Meeting-the-Parents Vibes
After the day a massive pillar of fire rose over the imperial capital of Beijing, the name Dan Mujin began to spread throughout the city.
What had once been known only by word of mouth among the high and powerful was now on the lips of ordinary Beijing residents—there was hardly anyone left who hadn't heard of me.
And rumors always have two faces.
When word got out that I'd blown up a Byeok Clan warehouse and gone head-to-head with the imperial army, my reputation started swinging between hot and cold baths.
Some people approved, saying I really would do anything for a client. Others stuck me with the label of troublemaker—someone who never knew where he'd land and always blew every job out of proportion.
Especially once the rumor spread that I'd fearlessly clashed head-on with the imperial troops, everyone started watching the palace's reaction, and for a while no clients came to the office at all.
"It's a little unfair, though."
I stared at the empty client chairs and sighed.
"Not a single word of it's wrong, though."
Ilhong added, carefully inserting a fuse into an iron ball packed with black powder.
With no work coming in, she'd been obsessively fiddling with those things, and her hands had gotten pretty skilled at it.
"Yeah, you have been causing way too many incidents lately."
Jo Harang, mid-stance in horse-stance strength training, chimed in as well.
She wasn't using inner energy for this training—beads of sweat stood out on her pale forehead.
"So it's my own fault, is that it? Still feels unfair, though."
I'd just been running around trying to meet my clients' requirements.
But the fate Heaven had handed me—the Heavenly Killing Star—wouldn't leave me alone.
As if determined to drag me into becoming a murderous demon, even ordinary jobs kept turning into bloodshed.
Of course, this body had overcome every trial and steadily stacked up nothing but good karma.
Hilarious… how long can you keep that up…
And as I kept winning, a voice started mocking me again, as if to say it had once been the same—Salsung, who'd recently begun speaking up and sneering once more.
I ignored the thin palm that twitched as if giggling and blankly stared at the empty office door.
I still had the reward money from the Byeok Clan, so neither the summer tax collected in the warm months nor the winter tax due in autumn would be a problem for a while.
But just sitting around waiting for clients was making me restless.
Jingle-jingle.
Just then, the little bell hung on the door rang, announcing a visitor.
"Oh, a client!"
I shot to my feet—only for the visitor to turn out not to be a client, but a waiter from the Soso Inn.
"Delivery!"
"…"
The waiter carefully set dishes of food from a rectangular wooden carrier onto the table one by one.
I tipped him ten iron coins for his trouble, and he left the office with a bright smile.
"Boss, have some too. The noodles got a little soggy, but they're still good."
Ilhong skillfully worked her chopsticks and slurped up the noodles.
Sitting around the office eating Chinese food with nothing better to do suddenly brought back memories of my old detective agency days.
Back then, too, there'd been a stretch when clients dried up and I fretted about how to pay the rent.
"Maybe I should mobilize the Beggar Sect guys for some image rehab."
The point was that nobody wanted to get involved because they didn't know how the imperial court would react.
Well, time usually takes care of these things. With Cheon Su-gong backing me, the office wouldn't face any real consequences in the end.
Eventually people would realize there was nothing to worry about. But sitting around idle until then wasn't ideal.
This wasn't about money—it was about my lifespan.
Jingle-jingle.
As if on cue, the bell rang again.
"A client!"
This time I was sure it was a client. I threw down my food and jumped up.
"A letter for you!"
"Damn it."
A shabby Beggar Sect disciple with a knotted sash at his waist thrust out a letter sent from far away.
I stuck out my arm with an annoyed look, ready to take it—but the beggar shook his head left and right.
"It's addressed to Heroine Jo Harang."
"Huh? Me?"
The letter went to Jo Harang, who had her head buried in her food, shoveling it down like a maniac.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took the letter.
"Um, Young Hero Dan Mujin—as you know, there's a custom when it comes to delivering letters…"
"You want a tip, right?"
