Three Days' Activities (1)
“Perfect. Let's head back.”
“Where to?”
The one who welcomed me after I was suddenly kicked out of the patriarch's quarters was my second brother, whom I'd just parted from earlier.
“To Father.”
“I just got thrown out of there?”
“That's why we're going back. Besides, I have something to report to Father about you.”
No, I just said I got kicked out!
“Can't we just leave it like this?”
“No. Come on, follow me.”
“……Yes.”
I feel it every time, but this damn family is way too self-centered.
And so, I ended up seeing Father twice in one day.
He gave me a cursory glance before shifting his gaze to Second Brother Namgung Jung.
Brother spoke up.
“Father, I have an urgent request. Allow me to personally assess the youngest's capabilities.”
“!!!”
I whipped my head around to stare at Second Brother Namgung Jung. Out of nowhere, he wants to gauge my abilities? Hell, even I'm not curious about that.
“Brother, I'm just your average warrior. How could I possibly……”
“You stay quiet. I'm talking to Father right now.”
But this is ultimately about me, you jerk!
My senses sharpened. The world seemed to slow down, like time itself was dragging. The air around me, the scents, the subtle psychological shifts unfolding here—information I couldn't even perceive before flooded in with crystal clarity. I'd heard this happens in clashes between true masters. And right now, that was exactly the situation.
Putting it all together led to one clear conclusion.
I had to stop it. No matter what Brother was planning!
At that moment.
“Why?”
Father asked.
“Your martial prowess surpasses the youngest's, and your influence is vast. If you truly wished it, you could erase him from this world in the blink of an eye.”
These guys!
The youngest in question was right here, eyes wide open, and yet they had no filter speaking in front of me.
“I have no hobby of picking on the weak. You know that well, Father. Please refrain from testing me like this.”
I looked at Second Brother anew. He was even showing displeasure toward Father. What guts.
And I could tell. Absurd as it was, Second Brother was dead serious.
“For you to bare your true feelings to me—what a rarity. Very well, then I'll ask. Why do you want to test the youngest?”
Yes! That's right, Father—keep pressing him!
Strike hard and take control!
I've already told you everything I want! Peaceful farming! Or maybe running a small merchant caravan!
“Because I'm confused.”
No, Brother—I'm the confused one here?
“Are you confused? Or is it the youngest?”
Me!
“Both. I want to clarify my feelings toward the youngest once and for all. So please permit it.”
“But if you two fought, it wouldn't even be a contest—your victory is assured. This matchup feels utterly unfair to me.”
Exactly! Well said! Long live Father!
“The youngest is a direct descendant of the clan. Direct descendants need more than just martial strength.”
“And?”
“I want to gauge his true capabilities. Please allow a proxy duel between us.”
“A proxy duel……”
No, you idiot! Why are you even considering it? Just reject it outright!
A proxy duel like this? What kind of unfair nonsense is that!
Proxy duels are a form of wager used when the parties can't fight directly.
“If I lose the proxy duel, I'll publicly acknowledge the youngest as a full direct descendant of Namgung to everyone in the clan. And I'll grant one request from him unconditionally.”
Second Brother Namgung Jung was essentially declaring he'd become my patron himself.
Of course, as the one in question, I wanted to scream that I didn't need it at all.
“That's if you lose. What do you gain if you win?”
“It's a bet that starts in my favor anyway. Even if I win the proxy duel, I swear no harm will come to the youngest.”
“Hm…… Indeed, it doesn't seem unfair.”
This isn't unfair? Do you two even know what a proxy duel entails?
It's for when opponents are too evenly matched—risking serious injury—or too mismatched, making the fight pointless. Hence, proxies step in.
Sure, I admit it's a good method when the outcome's unclear. It wraps things up cleanly without hard feelings.
Fine. Say I accepted this proxy duel. Problem was, I had no one to proxy for me.
Second Brother, on the other hand? He had more than enough. He could just pick a few from the Great Sword Squadron.
I wanted to butt in and call out how absurd this conversation was, but opening my mouth might invite a heavy fist instead of words next.
Father's gaze turned to me.
“Youngest, what are your thoughts?”
I spoke without hesitation.
“A proxy duel? That's ridiculous! Where would I even find proxies!”
Then Second Brother Namgung Jung countered.
“You have them.”
“I don't.”
This time it came from ahead.
“You do.”
“No! I really don't!”
Was he talking about the maid sisters? Sure, thanks to Namgung Je-cheon, their internal energy had surged lately, but the maids had zero real combat experience. Their only blade was a kitchen knife, and their fights? Chopping chicken necks.
“I see. You still don't know, do you?”
Second Brother Namgung Jung nodded.
“What happened in the clan during the three days you were holed up in the Myriad Studies Library.”
And what followed left me utterly dumbfounded.
“The deputy strategist is gathering forces.”
“What?”
I was so shocked I forgot this was the patriarch's quarters—with its owner present.
I blurted out something I'd never say under normal circumstances.
“What the hell did that lunatic do?”
“Ahem! Lunatic? He said he was building a force in your name. Didn't you order it?”
“I didn't tell that lunatic anything!”
“Ahem.”
Twice with the crude language, and Second Brother Namgung Jung cleared his throat twice, glancing at Father.
Father had shown no reaction throughout the exchange.
Tacit approval.
Second Brother continued.
“The deputy strategist…… He's capable enough on his own. But youngest, it's not just me—everyone in the clan thinks this way. The deputy is your man. If he acts, it's your command. If he errs, it's your responsibility.”
