The Danga Escort's Third Squad Leader
How on earth was he supposed to break through the heavenly net that Hwangbo Sega had spread by pulling in even the Open Faction and Hao Gate, just to inform Danche Ryeong of this fact?
He racked his brains over it endlessly. Then, in the midst of that, a solution flashed into his mind. Slapping his knee, Yeon Woon-ryong shot to his feet.
He hurriedly unrolled a sheet of paper and ground some ink. Then he poured out the current situation in meticulous detail. He folded it neatly, slipped it into an envelope, and hid it deep in his desk drawer to await the right moment.
Exactly two days after his novel's fourth volume hit every bookstore and inn within Nakyang's walls, in the evening twilight, he finally retrieved the hidden letter. Tucking it secretly into the deepest fold of his robe, he stepped out through Cheongryong Mugwan's weathered front gate.
His footsteps weren't headed for Danga Sangdan. No, they led straight to Nakyang's most bustling pleasure district.
Humming a cheerful tune under his breath, he began poking his head into inns, restaurants, and rowdy teahouses—anywhere the clamor of voices rose above the din. The streets boiled like a massive furnace.
Even though it had only been two days since release, every warrior in Nakyang had lost their souls to the fourth volume's shocking twists, rampaging like madmen.
"No way—Gam Uhyeok's the betrayer?! In all my years in murim, I've never seen such a dogshit backstab!"
"Tell me about it! The loyal bro who sacrificed his limbs to save the protagonist turns out to be the traitor? My heart's been pounding so hard I can't sleep!"
Every back alley, every tavern bench—they all hosted reading groups without fail. For these rigid, honor-bound murim folk who prized loyalty above all, the web-novel spice of a childhood friend's betrayal hit like a cultural nuke straight to the brain.
People slammed tables in rage, veins bulging, yet they all surrendered to the author's devilish pen, clamoring for volume five.
Yeon Woon-ryong soaked in the frenzied heat with his whole body as he strolled leisurely through the heart of the district. There was a clear, logical reason he could wander these reading meetups so freely.
A few days back, the night he'd handed over the freshly completed fourth volume manuscript to Danga Sangdan's office. Those ruthless underworld loan-shark thugs lined up against Danche Ryeong's office wall, betting silver taels on the next betrayer in his novel. That absurd scene.
Recalling the comedic sight, he was certain: The higher-ups like Danche Ryeong were too busy, but among the musclebound enforcers below them, at least one had to be hitting up after-work reading groups at outside inns.
Right now, he was combing Nakyang's pleasure district for that monstrous composite-sketch brute who'd joined one.
And now he'd reached Chwiseonru, the largest inn in Nakyang, famed for drawing the biggest crowds.
The ground floor of the massive Chwiseonru was packed tighter than a drum with humanity. The stench of booze, food, and above all, sweaty men's roars blended into a deafening roar that left ears ringing.
Yeon Woon-ryong scanned every corner with a hawk's eye, slipping through the crowd like a ghost.
After circling for a while, eavesdropping on heated debates, his gaze locked onto the hall's central massive round table.
"Found you."
A thrilled gasp slipped unbidden from his lips.
There, over a dozen burly warriors sat ringed around it, debating with such ferocious intensity it seemed a brawl might erupt any second. And smack in the middle sat a man whose overwhelming presence didn't match the refined notion of a "reading group" one bit.
A hulking frame built not for elegantly turning pages, but for smashing skulls with the thick edge of a hardcover. Forearms swollen like they might burst, face scarred by a long, vicious blade mark—grotesque.
No doubt about it. This was the Danga Sangdan escort team's third squad leader, the one who'd gawked in shock at Gam Uhyeok's reveal back in Danche Ryeong's office, reluctantly pulling silver from his pouch.
The brute was pounding the table with his fist—thud thud—veins snaking up his neck like writhing serpents as he unleashed a tirade.
"Listen up, you dense bastards! Hear me out properly!"
His gravelly roar pierced the inn's noise, booming across the room.
"Look at that final scene where Cheon Ujae gets jumped by the assassins Gam Uhyeok sent and plummets off the cliff!"
The surrounding warriors gulped, eyes glued to his lips.
"He drops into the bottomless abyss of Manjangae—obviously, every bone in his body shattered on impact. He's dead!"
A middle-aged swordsman across from him leaped up in rebuttal to the pessimistic claim.
"What kinda jinx talk is that?! Cheon Ujae's the protagonist—he ain't dyin' that lame! Bet he snagged a pine branch midway down and survived!"
The other readers unleashed a barrage of protests at the brute. Murim readers here loathed bad ends for protagonists just as much as modern ones did.
But the Danga Sangdan escort third squad leader didn't flinch amid the fierce backlash, flashing a wicked grin.
