Chapter 65
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Homeward Bound
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The inn's empty tables gradually filled with people.
Individuals of every status, clad in all sorts of outfits and ensembles.
Some ducked in to escape the sudden heavy raindrops, others for a meal or drinks.
Quite a few sought lodging as well.
Inside the modest inn, Woo Hak-bong gulped down pricey clear liquor.
"I was too hasty."
He continued.
"Young master, what do you plan to do now?"
He should have led with that.
Not long ago, he'd similarly probed Seo Mun-ha's intentions, but these past few days had shifted his perspective considerably.
"What do you mean, do?"
Seo Mun-ha shot back.
Woo Hak-bong, whose eye for people was second to none among Beggar Clan disciples.
No one in the murim lacked a backstory or secrets, yet Seo Mun-ha had vaulted over walls far higher than Woo Hak-bong had envisioned.
"Whether you plan to keep... meddling in the affair."
Rash solo acts could botch the whole thing.
If he didn't outright hinder, that'd be a win—and the reason Woo Hak-bong, who'd once counseled restraint, flipped his stance was simple.
A transcendent master. Rated to match Blood-Faced Asura—one of the world's top hundred experts, who'd attained the Five Realms and Entering Divinity stage.
A warrior who could pin him down and count as firepower? That changed everything.
Not just the techniques Seo Mun-ha wielded, but his inner energy too—all enigmas. Yet the results spoke for themselves.
Seo Mun-ha's prowess outstripped any late-stage Mountain Shattering Realm expert Woo Hak-bong had sized up.
Best case: heed the Murim Alliance's guidance. Next best? Not half bad.
'I'm no Murim Alliance man, but...'
The fallout from swallowing Shandong terrified more than the storm itself.
Liaoning abutted Hebei; the east-west span hinged on the Liao River. Old Shandong direct control aside, the Liaodong lands across the sea were a whole other beast.
Seo Mun-ha's laid-back vibe screamed that distant shore.
His relieved look post-resolution might as well have been oceans away.
Truth be told, no need to poll his stance.
Righteous murim, Shandong's Seo Mun Clan, the clan's Seo Mun-ha—that alone overflowed reasons to dive into the fray.
'But this guy's unbound by any framework.'
Seo Mun-ha calmly savored his liquor’s bouquet.
"No plans to pull out now."
Blind to official or military lines of old, botched handling always sparked backlash and defiance.
Hadn't kicked it off? Fine. But with one grudge squared away, Seo Mun-ha aimed to end the demon cultists for good.
"Least, that's how I've rolled till now."
Faith before adaptation.
"Integrity, skill—whatever. Not used to anyone's protection yet."
"You're hardly pushing thirty—what's with the grizzled vet talk?"
Sounded like a man who'd lived a dozen lives.
Soft mutter under breath, Woo Hak-bong gauged him and pivoted.
"Eh... wasn't gonna meddle in your pick anyway."
He rapped the table, pressing on.
Back to their next stop—the brief detour topic.
"Long story short, two bad breaks for a guy like you."
Seo Mun-ha eyed him. How dire to make him dawdle?
"Bad and worse. Pick your poison?"
"Dealer’s choice."
"Lesser evil it is."
The Seo Mun Clan answered the Murim Alliance's call for aid.
Harmless on paper, but clan details spelled trouble.
Sichuan branches, Hangzhou hubs, Liaodong outposts—the Seo Mun Clan backed expansion lavishly on all fronts. Yet Uncle Seo Mun Jeong-ryong's Hangzhou jaunt dragged the main warriors along, leaving home thin.
"Frankly, losses'll sting. Honor gained, edges dulled."
Factor in home-turf rival Hwang Bo Clan? Shaky call.
"Patriarch's honor demands respect, but aftermath worthy of their loyalty? Doubt it."
"Worse one?"
"Your siblings flew the clan flag this time."
Seo Mun Jun-sang and Seo Mun Young-ryeong.
"Volunteered as guides."
"..."
"With Ha Sojeo and Dang Sojeo along, no frontline duty—but risk's risk."
"Rest?"
"As guessed. Pity."
Seo Mun-ha replayed the late-stage Mountain Shattering Realmers' thick formations and setups.
Seo Mun-ha—those two characters—faced with big calls or small.
"Gotta head home."
No agonized debate.
"Your take, brother Woo?"
"Spot on."
Many for few? Murim staple.
'Baek Ri young lady and Dang young lady together means their crew's there.'
Plus, no guaranteed sacrifice.
Changcheon Sword Dragon and Whirlwind Earth Dragon hunting Gwangpung Twin Demons and Child Ghost.
Taecheong Sword tracking the vanished.
Nine Dragons Seven Peaks anchors drawing full late-stage might to the rally—naturally folding in the women Seo Mun-ha knew, plus clan fourth son and eldest daughter.
"Uninitiated'll blink odd."
Tally their tailing warriors? No trivial force.
"Different gigs for all."
