Mosquitoes Bleed When You Squish Them, Right?

Ding-dong.

“Wait, just a second. There shouldn't be anyone coming over…”

Cho-young called out as she stepped toward the entryway. “Who is it?”

Just as her fingers touched the metal handle, a synthetic donation chime cut through the air.

Cho-young froze, her hand hesitating on the brass lever.

Watching the stream chat scroll by, cold dread washed over her. The viewers were right. She was the sole alchemist in this entire modern world. It wouldn't be surprising in the slightest if predatory cultivators tracked her down to tear her place apart and seize her secrets.

Yet she had continued broadcasting her herb cultivation because her constitution demanded it. Her Universal Resonant Dao Body only absorbed ambient spiritual qi and advanced through the realms when cultivators ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tuned in to watch her. She had been forced to shoulder the risks of streaming for the sake of progression. Deep down, she had also assumed that since she was the only person capable of refining spirit pills, no one would dare kill their golden goose.

She had overlooked a crucial, chilling reality.

Back on the Island of Ascension, those vengeful spirits farmed me like livestock.

Why hadn't she considered that even if they didn't kill her, they could easily abduct her, lock her in a cellar, and milk her for pills until her bones dried up? Had returning to a warm, familiar apartment made her careless? Had her guard slipped because she was finally home, or had her fixation on ranking up through streams blinded her to basic survival? Frustration welled up within her for failing to anticipate a replay of the nightmare she had endured on Biseungdo.

Cho-young pulled her fingers away from the handle and took two cautious steps back.

Swallowing hard to wet her dry throat, Cho-young projected her voice toward the entryway. “Who is it?”

From the other side of the heavy front door came a deep, resonant rumble of a man's voice. “Delivery service.”

“…I didn't order any packages,” Cho-young said through the door.

“…Strange. The address clearly matches. Aren't you Ms. Cheon Cho-young?”

He even knew her name. That settled it—this was definitely no ordinary delivery courier. Her suspicion flared into outright alarm.

“J-Just leave it outside the door.”

“Company protocol requires direct handover in person.”

Right at that moment—

SLAM!!

A thunderous impact rocked the reinforced front door. Immediately after came a horrifying, screeching sound, like sharp claws raking viciously across metal.

Skreeeech!

Cho-young instinctively circulated her spiritual qi, priming the Fireball Art at her fingertips. The moment that door splintered open, she would unleash an incendiary blast straight into the intruder's face. She knew all too well that a basic entry-level technique might not even scratch a hardened cultivator, but she had no intention of going down without swinging.

Just then, a crisp, polite knocking sounded from the outer panel.

Knock, knock, knock.

“……”

“Cho-young-ah, it's me. Hye-yeon.”

Cho-young blinked. Hye-yeon? Shin Hye-yeon? Why did a burly man's voice suddenly turn into Hye-yeon's?

“A second ago, some delivery guy was out there…”

“Yeah. That bastard's gone.”

“G-Gone?”

“Open up.”

Holding her breath, Cho-young crept forward and peered through the optical peephole in the center of the door. Her jaw dropped. It really was Hye-yeon standing in the hallway.

Cho-young unlocked the latch and pulled the door open. On the threshold stood Shin Hye-yeon, her dark hair matted with fresh crimson streaks, her expression completely nonchalant. Cho-young's mouth fell wide open, frozen in speechless horror.

Dangling from Hye-yeon's right hand was the severed, dripping head of the man who had claimed to be a delivery courier.

“U-Um, everyone… I think I need to end today's broadcast right here.”

Cho-young frantically slammed the terminate button on her streaming interface, cutting the feed to black.

A short while later.

“Phew! That's so much better.” Having washed away the blood splattered across her face and forearms, Hye-yeon threw herself back onto the plush sofa with an exhausted sigh.

Cho-young set a tall glass of cold water on the coffee table in front of her, keeping a noticeable distance as she asked with undisguised caution, “W-What on earth was that?”

Catching Cho-young's wary stare, Hye-yeon scratched the back of her neck with an awkward, sheepish grin. “Well… ran into a bit of business outside.”

“Business?”

“Nothing you need to lose sleep over.”

“…Kind of hard to ignore considering how much blood was on you.”

“You know how when you swat a mosquito, blood splatters on your palm? Same thing. Exactly like that.” Hye-yeon flashed a bright, carefree smile, waving it off as if it were trivial.

A mosquito? Goosebumps erupted along Cho-young's arms. She rubbed her shoulders, a chill running down her spine. Cultivators really are all cut from the same cloth, aren't they?

