#8. The Third-Rate Martial Artist Who Protects the Honor of His Sect (2)
"I didn't have a chance to greet you properly earlier amid all the chaos. I'm Seong Moran of the Iron Sword Sect."
Her eyebrows curved like crescent moons as she smiled, and Gye Cheolyeong's face—which had been twisted like he'd eaten shit instead of rice the whole way here—brightened instantly.
"They say there's a single beautiful flower blooming among the wolves of the Iron Sword Sect. The rumors don't even come close to doing your beauty justice."
"You're too kind, Young Master Gye. Please, come inside. Our sub-sect leader has been eagerly awaiting the Gye-ryong Merchant Group and the Tae-eul Gate folks."
Gye Cheolyeong puffed out his shoulders twice as much as usual, looking like a complete idiot.
The Iron Sword Sect's grounds were packed to the brim with people. Every window and door of the main hall stood wide open, and inside, crowds sat shoulder-to-shoulder, sharing drinks and snacks while chattering noisily.
"Hahaha, come on in, Merchant Lord! Oh, and Cheolyeong's here too! It's been ages!"
A middle-aged man with eyes similar to Seong Moran's—Seong Jutaek—laughed as he welcomed Gye Yeonseok and Gye Cheolyeong.
"It's been too long, Sub-sect Leader."
"Hoho! I told you to drop the formalities. We're both just getting old together—why put up walls like this?"
Even as he said it, Seong Jutaek's face brimmed with satisfaction.
"How have you been?"
"I still lose sleep at night thinking about letting a talent like your son Cheolyeong slip through my fingers."
"You're too generous."
"If it weren't for those ridiculous privileges from the 108 Peaks, I would've taken him as my disciple. Hahaha!"
Glancing sideways at Gang Chaeseok and Jin Taesan, their faces mirrored Gye Cheolyeong's earlier expression—like they'd just bitten into something foul.
"Father, these are the Tae-eul Gate people. You should greet them."
Only after Seong Moran drew his attention did Seong Jutaek finally look our way.
"I'm Gang Chaeseok, Lord of the Kwaehwa Hall."
"...Jin Taesan."
The two offered cupped-fist salutes, but Seong Jutaek merely nodded curtly.
"I've seen you around the Murim Alliance a few times, Gang Chaeseok. But Jin Taesan, it's been ages—twenty years, maybe?"
"...Indeed. Time flies."
"Tsk tsk. You folks have it good. We've slaved away for twenty years without landing a gem like Cheolyeong, yet you just sit back and he falls right into your laps."
"..."
The backhanded "praise" was making Jin Taesan and Gang Chaeseok's faces darken by the second.
"This must be Sect Leader Hong's daughter, and this young friend is... who?"
Gye Cheolyeong butted in cluelessly.
"The Outer Hall Lord's son."
"Ah, your son? Let me see... but his aptitude doesn't seem up to snuff. You should focus your efforts on Cheolyeong instead of wasting energy in the wrong places. I know all about Tae-eul Gate's martial arts. Heh."
This situation was far different from that moment in my previous life. Back then, the Iron Sword Sect had hidden their intentions, ignored Tae-eul Gate, then stabbed us in the back. They wouldn't humiliate us in front of so many witnesses either. Being this overt would ruin their plans to force us to our knees later. What they wanted was submission, not to be called back-alley thugs.
Plus, I'd never heard about visiting the Iron Sword Sect twenty years ago. Seong Jutaek had been too busy cozying up to the Gye-ryong Merchant Group for any real talk. Of course, in my past life, I'd been too busy gawking at the Twin Wolf Iron Swords and Namgung San to notice.
"So, how far have you progressed in Tae-eul Gate's martial arts?"
What to do here? I knew it would end in disaster anyway, but maybe showing restraint would be best?
"Can't even answer a simple question? Hoh, what a bleak future for Tae-eul Gate."
"Man, and here I thought back-alley thugs were the only ones who talked such shit."
"...!"
The noisy area fell deathly silent. People dropped their cups like they'd seen a ghost in broad daylight.
"W-what did you say?"
