One-Ear Fiend

"Gang-hyung!!!"

Gwak Yeonyong, who had been scanning the surroundings, cried out in alarm. A figure had suddenly appeared beside Gang Ryong, cackling as he prodded the man with his foot. Gang Ryong's body lay rigid and unresponsive on the ground.

"One-Ear!" Nak Pung-hyeon snarled through gritted teeth.

The man called One-Ear grinned, flashing his yellow teeth. He was a hulking brute with unusually large ears—or rather, what remained of them. One ear was completely gone, sliced off clean, leaving behind a face no one could forget after a single glance.

One-Ear was a notorious figure from the unorthodox factions, his infamy rivaling that of the greatest wanted criminals in the martial world. He'd stirred up trouble across various regions, fleeing pursuits by government troops and masters from the Nine Great Sects and Beggar Clan for years until, a few years back, he'd holed up in the Dongjeong Waterway Stronghold. His exceptional martial prowess, combined with his vicious and cruel nature, made him a perfect fit for the group. It wasn't long before he claimed the position of vice leader.

For a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lifelong drifter like him, it was as if he'd finally found his place and achieved success.

No one knew what trick he'd used, but One-Ear had subdued Gang Ryong in a single move. He swaggered forward casually. Whether Gang Ryong lived or died was anyone's guess.

The battles raging on all sides ground to a temporary halt. The Yi Family warriors had already joined the fray, turning the front lines into a stalemate. Now, the outcome of the duel between One-Ear and Nak Pung-hyeon would tip the scales for many.

Everyone fell silent, watching the standoff intently.

"Chwi Hwa Bang leader, Nak Pung-hyeon. You've been hiding your true strength, haven't you? I heard you came from the back alleys, but impressive nonetheless. I didn't think it'd take this long."

"Did you lead these scum here? You're the one who's been hiding until now, only showing up at the last moment."

"Hiding? What an insult. It'd been ages since my last outing, so I indulged a bit first."

One-Ear licked his lips with ominous intent. Nak Pung-hyeon's face twisted in disgust.

"I heard you fancy yourself the protector of the back-alley women. What, you gonna hog them all for yourself? Don't be selfish—share the fun. Do you know how depressing it is living in that gloomy, sunless swamp? We're rough men, sure, but we need family too, and some entertainment. Right?"

The waterway bandits listening to him erupted in crude laughter—uh-heh-heh-heh. They trampled over the corpses of their comrades from moments ago without a care.

"We don't need family! But entertainment? Hell yeah!"

"Little brats for odd jobs!"

"Slaves to sell!"

Nak Pung-hyeon silently raised his sword. The man's words and actions were utterly vulgar, but the aura emanating from him was anything but ordinary.

He'd been concealing seventy percent of his true power all along, and through repeated spars with Yi Jinpyeong lately, he'd elevated his skills dramatically. Still, he didn't think he could take One-Ear lightly.

Yi Gajang's supervisor, the short-statured Seo Dal, quietly positioned himself beside Nak Pung-hyeon.

"Bangju. Shall we join forces?"

Nak Pung-hyeon shook his head. Seo Dal was the strongest among the Yi Family contingent that had come to rescue Chwi Hwa Bang. But they'd never fought together, and against an opponent of this caliber, he doubted the man could make much difference. Seo Dal had a different role to play.

"If you don't lead the Yi Family warriors yourself, the formation will collapse soon enough. I'll handle this one somehow."

Seo Dal nodded wordlessly and returned to his post.

Nak Pung-hyeon glanced around. The Dongjeong Waterway Stronghold bandits were ruthless, sparing no means, and overwhelming in numbers. The Three Escort Guests had performed admirably so far, but exhaustion was plain on their faces. Over half his valiant subordinates were already missing. Even the freshly arrived Yi Family warriors had sustained injuries large and small in the blink of an eye.

If they took more losses like this, how could Chwi Hwa Bang protect these back-alley folk? And how could he face Yi Jinpyeong? He'd boasted he'd safeguard Yi Gajang, only for things to end up like this.

Nak Pung-hyeon took a deep breath. Facing his opponent at an angle, he raised his sword to shoulder height. From his fingertips to his shoulders, spine, and toes—there wasn't a single tremor. The sword hadn't moved yet, but clouds were already gathering at its tip, an aura swelling forth.

One-Ear's expression shifted upon sensing that unnatural aura. As a master himself—and one who'd spent a lifetime evading even greater ones—he knew. The sword art Nak Pung-hyeon was about to unleash was no ordinary technique.

"Not bad..."

Swallowing his words, One-Ear lowered his stance, crouching like a mantis poised to leap. From his sleeves emerged awl-like spikes, gripped reverse in each hand. Their tips gleamed with an eerie hue—likely the poison that had felled Gang Ryong in one strike.

One-Ear wrinkled his nose, and his lone massive ear flapped like a beckoning hand.

"My heart's really pounding now. This'll be fun."

Murderous intent flickered in his eyes; steely resolve filled Nak Pung-hyeon's. Different shades, same goal. A life-or-death duel—ending only with one's opponent dead.

The two warriors charged at each other.

