The Chimju Hao Mun Branch Chief's Office
In the Chimju branch office of Hao Mun, Branch Chief Yeon Dae-bo's sharp gaze fixed on his nephew.
"You little shit! Where the hell have you been hiding? Showing up now like this!"
"Uncle! What kind of greeting is that the moment we see each other? I told you, I've been working after a long time away!"
"Work? What? You punk—I'd have dunked you in shit water and pissed on you ages ago if you weren't family."
"Argh! I'm telling you, it's true. Why won't you believe your own nephew?"
"Hey, you bastard. When have you ever given me a reason to trust you? Name one time if you can!"
"What, so you're dragging up old crap now?"
"Yesterday was 'old' too?"
"Today's the real deal. Wanna hear it?"
"Or what?"
Yeon Sa-gu's eyes changed. His voice dropped low.
"I'll handle all the backlog paperwork. That good enough?"
Branch Chief Yeon Dae-bo's eyes widened slightly. He might need to shift their usual coded banter that others could overhear.
What's going on?
Yeon Dae-bo's gaze deepened as he studied his nephew—the first in Hao Mun's history to reach the Jeol-jeong realm at twenty-five. But Hao Mun was an information network. Martial arts were necessary for deals and intel gathering, yet anyone too strong drew checks from every martial clan. They knew well how dangerous it was for an info holder to grow powerful.
Still, there was a reason his nephew had ended up here. It started when Yeon Sa-gu beat up the direct line of the Seomun family in the same region of Changsa. The Seomun clan, proudly listed among the Central Plains' Five Great Families, was undeniably Hunan Province's top martial house. When things escalated with them, Yeon Sa-gu's father—Hunan overall branch chief Yeon Dae-gwang—knelt before the Seomun family head. In exchange, his son was sent to Chimju, Hunan's southernmost tip, never to return to Changsa.
Back then, his brother Yeon Dae-gwang had said to him:
—Once he hits Cho-jeol-jeong, even Seomun won't mess with him lightly. Take care of him till then.
Worried Seomun eyes might reach here too, he'd played the part of a slacker. But now this odd behavior.
Yeon Dae-bo's voice lowered. "What is it?"
"That Mu Yun from Cheong-ho Bang. Worth keeping an eye on."
A smirk tugged at Yeon Dae-bo's lips right away. The hottest gossip in Chimju these past few days—how could he not know?
"You idiot! Think I don't know that? What, thought I was clueless?"
"You know about the private meeting with Bo-ta Mun's leader too?"
Yeon Dae-bo's eyes bulged. "Huh? Why would the Munju meet a nobody like that alone? That's bullshit."
"That bullshit happened at Ha Hu Sega."
Ha Hu Sega had clamped down total silence on that day, so even Hao Mun hadn't pieced it together yet.
"For real?"
"Bo-ta Munju herself. Doesn't that strike you as weird?"
"Hmph. Needs more digging. I'll pass the word."
"No. Leave it. I'll handle it."
"Huh? Why the sudden change?"
"Just a hunch. Feels like something fun's brewing."
Whenever Yeon Sa-gu secretly tackled tough jobs, that hunch of his proved golden. Yeon Dae-bo nodded.
"Got it. But you know, right?"
"Who'd care about a thug like me? I'll be careful anyway."
More and more people were starting to take interest in Mu Yun.
The next morning, in Cheong-ho Bang's gang leader's office.
Word that Mu Yun was back had the four rushing in urgently. Yeom Jung-tak exploded first.
"Hey! Where the hell were you, Gangju? If you're gone days, at least say something!"
"Didn't think it'd drag on. No issues while I was out?"
"Issues? Bo-ta Munju came looking for you. She left this morning, so hustle and you might catch her."
Mu Yun shook his head firmly. His curiosities were sated; meeting now would just tangle things further.
"Nah. No more business with her."
"...You sure? She's still Bo-ta Munju."
"They're the ones who need something, not me. Don't worry."
"Well, if you say so, that's good."
Mu Yun brought up what he'd mulled over.
"Anyway, got something to say."
"What?"
Mu Yun scanned the four carefully, weighing his words with gravity.
"Next month. Think seriously about what you really want to do."
"What the hell outta nowhere?"
Mu Yun laid it out as planned.
"Met an old friend."
"And?"
"He's gonna help us. Real strong guy, loaded too."
Ak Mu-gil swallowed dryly. "...How loaded?"
"Just know it's solid. Anyway, figure out what you really wanna do."
"What we really wanna do? Why bring that up now?"
"None of us chose to end up here. But opportunity knocked. So think it over. I'll be doing the same."
Jeok Myo-ye couldn't let it slide.
"Why's a big-shot friend helping you?"
"Owes me his life. Here to pay it back."
"...And us?"
"You've had my back."
"...!"
