Inn Brawl: Mockery and Mayhem
All eyes in the On-ryang Guest Inn converged on one spot. No surprise there—some woman who'd been quietly sipping her drink had just spewed the most outrageous nonsense, enough to grab everyone's attention, and she'd gone and insulted both the Black Mountain Faction and the Yeon Family in one go. They wouldn't even blink if someone ran her through right then and there, and no one with a shred of pride would let that slide.
Martial artists knew that getting looked down on once could tank their reputation, and for a group living by the sword, that meant their whole outfit could crumble. The warriors from Black Mountain Faction and Yeon Family had just been publicly humiliated in front of a crowd—they had no choice but to step up.
The first to move was a hulking brute in black robes from Black Mountain Faction.
"You bitch. What'd you just say about our Black Mountain Faction?"
"Uh-huh, sounded like she called it a gentlewoman training academy or something."
"Hah, haha. HAHAHAHA! This is fucking ridiculous. Must've gotten properly wasted on that booze."
The Black Mountain guy just laughed it off. Sure, people causing scenes blackout drunk was common enough, but what balls did this woman have to run her mouth like that? Clearly raised without hearing that loose lips get you a severed head in the murim world. He wasn't even mad—just so baffled he could only chuckle dryly.
Ha-yeon smirked at the words, chuckling along.
"Heh, yeah. First time I've heard that one."
"HAHA! Wonder what kind of parents raised a slut like this—must wanna see their faces."
Hmm, the Black Mountain dude was just stating plain facts, but he seemed to take my words as a joke. His laugh was hearty enough, though, and with the booze kicking in, Ha-yeon found herself grinning too. Emotions are contagious, right?
"HAHAHA!"
"HAHAHA!"
She laughed along. Laughter brings good fortune, they say. And laughing your ass off alone might feel great in the moment, but it's embarrassing later. So she joined in, but the Black Mountain guy's smile vanished.
Hey, if you stop laughing now, I'm the one who looks awkward. Ha-yeon sheepishly poured the last dregs from her bottle. Then the Yeon Family warrior stepped up.
"Young lady, we cannot let such an insult pass."
"Right? I even laughed along a bit—think that'll make it go away?"
The Black Mountain guy sounded a tad wronged. He'd started the laugh first, but now he was framing her follow-up as charity. Black heart to match his faction's name.
"Ah, must be the booze loosening my tongue. I'll pass around a bottle each—cool off. Sorry for real. Accept my apology?"
Not a bad offer. Both warriors scowled. At this point, she should've been groveling on the floor, but she had no clue what she'd done and kept grinning like an idiot. Starting to get annoying.
"You brainless slut. This elder will tell you how to atone."
"For real? Spill it."
"Simple. Kneel and beg for mercy right now. Then spend the night with me."
"And?"
"I have no interest in bedding you, young lady. Just kowtow nine times in front of Yeon Family's main gate, then leave a finger behind."
Overreach? Nah. In the murim, no one but Taoists or monks would call that excessive cruelty to the weak. Simple reason: that's just how the murim world worked. And they had the power to enforce it. That was all.
"Hoo."
Heon-u, sitting across, sighed like he'd seen it coming. He slid a cup toward Ha-yeon.
"Ha-yeon."
"Yeah, buddy?"
"See? This is the murim. Man, woman, weakling—doesn't matter your situation. Once you're in, none of that counts."
"Yeah, I see."
Ha-yeon had already poured the bottle's last drops into her cup long ago. Lips half-wet, she brought it close—tilt it a bit, and the foul liquor would slide down her throat. But she couldn't quite tip it back.
Heon-u watched, thinking: She's scared now. Acted bold, but facing a chopped finger and lost virginity, her body's frozen solid. Just that kind of girl after all. Still, she'd amused him briefly, so a little meddling and kindness wouldn't hurt.
He opened his mouth to excise the romantic murim nonsense from her head.
"Don't laugh. In the murim, the weak getting raped and dismembered is so common it's not even bar snack fodder."
"Mm, harsh neighborhood."
"They call themselves xia—heroes—but what's the reality? No righteousness, just might. Beasts in clothes with swords—what's the difference? The jungle where those beasts gather? That's the murim."
Righteous faction folks call themselves xia. Evil ones claim hero or Haojie titles. Demonic cult warriors scream their power is justice, blades dripping human blood.
"In that savage forest where might rules, weak martial arts mean you're prey. Even the strong can get eaten by the weak sometimes—imagine the rest."
"Scary place."
"And you've stepped one foot in, Ha-yeon. No—your neck's on the block. About to get chopped. Laughable, really. Thugs, no—murderers living off blood money and flesh. How dare they talk justice or xia? Revolting."
Heon-u offered his cup.
"I'll handle it. Pay me with one drink."
Fill this with the last drops, and he'd help. It was nothing to him, just one drink's price.
Hmm, if I were a normal girl, I'd have swooned at that—oh hubby~ Makes me queasy. Who the hell takes my booze—my last drink?
Gulp.
"What..."
Gulp gulp. Damn, last one's going down smooth. Mmm, perfect. This must be getting drunk. Ha-yeon drained it, grinning dopily.
