Swaggering Through Hangzhou
As expected of my brothel madam—unbeatable in her domain. Every venture always starts with information. Without it, you can't devise a plan, and without a plan, you can't act. Knowing this all too well, Bang So-un naturally moved first to gather intel.
In truth, he could receive reports just sitting still. Eun Hwa-yeong sent them periodically through the Black Book network. But he needed to venture out like this from time to time. Hangzhou's playboy had to show his face to the world.
"Ahem."
Bang So-un strode through Hangzhou's streets with imposing swagger. Though Hangzhou hosted no small number of sects, the Golden Dragon Battlefield's name stood tall among them. He had every right to strut.
That said, if one had to describe Hangzhou, it was a fractured land of warring factions. No single dominant power held sway; they all carved out their shares. That naturally drew outside forces eyeing the juicy prize. Who wouldn't covet Hangzhou, the central hub of Jiangnan where logistics converged around the front rivers and West Lake, a city of nightly revelry and pleasure where money rained like confetti?
Yet it was no easy mark. Swallow wrong, and you'd choke—a massive city that size. In a way, that made it safer. The local power struggles were routine flare-ups, forgotten as quickly as they ignited.
"Come out here!"
Even in such a Hangzhou, at the entrance to Crimson Flower Pavilion—one of the city's top three brothels—Bang So-un bellowed without hesitation. Considering his relationship with its madam, Eun Hwa-yeong, it was only natural.
The door creaked open, and a stern-faced man emerged. The pavilion's chief steward—the same one who'd guided Bang So-un on his first visit.
"Aigoo, welcome, Golden Dragon Lord!"
The steward bowed at a perfect ninety degrees. Treating valued guests with utmost care—befitting a brothel steward.
But Bang So-un looked puzzled.
"Where's the madam? Why you?"
He'd already notified Eun Hwa-yeong of his visit today. She should have been here to greet him. To her, he—the master—always came first.
Yet she hadn't appeared? It was baffling.
"Ah, well... she said a sudden emergency came up... And to convey her deepest apologies to you, Golden Dragon Lord."
The steward scratched his head awkwardly, wary of catching flak in the middle.
"An emergency, eh? I see."
Only then did Bang So-un's expression soften. He understood now.
He'd ordered Eun Hwa-yeong to gather every scrap of info on Sagong Hemi available. The "emergency" had to be related. Fresh intel must have come in, pulling her away from everything else.
"It's because of the task I gave her, Jang Il."
"Haha, got it."
The steward couldn't follow their exchange—and likely never would.
"Shall I escort you inside to wait, young master?"
"Yeah."
Bang So-un nodded.
"The madam specifically said to bring you to the seventh floor."
The seventh floor. A sanctum for select guests only. Hitherto granted to a tiny elite. No precedent existed for allowing entry when the madam herself was absent.
It made sense. Handing it over was like flinging open her private domain to outsiders.
If Bang So-un weren't the madam's man, even the steward wouldn't buy it.
"I'll guide you... Ah, but first, one thing..."
The steward hesitated, as if recalling something.
"What?"
"Some rough types showed up. Just in case..."
"Who?"
"From the Iron Blood Sect."
"Oh? Iron Blood Sect."
Bang So-un's eyes gleamed.
The Iron Blood Sect—one of Hangzhou's premier mid-tier sects. Among those slaughtered mercilessly by the Soul-Chasing Death Ghost at Dragon Road Inn, they were one faction.
But that was because the Death Ghost was an absurd monster. The Iron Blood Sect's power was no joke—solidly mid-tier at worst.
"Any issue? They're nobodies to us," Jang Il said dismissively.
Bang So-un shook his head.
"Nah, I've got intel on them."
Intel courtesy of Eun Hwa-yeong's Black Book network, of course.
"What kind?"
"Those Iron Blood bastards harbor deep grudges against the Death Ghost for massacring their disciples."
"Hm... Fair enough. Tormenting civilians like that? I'd say they deserved it."
"Haha, same here."
Bang So-un chuckled, continuing.
"Point is, they won't look kindly on me attending that Death Ghost's funeral."
"Damn, really?"
"Yeah. That's how grudges work in the martial world."
Bang So-un knew that full well—yet attended anyway. Why? The gains outweighed the risks. At minimum, he'd earn a rep as someone who respected martial elders.
