Unam's Burning Resolve
“Haah……”
As he made his way toward the Jeomchang Sect Luoyang Branch, Unam let out one endless sigh after another.
“No matter how I look at it, this whole mess seems like it was all about the money…… But could the elder really be right that there's some other motive? And if so, how the hell are we supposed to deal with it……”
Muryangja hadn't been in Luoyang long enough to truly grasp why Jang So-cheon was known as the city's greatest madman of all time.
But Unam had witnessed it all with his own two eyes.
The downfall of that prodigy who had once soared to the heavens, prophesied to become a star symbolizing the martial world within a mere decade or two.
And that made his chest feel all the heavier.
What the hell could a bookish nerd like him even do against a madman of legend?
“It's so damn hopeless.”
When a lunatic goes full-on berserk, the best policy is always to steer clear.
Because dealing with one tends to drag you into either matching their insanity or pushing forward recklessly despite massive losses.
In short, the moment you tangle with a madman, the losses always outweigh any gains, no matter how it plays out.
But Muryangja, with his foul temper, hadn't considered any of that.
Blinded by the crisis that the Jeomchang Sect Luoyang Branch's steep rise might soon threaten the Gongmu Sect's position, he'd recklessly ordered a subtle check without a care.
Without suggesting any specific methods or means, of course.
“Don't take the initiative on anything. Just kill time watching the situation today and head back around sunset.”
Unam knew Muryangja's tendency all too well—if something caught his fancy, he'd bulldoze ahead without regard. So Unam planned to pretend to follow orders, then quietly slip away.
But then.
“Hey! What the hell is this bullshit?!”
“One challenge per day starting today? Hell, you were giving us three tries until yesterday!”
“And you want more money for retries? You goddamn thieves!”
“The pass condition started as One Sword Three Strikes, and now it's One Sword Six Strikes? It's outrageous enough to suddenly up the requirements, but doubling them in one go? What kind of lunatics do that?!”
“You scamming bastards!”
“Th-th-those guys! They got a taste of the cash and now they're changing by the day!”
“Kaaaaack, ptoo! I should've known from the start with all that Nine Great Sects and One Gang crap, world's greatest swift sword bullshit…… This is just too much!”
The chaotic scene unfolding before the Jeomchang Sect Luoyang Branch. No, it was a powder keg one spark away from rioting, and it piqued his curiosity.
What the hell is going on here? Why are all these people hurling such vile abuse at the Jeomchang Sect?
Even if the Jeomchang Sect didn't hold much sway in Luoyang these days, it was a prestigious sect that had contributed immensely to the martial world as one of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang for centuries.
It commanded respect and admiration from martial artists—not this kind of raw vitriol and mockery from a mob like this. It was downright unprecedented.
So Unam cautiously grabbed one of the furious crowd and asked for the full story.
And every answer he got was utterly jaw-dropping.
“So…… you're saying the Jeomchang Sect isn't running some martial hall recruitment drive—they're using their sect's techniques as bait for a straight-up shell game scam?”
“That's right!”
“Isn't this all just a big misunderstanding? This is the Jeomchang Sect we're talking about. The Jeomchang Sect—one of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang, famed across the world for the world's greatest swift sword……”
“That's exactly it! The Nine Great Sects and One Gang are running a shell game on honest folk to fleece them for cash!”
“Well, calling it outright fleecing might be a stretch……”
After all, no one from the Jeomchang Sect had come at them with swords demanding money. These people had lusted after the sect's techniques, gambled their fortunes away, and lost big, right?
The words tickled at the tip of his tongue.
But he clamped his mouth shut, realizing that voicing it might get him beaten to a pulp by the half-mad mob.
He glanced around warily, then quietly slipped away from the spot.
Right now, in their rage over wasting time and money without even glimpsing a technique manual, no one recognized his face.
But sticking around longer risked someone clocking him as a Gongmu Sect disciple, so he retreated to a safer distance from the estate to keep observing.
Sticking out his tongue in disbelief once more at Jang So-cheon's mad scheme.
“What a real psycho. Even if he's lost his mind, who the hell uses their sect's techniques as bait for an open shell game like that……”
And so Unam watched until sunset as not a single person passed the test, only leaving lighter in the wallet.
His eyes gleamed with pointed meaning, his face twisted like he'd witnessed grave injustice and was seething with rage.
“Not one person passed the test? Not even among this huge crowd?”
