An Ill-Fated Encounter (1)

"No matter where you go, just try to fly under the radar."

That was the advice my cousin, who had already been discharged, gave me before I enlisted. Of course, I failed to follow it. Whenever I tried to do just enough to get by, a thought would inevitably strike me: Wait, if I just do a tiny bit more...? Thanks to that, making a mountain out of a molehill became a habit. And I hadn't been able to shake that habit even here in the Central Plains.

"Aaaaargh!"

As Jeon Jeung shrieked at the top of his lungs with his wrist firmly in my grasp, two young martial artists charged at Man Hanseok and me. Hanseok glanced at the duo and clenched his fists. Why isn't he using his spear? The question popped into my mind, but it was answered almost instantly.

Thud!

Hanseok stomped his foot, channeling his massive frame into a heavy step. With a stomp powerful enough to leave a deep footprint in the dirt, he swung his lid-sized palm with terrifying force. Smack! The first martial artist to reach him received a shockingly simple, brutally crude slap to the face. A sickening crack echoed from his neck, and his head spun violently to the side.

"Kegh!"

With a brief, choked gasp, the man spun a half-turn in place and collapsed. They say the scariest people are those who rarely get angry. Having cleanly dealt with one, Hanseok glanced at the next assailant. Displaying a level of waist flexibility that defied his bulky physique, he unleashed another refreshing slap.

Smack! "Gah!"

This one's head also whipped to the side, but he seemed to have a sturdier chin than his companion. He didn't go down immediately. Without a moment's hesitation, Hanseok delivered another resounding slap with his other hand.

"..."

Smack!Why did he only hit that guy once, but he hit me twice? With a look of utter betrayal and injustice directed at Hanseok, the martial artist's eyes rolled back, and he passed out cold.

Since Hanseok had cleaned house before I even needed to step in, Jeon Jeung—whose wrist was still trapped in my grip—stared back and forth between us in sheer disbelief. Finally grasping the reality of the situation, he asked in a trembling voice, "D-do you have any idea what you've just done?"

"We dealt with some thugs trying to harass a woman in broad daylight."

"No! You've laid hands on a sect allied with the Murim Alliance! This is a direct challenge to the Alliance itself!"

"Hmm, is that so?"

A challenge, my foot. In the Central Plains, this easily fell under the category of self-defense.

"You arrogant bastards...!"

Seeing Jeon Jeung look as if he was about to unleash a torrent of curses, it was clear he still hadn't come to his senses. I wanted to let this slide peacefully, but he was forcing my hand. I squeezed his wrist a little harder. Crack! A sound that should never come from a human wrist echoed, and Jeon Jeung shrieked once more.

"Aaargh! You crazy son of a bitch!"

His wrist was fractured. He looked like he'd been pampered his whole life, so this was probably his first broken bone. Well, they say a man isn't truly a man until he's broken at least one bone growing up.

"Don't use such strong words. It only makes you look weak."

"W-what kind of bullshit is that?!"

With a flick, I flung his arm away. If he went to a decent physician and applied some good poultice, the bone would knit back together just fine, so it wasn't a big deal.

"Let's go. Wasting our time on people like this is a luxury we can't afford."

At my words, Gongson Yeongji cast a pitying look at the three men, but she didn't say anything. If even the sweet and gentle Yeongji looked at them with that much disdain, they must have truly seemed pathetic. Hanseok, who had just slapped two men into oblivion, and Seonwoo Seol, the target of their catcalling, both ignored Jeon Jeung completely.

"Hey! Hey! Where do you think you're going?! I said, where are you going?!"

Leaving the three sprawled on the ground, we leisurely went on our way while Jeon Jeung continued to scream after us. He was probably too terrified of Hanseok to give chase, but his pride wouldn't let him just stay quiet. Hence, the useless shouting.

"I guess the rumors are true," Hanseok remarked.

"What rumors?"

"They say the shopping districts closest to the Murim Alliance are quiet and clean, with no troublemakers. But the outer districts, like this one, are often loud and chaotic."

"The areas near the Alliance are quiet because they're crawling with members of the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans. The outskirts are the exact opposite."

Since they all wore the badge of prestigious orthodox sects, most of them would at least watch their manners in public, whatever their true natures might be.

"Even so, I've never seen someone try to pick up a woman using lines straight out of an old dime novel," Seonwoo Seol chimed in.

"With behavior like that, it's no wonder he can't get a woman. That's why he resorts to such outdated cliches."

As we finally arrived in front of the Murim Alliance, a massive plaque greeted us.

