The Grand Production: Episode One

"All right, everyone — give it your all! Come back in one piece!"

"Heh. Never thought I'd see the day we'd move as a unit since becoming Sichuan Nangins."

"Just goes to show how desperate things have gotten."

The Nangins shuffled along, tossing out remarks like that, clearly still awkward about traveling in a pack. The truth was, a group movement of this scale was a first for them. Most contracts were solo jobs — and even when they teamed up, it rarely meant more than two or three people.

As the black-hatted Nangins advanced in a throng, the townsfolk recoiled in fear and edged away. A few of the Nangins smirked at the sight.

"Heh. Moving in a crowd every now and then isn't half bad."

I could relate. When you walked alone, the stares always burned. People badmouthing you loud enough to hear had become routine, but that didn't make it pleasant. Watching those same Sichuan locals scatter in terror was, frankly, pretty satisfying.

The Nangins were in high spirits.

Most of them didn't particularly enjoy playing the villain. Who would? There's no fun in always being the bad guy in someone else's hero fantasy. But do anything long enough and you either develop a competitive edge or grow attached to the work. Call it professional pride. Between the rare chance to actually work, the prospect of the Wanderer Inn finally catching a break, and the sheer thrill of joining a large-scale event, their motivation was running high.

I thought back to Yu Sa-yeon's parting words.

The Jambong Sect declared they won't participate. Something's bound to happen, so keep a sharp eye out.

"The Jambong Sect, huh..."

How was I supposed to take Yu Sa-yeon's opinion of them? She and the Jambong Sect shared a thick, sticky history of bad blood. In the long chronicle of grudges that had swept through Sichuan, she was no outsider.

Even setting her personal feelings aside, the Jambong Sect's movements were suspicious as hell. How to put it... they were thugs wearing the mask of an orthodox sect. That worked well enough. They were large, but split between the Super-Peak elder Gae Myeong-bu's faction and the sect leader's faction. The sect's temperament was already unorthodox for an orthodox school, and the power struggle between the two camps was fierce enough to make people grimace. For both sides to refuse participation in a job this significant — one involving every Sichuan Nangin — was more than enough to raise eyebrows.

Maybe one faction would claim non-involvement only to backstab the other by showing up anyway. Unexpected chaos was a real possibility.

But there was nothing to be done about it. The situation wasn't leisurely enough to delay over a few shady Jambong Sect movements. And the Sichuan Nangins were elite enough to handle field variables of this caliber.

Today's work was only the beginning.

Sichuan's sects would keep operating to rehabilitate their image and win the province's hearts. The Sichuan Nangins, for their part, would keep causing trouble wherever they could to maintain their reputation as villains.

Until now, the Nangins had only managed small-scale disturbances. That was inevitable. Sichuan was packed with countless competing sects — stir up too big a mess, or let one drag on too long, and rival factions would jump in to sabotage you. Hit-and-run was the only option: strike fast with a small incident, then pull out.

But the operations starting today were different.

A mega-scale production uniting every sect in Sichuan with every Sichuan Nangin!

It wasn't just about size. With an agreement already struck among the province's sects, there was no risk of freelancers crashing the party. We wouldn't have to move like fugitives — we could deliver a full beginning, middle, and end that Sichuan's people could actually get immersed in.

"All right... is everyone ready?"

Thirty jang to the target. Once we stepped out of this alley, the performance began.

"Ready?"

"Let's go."

The faces of the Sichuan Nangins had already transformed into those of cold-blooded, ruthless rogues. I nodded and led the way out of the alley.

I kicked over the pile of cargo stacked in front of me without hesitation. The Nangins tore into the street fixtures with rough, sweeping motions, and the wails of the townsfolk rose in answer.

"Sichuan Nangins! The Sichuan Nangins are here!"

"Aigoo! Aigoo!"

"Bwahahaha! You lot always looked down ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on us Sichuan Nangins, didn't you? Smash everything!"

Someone shouted back.

"Y-you bastards! What the hell is the reason for this?!"

"Keh-keh-keh...! Reason? You want a reason?!"

I spread both arms wide, and the Nangins paused their destruction. I scanned the damage. Mm. True professionals — they didn't need me to spell anything out.

The wrecked street reeked of expertise. Cheap pots that made a spectacular racket when they shattered. Goods spilled from baskets somehow still clustered neatly in place. Only the broken pieces littered the road. They'd focused their destruction on washable spots and roof tiles that just needed resetting, while well-packed cargo that wouldn't actually break got hurled around for show.

"We Nangins have been deeply inspired by the bandits' methods! Hahaha! Just as the bandits banded together — if we Nangins unite, who would dare touch us?!"

"Th-those...! Monsters who deserve heaven's wrath!"

"Kwahahaha! Say whatever you want! From today on, if you want to live on this street, you'll pay protection money!"