Because Hye-yeon had always been cheerful and friendly on stream, Cho-young had temporarily forgotten the sheer, deranged moral apathy endemic to cultivators. Why had she assumed Hye-yeon would be an exception? A suffocating awkwardness settled over the living room.

Sensing the tension, Hye-yeon took a long swig of cold water, glancing sideways at Cho-young's subtle trembling. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guess I should give her a proper explanation.

Setting the glass down, Hye-yeon began in a subdued tone. “I belong to Pajeok Gate.”

“Pajeok Gate?”

“It's one of the Five Righteous Dao Sects. Alongside us, there's the Hyeonsan Gate, the Heavenly Sword Pavilion, the Azure Forest Valley, and the Purple Cloud Palace.”

The details tumbling from Hye-yeon's mouth sounded utterly surreal to Cho-young's ears. In the old days, corporate conglomerates like Samsung and LG ruled the economic landscape; in this modern cyberpunk era, the ancient Righteous Sects reigned supreme under corporate banners—Pajeok Group, Hyeonsan Group, Heavenly Sword Group, Azure Forest Group, and Purple Cloud Group.

These five titans maintained numerous outer sects, functioning much like corporate subsidiaries. Just as Cho-young knew from the martial traditions of old, disciples were strictly divided between outer and inner ranks, and outer disciples were barred from ever learning the core, secret arts reserved for the inner elite.

These five Righteous Sects operated exclusively within the territory of Neo Korea; across the seas lay countless foreign sects and clandestine powers. Counterbalancing the righteous alliance within Neo Korea were three sinister demonic factions:

The Demon-Repelling Sect, Puppet Valley, and the All-Living-Beings As One Cult.

The only reason there were merely three demonic factions compared to the five righteous ones was that the All-Living-Beings As One Cult wielded overwhelming, terrifying strength. Living up to their name, they were notoriously vicious, twisted psychopaths who stopped at nothing to achieve their ends.

The blood covering Hye-yeon earlier had belonged to scouts dispatched by one of these demonic sects to kidnap Cho-young.

“So you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠see,” Hye-yeon said, locking eyes with her, “whether they're righteous or demonic, every faction in the city is going to hunt you down with bloodshot eyes. Cultivators are creatures who will do anything—literally anything—if it aids their progression.”

Cho-young nodded quietly. In truth, she was no different. Bound by her unique constitution, she had no choice but to broadcast her herb cultivation to draw in cultivators and amass spiritual qi. Just as demonic cultivators butchered innocent mortals without blinking an eye to achieve breakthroughs, Cho-young braved the mortal perils of internet streaming to climb the ranks. In her ruthless pursuit of survival and advancement, she was walking the exact same razor's edge.

“Is that why you came too?” Cho-young asked softly.

Hye-yeon shook her head. “We definitely want to recruit you. But we won't force you.”

Her words sounded like an offer of free choice, but the calm assurance behind them felt undeniably imposing. Cho-young could tell that Pajeok Gate took it for granted that she had nowhere else to turn.

Ever since she started broadcasting, Cho-young had browsed cultivation forums, read through stream chats, and spent long hours pondering her next move. She had known this day would come—a major power knocking on her door with an offer. Could she truly trust them?

“What do you say?” Hye-yeon pressed, leaning forward. “Join Pajeok Gate. You name your price, and we'll pay it. You can keep streaming, so your cultivation won't stall. Isn't it far safer to live under our protection?”

Undoubtedly, sheltering under Pajeok Gate's colossal umbrella had immense benefits. She would receive powerful defensive talismans, her herb gardens would be guarded round the clock, and she could advance her realm in relative comfort as their honored chief alchemist. But was entering their cage truly the right move? Cho-young took a slow breath.

“Well… about that.”

A short while later.

Leaving Cho-young's apartment complex behind, Hye-yeon rode the high-speed transit lift straight to the 15th-floor executive wing of Pajeok Group's towering headquarters. Ok Ye-rin, freshly returned from a briefing with the Foreign Affairs Elder, paced near the entrance to greet her.

“You're back.”

“Hall Master Ok.”

“How did it go?”

Hye-yeon gave a meticulous account of everything that had transpired outside Cho-young's door, omitting not a single detail.

“Just as I suspected,” Ok Ye-rin muttered, crossing her arms. “Given that she's the only alchemist in existence, it was only a matter of time. In fact, I just finished conferring with the Foreign Affairs Elder and the Sect Master.”

“What did they say?”

“They ordered us to bring her in immediately. Did you extend the formal offer? We must secure her before the other four righteous sects catch wind of this.”