Mu Yun had roughly mapped his life's path. First, per Yeo Hwi's words, forget the past. Who to vent centuries of injustice on? Next, cultivate Sin-gi Sim-ui Gong—the foundation for all he aimed to do. Stick to the old method for now, ponder Yeo Hwi's tweaks later. Boosting strength was priority.
Life options boiled down to three: Settle in the underworld like before. Live as this body's original owner, Mu Yun. Or ditch both for a fresh start.
No snap decision. Still things to learn, prep lacking. Conclusion: Stay here, train, decide when the time's right.
That sparked thoughts of these four—his first ties in this new life, folks he'd stick with awhile. Sure, per Yeo Hwi, this life was for himself first. But they needed firm footing for that, whether he stayed or left.
Top of mind: martial arts. Even scanning current world's arts, his past creations weren't lacking. He could refine and pass them on, tailor new ones.
But. Is that their path?
His answer was simple: no. Higher realms didn’t guarantee safety or goodness. Underworld drifters died over chance encounters and rare arts—past and present alike.
We did too.
The spark that drove them from Chimju to Sin-gang? Martial arts. Yeo Hwi shone with deepened Sin-gi Sim-ui Gong, drawing covetous eyes that killed Yeo Dan and forced flight.
Average skill meant cautious living. He couldn't guard them forever.
Hence mentioning money too—hear their answers, judge.
Your choice.
A month later, outside Cheong-ho Bang's gang leader's office.
Yeom Ri-ung, sprinting up, spotted the three siblings.
"Oh! You guys are quick."
His brother Yeom Jung-tak snapped. "Hey, moron! Hurry up next time. We've been waiting forever."
"Hey! Was I out playing? I checked the branches—what's with the nagging!"
Ak Mu-gil flashed a light smile. "Enough. Let's see the Gangju."
Then Yeom Ri-ung hesitantly asked Jeok Myo-ye. "You really gonna say it?"
He knew what she wanted, raised together since kids. Jeok Myo-ye replied firmly. "No reason not to when Gangju asks. Told you plenty. Drop it."
"......"
Jeok Myo-ye's steps ahead were resolute.
Moments later, Mu Yun eyed them calmly. "Thought it over?"
Jeok Myo-ye stepped up first. She trusted Mu Yun, but her dream needed big cash. Half hope, half resolve to steel herself this chance.
"Don't stress. Was gonna spill the details anyway—perfect timing."
"Got it. Go ahead."
Jeok Myo-ye pointed at the Yeom brothers. "Like I said, we three grew up together."
"Yeah."
"Our stepdad was an escort chief once. Saved these two from bandits wiping a village, raised 'em with me. Mom was gone, I was alone—he went out on escorts, worried leaving me."
"Escort chief could've placed you somewhere."
"We lived outside the village. Folks knew Mom was a gisaeng—awkward."
"......"
Hard to chime in now. Jeok Myo-ye continued evenly.
"Anyway, stepdad died, we wandered here. You know Ak bro's story? Saved him injured, became sworn sibs."
"Heard."
Now the crux. "That friend—really rich?"
"Not stingy. Need money?"
"Wanna build a huge gisaeng house."
"Gisaeng house? Why?"
Jeok Myo-ye's eyes flashed. "Later. After it's built."
One question left. "Where?"
"Nae-yang!"
Mu Yun's eyes widened faintly. Nae-yang!
This body's hometown. One of Hunan's dozens of small cities. Three middling families—merchants and martial—dominated. Nae-yang, Cai Lun the eunuch's paper-making homeland, brimmed with paper mills. Biggest: Mu Yun's birth clan, Cheon Ga-jang.
An unexpected snag crashed in. Of his three paths, prickliest was living as that family's son. No family ever, never experienced. Yet parents, sister, little brother, second wife, half-sister awaited. Wedging in? Unthinkable. Prior memories or not, every move would scream awkward. No way.
Current Mu Yun couldn't go anyway. Branded demonic, fled.
No memory of demonic arts. Yet drunk at a gisaeng house, rage exploded maniacally with a blade—subdued, demonic manual in his robes. Led to flight here.
Suddenly, a nagging thought tilted his head. Come to think, lots of weird shit.
No intent to live with family, so skimmed memories. Just settle issues later, hand over Yeo Hwi's cash, end ties.
But "Nae-yang" revived them vivid: drinking buddies' faces, drunken haze, acrid odd smell.
Recalling, a jolt raced his spine. He knew that smell.
Opium!
Cheok-go-ryeon days, studying with Medical Hall Chief Seon U-jin for patients—that scent matched. Burnt intensely long.
Someone dosed heavy, over time. Caused the delirium.
The two drinking with him? Prime suspects. Cold logic pointed there.
Sorting thoughts, Mu Yun shook his head. Not urgent. Prep lacking, need more intel.
As he boxed it away, a grim memory surfaced. Deep sigh escaped.
How disappointing must that son have been?
Prior Mu Yun's bratty antics to blame.