Many Ways to Make a Man Angry
There are many ways to anger a person. Before facing Jo Unhyeon, there was one train of thought I needed to straighten out.
—Moyong Shin. It's about that motherfucker.
Why did that bastard's name pop up out of nowhere? It was about Moyong Shin's goals and motivations. That guy wasn't just some lust-crazed thug rampaging around.
Drawing on my knowledge of the original story, his actions—which seemed random and chaotic at first glance—actually had a consistent underlying reason.
No matter how much the martial world resembled a jungle ruled by beasts, even they shunned repeated scandals.
Yet he kept stirring up trouble without restraint because his clan backed him every step of the way.
That bastard—no, the Moyong Clan. Their ultimate goal was the "revival of the clan."
But aren't the Five Great Clans already at the top? What revival? If you ask that, the benchmark is different. They weren't aiming to merely dominate the Murim Alliance.
The Moyong Clan's golden age. As descendants of the Yan royal family,
their true purpose was to resurrect Yan—specifically, the mighty Former Yan Empire of Emperor Moyong, one of the preeminent powers among the countless nations of the Central Plains.
In normal times, this would just get them labeled as lunatics or executed as traitors for reckless plotting. But in the chaotic era of late Ming and early Qing, such dreams didn't seem so far-fetched.
—If they could reclaim their lost clan legacy, that is.
Lianhua Sword of Yohwa Island.
In the tumultuous Five Barbarians and Sixteen Kingdoms period, amid a flurry of warring states and proliferating martial arts, this was the overbearing sword art that had subdued all warriors with overwhelming might.
Unlike the Moyong Clan's other inner arts and divine skills—most of which survived only in name—this one was said to have been completely lost to history.
Normally, it'd be dismissed as legend, but after the recent Orthodox-Demonic War, everyone knew it wasn't just a fairy tale.
In the passage to the Western Regions—Xinjiang and the Western Qiang—they uncovered records tracing their ancestors' footsteps amid the fierce battles there.
"Clues to the Lianhua Sword remain on the shattered jade seal of the fallen Yan. With the aid of a skilled shaman, unravel its secrets, and the Moyong Clan's dream of revival shall be fulfilled."
Yeah, this was extremely dangerous. If word leaked, the clan could face annihilation as traitors.
But it also meant possibility. Having reached the pinnacle alongside the Pang Clan under the previous clan head, they needed a new ambition.
And this was fuel enough to ignite their greed. In that sense, Moyong Shin seemed the perfect heir to realize it all.
He had ambition, cruelty, and drive. That didn't just mean he was a scumbag; repackaged, it was charisma, strong leadership.
Not only that—he was smart. His grasp of power dynamics and political maneuvering was unmatched among the clan's taboo guardians.
With the full backing and expectations of his clan, he steadily achieved his aims.
First, he raided nearby Jurchen tribal villages, plundering prime warhorses. The Moyong Clan excelled in mounted combat, and their own steeds were fine, but nothing beat the quality of horses bred on vast grasslands.
Meanwhile, he needed shamans for the plan. Shamans? The first that came to mind were the clever Zhuge Clan, close to the imperial family. But pulling in such capable, court-connected experts was no easy feat.
So Moyong Shin took the risk: instead of recruiting them, he claimed a once-in-a-generation prodigy from the Namgung Clan—a woman rivaling the Zhuge direct lineage—as his own.
He even set up a "scapegoat" to handle the fallout cleanly, avoiding issues for the clan or its reputation. Even the elders had to admit his skill wasn't ordinary.
...And that "scapegoat" was me—or rather, Yujin. That's the part that pisses me off.
From there, he embarked on a quest for the jade seal fragments.
He hit Nanjing's Prefectural Governor's mansion, the Xinjiang warlord's palace, the Qingcheng Sect's headquarters, and some shadowy cave of unknown origin—snatching up shards and women along the way.
From the perspective of someone who saw the story's end, I figured I had to stop this bastard's plan.
If Moyong Shin restored his clan's lost art, it'd make him a nightmare to deal with. That's the surface reason; really, I just hated the guy.
His methods, his results—everything about that smug face needed smashing.
At the story's close, he completed the Former Yan jade seal and unearthed the clan secret.
As expected from such trials, the Yohwa Island Lianhua Sword boasted insane power.
...The problem? It wasn't that overpowered—not enough to upend the empire's chaos or the Jurchens' rise.
In the end, despite the clan's hopes, Moyong Shin's personal strength skyrocketed, but he lost his entire foundation in the massive clash between the Manchus and the empire, left standing alone.
So he decided to wander the world stealing women, vanishing beyond the horizon as the final curtain fell.
...Fuck, it's still a shitty ending no matter how I think about it.