Yeah! I get what Brother's driving at. The boss takes the blame for subordinates' actions—that's the general rule!
Key point: I'd never considered that lunatic my man.
This 'normal' situation everyone assumed? To me, it was pure madness.
Calm down. Analyze smoothly.
First, I need to know what that lunatic did in those three days without me.
“Father, Brother!”
I looked at them seriously.
“What the hell did that lunatic actually do?”
If proxy duel talk had come up, it wasn't trivial. I steadied myself.
“Don't I need to know what's going on to decide whether to accept your proxy duel proposal?”
“True. You have a point.”
Second Brother Namgung Jung glanced at Father, who gave a short nod.
Then Second Brother Namgung Jung began recounting the events of those three days—the rise of what would grandly be called Nora Ryonggak, still just a fledgling force.
* * *
Three days earlier.
As Namgung Daeso entered the Myriad Studies Library and various factions watched his moves, Namgung Je-cheon was drafting a letter.
Courtyard maintenance. Stair sweeping. Roof cleaning. Pruning. Weed removal. Manure shoveling, etc.
“This should do for starters.”
Namgung Je-cheon gazed at his draft with deep satisfaction.
The Namgung estate housed countless people. Even one dog means feeding, walking, cleaning—a mountain of tasks. Now multiply by tens of thousands.
One meal for them? Tens of thousands of portions. One bathroom break? Tens of thousands of loads.
Naturally, it took hordes of workers. Not unique to Namgung—any major power faced the same.
“That's why the imperial palace is so terrifying.”
Dozens of thousands reside there permanently. They say even stray dogs get a wide berth—one raised by the emperor might demand bows from ministers.
Namgung might lack the palace's scale, but its residents outshone imperial ones. Tianxia's premier clan.
No slouches hired, even for despised chores. Those 'lowly' tasks? Backbreaking for normals.
Sweep over a thousand stairs daily—up and down dozens of times. Haul rice for tens of thousands, three times a day. And the estate kept expanding: over ten training grounds between inner and outer yards, five guest halls, even a lake with pavilions and nameless fish.
All needing upkeep.
Weapons? Thousands flow in and out daily. Imperial oversight, officials from the Five Armories Directorate handling deliveries. Track every important face among the throngs—or waste days verifying identities.
Yet most ignore this. It's 'lowly' work. Dirty jobs anyone hates. And they see themselves as above it.
Especially martial artists. Strength rules Murim clans. They hone it lifelong, ignoring drudgery. Someone lower will handle it.
For them, martial rank is status.
“The question is how to lure them in……”
All estate traffic ultimately fell under military affairs. Namgung Je-cheon learned the details recently, when his master and clan elder Namgung Ilro—the strategist—dumped everything on him for a peaceful life.
First glimpse? Nearly fainted.
-How about it? Fun, right?
He still remembered his master's grin—like a decade-old toothache vanishing.
“Back then, I thought the world had gone mad.”
But now he knew: only possible because it was Namgung.
“Gotta finish this before the young master emerges.”
Namgung Je-cheon instinctively knew Namgung Daeso would block it if he found out.
He touched his still-tender eye, concealed with makeup. One more hit, and no makeup would save him.
But yielding to violence? Unbefitting a gentleman.
Deception and secrecy weren't gentlemanly either.
So what?
“Sacrifices for the greater good are among a gentleman's five virtues. Amen! Exactly. Now, how to reel them in.”
Lunatics had their own logic.
Namgung Je-cheon reviewed the names on his letter. No pushovers.
And the solution came from an unexpected source.
* * *
The young master's maids—'maid sisters'—had names: Ilhyang, Ihyang, Samhyang.
Ilhyang was heading to market, preparing for the young master's return from the Myriad Studies Library.
Ihyang and Samhyang assisted the head maid at the halls.
“Lalala~”
Last night, Ilhyang overheard the young master.
-I hate fish……
Recalling: he'd always grabbed meat as a kid. Today, load up on it.
Then, ahead, armed unit members from the outer yard charged past with menacing auras.
“Eek!”
Ilhyang trained in martial arts but had no combat experience. The real killer intent hit like vertigo—cold sweat, legs buckling, collapsing.
They ignored her, passing by.
Unfair? Routine for her—she just waited them out.
Once gone, shock faded. She tried standing.
“Hup!”
Legs still weak, she wobbled.
Someone caught her from behind.
“Tsk tsk. A grown girl sitting in the road broad daylight? What's that about.”
Ilhyang beamed at her elderly savior.
“Courtyard Grandpa!”
“Aye aye. Up you get. What'd you eat to get this heavy?”
“Hehe, I've been eating well lately.”
The old man placed a hand on her back. Vitality surged through her.
“Where to?”
“Young master's off training again. Heading to market for treats. Oh! Courtyard Grandpa, anything you crave? I'll make it.”
“Heh heh. Nah. Old man's past tastes. A boiled chicken leg before I die's my wish, but……”
“Um…… Courtyard Grandpa?”
“Aye?”
“I already made that. Two whole ones……”
“When?”
“……Yesterday.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes……”
“Ahem! Getting old, forgetting stuff. Hahahahahahaha!!”
“Stop laughing. No chores? Come carry stuff. Gotta get for Roof Grandpa, Stair Grandpa, Weed Grandpa too.”
“Me? At my age?”
“Three chickens.”
“Let's go!”