Woo Hak-bong nodded reassurance, backing the home run like a cheerleader.
Nangong Cheon-hwi looped back, Peng Ho-rip shelved grudges—righteous reps both.
"Looks exploity?"
"Does. Nab Blood-Faced Asura, chase house gains? Finger-pointers are scum."
Righteous pragmatists, cuts clean as bone.
"But... why so gung-ho now?"
Neither chasing righteous leads or councils pronto—kindred spirits aplenty.
"Said we'd make nice just prior, heh. Can't have my meal ticket fold."
Seo Mun-ha snorted at the brazen Woo Hak-bong.
Folk wisdom: jianghu murim holds no eternal foes or friends.
Trust Peng Ho-rip aside, the man's clan-yard rampage screamed reliable.
Even if he'd secret-lettered Hwang Bo Woo-jun while eyeing him publicly.
"Young master."
The waiter sidled up gingerly.
Meal done, Seo Mun-ha grabbed the boy's bundle, sparing the kid's huffing under the hefty overcoat flap.
"Thanks. Tell the chef it hit the spot."
Paid up, donned fresh ink-black overcoat.
"Meant to say ages back—wild taste."
Those billowing sleeves hid what now? Woo Hak-bong knew.
Beyond quirk, pure obstinacy in the flawless match—zero thread astray.
Seo Mun-ha half-mumbled.
'Surpass old realm, white robes work.'
No stray blood drop then.
Like remote sword transcendence, wry chant done, he belted on the blade.
Gu Chil—Murim Alliance-bound—passed horse and sword.
Seo Mun-ha swept the inn, ignoring Woo Hak-bong's sour puss.
"Dongchangfu next rendezvous."
"Right."
Nailing his soliloquy, Woo Hak-bong cocked his head odd.
"Wait—from talk, wasn't southbound flow?"
"No big-righteous type."
Flipping scripted plays, the guileless beggar gawked mute.
"Home matters too."
"..."
"But quicker to crack skulls, yeah?"
Big-fish small-fry conqueror, beggar woman's head logged: greedy bastard.
"Whoa."
Words cheap, deeds killer.
Murim Alliance versus demon cult—open secret.
Cultists carved outs with decades-deep spies amid the noose.
Hundred-odd sects bait-labeled demon.
Alliance stride smooth, win plain.
Linchpin: demon lord survival, bolt-holes.
Intent known, yet ploy-played—demonic arts and cultist peril demanded it, capping damage creep.
Still, demon lord slips? Trouble root intact.
Much to hold meant much to lose.
Righteous murim excised inner blots to scrub shame.
'Can't dump endless grunts on vague demon hunts.'
Woo Hak-bong pegged Seo Mun-ha Murim-practical.
War crux: warriors. Warrior crux: arts. Endgame: elite power-time grind.
Soldier-martial gap beyond headcount. Beyond win-lose, Seo Mun-ha's blaze-dive masked unwitting righteousness.
'Misread him?'
Woo Hak-bong stared confounded.
Greater-good pose? Nah—just fretting close kin over far clan pale.
"Not that epic."
Shrug light, Seo Mun-ha brushed it off.
"They croak? Nightmares inbound."
Warned pointed.
"You too, brother Woo."
Inn hushed eerie-long.
'Me too?'
Not solo stunned—Seo Mun-ha clocked frozen chopsticks.
'...Since when?'
Woo Hak-bong flicked eyes.
Tracking sharp as ever.
Hint crystal, gazes heavy—he chin-jerked abrupt.
Worse ill tidings.
"Busted!"
Instant flip—folk lunged at the pair.
Crash!
Seo Mun-ha and Woo Hak-bong bolted opposite, inn-shattering exit.
Groan.
Woo Hak-bong's tail: duo only.
'Shoulda heeded senior bro, drilled arts.'
Just two—yet no clean break.
Sighing at flankers while jeering leaden limbs.
Thwack! Crunch!
Knee snap-up, elbow slam-down—high-low swap, vitals popped. Duo downed sync.
"Suck at scraps, told ya."
Scanned inn perimeter next.
Rest mobbed Seo Mun-ha, sans pair.
'He'll sort it.'
Fainted foes unveiled odd disguises.
"Ronin, huh."
No warrior polish—commoner mimic spot-on, lives cropped raw.
"Damn."
Perfectly suckered, Woo Hak-bong scratched, marveled Seo Mun-ha's eagle eye afresh.
Ghost earned ghost rep.
'Dongchangfu bound.'
Shared mark.
No clue on bad-blood spots, but dust hands, course-correct.
"No breather for ya."
Griped yet stripped ronin IDs bare—unbidden zeal.
Odd buzz hit.
Lingering itch.
Tsk.
Missed-key blues, blamed duck gui feast, lips smacked vain.
Map inn-ditched? Liquor tab skipped?
'Nah.'
Chest clogged yet, head shake, drizzle-trod Seo Mun-ha chase resumed.