I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth. In my previous life, I never would've said that—hanging with those Small Justice Squad losers had rubbed off on me. Useless bastards, not a damn bit of help.
"You little shit! What did you just say?"
No point holding back now. Once the arrow's loosed, you can't call it back.
"Ah, my apologies. I meant to say it in my head, but it slipped out."
"You call that an apology...?"
"Isn't it true, though? You just called my junior sister's father—and Tae-eul Gate's sect leader—like some buddy. You trashed my sect's martial arts. And worst, you pried into someone's cultivation level, which no proper martial artist asks lightly."
"...Hah, you... you little...!"
"How could any sword-bearing man not feel insulted? But the sages say not to meet rudeness with rudeness, even from the arrogant. So yeah, my bad. Apologies again."
I gave a half-hearted cupped-fist salute, and Seong Jutaek's face flushed beet red. And what's with Seong Moran? Her dad just got humiliated, but she's fighting back laughter?
Anyway, the crowd—who'd been listening intently—started nodding in agreement, one by one.
"You... you...!"
Seong Jutaek, caught between a rock and a hard place, flushed crimson and opened his mouth for some profanity—
"The Murim Alliance's Chief Strategist has arrived!!"
A booming voice echoed through the hall, and everyone shot to their feet. From the main hall, Iron Sword Sect Lord Seong Cheonwol and his retainers rushed out in their socks.
"What are you standing around for? Move!"
At Seong Cheonwol's bellow, Seong Jutaek glared at me one last time, grinding his teeth, then hurried after him. Gye Yeonseok and Gye Cheolyeong followed suit.
"Sh-should we go too?"
Hong Saryeon blinked in bewilderment, and I replied.
"Hundreds will swarm the Chief Strategist just to make a connection. Better to head in and snag good seats."
"..."
She looked to Jin Taesan and Gang Chaeseok for a decision, but they were just as stunned. Finally, Seong Moran stepped in.
"He's right. I'll guide you to good spots."
With Seong Moran leading, we had no choice but to follow.
"Didn't I tell you to hold back?!"
Gang Chaeseok stormed up, eyes bulging.
"Be honest. If I hadn't cut in, you'd have drawn your sword, right?"
"..."
No use denying it. I'd seen his hand on his hilt. If Seong Jutaek noticed—and he must have—we might've ended up kneeling in apology on day one, not the finale.
"..."
Gang Chaeseok clamped his mouth shut like a clam.
"Please, no more rash moves. You know what the Iron Sword Sect's after."
"..."
"Act like gentlemen and don't step in shit on purpose."
"You little punk! ...I know."
"Then ease up that scowl. What the hell happened twenty years ago to make you glare at Seong Jutaek like he's your parents' killer?"
Gang Chaeseok hesitated, glancing at Jin Taesan. When Jin Taesan shook his head, Gang Chaeseok quickened his pace, saying nothing more.
Reaching the same spot as in my previous life, an Iron Sword Sect member stepped forward.
"Tae-eul Gate's seats are this way."
As we moved, their guide led us to a corner of the training ground—packed with drunks.
I was about to sit when Seong Moran spoke up.
"Save those seats for others. I'll handle these guests."
She headed to a wide table deep in the main hall. Eyes followed us the whole way.
"Sit here."
"My thanks for your consideration."
Jin Taesan finally spoke after staying silent, and Seong Moran smiled, taking the seat across from me.
"...!"
"...!"
At a major event like this, having a lead figure join your table meant they valued you. Her gesture shocked not just us, but the onlookers too.
"Over here! Drinks first!"
At Seong Moran's call, booze and snacks flew our way. Plenty had arrived earlier and waited, but none complained.
Father and Gang Chaeseok sat rigid with tension, barely touching their food. I grabbed a chicken leg and bit in.
"What's your name, young master?"
"Jin Sowoon."
"You seemed pretty skilled earlier... Oh, is that rude to ask?"
Seong Moran's excessive interest and kindness. In my past life, I'd have been so thrilled to meet the Mirang Iron Sword that I wouldn't notice if food went up my nose or mouth.
