30. I'm Not That Kind of Person
Finally, we'd arrived in Nakyang. My sweet home after the hellish Yodong expedition. The horrific week of torture and kidnapping in the Moyong clan's underground prison. And the earth-shattering clash to the death between the patriarchs of two great prestigious families who commanded the world. Leaving all those mad, wave-like events crashing behind us, my two feet were finally stepping onto the solid, familiar roads of Nakyang Castle.
The unique stench of crowds seeping deep into my lungs, the bustling clamor—it all hit me at once. Only then did it truly sink in that I'd survived that infernal pit unscathed. But with two bodyguard warriors—nay, two 'fanatics'—stuck to me like limpets, even that peace felt oddly off-kilter.
To my left in my field of vision strode Hwangbo Suyeon, the golden prodigy daughter of the Hwangbo clan, posture ramrod straight. To my right was Seol Muyeong, the mad survivor who'd leaped off a cliff on faith in a single volume of my novel to claim her opportunity, clutching her Seola sword and scanning the surroundings warily.
Walking under the guard of these two terrifying women, passersby were parting like the Red Sea in real time—a miraculous Moses moment unfolding before our eyes.
The moment we reached Nakyang, the first place we headed was none other than Chwiseonru, the city's premier grand inn. Sure, there was the primal urge to fill our empty stomachs with greasy delights after the long trek from Yodong. But a far more important, secretive true purpose writhed in my chest.
It was to check the on-site reactions to my second masterpiece, Murim Solver Jin Hoseong, the one I'd poured my blood and soul into—the reactions I'd witness with my own eyes and ears.
During my stay in Yodong, and those agonizing hours of torture locked in the Moyong clan's underground prison... I'd been dying of curiosity about what massive waves my novel-child, left alone in Nakyang, might be stirring up.
The instant we pushed open the massive wooden doors of Chwiseonru, a blast of hot air, sweat, thick cheap liquor, and oily meat scents assaulted us.
"Waaah!"
"Does that even make sense? You dense fool!"
The vast hall on the inn's first floor was packed to the gills with hundreds of martial artists, no room to breathe. And as I'd expected, Chwiseonru buzzed with clusters of 'reading groups' everywhere, on the verge of bursting at the seams.
Muscular brutes with fierce faces set aside their swords and spears, carefully spreading thin booklets on tables and debating with bulging veins—a bizarre spectacle only my novels could spawn, unprecedented in murim history.
I swallowed the surging pride of an author and slipped toward the middle of the hall, face half-hidden to avoid notice.
"Over here, corner table."
I led Hwangbo Suyeon and Seol Muyeong to a spot behind a pillar, out of most prying eyes. I called the waiter and ordered heaps of Nakyang's signature greasy stir-fries, steaming soups, and refreshing bamboo leaf liquor.
While waiting for the food, I casually leaned on the table, eyes closed like a spy, ears perked to the surrounding chatter.
The rough voices of men from all directions were all about my new work, Murim Solver Jin Hoseong.
Heh heh, yeah. They're all hooked on protagonist Jin Hoseong's refreshing moves, right?
A perfect sweet potato tug-of-war followed by pure catharsis. I focused every nerve on my ears, anticipating the praise for my flawless prose.
But the debate from the table right next to mine took a wildly ominous turn.
"Hear me out! Author Yeol-gong is definitely a secret inspector dispatched by the Murim Alliance!"
The sudden mention of 'Murim Alliance inspector' made me doubt my ears.
Inspector? Me? What bullshit is this?
A scarred man across from him slammed the table with his fist and snorted.
"No, you idiot! Think logically!"
"What's so illogical?!"
"If he's a secret Murim Alliance inspector, why publish a novel so publicly, exposing that massive secret to the world?!"
"W-well... There must be corruption inside the Alliance too, so he's borrowing the people's power!"
"Tsk tsk, you've read too many novels. Nah, this guy's right. So my take is..."
The eldest in the group stroked his beard and delivered a grave, serious verdict.
"What if Author Yeol-gong is actually a mystic Daoist who reads the qi of the world, foreseeing past and future?"
"Ooh! A Daoist!"
"Makes sense—how else could he know all those gruesome truths in such detail?!"
Wait, what? Hold up. Why was the discussion veering like this? Instead of praising the writing or the thrilling plot, they were turning the author hunt into a shaman séance?
Cold sweat trickled down my spine as I glanced panicked at Hwangbo Suyeon and Seol Muyeong. But these two fanatics showed no surprise at the nonsense—instead, they beamed with smug pride, as if their worshipped author's greatness was proven.
What the hell happened in Nakyang while I was gone!
I gulped down the waiter-delivered cold water and desperately pieced together the fragmented rumors.
Combining the heated debates around me, the full horrific picture emerged.
While I was trapped in the Moyong clan's underground prison, the shocking clash between Hwangbo Daeryeok of the Hwangbo clan and Moyong Cheol of the Moyong clan had spread uncontrollably across the murim world.
