Showdown at the Beauty Rice Inn
The righteous factions consist of the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans, along with a bunch of minor sects.
Setting aside the minor ones like the Namgoong Clan for now.
The Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Clans each have their own distinct flavors. Especially the Eight Great Clans.
Just mention the Sacheon Dang Clan, and Mancheon Hwau pops right out.
Mention the Jeonma Clan, and it's Zhuge Liang and formations.
The Moyong Clan is famous as a jack-of-all-trades powerhouse that excels at everything.
The Jinju Language Clan has a shady reputation for corpse puppet arts, but everyone knows messing with them is dangerous.
Mention the Gongson Gong Clan, and Emperor Huangdi's sword immediately comes to mind.
The Sima Clan is the Jeonma Clan's rival, well-known as Sima Yi.
And finally, the Hobuk Paeng Clan stands at the head of the Eight Great Clans, with the most Peak realm masters right now. They hold the golden real estate in the capital, Beijing, so they're the richest too.
In contrast, the Hwangbo Clan is a bit ambiguous.
Fists? They use them well, but they pale next to Shaolin.
Wealth? They've got plenty, but it's lacking compared to the Paeng Clan.
Jennam is a fine city, but calling it the best is a stretch.
In every way, their presence is faint, making it hard to say, "The Hwangbo Clan means this!"
That's why the Hwangbo Clan sent such a large force to Wuhu this time. To boost their fame through external activities and, as a bonus, strengthen the Hwangbo presence in Anhui Province.
"Everyone understands, right? We absolutely cannot fail this time."
"Don't worry, Division Leader. The opponents are just a bunch of nobodies from the start."
"Kukuku, have you completely forgotten about the Namgoong bastards?"
"Ah, Namgoong. Yeah, Namgoong's there too. I forgot since I only think of them as ass-wipers."
And so, in a guesthouse in Wuhu. A group of men and women were chattering away like it was their own home. With "Hwangbo" embroidered on the shoulders of their brown cloaks, they appeared to be the Hwangbo Clan's dispatched martial force.
"Don't get complacent. That's your bad habit."
"It's not complacency—it's confidence. Young master, say a word too."
"Haha!"
The one called young master gulped down his water. Then, pah—! A refreshingly satisfying sight just watching it. The young master continued in his utterly unpretentious manner.
"Haha! My brother's right. Confidence is better than excessive tension, isn't it?"
"Hmm…."
"Besides, calling Namgoong enemies is an overstatement. We're all righteous factions—shouldn't we join forces? It's not a bad opportunity to build rapport."
"Brother, you're too soft."
A venomous tone cut off the young master's words. It came from a woman with a gleaming sword at her waist.
"We need to stomp those Namgoong retards so they don't even dare look our way. Join forces? Please."
"Haha, Rin-ah. Good is good. Why react so sharply?"
"Brother Un. I've told you so many times. You have to step on the underlings regularly to imprint your position."
"Hmm…."
Hwangbo Un let out a groan. His sister was so vicious. It made him wonder what difference there was between her and those fake-clingy women who stuck to him constantly.
"So, brother thinks I'm wrong?"
"Rin-ah. Namgoong knows their place anyway."
"What does that mean?"
"They've probably heard we're here—you, the division leader, and me—and pulled back. The Namgoong force coming now is likely not elites, but something closer to reserves."
A spot-on assessment. It meant there was no need to tangle with Namgoong. But Hwangbo Rin seemed to misinterpret it.
"Ah, so we can crush them without worry!"
"How does that lead to…."
"I'll grind them into the dirt. Division Leader? What do you think?"
Was the division leader thinking the same? Hwangbo Un shot him a look pleading to rein in his sister. The division leader's response?
"Hm… If we think of it as education, it's not bad. Make sure everyone at least draws their swords."
"……Hoo."
The Namgoong Clan will be holding funerals today, thought Hwangbo Un upon hearing the division leader.
.
.
.
Sihoon had repeatedly cautioned Juhee. Absolutely do not provoke the Hwangbo Clan. Especially if they run into them, it'll turn into a staring contest like WWE, so don't draw your sword carelessly. Even so, he couldn't fully relax, but he couldn't tie Juhee down either.
And so, to Wuhu!
A new city famous for its vibrant atmosphere and sleek buildings, but what the locals boasted about was rice.
For good reason—the rice from Wuhu's Yangtze Delta was top-grade, good enough to be offered to the emperor. With a bit of exaggeration, even raw it oozed a sweet taste, and cooked Wanhu rice was a feast without side dishes.
That was the info Sihoon shared while explaining the city.
Namgoong Juhee loved rice. Sure, she was now transmigrated into a Chinese girl, but her identity was still a Korean man.
To Koreans, rice meant more than just food. The greeting was "Eaten yet?" and the farewell was the old "Let's grab a meal sometime." (Though it rarely happened.) It was soul-deep rice love. That's why her eyes sparkled.
"……As expected. Not an ordinary person."
Seeing that gaze, Sihoon muttered. He was thoroughly lovestruck.
Sihoon had seen countless murim rookies on their first outings. Around 150, give or take.
Despite the numbers, their behavior was mostly similar. Most were so tense it hurt to watch, while a few burned out from overzealousness.
But Namgoong Juhee was different. Eager yet stable, tense but not overly so. She was probably quietly pondering the mission right now. That sparkle was surely that kind of focus. Sihoon had completely misread it.
"I hope our squad learns a thing or two from the young lady."
"Pardon? Yeah, sure."
What? Does the division commander like rice too? Well, who doesn't? Poor squad members, though. Nothing worse than mismatched food tastes with the boss.
Whatever. Juhee's eyes were busy scanning for the most appetizing guesthouse.