"Good gods — the bandits already make life hard enough, and now the Nangins too...!"

"Bwahahaha! We Nangins will rule this Sichuan!"

Above all, the greatest advantage of this large-scale production was the long storyline it could sustain. A continuous drama, episode after episode.

Today's performance was roughly equivalent to Episode One: The Sichuan Nangins Rise. The Sichuan Nangins, mimicking the bandits' ways, reveal their ambition to dominate the province — and the martial artists of Sichuan's sects rise to stop them!

Then would come the Nangins' organized villainy, and the united sects of Sichuan standing against it. The opening act of a multi-episode action epic that would run until the bandit crisis ended had just begun.

Yu Sa-yeon had sewn the first button well. Now it was my job to flesh it out. Appoint Nangin officers, take hostages... grab every provocative beat you'd find in a classic sentai show and throw it in.

I was deep in my villain performance, lost in those thoughts, when—

"Halt, you bastards!"

Dozens of martial artists poured into the street. They were soaked in sweat and caked with mud — no surprise, given they'd been doing civilian support work until moments ago.

What's the most effective way to win public sentiment? Obviously, helping people directly. This was one of the poorer districts in Sichuan. The martial artists from the province's sects — our partners for today's performance — had been doing road repairs, street cleaning, house mending, and food distribution.

True chivalrous heroes, out doing good for the people, coincidentally standing against the Sichuan Nangins who had just awakened as an evil organization!

That was the core of today's script.

"You scoundrels! Bandits already run wild outside, disrupting people's lives — and now you cause this chaos?!"

"What is this filthy pack of beggars? Out of the way! From today, this street is ours!"

"We are martial artists of Sichuan, out on volunteer duty for the people suffering under the bandit crisis! Back off before you get hurt!"

"What?"

I jabbed a finger at them with exaggerated flair and clutched my belly.

"Hahahaha! Look at those beggar rags and you call yourselves martial artists? Go home and wash those filthy clothes!"

"Bwahahaha! A bunch of beggars!"

"Wahahaha!"

The Nangins and I openly mocked their appearance. Because they'd actually been laboring, they looked nothing like their usual dashing selves — sleeves rolled up like day laborers, hair disheveled, bodies smeared with grime.

"Y-you bastards! Don't insult Sichuan's martial artists!"

"That's right! They're the ones helping us!"

It was the surrounding townsfolk who flared up at our mockery. These were the martial artists who'd gotten filthy repairing their homes and cleaning their streets. Watching them get ridiculed on their account, the people rushed to defend them.

"Heh-heh-heh...! Beating down a bunch of beggars is beneath our dignity, but... we can't just let anyone raise a hand against us Sichuan Nangins and walk away. And that goes for anyone defending those beggars, too!"

The Sichuan Nangins and I drew our weapons in unison. The martial artists of Sichuan's sects drew theirs in answer.

"You scoundrels! Causing havoc wasn't enough — now you threaten civilians too?!"

"As members of Sichuan, in the name of justice, we will not forgive you!"

"Attack!"

Waaaaaah!!

With their own survival on the line, the Sichuan sects had selected only the decent actors among them. Setting aside the ones who'd smeared soot and mud on their faces for extra warmth-of-character points, most of the rest were faces I'd come to know, one way or another, through Nangin work.

"Chaaaa! Single Hand Myriad Swords!"

"Kiyooo! Crystal Water Moon!"

I gave a faint shake of the head toward the martial artist charging at me. Sorry to the guy who'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠run all this way, but right now I was the command tower. I needed to watch the battlefield for any unexpected trouble. Dozens of martial artists were mixing it up, and a blockbuster-scale production like this was a first for the Nangins and the martial artists alike.

Anything could go wrong, so I stayed tense, ready to throw a hidden blade at a moment's notice.

The martial artist who'd been charging me had enough Sichuan street smarts to pivot immediately and engage a different Nangin.

Per the script, after one round of clashing, the martial artists would start looking hard-pressed and the fight would settle into a lull.

While the surrounding crowd was thoroughly immersed in the spectacle of Nangins and martial artists trading blows—

"Bwahahahaha!"

I broke the flow. The Nangins caught my signal and casually widened the distance; the Sichuan martial artists picked up on it too, putting on strained expressions as they fell back.

"Hahahaha! What fools! No wonder you're weak, wasting yourselves on civilian charity! Your skills were pathetic to begin with, of course... heh-heh-heh."

"Kh..."

The martial artists only groaned. The townsfolk looked at them — sweat pouring like rain, soot and mud ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠streaking their clothes and faces.

Today's script was Yu Sa-yeon's work. As the owner of the Wanderer Inn, she knew production and screenwriting nearly as well as I did.

Yes. This was the royal road, the textbook, the unbeatable formula.