"The Great Dao has no gate, yet there are a thousand different paths... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠huh."

"Do the 'thousand paths' refer to the various sects gathered in the Murim Alliance?" Yeongji asked.

"Then the meaning of the 'Great Dao' becomes the key."

The Great Dao. It could mean a grand highway, but in this context, it referred to the Dao of cultivation and righteousness. What did the Murim Alliance mean by the Great Dao? The eradication of the Unorthodox Factions?

While I was lost in thought, the guard standing at the gates of the Murim Alliance addressed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Seonwoo Seol. "What is your business here?"

"It's not me, it's him," Seonwoo Seol said, lightly tugging my arm. I reached into my robes, pulled out a document, and handed it to the guard.

"I am Yoon Gomyung, from the Mutual Righteousness Academy."

"Ah, the Three-Virtue Chef! And these people are...?"

"These two are fellow students from the academy, and this lady is..."

"I'm Hong Seol, from the Hong Family Manor of Shandong," Seonwoo Seol chimed in smoothly. "Chef Yoon and I come from the same region."

Is there actually a Hong Family Manor in Shandong? Since it was an unexpected answer even to me, I simply kept a polite smile plastered on my face. The guard nodded.

"Hong Seol of the Hong Family Manor... Understood."

The guard wrote the name in the visitor log, along with Man Hanseok's and Gongson Yeongji's, before opening a small side gate. "If you wait in the Guest Hall, a guide will come to assist you."

Following the guard's directions, we stepped inside, and I couldn't help but let out an admiring whistle. "Whoa."

The first thing that caught my eye was Imcheondang, the tallest pavilion in Henan. Painted in a dazzling array of brilliant colors, Imcheondang boasted a vibrant, multicolored splendor. The other pavilions were equally grand, exuding a sense of flawless majesty. Gongson Yeongji, who hailed from the border province of Liaoning, stared with her mouth agape, completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the architecture.

Compared to the Murim Alliance, the Mutual Righteousness Academy was practically modest. While Man Hanseok also looked impressed, Seonwoo Seol's reaction was rather peculiar.

"Hmm, it's decent."

To my eyes, these pavilions were magnificent and imposing, but to her, they seemed merely average. Or perhaps she believed the architecture of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Demon Cult was the greatest in the world.

"By the way, who on earth is Hong Seol?" I whispered.

"It's an alias I've had in mind for a while. 'Hong' is a common surname, and 'Seol' is a common given name, right? 'Hong Seol' is even more common."

"Is that so?"

"There are probably hundreds of women named Hong Seol out there, so it'll be incredibly difficult for the Murim Alliance to investigate, won't it?"

Seeing her think like this, she was definitely the Little Heavenly Demon. To have the audacity to use a fake identity right under the nose of the Murim Alliance—her guts were truly on another level.

In any case, as we made our way to the Guest Hall, a young man greeted us. "You must be the Three-Virtue Chef and his companions. The Master of the Taebaek Pavilion is waiting for you."

"The Taebaek Pavilion Master?"

"The Taebaek Pavilion is the department in charge of personnel and administration in the Murim Alliance," Seonwoo Seol whispered, sharing her knowledge of the enemy territory. If they handled personnel, it had to be an incredibly influential department. The master of such a place would be an exceptionally important figure. Naturally, I had to meet him.

"I will guide the rest of your companions to your quarters."

After parting ways with the other three with a brief "see you later," I entered a pavilion to meet the Taebaek Pavilion Master. There, a short, middle-aged man with a face that practically screamed "overworked" welcomed me with a bright, sunny smile.

"Oh, you're much taller than I expected! It is a pleasure to meet you, Three-Virtue Chef."

"It is an honor to meet you. I am Yoon Gomyung, though I hardly deserve a title as grand as the Three-Virtue Chef."

"I am Bi Rak of the Taebaek Pavilion."

His name made me think of sweet rice punch. After exchanging pleasantries, we sat down, and Bi Rak got straight to the point.

"Do you generally get along well with others?"

It was an odd question, but I answered anyway. "Pardon? Well... I don't think my relationships are particularly bad. I do have companions I travel with, after all."

"Do you have many friends?"

Odd Question Number Two. Did I even have anyone in the Central Plains I could truly call a friend? I suppose Seonwoo Seol barely qualified.

"I've lived a rather nomadic life, drifting like duckweed... but I do have some acquaintances back at the academy. May I ask why you inquire?"

"Please don't take offense. It's just that every chef we've encountered so far has been incredibly overbearing or had a terrible temper."