Watching Ok Ye-rin pace back and forth with frantic energy, a troubled grimace crossed Hye-yeon's face. “Uh, Hall Master?”

“…What should I have her refine first when she arrives? Maybe a True Spirit Earth Mask? Just the other day, I caught my reflection in the White Mirror and saw tiny fine lines creeping beside my nose! Am I forbidden from smiling now? What if laughing ruins my skin?!”

“Hall Master!”

“What?!”

“She rejected the offer.”

Ok Ye-rin's frantic steps halted dead. Slowly, she turned her head. “…What did you just say?”

“I went in person and laid out the terms as instructed, but she turned us down.”

Cho-young's answer had been a clean, decisive refusal to enter Pajeok Gate. Hye-yeon recalled the exact words the girl had spoken:

‘I'm sorry. If I align myself with any single sect, the fragile balance of power will instantly collapse. You know how cultivators are—they're obsessed maniacs who will burn down the world to get what they want.’

Though the fallout from her refusal would be immense, Hye-yeon had secretly found herself agreeing with the logic. Ok Ye-rin let out a dry, incredulous chuckle. To flatly turn down an invitation from Pajeok Gate, one of the five supreme pillars of the Righteous Dao? The sheer audacity was staggering.

“I will have to pay her a personal visit.”

At those words, Hye-yeon immediately dropped to one knee before her master. Ok Ye-rin stared down at her, surprised by the solemn gesture.

“Hall Master. Though she refused, I genuinely believe this is for the best.”

“…Because you want to hoard those slimming pills all to yourself?”

“…What on earth goes on inside that head of yours?”

“Then explain why you think this is a good thing,” Ok Ye-rin said, her tone sharpening. “And you know very well I'm not asking lightly.”

Even if Hye-yeon was her most cherished inner disciple, failing a mission to secure a transcendent pill master was a monumental offense. A simple reprimand would never suffice, especially when the Sect Master and elder council had already been informed of the girl's existence. Ok Ye-rin looked down at her disciple, feeling a genuine ache in her chest.

Hye-yeon spoke steadily. “She mentioned that if Pajeok Gate truly decides to take her by force, she has no power to resist.”

“…At least she understands her own insignificance.”

“However, she said the real catastrophe would begin immediately afterward.”

“Catastrophe? Why? Did she say she flat-out refuses to make my slimming pills?!”

“…It could trigger a total war, Hall Master.”

Ok Ye-rin's eyes widened in sudden realization.

Why hadn't she seen it? Had she been so blinded by the dazzling prospect of an exclusive alchemist that she lost sight of the grand board? If Pajeok Gate monopolized the world's only producer of spirit pills, every other faction on the continent would turn hostile overnight. Righteous or demonic, every sect would dispatch relentless waves of assassins, saboteurs, and strike teams to pry Cho-young from their grasp.

Pajeok Gate certainly possessed the martial might to defend its borders, but if rival sects resolved to drag them down in mutually assured destruction, the consequences would be catastrophic. There would always be fanatics willing to burn the world out of spite—if I cannot have her, no one will.

The delicate equilibrium maintained for decades would crumble. Mountains would topple, rivers would boil away, and the very ground beneath their feet might shatter into oblivion.

“…Blinded by immediate gain, I failed to foresee the aftermath,” Ok Ye-rin murmured softly.

“I didn't realize it at first either,” Hye-yeon admitted.

“And the girl deduced all this on her own?”

“Yes. She's remarkably sharp.”

Ok Ye-rin rested her chin on her fingers, pacing the polished marble floor of the executive suite. Her brow furrowed deeply, smoothing out only when she caught herself and hurriedly massaged the skin between her eyes to prevent wrinkles.

“……” Hye-yeon watched in silence, utterly at a loss for how her master's priorities functioned.

“A neutral grey zone…” Ok Ye-rin mused, tapping her lip. “Perhaps that truly is the wisest course of action for everyone involved. I must report this to the Sect Master at once.”

“I will await your decision, Master.”

“While you wait—”

“Yes?”

“Stick to her side like glue. Don't let her out of your sight.”

“Of course.”

“We cannot allow our walking, breathing supply of slimming pills to fall into anyone else's hands!”

“…Is that really all you care about?”

“What could possibly be more important than that?!” Ok Ye-rin snapped, puffing her cheeks before pointing an imperious finger. “Whether it's that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠live-streaming nonsense or co-hosting a broadcast, you stay attached to her hip, understand?! If another sect snatches her, you're dead! I'll turn your entire body into wrinkles and fold you up like laundry!!”

“Is that any way to threaten your own disciple?!”