick lips, high cheekbones, bulging eyes, a broad forehead. Altogether, his glistening face and sharp gaze made him look like a black beetle striding forward.
At last, Daenachal entered the courtyard, and all Twelve Generals bowed deeply.
“We greet our Master.”
I too showed basic courtesy, clasping my fists before relaxing.
A servant placed a chair behind him. Daenachal sat without even glancing at it, then fixed his gaze on me.
“I was bored,” he rasped. “Fight.”
“Yes, Master.”
I stepped down from the platform. Baekyu stood on the wall, preparing to join the duel.
Daenachal’s rough voice cut through the air. “Fourth.”
“Yes, Master.”
“He’s too much for you. Sit.”
Baekyu coughed awkwardly and sat back down.
I stood alone in the center of the courtyard, staring at Daenachal. He pointed at me. “The bracket is wrong. Baekin.”
“Yes.”
“Cheongjin.”
“Yes, Master.”
“And Jeoksa. The three of you—together.”
The three Envoys dropped into the courtyard without hesitation.
Daenachal’s cracked voice carried across the air. “Today, our fifth disciple—whose martial skill has supposedly improved—will face three Envoys at once. It will be a duel of life and death. Kill or be killed. None of the others are to interfere.”
I couldn’t help but admire the old bastard.
This sly fox… He’d realized something was off, yet made it look like an internal disciplinary duel. In one swift move, he’d surrounded me on all sides—and even came himself to make sure the job was done. Coincidentally, he’d also echoed my earlier phrase—“improved martial skill.” Charming.
I raised my hand. “Master.”
Daenachal didn’t ignore me. “Yes, my fifth. What do you wish to say?”
With polite hands clasped, I answered, “The bracket seems to be mistaken.”
“Oh? Should I remove one? Or add Baekyu? Choose.”
I clicked my tongue. “Tch.”
“…?”
Then I spoke, tone sharp and disrespectful. “If this is a duel to the death, Master should face me himself. Old man, you’re the one who doesn’t make sense.”
The courtyard fell utterly silent.
I looked around—no one dared breathe. After a moment, I shrugged and chuckled to myself. Awkward to laugh alone, but when it’s funny, you laugh.
I laughed long enough for it to be annoying, then looked up at Daenachal. “Caught you. It was fun while it lasted.”
And I smiled at him through the Black Cat mask.