"It's because of us..."

"Come to think of it, they've been sweating ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠since dawn repairing houses..."

Heroes of justice, driven into a corner, receive the people's cheers, cry out We've felt your hearts!, and obliterate the villains with their ultimate techniques. In this moment, nothing could burn hotter than that.

"Great hero! Hang in there!"

"Don't lose!"

The chivalrous fighters looked around as if moved by the sudden outpouring of support. A few in the front even had tears welling up — genuine talent. I half wanted to cast them as Sichuan Nangins next time.

I gestured to the Nangins, and they gave small nods.

The other side were seasoned performers too, but the story flow now called for them to unleash their ultimate techniques — and for the Nangins to take those hits and go down. The crisis was staged, but the danger in that staging was real. They had to stay razor-sharp and receive those finishing moves cleanly if we wanted to wrap the scene without serious injuries.

"Everyone...!"

The moment the actors on the other side opened their mouths in voices thick with emotion—

A figure shot forward like an arrow.

"Dodge!"

Someone's cry rang out, and the Nangins — already wound tight with tension — scattered into motion. But the attacker's speed was far beyond ordinary. Bursting from an alley and crashing into the Nangins in an instant, the movement left normal standards in the dust.

Shraaak!

"Aaaagh!"

Blood sprayed.

A Peak Realm Nangin, yet he couldn't withstand the opponent's sword force — his weapon was knocked away and his torso was slashed open.

I called for the Nangin closest to grandmaster level at the Wanderer Inn, and for Ja So-gyeong, ranked first after Black Cat. I couldn't use their real names, so I called out their signatures.

Black Cat's form sank into darkness and surged at the attacker in a blink.

Only then did I identify the opponent and scowl. An elder of the Jambong Sect. Gae Myeong-bu. Yu Sa-yeon's enemy — the man who had shattered the Tangsu Sect.

And separately from that, the expert widely regarded as the closest to the Transformation Realm in all of Sichuan.

"He's Super-Peak!"

The madman was already swinging at a second Nangin, fully committed. That second Nangin had rolled across the ground from the start, intending to get clear — but a Super-Peak master's deliberate blade still carved across his back.

Then Black Cat's assault began.

She poured Dark Qi Gong and the Shadow Image Palm Method to their absolute limits, and in an instant palm shadows embroidered the empty air. Even a Super-Peak expert would take damage from those palm shadows unless he coated his entire body in protective Sword Gang. Black Cat had thrown dozens of palm shadows in a single exchange with no thought of retreat — Gae Myeong-bu couldn't simply ignore them.

Shwish-shwish-shwish!!

While Gae Myeong-bu spread a sword curtain to dissolve Black Cat's palm techniques, Ja So-gyeong drove in and launched a fist.

Ja So-gyeong was Peak Realm, but the Fierce Tiger Fist Method he wielded had been created by Tang Do-gyeong, a Super-Peak master. Judging that dissolving Black Cat's palm techniques and simultaneously receiving the Fierce Tiger Fist Method put him at a disadvantage, Gae Myeong-bu flung himself backward once.

"Shameless Nangin scum — of course you'd gang up without a shred of dignity!"

"What the hell did that bastard just say?!"

"Has he lost his mind?! Gae Myeong-bu!"

The sight of two Nangins collapsed and bleeding turned the rest savage in an instant. Killing intent flooded the area so thickly it felt as if the air itself had gone cold.

I looked across at the orthodox martial artists of Sichuan. Shock and confusion sat plain on every face. They might have been trained actors, but this was no performance — this was raw emotion.

I forced a mental switch.

Until a second ago, my head had been packed with analysis of why Gae Myeong-bu would do something this insane. I ripped that out by force. Could we take Gae Myeong-bu down right here? No. And if we couldn't, how did we withdraw?

The answer was retreat.

I wasn't pulling back because he was Super-Peak. Fighting him here simply offered no benefit.

"Withdraw! We're withdrawing!"

First-rate experts hoisted the wounded; Peak Realm experts covered the rear. Gae Myeong-bu looked ready to charge once, then eyed Black Cat, Yeong Ji-huyeol, and Ja So-gyeong — and clicked his tongue.

"Everyone! Return to your livelihoods without worry! This Gae Myeong-bu of the Jambong Sect stands guard over Sichuan!"

"Ohh... truly, the renowned Great Hero Gae Myeong-bu!"

The Nangins and I retreated through the alleys toward the Wanderer Inn, supporting our wounded.

Waaaaaah!

Behind us rose cheers and the chanting of Gae Myeong-bu's name.

The operation had failed. And a premonition swept through my mind that there would be no more operations going forward. Whatever the Jambong Sect was thinking, continuing a large-scale production required the consensus of every sect in Sichuan.

Yes.

The grand production had been overturned in a single episode.