One-Ear's martial arts strayed far from orthodox forms. Built on innate agility and profound inner energy honed through dirty tricks, his attacks were erratic and vicious, leaving every foe in dire straits. That was why he'd risen to vice leader of the Dongjeong Waterway Stronghold, ranked eleventh among Dongjeong Lake's powers.

One more thing: the ambiguous length of his awls made judging distance tricky. And that strange sheen at their tips screamed poison—anyone not immune would end up like Gang Ryong if even grazed once.

Nak Pung-hyeon faced him head-on. The paths of Cloud Sword Three Absolutes flashed in all directions. A sword art supremely practical yet elegantly beautiful. Footwork, mind, and blade intertwined seamlessly—no waste in a single step or breath, every swing perfectly synced with respiration and muscle.

That made it exceedingly difficult. It demanded innate genius, plus extreme patience, endurance, desperation, and precision. Yi Gyeol had created it for descendants unable to access Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong, rendering it even more profound and arcane. No later generation had mastered it fully—until fate delivered it to Nak Pung-hyeon, allowing it to bloom in its true form.

"Not bad at all!" One-Ear dodged Nak Pung-hyeon's sword repeatedly, clicking his tongue in admiration.

"How'd a master like you end up buried in a piddling outfit like Chwi Hwa Bang? Come to the Waterway Stronghold—I could slot you right under me. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠What do you say? Tempted?"

Nak Pung-hyeon ignored him, exhaling sharply as he stepped forward deeply. His sword cleaved and raked the air in two.

But One-Ear was already gone from where he'd been chattering nonstop.

Instinctively, Nak Pung-hyeon thrust his sword into the ground and propelled himself up. Pfiuu! A chilling whistle as an awl grazed his back.

The instant One-Ear's rear attack missed, Nak Pung-hyeon twisted mid-air, slamming a kick into his shoulder. One-Ear deflected the kick and thrust his awl again, but Nak Pung-hyeon's blade was already descending.

The leap, the twisting kick, the downward slash—all flowed as one seamless motion.

One-Ear rolled across the ground to evade, but Nak Pung-hyeon pursued, raining strikes. One-Ear stabbed his awl into the earth to accelerate his roll, then at the last second flicked his wrist, thrusting reverse.

Every motion wildly defied prediction.

Nak Pung-hyeon jerked his head back desperately. The awl's razor tip passed before his eye and vanished—a difference of a single hair's breadth.

They separated, creating distance. One-Ear spun his awls, smacking his lips in regret.

"Shame. Would've been perfect if you'd lost an eye—matching pair with me... Hey! Talk to me!"

The battle intensified. But One-Ear never shut up, yammering to disrupt Nak Pung-hyeon's focus while savagely stabbing, slashing, and flipping his awls.

"If you don't like it, just say so. Why swing that sword so viciously? Ah! Guess the rank doesn't appeal. Fine, my treat! I'll hand over my spot. Soon I'll off the old stronghold leader and take his seat anyway. Better than tailing whores your whole life, right?"

Nak Pung-hyeon offered no reply, calmly unfolding the sword paths of Cloud Sword Three Absolutes. Though merely leader of back-alley rabble, his bearing in combat rivaled a famed sect's head.

One-Ear seemed dominant at first, but as the fight dragged, it balanced on a knife's edge.

Yet One-Ear was no pushover. He'd spare no means for victory—that was his path to power.

He let out a shrill whistle as a signal. From somewhere, bandits dragged in bound women, lining them up by force. Chwi Hwa Bang women—mostly courtesans, but some older, others mere girls. They trembled violently, positioned perfectly visible from Nak Pung-hyeon's battlefield.

That shattered his composure, focused solely on the fight until then.

One-Ear cackled, thrusting his awls wildly.

"Word is, you were born and raised in these alleys, never left once? Then one of those women must be your mom, lover, daughter—or all of 'em! Pick one. Which bitch dies first? Right to left? Left to right?"

His calm broken, Nak Pung-hyeon's movements grew chaotic. One-Ear's awls grew bolder, grazing his body perilously while hunting for a fatal opening.

The Three Escort Guests could endure no more, breaking the stalemate.

"You... filthy bastards! Block them however! Kill 'em all!"

As they charged to save the women, Seo Dal and the Yi Family warriors followed suit, surging at the enemy.

Chaos erupted anew, but nothing changed. The foes still outnumbered them overwhelmingly, and One-Ear exploited Nak Pung-hyeon's openings with cunning precision.

"Uh-heh-heh-heh-heh!"

Victory assured, One-Ear laughed uproariously. But in that instant...

"Gaaahhh!"

A massive scream rang out as two figures shot from nowhere, barreling into the melee's heart—not leaping in, but sweeping through like a gale.

Kwa-jijijik!!!!!!!!!!!

Every warrior along their path collapsed limply, like a rice paddy after a storm.

In the stunned silence amid that brutal spectacle, an unexpected voice came from the wrong direction—the one everyone stared at.

"The type I hate most? Punks who fight with hostages."

A familiar voice. A longed-for voice. Terrifying during training, but amid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this desperate battle, it was sweeter than honey.

All heads snapped toward the sound.

There he was. Yi Gajang's third young master, Yi Jinpyeong.

He stood tall, having already subdued the bandits holding the women captive.