Even now, I wanna kill the author. "Get the fuck out if you don't wanna die"—that's the setup.
Anyway, I figured Jo Unhyeon hadn't ascended to the capital after his bet with Moyong Shin yet, so the two hadn't made contact.
Reaffirming the goals for this mission:
—Protect the Bijong-Yurin couple from Jo Unhyeon's clutches, and stop Moyong Shin from getting his hands on the goods.
.
.
.
The journey was smooth. Or rather, downright boring?
We just rode in the carriage wherever it went, ate meals brought by attendants now and then, and slept. That's it.
Spending days so unproductively made me wonder if this was okay.
A few days of killing time like that, and we reached the border between the two provinces. A bit more, and we'd hit our destination, I thought—
"Greetings! You're Young Master Yujin from Zhejiang Province, right?"
We'd barely crested the pass into Jiangsu when a group stood waiting, as if they'd been there for ages.
"...Who might you be?"
"I'm Muyul, assigned to escort Young Master Yujin in Jiangsu this time. Pleased to meet you."
Led by a plump, affable-looking man named Muyul, a crowd bowed in greeting.
Having zero experience with formal ceremonies my whole life, it felt not just unfamiliar but burdensome.
"...I'm the Yujin you mentioned. Pleased to meet you."
Didn't we already have guides? No need to go this far. The thought flashed, but I kept it to myself.
I had no intention of cozying up to Jo Unhyeon's people, but no desire to start trouble right away either. So I just stayed wary until I gauged the situation.
Regardless of my feelings, Muyul approached with his trademark genial smile. What the—why so close?
"Ooh, just as the rumors said. A giant among men! You must have incredible external martial arts."
"That so?"
"Mind if I touch your arm?"
"Go ahead."
Then, with eyes full of curiosity, he poked at my biceps. It was same-sex interest, not romantic, but the first praise for my identity in this world made me drop my guard.
...What can I say? As a natural gym rat, no way I could ignore that.
To show off maximally, I subtly flexed. His "Ooh!" exclamations made me inwardly pleased.
And so began the praise rush.
"I'm just a desk-jockey civil servant now, but back in the day, I admired martial artists and soldiers. I truly respect your achievements!"
"Heh, flattery won't get you anywhere."
"What flattery? It's genuine awe."
"This guy."
This wasn't good. In this unexpected situation, I discovered my weakness: I'm a sucker for praise.
Maybe I was starved for it. Back in the martial world, I was too busy getting shit on. Even Yeona had standards—supportive, but stingy with compliments.
The general needed me, sure, but outright praise from her was rare.
Probably trying to butter me up for recruitment? I stayed guarded inside while my brain screamed, "More! Keep going!"
Reading my face, he kept up the expert flattery seamlessly.
"Training isn't just willpower, right?"
"Spot on."
"Gotta be born for it, have the right circumstances, and stay diligent! You're amazing in all those ways!"
"Heh."
I felt on top of the world.
'Yeah, more!'
"Heard the Dang Clan brews all sorts of drugs to boost strength these days. When I first saw you, I wondered if you'd used one!"
"Ha, come on. That's for noobs. Think I'd need that shit?"
Natural vs. roided? This guy's got some nerve. "Praise me more!'"
"Seriously, muscles like yours are perfect—beautifully defined."
Yeah, beautiful. My definition—
'...Defined muscles?'
Wait, why stop when it's going great? Oh, right. Strangers might not get it.
A few days in the carriage without proper workouts—probably some muscle loss. Yeah, that's it. I could forgive that slip with magnanimity.
Whether he knew my thoughts or not, despite the subtle shift in my expression, he kept praising away. Whatever.
"I'm thinking of going all-in on training someday. Think six months of hard work could get me a body like that?"
"...."
My mind flooded with thoughts.
...Six months? ...Hard work?
'This fucking prick?'
Think so? Is he mocking me? Challenging me? My beaming smile froze solid.
From Muyul's view, as a busy official squeezing in workouts, it was an innocent question about achievable gains.
With his wide network, he'd heard women love lean muscle and tried using it. He couldn't know it'd backfire so hard.
Maybe a newbie's mistake, especially with his beer gut proving zero gym history. But to Yujin, that was irrelevant. Just raw offense left—and that was gym rat nature.
'You know how much this costs? How dare you belittle my years of effort?'
Not his intent, sure, but it snapped me back to my true purpose.
'Kill. Kill. Kill.' Jo Unhyeon's crew—no way I'd let these bastards sway me.
Still, I quickly fixed my face and smiled. Not time to act yet.
Seeing that, he kept praising, but it no longer registered meaningfully.
Soon after, we boarded the carriage again and resumed the journey—uncomfortable companions, at least from my side. Who knew what they thought.