"Tsk tsk, you naive fools. The author made Gam Uhyeok such a brutal traitor—think he'd cheap out with a pine branch cliché?"
The brute tried to dominate with his sharp take.
"Cheon Ujae's dead! And it'll lead to a second regression arc, mark my words!"
Huh. Not bad. A second regression...
But unlike Yeon Woon-ryong's approval, the inn erupted again at the wild, nightmarish prediction.
Having spewed his bombshell like a storm, the brute plopped back down with smug triumph, as if he'd seized the debate. Throat parched from all the yelling, he grabbed the massive ceramic bowl on the table and chugged the cold water.
His Adam's apple bobbed relentlessly in that defenseless moment.
Like a cat, Yeon Woon-ryong padded silently behind the brute's broad, sturdy back.
He bent one knee slightly, bringing his mouth right to the man's ear. Then, in a low, secretive whisper clear enough to cut through the din:
"Danga Sangdan escort third squad leader... a moment."
"Gahhhhk! *Cough*! *Pffft*!"
The instant his murmur pierced the brute's eardrum, the massive body jolted like it'd been struck by lightning. Choking hard, he sprayed water wildly from nose and mouth, hacking away.
The middle-aged swordsman across took the full fountain to the face, screaming as he wiped down.
"You gone mad?! What the hell?!"
As the crowd recoiled in shock and buzzed, the brute finally caught his breath amid tears and snot, whipping his bloodshot eyes toward Yeon Woon-ryong.
His ferocious face twisted not in anger, but in utter terror and shock—like confronting a demon in the dark.
The face from Danga Sangdan's office. Their precious sodanju doted on this mad genius writer, holding their lives in his grip—and now he appeared out of nowhere behind him. Small wonder.
"H-Huh?! W-Wri... no, you—how...!"
As the brute stammered and pointed in panic, Yeon Woon-ryong whipped out the sealed letter from his bosom with lightning speed and shoved it deep into the man's thick martial robe.
The brute froze mid-hiccup at the sudden move.
Yeon Woon-ryong leaned to his huge ear again, whispering gravely:
"Don't open this letter under any circumstances. Deliver it to Sodanju right now, secretly."
His voice held no hint of jest—pure sincerity.
"If it doesn't reach Sodanju intact, she'll yank every last tooth from you all. This is that serious."
At the stealthy, chilling warning, sweat poured from the brute's brow like rain. Grasping the gravity instantly, he clamped his mouth shut like a mute, nodding stiffly with rigid solemnity.
Thus, his perilously risky letter delivery succeeded on the first pass, fooling the Open Faction beggars and Hao Gate spies perfectly.
How could lurking watchers search and stop a core escort warrior carrying it back to HQ in his own bosom?
Yeon Woon-ryong patted the brute's broad shoulders reassuringly. But reluctant to leave empty-handed, he decided to reward this ferocious reader who'd played postman with a special author-only gift.
Pressing close once more, he whispered a lethal hint into the ear:
"Oh, and one more thing..."
The brute gulped, eyes locked on his lips.
"In volume four, chapter five—remember when betrayer Gam Uhyeok meets the secret mastermind in the cave over tea?"
The brute's eyes bulged; he nodded frantically.
"There's a line where the teacup's surface thinly freezes over. Readers'll think it's the Gam family's secret Hanbing Jingi leaking out."
Yeon Woon-ryong curled his lips in a sly grin, dropping the hammer:
"But recall precisely. The ice crystals weren't blue—they shimmered with dark crimson bloodlight. Not Hanbing Jingi. It's the trace of Blood Sect's vile demonic art, Hyeoleum Binggong."
The brute's massive pupils quaked like an earthquake.
"Gam Uhyeok isn't just a traitor colluding with the mastermind in the shadows. Long ago, he mastered Blood Sect demonic arts, reaching the Returning Demon Ghost Realm—hiding as a majin all this time."
Volume 5 Core Reveal
It was a colossal spoiler piercing the heart of volume five's saga—one no one but the author could dream up.
Yeon Woon-ryong winked at the brute, frozen with jaw agape in shock.
"Win this debate."
Without lingering, he turned and wove out of the raucous Chwiseonru hall.
As he crossed the threshold into the night street, the brute's voice—fresh from choking and sputtering—boomed anew, shaking the inn.
"You frog-in-a-well idiots! Shut up and listen to me!"
Absolute conviction and momentum filled his roar, no doubt left.
Hearing the brute triumphantly seize total control of the debate behind him, Yeon Woon-ryong slipped away from the district with light steps.
Perfect. The warning letter delivered safely through the net. Now back to his shabby dorm, to await leisurely how Danga Sangdan would pierce this crisis and contact him.