2. Who Is the Betrayer?
The next day.
Today was a hugely important day. It was the deadline to hand over the next volume's manuscript to that terrifying sub-branch leader of Danga Sangdan, Danche Ryeong.
To keep my neck and limbs intact, I had to finish that dopamine-packed manuscript by the end of the day, no exceptions.
Fortunately, the day passed as blandly and peacefully as ever. The cadets, exhausted from martial arts training, still sprawled over their desks in my class, drooling in sweet slumber. Hwangbo Suyeon looked as serene as if she'd never gone berserk, dutifully holding her spot in the shabby lecture hall. Of course, my novel lay brazenly open on her desk.
After class, I returned to my cramped room and flew through the remaining pages at breakneck speed. This was the moment when my decade of experience as a high-earning web novel author from my past life—my chops and demonic writing prowess—shone brightest. The result? A perfect manuscript capped with a ruthless cliffhanger.
I clutched the hefty stack to my chest and stepped out of the dilapidated Cheongryong Mugwan. The sun was already dipping low, painting Nakyang's streets in crimson twilight. After gripping my brush all day, trembling as I wrote, my stomach was glued to my spine.
Nothing soothed a writer's post-deadline emptiness like a steaming bowl of soup. On my way to Danga Sangdan, I ducked into a rundown but bustling inn.
The place was packed with Nakyang's common folk, winding down their hard day with a drink. I claimed a corner seat, called the server, and ordered a big bowl of hearty beef noodle soup.
Moments later, a steaming bowl of rich broth and noodles slammed onto the table. I dove in with chopsticks, slurping hot soup and chewy strands down my throat.
It wasn't up to the mala tang or fried chicken from my delivery apps back home, but after that bloodcurdling deadline, this hot soup was pure nectar.
I was lost in blissful fullness, face buried in the bowl, when a heated debate erupted from the corner—veins bulging, voices rising.
"Listen to me! Given the circumstances, it's obviously Gam Useon, head of the Gam family, behind the whole conspiracy—the betrayer!"
A red-faced, bearded man pounded the table, spittle flying.
"Come on, do you even think? The Gam family is a pillar of the righteous sects—one of the most renowned!"
The skinny guy opposite shook his head in disbelief.
"The head of a prestigious righteous family stabbing from the shadows like some petty coward? That doesn't make sense!"
"But all the evidence and suspicious tracks point straight to the Gam family!"
"It's a cunning trap by those demonic scum, jealous of their lofty reputation!"
I nearly choked on my noodles listening to their fiery clash. They were arguing about my novel.
The Gam family. A major righteous powerhouse from my blood-soaked tale, Regressor Sword God, This Life Fist King.
When crafting settings and the world, I stuck to one ironclad rule: never use the name of any real sect or family in this living, breathing murim world.
Imagine dropping Wudang, Huashan, or Nangong into the story and painting their leaders as villains or backstabbers. If word got back? Those honor-obsessed masters would storm in with bared blades. Dodging loan sharks was one thing—no way I'd trade them for murim swords.
So I mined my past life's web novel tropes and birthed a fictional powerhouse, the Gam family, existing only in my head.
Anyway, the bearded men's life-or-death debate was crystal clear: Who was the true betrayer who doomed protagonist Cheon Ujae to a miserable death before his regression?
Their obsession had a vicious reason. My novel, exploding across murim via Danga Sangdan's network, had only three volumes out.
And I'd sliced the third at the perfect gut-punch moment.
Pre-regression Cheon Ujae lays a meticulous trap for his betrayer. Deep night, cold rain falling—he checks the bait.
A shadow slips from the dark. Cheon Ujae spots the face, eyes widening in shock—and bam! I slammed "To be continued in the next volume" with merciless cliffhanger kung fu.
Murim readers, hooked hard, lost sleep for days, driven mad by the mystery.
Of course, I knew the truth. The one in the trap? A Gam family member, as the beard guessed. But not power-hungry Gam Useon, as everyone assumed.
The real gut-twister I hid to smack their heads? Gam Uhyeok.
Amid the rowdy men's clamor, a voice cut in—clear as jade beads rolling, utterly out of place in the dingy inn.
"Gam Uhyeok."
"Wh-what?"
"Gam Uhyeok? Kid, did you even read the book?"
"Anyone could betray, but not Gam Uhyeok!"
