Do We Really Need to Go This Far?!

My worries about what Hwangbo Suyeon might do turned out to be completely unfounded—in a good way. The next day, and the day after that, there wasn't a single unusual movement. No rumors circulated about Danga Sangdan's headquarters being smashed to pieces, nor were there any grim reports of back-alley loan sharks being slaughtered by Hwangbo Sega warriors. The world carried on with its peaceful, everyday routine as if nothing had happened.

Hwangbo Suyeon's attitude was one of the things driving me insane. She still sat ramrod straight in the front row during my boring literature classes. And all she did was pore over that junk-food dopamine bomb of a novel I'd written while coughing up blood, rereading it for the Nth time. Her clear eyes still shimmered with fanatical worship and obsession for that mysterious author, but her outward behavior was nothing more than that of an avid reader—nothing more, nothing less.

Even when the hellish deadline was finally beaten and all six volumes hit the shelves safely, it was the same. She got her hands on the next installment she'd been desperately waiting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for, but she didn't go berserk. She simply came quietly to my dorm room and knocked on the door.

"Teacher Yeon Woon-ryong, about the developments in volume six... It feels like the 'sweet potato-lemonade technique' you mentioned before has reached absolute perfection in this volume."

She sat across from me alone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and spent over two hours dissecting every single sentence of the novel in a one-on-one reading session. I broke out in cold sweats at her razor-sharp analysis, nodding mechanically and chiming in with agreement.

"Y-yeah, exactly. What incredible insight, Cadet Suyeon."

At my clumsy praise, Hwangbo Suyeon flashed a pure, flawless smile and left. That was it. She showed no other reactions, no suspicious moves whatsoever.

That's why I was even more terrified. If she'd barged in or caused a scene, my gut wouldn't be burning like this. This suffocating silence... it felt like the eerie calm before a horrific catastrophe.

Separate from my extreme anxiety, Danche Ryeong's ruthless deadlines kept strangling my neck without mercy. I had no choice but to pick up my brush. My finger joints screamed, and my eyes were bloodshot to the point of bursting. And so, I finally completed volume seven.

This seventh volume was the highlight section where the ultimate lemonade payoff exploded, smashing readers' brains. Cheon Ujae, now fully inheriting the Parcheon Fist God's power, clashed head-on with the horde of blood ghosts led by the Demonic Cult's fiend Gam Uhyeok. It was a merciless slaughterfest that washed away all the pent-up rage and frustration of readers in one go. A cathartic feast of overwhelming fist gangs pulverizing enemies' heads.

The completed manuscript for volume seven safely reached Danche Ryeong's hands, thanks to the "dedicated" help of Grandma Gukbap and Trash-Collecting Granny.

Three days had already passed since volume seven's release. And my web novel writer's instincts, ingrained in my bones, began to stir. I couldn't stand not seeing the murim readers' reactions with my own eyes.

"By now, all of Nakyang must be going wild, right?"

I chuckled to myself, letting my imagination run wild. Inns everywhere would be packed with people debating the novel's plot, clinking glasses. The readers of this barren murim world, enslaved by dopamine and the printed word—their hot, ecstatic reactions were the perfect fatigue recovery for any author. Craving that sweet high, I hurriedly got ready to head out.

As dusk fell and darkness thickened, I left Cheongryong Mugwan's main gate with a pounding heart. My feet naturally carried me to Nakyang's busiest, most crowded commercial district.

"Let's see, which inn should I hit today to bask in the readers' drunken rants?"

Even humming a light tune, I stepped into the bustling streets.

Huh? But the moment I entered, I sensed something was gravely wrong. Bustling... streets? Had I come to the right place?

I rubbed my eyes and double-checked the scene before me. Nakyang's premier commercial district, a title that now rang hollow, was eerily deserted. Just a few days ago, when volumes five and six dropped, this street had been so jammed with people buying books and warriors forming reading groups that there wasn't even standing room. It should've been deafening with the stench of booze, sweat, and men's rough shouts.

But now, a gloomy pall hung over it. This was prime time for rowdy book discussions and drinking parties, yet it was quiet—creepily quiet.

"What the hell? Where did everyone go?"

Panicking, I whipped my head around. Here and there under the lamp lights, ordinary merchants and commoners ate their dinners. But not a single warrior clutching my book, veins bulging as they held heated debates.

Cold sweat trickled down my spine. Anxious, I quickened my pace toward the district's heart. My unease peaked when I reached Chwiseonru, Nakyang's grandest inn and holy site for reading meetups.

"This is insane... What the hell happened?"