"Well, chefs do have to stand in front of roaring fires for hours on end. It's only natural for them to be a bit short-tempered. Either that, or they're completely self-absorbed."

Just looking at Geum Ho, whose jaw I had shattered, proved my point. His pride in having trained under an imperial chef had been sky-high.

"I'm glad you understand so quickly. The chefs in the Murim Alliance's kitchens also have incredibly nasty temperaments."

"The Alliance's kitchen chefs?"

As Bi Rak nodded, I began to grasp the situation. The dining halls at the Mutual Righteousness Academy didn't demand anything too extravagant. As long as we stuck to the basics of taste and nutrition, it was fine. Of course, because I was obsessed with my title as a nutritionist, I went a bit overboard with both, but that was my personal quirk.

But the Murim Alliance, the heart of the Orthodox Factions, was a different beast entirely. I had only heard rumors, but the Alliance's chefs apparently took immense pride in the fact that the leaders of the orthodox world ate their food. Much like Michelin-starred chefs who dedicated their lives to their culinary craft, the Alliance's kitchen chefs believed the future of the orthodox world rested in their hands. They even claimed that getting a job in the Murim Alliance's kitchens was harder than getting into the imperial kitchens. Naturally, their heads were held so high their necks might snap, and they looked down on all other chefs.

"I understand that kitchen chefs can be difficult, but is it really bad enough that you have to warn me in advance?"

"We went to great lengths to invite you here. It would be a shame if you left in a huff," Bi Rak said with a sigh.

It sounded like he was begging me not to lose my temper and to just bear with them. I didn't know exactly what I was walking into, but I'd have to face it head-on. If there was one thing Yoon Gomyung had, it was pride. I wasn't about to tuck my tail and run like a coward. If they pushed me, I'd rather just beat them up.

"I don't wish to ruin the Alliance's event either, so I will do my best."

"Oh, that is a relief."

With that, he gave me a brief overview of the upcoming event. Similar to the Beggars' Sect banquet, I was to prepare the main course, and this time, there were no budget constraints on purchasing ingredients.

"It's not just a standard meeting. It's a gathering where righteous leaders representing each sect will share a formal dinner and discuss how to deal with those who oppose the Alliance's will."

"In that case, the food shouldn't be too delicious, right?"

"Indeed. If they are too captivated by the food, they won't be able to discuss politics."

Don't make it too delicious. This meant that the presentation and taste were secondary to the symbolic meaning embedded within the dish itself. Then why on earth did they invite me? Just for my reputation? I only knew how to make food taste good; I didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know how to infuse deep philosophical meanings into my dishes. Ugh, this is a first. How troublesome. Perhaps noticing my conflicted expression, Bi Rak reassured me.

"We have plenty of time, so why not take your time to think it over?"

"For now, I would like to meet the Alliance's chefs."

"You've just arrived from the academy. Why not get some rest today and meet them tomorrow morning?"

"Ah, let's do that then. Thank you for your consideration."

Accepting Bi Rak's suggestion, I decided to take it easy for the rest of the day and meet the chefs in the morning. After wrapping up our conversation, I left the pavilion.

"I will show you to your quarters."

Ah, can I finally rest? I wanted nothing more than to roll around on the floor while brainstorming recipes. But as I followed the guide from the Guest Hall toward our quarters...

"How dare the daughter of some obscure, single-successor sect behave so insolently!"

"...Did I say something wrong?"

"And you dare talk back?!"

As I approached the quarters, Seonwoo Seol's icy voice and a sharp, middle-aged man's voice drifted over. Drawing closer, I saw a middle-aged man in brown martial robes pointing a finger at Seonwoo Seol, with a heavily bandaged Jeon Jeung standing beside him. Behind them stood Gongson Yeongji, on the verge of tears, and Man Hanseok, his expression grim.

Why weren't they saying anything? No, to be precise, they were holding back. The veins on Seonwoo Seol's clenched fists were bulging, and Hanseok was gripping his hands so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

"I will report this to the Alliance immediately!"

"And who might you be, talking about reporting this and that?"

As I stepped forward and asked, the expressions of my three companions instantly brightened, while the middle-aged man and Jeon Jeung scowled.

"Who the hell are you... Argh!"

Jeon Jeung, the pathetic pickup artist whose bone I had shattered, pointed at me with his uninjured arm. "H-him! It's him!"

"Him?"

"He's the one who broke my wrist!"

At Jeon Jeung's words, the middle-aged man stomped over to me and growled menacingly. "...Are you the bastard who laid hands on my disciples?"

"And what if I am?"

The middle-aged man and I glared at each other, locking eyes.