The debaters exploded at the intruder. They glared and pointed fiercely toward the voice.
Even against these rough warriors' menace, the voice's owner stood tall, unflinching.
I'd been chugging soup but nearly dropped dead spotting her. No way. Why the hell are you here?
That pure, lofty voice belonged to none other than Cheongryong Mugwan's top prodigy—the golden flower of Hwangbo Sega, Hwangbo Suyeon, who'd been devouring my novel in the afternoon lecture hall.
Noodles went down the wrong pipe; I hacked violently.
Why wasn't she in the dorms? Why crash a random Nakyang inn's betrayer hunt?
"Miss, do you even know who Gam Uhyeok is in the story before spouting that?"
The skinny man shot up, demanding answers from Hwangbo Suyeon.
"I know him perfectly."
She met their eyes with steady, deep clarity.
"Gam Uhyeok. Cheon Ujae's sworn brother since childhood, sharing life and death. Loyal to the end, at his side even in his final breath."
The man thumped his chest in frustration.
"You know that and still claim a loyalist like him sold out Cheon Ujae like a beast?"
"Right! In that desperate crisis, he saved Cheon Ujae's life, fought bloodily, sacrificed his own right arm!"
A dozen men nodded furiously, spittle flying in agreement.
"A man who gave limb and life for his brother—stabbing him in the back? Impossible!"
The crowd's outrage poured on Hwangbo Suyeon. I shrank in my corner, inwardly amazed. These murim lifers, steeped in loyalty and honor, couldn't grasp web novel twists that shattered their worldview.
A childhood friend who selflessly sacrificed turning blackguard collaborator? Pure cognitive dissonance, taboo to their rigid minds.
But in my old world, the trusty bro's backstab was prime dopamine chow—comfort food cliché.
Amid their fierce backlash, Hwangbo Suyeon's face remained a mountain.
"It's tragic—you're fixated on shallow loyalty and sacrifice, blind to the profound hints the author scattered."
She sighed lightly, her noble aura cowing the men momentarily.
"Volume 1, Chapter 4: Why Gam Uhyeok's longsword tip was broken after breaking the encirclement. Volume 2, Chapter 12: He knew the antidote's location when Cheon Ujae was poisoned yet arrived half a shichen late—his path."
My novel's details flowed flawlessly from her lips.
"And crucially, mid-Volume 3: Traces of frost arts on his lost right arm's stump. That frost is unique to the Gam family's secret art, Cold Ice True Qi."
Insane. She's insane. Chills ran through me as she pieced my casual breadcrumbs—mere setup for the twist—into perfect proof, nailing the betrayer dead-on.
This terrifying genius girl dismantled a dozen ajusshi assaults with overwhelming rhetoric, unyielding.
I watched the corner's brain battle, enthralled, when one debater clutched his groin and bolted outside—urgent bladder call.
I slurped the last of my soup, then casually tailed him to the back alley.
Feigning nonchalance, I sidled up. "What's the heated talk inside about?"
He gawked, then thumped his chest in pity. "You haven't read the world's greatest masterpiece, Regressor Sword God, This Life Fist King?"
His face mixed deep sympathy and scorn for my ignorance.
"Heard of it... but work's kept me swamped."
"Tsk tsk. Half your life's wasted! Run to Danga Sangdan and buy it now!"
He clapped my shoulder, proudly spitting explanations.
"Those folks inside? Devotees who've pored over Volume 2+, in a classy 'readers' club' they formed."
Readers' club, huh.
"Every decent inn in Nakyang buzzes with these clubs day and night. Debates over the betrayer nearly turned to blades more than once!"
His hearty laugh made me marvel anew at my novel's ripple effect. In this dull murim, no forums or comments existed for nitpicks or shares. Face-to-face tavern debates birthed natural offline communities—makes sense.
"That bold kid spouted nonsense, but fresh take. Gam Uhyeok as betrayer? Horrifying blindside."
Once more, my writing's total brain domination hit bone-deep.
Back inside, the bearded man crossed arms, snorted his finale. "Hmph! Talking's useless. Volume 4 drops soon via Danga Sangdan—we'll see who's right!"
"Just watch. Cheon Ujae's trap will snare smirking childhood friend Gam Uhyeok. He's the mastermind betrayer."
Hwangbo Suyeon rose, declaring boldly without retreat.
Dodging her gaze, I bowed my head, tossed coins on the table, and slipped out.