"Ahem. Word is you've been making a pretty penny off that Byeok Clan business."
Typical Beggar Sect—news traveled fast. Even someone from far away knew about local affairs.
I flicked him a silver coin from my robes.
"Thank you. But Young Hero, I've been running so long I haven't eaten a thing…"
I tossed him a steaming meat dumpling too.
His face lit up and he bowed repeatedly.
"As expected of someone the Sect Leader has his eye on. Truly generous!"
Take everything you can when you can. This guy thoroughly observed the Beggar Sect creed.
And as if hoping to become the next Park Chil, he even buttered me up and tried to get in good with me.
A talented Beggar Sect prospect, this one.
"The Sect Leader has his eye on him? Mujin, what's that about?"
"It's a thing. Anyway, who's the letter from?"
Jo Harang, who'd been watching the two of us, finally unrolled the tightly wound letter and read it carefully.
"Huh? It's from my master!"
Her eyes went round as she announced it was a letter from Mount Song.
So it had come from even farther than I'd thought. No wonder that beggar had taken both a tip and food.
"What's it say?"
"Well, it's…"
As she rustled through the letter, Jo Harang's expression grew oddly complicated.
She flinched, glancing back and forth between me and the letter.
"She wants me to come back to Mount Song. Says she wants to see my face."
A summons from her master. The disciple who'd gone out into the Jianghu must have been missed—she wanted to see her after a long time.
I'd just treat it like a holiday homecoming. Go show my face and come back.
"Alright, have a good trip."
I smirked and waved beside Ilhong.
For a while the office would just be me and Ilhong holding down the fort.
Thinking that, I slurped up a bite of noodles—
"Mujin, she says I have to bring you too."
"What…"
Jo Harang said something so startling I nearly let the noodles slide back out of my mouth.
So she was telling me to come to Mount Song right now?
The master who'd trained and raised the Purple Micro Star was calling me—the Heavenly Killing Star—to her own sect?
…
Even Salsung was so baffled by the situation that she kept her mouth shut.
Sensing the opening of something ominous, I swallowed hard.
Gulp.
If Mount Hua in Shaanxi Province has the Mount Hua Sect, then Mount Song in Henan has the Shaolin Temple.
In this way, each of the Five Great Mountains of the Central Plains was home to a famous righteous sect that represented it.
And according to Jo Harang's explanation, Mount Song's representative sects weren't limited to Shaolin—there was one more.
"My sect! The Jaha Sect!"
Happy to be heading home after so long, the Tiger of Mount Song was as lively as a fish in water.
She walked ahead with light steps, pointing out the places where she'd trained, the trees, rocks, and valleys filled with her memories.
"The sect is small, but it's cozy and humble—just like home!"
While Shaolin Temple sat atop the lofty Mount Shaoshi, the Jaha Sect was lower on the mountainside, so visiting wasn't particularly difficult.
And so we climbed step by step toward the mysterious sect that had raised the Purple Micro Star.
This is insane…
Salsung, who usually twitched mockingly, was trembling finely.
A red hand made a motion as if to slap my cheek, as if asking if I'd lost my mind.
But she had specifically asked for me to come, hadn't she?
If some suspicion had arisen, better to go clear it up than dodge and make it worse.
Her master wasn't locked away somewhere—she could come find me herself if she wanted.
And if that happened, the office I'd poured my entire fortune into might go up in smoke.
"Mujin, this is the Jaha Sect!"
Harang happily introduced the place filled with childhood memories.
And contrary to my expectations, the master of the Purple Micro Star welcomed me quite warmly.
"Welcome home, Harang. I've been waiting. And this young gentleman…?"
"Dog-Beating Dragon, Dan Mujin. I'm constantly indebted to your disciple. Please take care of me."
As an agency boss receiving nearly free high-quality labor from Jo Harang, I raised my fists in a martial salute to her master.
"Hoho, indebted, is it? Is that so."