Back in the day, a quick internet search for spots would do, but this was primitive China. Still 500 years from the internet. She had to trust her eyes.
"Oh."
Right then, one caught her eye perfectly. A building of dark red wood with a dazzling sign: Beauty Rice.
Beautiful rice. Weren't those heart-stirring words? Juhee glanced at Sihoon, and his gaze was fixed on the guesthouse too. As expected, the division commander's a foodie. She was wrong, though.
"……Hoo. The Hwangbo bastards are already here."
Namgoong Sihoon's eyes were aimed inside the guesthouse, at the men and women in brown clothes.
"Ooh!"
One man in brown spotted Sihoon and waved happily. Sihoon's face soured instantly.
"Isn't that the Mountain-Severing Sword?"
Mountain-Severing Sword was Sihoon's moniker. "Dan" for sever, "Ak" for great mountain—sword that cleaves mountains.
A cool name on paper, but the reality was mocking. He spent days hunting bandits in the mountains. That's why his face crumpled.
"What brings the Mountain-Severing Sword here?"
"And you, mutt? Out for a stroll from Jennam?"
"Not mutt—Fist King Hwangbo Gang. Looks like your tongue's as crooked as your family."
Sparks flew from their glaring eyes. When two great clans met, it always went like this. Each trying to seize the initiative first.
"Must be your dog ears gone deaf. Odd, I heard dogs have good hearing."
"Ha! Haha! Funny. Hilarious."
"Funny? Ah, dogs do have that side. Barking like they own the place or not. Is that you, mutt?"
"You…!"
The Hwangbo side bristled first. Namgoong Clan took the staring contest victory. Normally, that would've ended it.
"Division Leader!"
In a flash, six in brown rushed forward. Sihoon gauged their levels roughly. Two Peak, ten first-rate. Enough to smash a minor sect.
"You Namgoong dog! How dare you insult our division leader!"
"Whoa, vicious." As one first-rate bellowed, everyone thought the same. Pretty face, but closer to man-eater vibes.
"Shouldn't you stick to bandit-hunting like always? Now playing city sword? You can't manage the region, so we're here to help, yet you throw a tantrum!"
Sihoon frowned at the woman's shout. It felt like rigged go-stop turning into UFC. So he countered with straight talk.
"Help? Barging in and disrupting order—that's your help?"
"Dare speak the Hwangbo name with that filthy mouth? Insulting the clan! Draw your sword! I'll kill you all and restore our honor!"
What nonsense. It felt like the goal wasn't the stare-down but a real fight. Only then did Sihoon realize the trap.
"What's going on?"
"Looks like Namgoong and Hwangbo warriors clashing."
"Shh! Quiet! Isn't this the best part?"
"Hwangbo showing up in Namgoong territory. Gonna be fun."
The murmurs grew. In the dopamine-starved Central Plains, murim fights were rare thrills. Crowds gathering was natural. Already, masses surrounded them.
Now he couldn't end it at WWE. Rumors of Namgoong yielding to Hwangbo could affect support in the Cheonju Mountain area.
"I am Jennam Lianhua, Hwangbo Rin! Who steps up first to take my sword?"
Can we win? Sihoon wondered.
Peak numbers even at two, but the young lady was a rookie—not combat-ready. Plus Hwangbo Rin. No chance in a fight. Sihoon bit his lip in humiliation.
"……."
"Haha, enough."
Then Hwangbo Gang stepped in.
"Our greeting got too heated. I, Hwangbo Gang, apologize."
"Ah…."
A few sighed at Hwangbo Gang's mediation. No more show. And among the sighers was Namgoong Sihoon.
We lost.
Namgoong Sihoon self-assessed. The crowd's reaction confirmed it.
"Ends like this, huh. Heard Namgoong was declining—looks true."
"Didn't Hwangbo back off first?"
"Duh, idiot. Hwangbo saved Namgoong's face."
"Seems so. If we score it, Hwangbo wins."
"If Namgoong was confident, they'd have drawn too. Right?"
Superior force. Moral high ground. Grace in withdrawing first. Forced, but Hwangbo turned it into momentum.
……Damn it. Because Namgoong lacks power.
But Namgoong had no way to reverse the mood. Inevitable for a minor clan.
Everyone thought it was over. At least they'd seen a murim stare-down—valuable experience. Just as they moved to disperse.
"What? That's it?"
A sweet voice from behind. Cliché, but like jade beads rolling on a tray. All eyes turning to leave snapped to the owner: a masked man?
"Not even a proper end. Or did you doze off and bail? Fine, I'll give you points for posing like a little girl despite bailing."
Refined voice, but content thuggish like he'd brought a bandit. Yet it pierced the core sharply. The crowd buzzed; moments ago pro-Hwangbo, now split even.
"Hm, you're right. Hwangbo dodged the fight—why call Namgoong the loser?"
"Dodged? They call it consideration?"
"Heng! Drawing first and calling it consideration?"
"Next time I'll 'consider' too. When a sword-wielding burglar hits your house, just think, 'About time.'"
The subtle shift brought killing intent to Hwangbo faces. Namgoong's rep was tanking, Hwangbo rising—till this masked guy's words flipped it. Like spitting in perfectly cooked porridge; how could they not rage?
And it didn't end there.
"No? Then come out with your sword. Fight me."
The mad masked man even drew his sword. No backing down now. The venomous Hwangbo woman stepped up again.
"Ha! Just what I wanted! I—"
"No, not you."
"Wha… what?"
Confusion clear on Hwangbo Rin's face. Whatever.
The masked man spread his pale, delicate fingers like he didn't care. Fragile, as if they'd shatter on touch. People cautiously followed where that pitiful finger pointed. To the man at the end.
"Hwangbo Gang, right? You come out."
Hwangbo Gang's face twisted.