Missing it was one thing; ignoring it while present would've branded him "as calculating as you'd expect from a battlefield lord."
"So, what now, young master?"
"Just brush past 'em casually. No big deal."
Bang So-un didn't take it seriously. Who'd pick a fight outright in a brothel?
But for once, his assumption missed the mark.
"Hey? Ain't that the fancy Golden Dragon Lord?"
"Hm, yeah. Looks like it."
"Probably here to pound booze with some bitch again."
"Watch your mouth. Not just any bitch—the Red-Eyed Fox, Hangzhou's top courtesan."
"Hah, lucky bastard. Gets to stuff every hole of a peerless beauty."
"Fuck this world, man."
Drunken Iron Blood warriors spewing filth. Sober, even these rough sword-for-hire types wouldn't dare trash the Golden Dragon Lord so openly.
But properly sloshed? Even the emperor holds no terror.
It might've ended there. But someone tossed fuel on the fire.
"Tch, who gives a shit? The real issue is he was the only martial artist at that damn Death Ghost's funeral."
Death Ghost. The name ignited killing intent in their eyes.
Comrades like blood brothers, butchered mercilessly by that fiend.
And the sole martial attendee at its funeral? The Golden Dragon Lord.
Was that enough to stir them? It was. They just needed a proxy to vent their rage on the dead killer.
Boiling blood propelled the Iron Blood warriors into motion.
"Best stop right there!"
They charged, blocking the front—and rear. The air thickened with menace.
The steward's face tensed. "What the hell is this?"
"You'd best step aside."
"W-what?"
"Yeah, steward—back off."
At Bang So-un's words, the steward's eyes widened.
"Pardon?"
"No need for you to get dragged in."
"B-but..."
"It's fine. Go."
"...Understood."
Reluctantly, the steward retreated.
Left: Bang So-un and Jang Il, surrounded by Iron Blood warriors.
Bang So-un was calmer than they'd imagined—stunning the encirclement into hesitation.
Once just a third-rate escort heir, he was now utterly transformed. The Golden Dragon Battlefield's lord, devoured by none in Hangzhou—or the entire martial world.
But status alone didn't grant his poise. It was his hidden true face.
Peak experts like Yeon Su-rin and Eun Hwa-yeong bent to his word like livestock. From such a throne, these Iron Blood small fry were laughable.
"What's this about?"
Bang So-un asked coolly.
Gulp.
One, glancing nervously, stepped forward as spokesman.
"You know better than us, Lord."
"So what is it?"
"You attended the Death Ghost's funeral."
"And?"
"We can't let that slide."
"Hah, can't let it slide?"
Bang So-un sneered derisively.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Urk."
The man's face boiled, mouth clamping shut.
"Fuck it—pile on!"
"Yeah, damn it! Time to teach some manners!"
Emboldened by booze and recklessness, some bellowed. The agitation spread; fists clenched, stances set.
At least some restraint remained—no weapons drawn. Perhaps their sole wise choice.
Tricky, Bang So-un mused.
With even one Jeolhwadae member, no issue. But optics mattered—no parading peak female experts into a brothel like thugs.
And honestly, even solo, he doubted they'd best him one-on-one.
But numbers ruled. Ten of them; two here. Even with burly Jang Il, odds sucked.
Worse:
Fuck, it'd look bad.
The Golden Dragon Lord brawling like a street punk? Embarrassing as hell.
"What now, young master?" Jang Il asked, clicking his tongue.
"Goddamn mood-ruiner, but no choice."
Bang So-un rolled up his sleeves. Jang Il followed.
"Get him!"
The lead charger roared first.
Then—
Slap!
"Gahk?!"
His cheek whipped viciously—neck nearly snapping.
But just the opener.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
A storm of relentless left-right slaps. His face spun wildly each time.
"Agh! Ack! Aaagh! Agh! Ack! Ack!"
Pained shrieks erupted nonstop. A mid-tier sect warrior's girlish wails spoke volumes of the agony.
Scattered broken teeth and ballooned cheeks—swollen several times over—proved it.
The Iron Blood warriors froze in shock.
Bang So-un, meanwhile—
"Hahahahaha! Excellent—perfect! As expected of my brothel madam!"
—burst into roaring laughter, unable to contain his glee.