She smiled beautifully as if amused and accepted my greeting with a short nod.
"Mujin, this is my proud master, Song Ryeong."
This was the person who had raised the Purple Micro Star into a human weapon and drilled into her that she must find and eliminate the Heavenly Killing Star.
The very one who had forged the Purple Micro Star into a demon-breaking, evil-slaying human weapon, and who had taught her that she must seek out and destroy the Heavenly Killing Star.
I'd heard she was fairly old, but in person she looked like an elegant beauty in her early thirties with a refined air.
What's more, at a glance she seemed almost ordinary—clearly a peerless master who had reached the state of Returning to Simplicity.
"I'd only heard of you, but I never imagined someone so virtuous and lovely. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Kind words beget kind words, as they say.
At my polite speech, her eyes curved into crescent moons.
"Young Hero, you cut a fine figure and radiate a gentle aura—you must clearly be a chivalrous warrior walking the same path as Harang."
Back and forth the words went.
Apparently, as Jo Harang's master, she could read a person's energy to some degree.
Of course, it didn't seem she could dig particularly deep.
"You're too kind. I'm still far from worthy of being called a chivalrous hero."
"My, how well-mannered. No wonder our girl was so shaken."
My answer seemed to please her; Song Ryeong, the mysterious master, continued with an even deeper smile.
"What was shaken?"
"Ah—aah! Maybe I should train for old times' sake! Breathe in that Mount Song air—!"
At my question, Harang hastily blurted out, yelling and changing the subject. Something was definitely fishy.
What on earth had she said about me that this Song Ryeong woman had been looking at me with such interest from the start?
I fixed Jo Harang with a stare that said spit out the truth. But she whistled and desperately avoided my gaze.
"Don't stand around at the entrance—come inside, Young Master Dan Mujin. I've prepared a warm meal."
Song Ryeong guided us in with a subtle smile.
I'd always had a weakness for calm, mature women who invited me in—I found myself oddly drawn along.
The space we entered wasn't lavish, but it was just right for three or four people. Song Ryeong set out a meal she'd simmered on the table.
The moment the food appeared, I offered my thanks and started devouring it alongside Jo Harang.
It was a kind of hot pot full of wild roots, vegetables, and mushrooms—local ingredients gathered from the mountains.
"My, Young Master has quite an appetite as well?"
Jo Harang was used to mountain cooking and had an enormous appetite, so that made sense—but she seemed surprised that I, who'd come from Beijing, was packing it away at a similar pace and with equal relish.
"I'm not picky. And with Sect Leader Song Ryeong's touch on it, it's delicious."
I'd once wolfed down wild roots and poisonous mushrooms without a second thought. This was nothing.
"…Hoho. You're even more dignified a young man than I'd heard."
She smiled and nodded as if pleased.
But the atmosphere had been oddly off from the start. How should I put it—it felt a bit like visiting a girlfriend's house and meeting her mother for the first time.
The conversation, the situation—somehow everything was flowing like a formal introduction to the parents.
"What exactly did Jo Harang say about me?"
"Well now, she said quite a lot."
Jo Harang flinched and stopped scooping up what was basically vegetable stew.
This brat—she'd definitely said something.
I looked at her again, but the wildcat of Mount Song made another excuse and avoided my eyes.
"Young Hero Dan Mujin, have you become quite close with this child?"
Song Ryeong asked with curiosity, as if wondering how I'd managed it given how rough she was.
"With this wildcat of Mount Song?"
"Hmm? Not a tiger? Why do they call her that?"
Song Ryeong's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
That was because a certain someone who'd sworn she'd never get caught had her Purple Micro Star identity casually exposed by my master.
I still remembered her saying sorry for bringing Hwang Geolgae and then bolting, so I often called her the wildcat of Mount Song.
"M-Mujin! You can't say that!"
And the wildcat of Mount Song shot to her feet so hard she nearly overturned the food.