The gruesome truth: one of the Five Great Families' patriarchs and his inner circle secretly dabbled in forbidden demonic arts, a taboo for the righteous faction. To cover it up perfectly from the world's eyes, they'd massacred a small, ordinary martial school overnight—the blood-soaked news of Seol Muyeong's father's hall wiped out.
Wearing the mask of upright prestige while cultivating demonic arts and slaughtering minor sects. A nuclear scandal that could upend the entire murim.
But there was one problem. That real-life horror...
Perfectly matched the latest volume of Murim Solver Jin Hoseong, which I'd bled to finish before leaving for Yodong!
In my novel, the culprit behind the minor sect massacre that Jin Hoseong uncovered was the outwardly noble Cheonhyeon Sword Sect, with its sect leader secretly practicing demonic arts—a shocking twist!
I'd just borrowed a clichéd modern fantasy 'sweet potato then catharsis' trope. A dime-a-dozen twist making a prestigious righteous sect the villain for shock value.
But right after that novel flooded Nakyang...
Reality exploded: the Moyong patriarch busted for demonic arts, head smashed in!
And... the Moyong clan happened to be famed for elegant swords.
Happened to be a prestigious righteous clan.
Its patriarch practiced demonic arts.
And he and his cronies massacred a minor sect.
"In the world, such coincidence..."
"Coincidence? You fool! How could this be coincidence?!"
"Author Yeol-gong used the form of a novel to warn our murim in advance of the Moyong clan's horrific corruption!"
"Exactly! He already saw through their rotten insides perfectly!"
It was enough to make me jump off a cliff myself. Readers were packaging me not as a talented imaginer, but as a divine info-master piercing all secrets or a top-secret Murim Alliance inspector—an absurd deduction snowballing into "truth."
This ridiculous misunderstanding and rumor mill was spiraling out of control.
I set down my chopsticks with trembling hands. I couldn't tell if the tasty stir-fried meat was going in my mouth or nose.
"Master, have you lost your appetite?"
Hwangbo Suyeon gazed at me with worried eyes.
"N-no... just tired. Let's eat quick and head back."
I wolfed down my meal half-heartedly and bolted from Chwiseonru like a fugitive. All I wanted was to escape this den of mad readers and hole up safe in my quiet room.
The night air was quite chilly. Walking a quiet alley after leaving Chwiseonru, I finally reached the rickety front gate of Cheongryong Mugwan—my workplace and sole sanctuary.
"Hm?"
I halted. Before the dark gate of the academy, in thick shadows where even moonlight barely pierced, over a dozen black silhouettes stood like stone statues, awaiting us.
The aura pouring from them was leagues beyond the average fighters chattering in Chwiseonru. Disciplined like a well-drilled army, heavy and oppressive to the point of suffocation.
Hwangbo Suyeon and Seol Muyeong at my sides sharpened their gazes like beasts.
Shing.
Seola in Seol Muyeong's arms exhaled dense frost qi, half-unsheathing from its scabbard. Hwangbo Suyeon wrapped her hands in blue inner energy, poised to spring forward.
As tension teetered on the brink of explosion before the academy...
A middle-aged man, seemingly their leader, stepped forward slowly from the darkness. On his chest gleamed a majestic golden tiger emblem under the moonlight.
The symbol of absolute murim authority.
The man cleaved the night air with a cold, dry voice.
"Are you Author Yeol-gong?"
It wasn't a question. A heavy confirmation from one who already knew for certain.
Clearly, they'd tracked me here, knowing full well I was Yeon Woon-ryong, the literature teacher at this rundown Cheongryong Mugwan.
Denying it now would just make me a laughingstock.
I swallowed dryly and forced a calm tone.
"Yes... that's me. But who are you, showing up in the dead of night?"
In response, the middle-aged man lightly gripped his sword hilt at his waist and revealed his identity.
"I am Somyeongseop, division chief of the Murim Alliance Inspection Division 6."
Murim Alliance. And not just any—the terrifying inspection bureau that rooted out all corruption and incidents. My heart plummeted.
Somyeongseop's icy eyes pierced me as he continued.
"Regarding the recent Moyong clan patriarch's demonic arts cultivation and massacre incident, we've captured major evidence that you knew of it in advance."
At his gesture, the warriors behind subtly formed a semicircle around me.
"We've come to escort you, the key 'witness', for questioning."
Heavy emphasis on 'witness'. This wasn't a polite invitation. Refusal meant forcible arrest—the clear exercise of public authority.
"Author Yeol-gong."
Somyeongseop fixed me with a glinting stare from the shadows, driving the nail home.
"You must come with us to the Murim Alliance."
Oh god. The ravings from Chwiseonru's readers had actually mobilized the Murim Alliance.
The cold sweat trickling down my back chilled eerily in the night breeze.