What the Hell Am I Supposed to Do?!
As expected, Volume 5 was published flawlessly on schedule. The formidable intelligence network of Hwangbo Sega, the Beggar Union's eyes blanketing the world like a spiderweb, even the ears of the Haomun scouring every back alley—all of it proved utterly useless.
A stinking garbage cart heading to the rear incinerator of Cheongryong Mugwan. My blood-and-sweat manuscript, cleverly hidden amid that reeking filth, reached Danche Ryeong's hands without arousing a shred of suspicion from anyone.
Danche Ryeong, as always. It was the chilling efficiency befitting the queen of the underworld, who gripped murim's shadowy money lines. She'd even replaced the academy's cook auntie and trash collector uncle—mere nobodies—with her elite agents just to watch me. I had to sincerely tip my hat to the ruthless thoroughness of that heartless loan shark.
She was a terrifying woman who handled business with demonic precision. Thanks to her obsessive perfectionism, my life got another miraculous extension.
But separate from my shallow sigh of relief, the outside world had erupted into utter chaos.
Nakyang's vast bustling streets writhed in a terrifying shockwave, as if struck dead-center by a massive bomb. At the epicenter sat Regressor Sword God, This Life Fist King Volume 5, which I'd scribbled out in a frenzy.
Release day. Nakyang's premier thoroughfare was paralyzed from morning by hordes of martial artists clamoring for the book. Before Danga Sangdan's bookstore doors even opened, hundreds—no, thousands—lined up, veins bulging in fury.
And once they clutched their prize? They plopped right down in the street, flipping pages like madmen.
Volume 4's diabolical cliffhanger—the ruthless cutoff technique that had them sleepless. Hero Cheon Ujae's fate after plummeting off the cliff, and the true identity of his childhood friend betrayer, Gam Uhyeok. All the answers crashed into their skulls like a hammer.
The result? Devastating shock and uncontrollable terror.
First blow: the horrifying truth of the traitor Gam Uhyeok. Everyone thought Cheon Ujae's most trusted ally had just sold out for power, colluding with the shadowy villains. But Gam Uhyeok was no petty baddie.
The faint traces of ice arts leaking from his techniques. The red, murky blood staining the ice crystals. It wasn't orthodox sect martial arts—it was the vile demonic art of the murim's public enemy, the world's calamity: the Blood Cult.
Blood Yin Ice Art. Gam Uhyeok had long ago mastered the Blood Cult's demonic techniques, hiding his identity while posing as an upright young talent of the righteous factions. A monstrous fiend.
This bombshell truth drowned every inn and reading circle in Nakyang with screams and gasps. A promising heir of a prestigious orthodox sect, a Blood Cult puppet?! It shattered the rigid, narrow-minded worldview of this world's martial artists.
They hurled the books in rage, trembling with fury—yet overwhelmed by the villain's chilling depth, they scooped them up and kept reading.
At the heart of Chwiseonru, that hulking Danga Sangdan guard captain I'd dropped the hint to was no doubt preening like he'd conquered the world, toasting victory.
But what truly drove readers insane was the second shock.
Cheon Ujae, chased by death ghosts under Gam Uhyeok's orders, tumbling endlessly off the impenetrable Manjangae cliff. As he plummeted, he miraculously survived.
He awoke in a shadowy cave at the cliff base, brimming with eerie qi. There lay the final insights and manual of a legendary absolute master from centuries past: the Heaven-Shattering Fist God.
In that dark cavern, enduring bone-scraping agony, Cheon Ujae perfectly inherited every technique. He shed his weak past, reborn as an invincible Fist King with overwhelming power to crush the world.
This was the ultimate "payoff" plot twist web novelists would sell their souls for—one that blasted through every bottleneck. From utter despair and death's brink, a miraculous fortune grants absolute power. The perfect dopamine formula.
Familiar as rice soup to modern readers, but to this barren wuxia world's fans? Brain-melting drugs they'd never tasted.
The streets filled with beastly roars from martial artists ecstatic over Cheon Ujae's revival and awakening. Men wept openly, as if they'd claimed the fortune themselves.
Nakyang was utterly dominated by every character I'd conjured from ink, spiraling into madness.
While the world drowned in frenzied festival and chaotic inferno, the culprit—the root of all evil—lounged peacefully in Cheongryong Mugwan's cramped, dingy dorm room.
A satisfied smile played on my lips.
Those two overwhelming twists had hammered readers' brains. No need to see it myself; my ten-year veteran web novel instincts screamed success.
"Heh heh heh... By now, they're all foaming at the mouth, begging for the next volume."
Lost in pleasant fantasies, I chuckled, effortlessly plotting Volume 6 in my head.
Cheon Ujae, reborn as the perfect Fist King from the cave fortune. Now, time to ram home brutal, merciless revenge on Gam Uhyeok and the Blood Cult scum who trapped him.