"Yeah. Having the Iron Sword Sect's Mirang watch me eat right in front is no small pressure."
"Oh my? Hohoho, sorry about that."
"Speaking of, shouldn't you go see the Chief Strategist now that he's here?"
"Eh, Iron Sword Sect rules don't let women into important matters. I won't get flogged for skipping this."
"Rumors say Mirang's fangs are sharper than Blood Wolf's. From our Tae-eul Gate's view, maybe that's a good thing?"
Blood Wolf Iron Sword Seong Mohyeon, the next heir, had monopolized elixirs like the Bee Pollen Serum since childhood. Mirang, on the other hand, started inner arts at nine. Yet she entered the Murim Academy alongside him. Later, when Blood Wolf nearly ruined the sect, Mirang stubbornly led it to the North Sea, keeping it alive under the Murim Alliance.
"Hohoho. You're a fun one. Let me apologize for my father earlier. He's had ties with the Gye-ryong Merchant Group since I was little, so he's always regretted missing out on big brother Cheolyeong."
"You could still take him now."
"Hohoho."
Seong Moran clutched her stomach, laughing as if it pained her. Amid the sudden shift, Gang Chaeseok and Father couldn't touch their food, just downed drinks nonstop.
"One thing I'm curious about."
"What?"
"Why invite Tae-eul Gate?"
Jin Taesan and Gang Chaeseok's heads snapped around like lightning. Seong Moran gave a knowing half-smile.
"Doesn't a feast shine brighter with a crowd to celebrate?"
"History's full of assassinations at banquets like this."
Her eyes widened at my words, then she smiled again.
"Hehe, you're really something, Jin Sowoon."
Seong Moran stood.
"Won't you join us longer, Miss Seong?"
"I'd love to ease your suspicions, but I should get going."
She bid Father and Gang Chaeseok farewell, then left.
"...Miss?"
Hong Saryeon, silent beside me, grumbled jealously.
"Huh? Should I have said young hero then?"
"Hmph!"
I'd been probing how prepared the Iron Sword Sect was, but Saryeon glared at me like an enemy for chatting with Mirang—clueless about the context. Still too young and oblivious, huh?
"Mis~s? Hmph!"
Hong Saryeon unpacked in the lodgings Seong Moran had arranged. Her movements were rough, though.
"'You're such a fun guy? Hohoho?' What a damn flirt..."
She mimicked Seong Moran oddly, then sighed softly.
The fine silk dress in beautiful hues, dazzling jewelry that drew every eye, poised elegance, confident gaze. And that natural beauty that commanded attention. Saryeon knew she couldn't compete in any of it.
"Sigh..."
Tae-eul Gate's austere vibe clashed with the Iron Sword Sect's, so she couldn't voice it openly. But she'd heard the rumors about Mirang Iron Sword. At their age, her skill was legendary across Anhui Province.
She knew talent varied by birth, leading to different growth. But meeting her in person stirred not jealousy, but an unreachable envy.
"..."
She'd worn Tae-eul Gate's cleanest uniform, but today it felt rough under her fingers.
Knock knock.
Saryeon snapped from her thoughts.
"Who is it?"
"It's me."
"Senior Brother Cheolyeong?"
Opening the door, Gye Cheolyeong stood there, changed from uniform to silk robes.
"Put this on."
He held out colorful silk garments.
"What's this?"
"Namgung San and other promising heirs from Anhui's great families are holding a private banquet. You can't show up in that uniform."
"...I'm tired. Go alone, Senior Brother."
"Strictly speaking, I'm going as Gye-ryong's rep. If you don't, Jin Sowoon will. That okay with you?"
It'd be folks friendly with the Iron Sword Sect—uncomfortable for Tae-eul Gate. Their stares and whispers wouldn't be kind. And really...?
She'd snapped at the Iron Sword Sect's sub-leader's daughter. Would she play nice with these elite heirs?
"..."
"At least with me, the vibe'll be way better."
Hong Saryeon bit her lip.
"Fine. I'll go."
"Hurry and change."
She eyed the clothes he offered, then shoved them back.
"Forget it. If you wanna wear that, you do it."