Dozens had taken the test from midday to evening.
Yet not one passed—not only today, but confirmed by grabbing passersby, no one had passed in the five days since it started.
Of course, with their own technique manual as the prize, he figured it wouldn't be easy.
But after nearly half a day of watching from the roadside.
Most of the moth-like fools drawn to the Jeomchang Sect's techniques were third-rate, but he'd spotted some unexpected experts too.
Whirlwind One Sword Pung Mu-yeong.
Night Rain Swordsman Bang Man-seop.
Thousand-Mile Lone Wolf Ma Gok.
Three masters he'd confirmed with his own eyes.
None had breached the absolute peak, but they were renowned second-rate swordsmen in the Henan region.
And all three had failed the test?
The implication was crystal clear.
It was impossible to pass the Jeomchang Sect's test on pure skill alone.
Or at minimum, only absolute peak masters could manage it.
“Th-those scamming bastards!”
Once his thoughts reached that point, it was easy to conclude that hundreds had fallen for the Jeomchang Sect's cunning trick.
And simultaneously, the Luoyang Branch had turned all those losses into profit—easily thousands of taels in just five days.
“Where in the world are there such outrageous scoundrels?”
Had he just passed by unaware, fine.
But having witnessed their immoral antics firsthand, Unam clenched his fists tight and steeled his resolve.
“I'll expose their ugly true faces to the entire world and put a stop to this.”
From that day on, Unam began circling the Jeomchang Sect Luoyang Branch, gathering evidence and testimonies.
Deep down, he wanted to kick down their flimsy gate, reveal their depravity before everyone, challenge Jang So-cheon and his gang to a duel, and punish them with his own hands.
But what those three—Whirlwind One Sword, Night Rain Swordsman, and Thousand-Mile Lone Wolf—had said in common after failing and leaving stuck with him.
“Seeing that mad gambler's one strike in the dice game showed me the direction my sword should head?” What the hell kind of nonsense is that?
Unam couldn't wrap his head around their consistent stories.
But he had no intention of dismissing their testimonies.
After all, this was the Splitting Light Sword, who once boasted insane skill as Luoyang's top prodigy, even if he'd rusted away.
“Still, better safe than sorry.”
While Jang So-cheon wasted his days drifting between gambling dens, Unam had endured bone-grinding pain to master the Subduing Demon Sword.
Gaining real insight, he'd even crossed the wall to absolute peak that every martial artist dreamed of.
His standing in the Gongmu Sect had soared, and his confidence in his sword was sky-high.
High enough to boldly claim he could crush Jang So-cheon's rusted Splitting Light Eighteen Hands Sword Method with ease.
“That'll do for building a cause. Now I'll get the elder's approval, then expose every shameless detail of Jang So-cheon's true face before the world.”
Day ten of the shell game operation.
The crowd's enthusiasm was finally starting to fizzle.
For the first five days, people had swarmed before dawn.
But after limiting challenges to one per day, charging extra for new attempts, and toughening the criteria, foot traffic visibly dropped.
Luoyang locals had soured and turned away, leaving only out-of-towners drawn by late rumors out of curiosity.
The numbers were still decent for steady profit, but nothing like the explosive early days.
“Tch, did we gut the golden goose? Business feels off today.”
“Sure, it's disappointing short-term, but long-term, this was the best move, hyungnim.”
“I know, I know…… It's just seeing that money faucet we thought would never run dry slam shut like that leaves me feeling empty.”
Wang Mun-gi chuckled softly at my stuffed-belly whining.
“Honestly, I feel the same.”
“You too?”
“Deep down, I'd love to stretch this out not just a month, but a whole year. But if we did, HQ might drop dead from rage-induced illness. What can filial sons like us do but hold back?”
Normally, he'd scold me at the dinner table: “Quit the nonsense and eat your barley porridge before it gets cold.”
But after the scam's mega-hit, our coffers overflowed, and every meal was a feast fit to break the table. It had mellowed him out big time.
Truly, a man's character shines at the dinner table.
“Whew, stuffed. So full.”
“Great meal as always, hyungnim.”
We bantered idly through the meal, then patted our frog-bellied guts and waddled out.
Next, we headed to prod Yeo Chu-sam—who was diligently fleecing the out-of-towners—to come eat.
But then some long-faced bastard comes barreling through the gate, eyes bugging out.
“Who the hell's this guy?”
All eyes in the yard snapped to the uninvited guest.