No half-assed forgiveness or mercy in modern web novels. Blood for blood, utter ruin for betrayal—that's true dopamine.
Fingers twitching, I envisioned skull-crushing action with overwhelming might. Texts and dramatic lines cascaded like waterfalls in my mind.
Deep in that writer's trance of inspiration—
Knock knock.
A dull, ominous rap shattered the pitch-black night's silence, rattling my eardrums.
Who the hell knocks this late? Swallowing hard, I crept to the door.
"Wh-who is it?"
A familiar yet strangely off voice replied from outside. "Teacher Yeon Woon-ryong... it's Suyeon."
Hwangbo Suyeon, my novel's most dangerous genius fanatic, brain pickled beyond saving. I rubbed my dry face and cautiously cracked the door.
Faint moonlight slipped through, illuminating her. Still beautiful, but her vibe was... different tonight. In her arms: a steaming-fresh Volume 5 of Regressor Sword God, This Life Fist King.
But her face wasn't lit with a reader's joy. Deep despair and defeat shadowed her stunning features, like the world had crumbled. Her clear eyes brimmed with worry and inexplicable gloom.
"Volume 5... it's out."
Her voice trembled weakly. Gone was her usual clear, confident tone.
I feigned puzzled concern at her sullen voice and tragic expression. "I see. The next volume you've awaited so eagerly is finally here—why the dark face?"
Biting her lower lip, she sighed deeply, head drooping. "We mobilized every ounce of Hwangbo Sega's intelligence and manpower."
Every word from her lips weighed like lead, pure nightmare fuel. "Even that wasn't enough, so I begged Father to unleash the Beggar Union's tight nets and Haomun's secret informants across Nakyang's underbelly."
I gulped inwardly, spooked anew. Insane, over-the-top scale—even hearing it again made me twitchy.
"We blanketed every Danga Sangdan print shop and headquarters in Nakyang with an inescapable heaven's net—not a rat could slip through."
She clutched the book tighter, indignant. "Yet... we found not a speck of evidence."
Her voice quivered. "No clue when, by whose hand, or how the manuscript slipped into Danga Sangdan's depths."
Ghost-level stuff, right? Danche Ryeong had won this spy war flawlessly. Even the alliance of murim's top intel networks couldn't match the underworld queen's street-honed craft.
I inwardly cheered, applauding her vicious precision once more. But outwardly, I kept my sage teacher's benevolent nod. "A true tragedy. Such a great author must have reached absolute mastery in erasing traces."
I soothed her softly, hoping to end this perilous detective drama. Please just give up and move on.
But my modest hope shattered instantly.
Hwangbo Suyeon's bowed head snapped up. Fists clenched white-knuckled. Despair vanished, replaced by incomprehensible certainty and resolve.
"No, Teacher."
Her voice rang clear and sharp—colder, more resolute than ever. "This perfect failure revealed one crystal-clear truth."
What truth? A chill crawled my spine; I instinctively stepped back.
A mad glint flickered in her pristine eyes. "With the Beggar Union and Haomun watching wide-eyed, no trace of an outside manuscript?"
Her red lips curled in a eerie arc. "Only one conclusion."
She advanced, nailing it home. "Proof positive: that great author is already inside Danga Sangdan!"
Crazy! Why'd her logic twist like that?! Mouth agape, I reeled at her wild deduction.
But she didn't stop. Her genius brain, once derailed, spawned an unstoppable monster.
"Think, Teacher! Why would an absolute master enlightened to heavenly principles tangle with those filthy underworld merchants?"
Her breath grew ragged, excitement building. "Perhaps... the author fell victim to Danga Sangdan's vile schemes, seized by a fatal weakness!"
No, I just borrowed cash and blew it gambling.
"Trapped in some dank, sunless basement cell, oppressed and unfree!"
Wrong! I'm chilling comfy in Cheongryong Mugwan's dorm!
"Enduring those brutal loan sharks' torment, forced to write day after day in exploitation!"
Wait, the forced writing part's kinda true, but why's it sound so noble?!
I was flabbergasted, unjustly framed. But the genius girl before me fully bought her horrific delusion as fact.
Her eyes blazed past pity for her idol author—to murderous rage at Danga Sangdan.
Meeting that madness-filled gaze, icy terror froze my blood. She was terrifying for real.
A martial master lost to blind faith? Her aura screamed the horrors she'd unleash.
"I can't stand it."
Clutching the novel tight, she declared doom. "I must rescue that great author from that hellish pit."
No hesitation. "I'll smash Danga Sangdan to pieces and bring him safely to my side!"
This unyielding maniac's fanaticism—over one wuxia novel—teetered on all-out war between righteous titan Hwangbo Sega and underworld overlord Danga Sangdan.
What the hell am I supposed to do?!