A groan escaped my lips. The massive, glamorous Chwiseonru was shut tight, closed for business. A big wooden sign hung on the door, swaying in the wind: "Closed Today."

"What disaster hit murim? Did the Demonic Cult invade or something?"

Seized by endless bewilderment and dread, I frantically dashed around the district. Every inn, bookstore, teahouse—any spot warriors might gather—was utterly empty. An ominous foreboding made my heart race wildly.

Then, my frantic steps halted before a familiar building. It was near the vast plaza where Danga Sangdan's massive headquarters stood.

"Gasp..."

I sucked in a breath, staring at the darkened plaza. An unbelievable sight unfolded before me.

A sea of people. Every murim reader who'd vanished from Nakyang's streets filled the plaza without a gap. Easily over a thousand—a massive crowd. Dressed in all sorts of garb, they clustered with a menacing aura, like a Murim Alliance expedition lineup. Torches held high, they moved in perfect unison.

And then, a colossal roar erupted from a thousand throats, shaking Nakyang's night sky.

Someone in the front row led the call, and the crowd responded in unison, voices tearing through the air.

What? A protest? In the middle of this murim world, readers of my web novel had gathered for a group demonstration against Danga Sangdan?

I was so flabbergasted I nearly collapsed on the spot. In this rigid wuxia world where grudges were settled with clashing swords and spears in bloodbaths, setting aside force for "peaceful" collective action to demand rights? This defied everything I knew about wuxia common sense.

But one person with the abnormal brain to plan and execute this outrageous stunt sprang to mind.

I turned my trembling gaze to the front row of the protesters, where the torches burned brightest. And in that instant, my heart plummeted to the depths.

At the forefront, leading the furious readers with the fiercest chants—a girl. Snow-white skin, elegant white martial robes clinging to her petite, sturdy frame. That all-too-familiar silhouette.

Hwangbo Suyeon. It was her.

Hiding behind a dingy alley wall, I clutched my head with both hands. This mad genius girl was a far more vicious and terrifying monster than I'd imagined.

Now it all made sense why she'd been so quiet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after our dorm room chat. She hadn't given up or waited idly. During those grueling two weeks while volumes six and seven came out back-to-back, she'd tirelessly scoured Nakyang's inns and streets, rallying every scattered reading group one by one.

Uncles bickering over the traitor's identity, men debating Cheon Ujae's fate—she'd united those fragmented offline communities with Hwangbo Sega's formidable backing and her overwhelming logic.

"Don't resort to force. We must bring Teacher out into the world with legitimate cause and rights!"

She'd surely weaponized that "legal rights demand" nonsense I'd blabbered. And the result? Leading all of Nakyang's readers in this massive protest, occupying the plaza before Danga Sangdan.

"Do we really need to go this far?!"

I screamed silently, banging my head against the wall. For a face-to-face with a mere kill-time web novel author, was it sane for this many people to torch up and surround ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the guild?

Yulgong. My pen name from my past life. The demands were growing more specific—and deranged.

How would Danga Sangdan react to this overwhelming, violent mob of a thousand? Danche Ryeong, the emotionless underworld queen with my leash in her grip—would she even flinch at this absurd show of force?

Kkiiiggg—

The massive iron gates of Danga Sangdan's headquarters groaned open with a heavy rumble. The moment they parted, the plaza's roar cut off. A heavy silence descended, as if time itself had frozen.

Taat, tat, tat!

Huge shadows poured out from the gap. Danga Sangdan's elite guards—house-sized brutes covered in scars, radiating savage menace. They lined up left and right at the entrance, gripping gleaming greatswords ready to cleave flesh from bone.

Overwhelmed by the top predators' ferocious aura and looks, the protesters involuntarily flinched back a step.

But one person alone didn't budge, standing firm. Hwangbo Suyeon. As the crowd retreated, she ended up isolated at the front.

Yet her face showed no fear, no tremor. Instead, the vicious, massive blue aura—like the one from when she'd nearly demolished the lecture hall—began to rise from her back.

And finally.

Parting the ranks of brutes, a woman emerged from the shadows, elegant and lethally beautiful. Dressed in dazzling red silk, her cold, arrogant snake eyes glared down icily at the obstructing Hwangbo Suyeon.

Danche Ryeong, sub-branch leader of Danga Sangdan.

In this mad murim world, the two women hounding me most, driving me to the brink. The twin peaks of this ridiculous drama over my life and identity: Hwangbo Suyeon, the ice-cold genius girl possessed by madness from a prestigious righteous sect, and Danche Ryeong, the merciless underworld loan shark queen without blood or tears.

At last, the two faced off directly amid the torchlit streets of Nakyang's night.