Heon-u, and even the warriors gearing up to scold her, were dumbfounded. The Black Mountain guy had lines ready: 'HAHA! Some young master's drunk on fake heroism! Bet that slut's feisty in bed, huh?' No more—that future was gone. Slight disappointment for the thug.
"Heh, good stuff. Yeah."
Ha-yeon stood, having scraped every drop. Even in this body, she couldn't kick the habit of jumping into fights. Getting hyped on brawls wasn't normal, but here she was.
"...Ha-yeon."
Heon-u growled low, a hint of contempt now. Huh, sad. Cool drinking buddy, too soon for a fallout.
"Heon-u, my friend."
"What now?"
"I'm greedy."
Super greedy. Loved swordplay best, but craved good food, booze—no need to say twice. Impulsive spender too, blows cash like water. In short:
"You think I'll sell the drink in my hand for a few sword swings? No way. Do I look like your booze server?"
"You..."
"Want what's in my hand? Pay big. Friends get a favor discount."
Time to stand. The two murim chumps were stunned silly, but fight was inevitable.
Ha-yeon rose, flushed face grinning. "Thanks for waiting, you two."
"Hah. Total lunatic."
"I'll handle my own finger."
Standoff: Ha-yeon vs. the two. Weren't they just feuding over faction honor? Petty stuff—didn't matter. They'd held back blades because each saw the other as the real threat. Too many eyes to back down, but no sure win.
Perfect: idiot girl rolls in as sacrificial lamb. Show strength, boost faction and rep, dip. Both smirked, drawing steel. One a sharp straight sword elbow-length. The other a feral straight dao.
"You first, Yeon scum?"
"Shut it. And one finger won't cut it for you. I'll take all ten—sort the rest with her."
"Heh. First time with a nine-fingered girl. You Yeon lot skip pussy for fingers—you're worse than me."
Yeon guy raised his sword, bellowing: "I am Yeon-gu-jeong of the Yeon Family! Pay for insulting my house!"
"Wait, lemme borrow my friend's sword... hey!"
Standard murim duel intro. Business is business. But he charged mid-intro, grip reversed—rude.
Straight sword thrust at Ha-yeon's fingers. Her eyes narrowed at the sight.
"That fucking grip."
Eye-searing stab. "Whatever."
Ha-yeon flicked her cup. Thrown by hand, faster than a run. Booze droplets hit his eyes—he flinched instinctively.
Spinal reflex—anyone would. That hesitation: his last shot at winning.
"Urk, grrr!"
"Spicy, huh?"
No crying, though. Rubbing eyes, he jammed forward stubbornly. But post-eyeball assault, even a kid would've dodged that track.
Whoosh—Yeon-gu-jeong's sword stabbed air. Ha-yeon, already inside, swung a fist at his jaw.
Crack!
"Guh!"
Body rocked. But he endured. Her frail civilian frame only staggered him. What an idiot lump, she thought, following up. Fists no good? Already close—use bigger area on the jaw.
Knee bent. Jump! No—leap!
Snap!
"Gahk!"
Perfect hit. Staggering body. Legs pry joints, gravity topples it—knee meets face. Hardest human strike craters his nose bridge.
"Guhk!"
"Heh, been ages since a dogfight."
Grabbed hair, yanked back—smash into table edge!
Barely conscious, vision blacks again. Not done. Double-handed hair grip, repeated table-smash.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Blood sprayed each hit. Thrashing body twitched, no counter. Ha-yeon knew stopping vague meant size-difference backlash—kept pounding.
How many? Table edge mushy now. Lifted head, sneered at the ruined face.
"Ten fingers a bit much? Or standard for this murim?"
"A-ah... ueh."
"And give foes intro time in a sacred duel? Rude as fuck."
"F-forgive m-me."
"Body's weak—hard to hold back. Survive if you can."
Bam!
Tough for Yeon demands, she thought, snatching his sword. Black Mountain guy had charged mid-beatdown.
Ha-yeon seized Yeon-gu-jeong's neck, human shield. Thug swung anyway—ruthless, proper killer instinct. Fine butcher material. Swords are for that—no insult, praise.
Time to pat his head with the new blade.
"Yup."
Hurled Yeon-gu-jeong forward.
"Hup!"
Caught the body. Ha-yeon charged, skewering both like kebab.
Sword plunged vertically into guts.
"Arrrgh! You bitch!"
Hilt jammed in Yeon guy's belly—hard yank. Third-rate no inner power, but street-tough adult. Life clings. Black Mountain shoved Yeon aside, raised dao.
"Raaah!"
Swung. Eyes no longer mocking—pure fear. Thug patching skill with grit, now grit gone, terror ruled.
Ha-yeon hopped, snatched chair, jammed dao between leg and blade at perfect angle.
Snagged like branches—stuck. Twist angle, shift body?
"Wha—huh?"
Can't drop sword—body twisted along. Ha-yeon reversed chopsticks from mouth, poke into eye.
Crunch. Silence fell. She shook hand, awkward smile. Gross, something stuck. Hate close combat for this.
They jumped before borrowing Heon-u's sword—guess flashy debut was too much to ask.