He had thought him a formidable master.
But unexpectedly, only a faint pulse, barely perceptible, emanated from Bu Eunseol’s wrist to his fingertips.
‘Pity. His presence is impressive, though.’ Bu Eunseol’s eyes were deeply sunken, and a calm aura enveloped his entire being.
It was the demeanor of a seasoned martial artist, but upon closer inspection, it seemed merely the result of a reserved personality.
‘Whether his martial arts are strong or not isn’t my concern. All I need is to scam some drinks and slip away. Heh heh.’ As it turned out, the young man planned to charm Bu Eunseol, drink for free, and then make a run for it.
“Hahaha.” As an awkward silence settled, the young man let out a hearty laugh. “Truth is, I got mixed up in this world at a young age. Thanks to that, I’ve been through hell and back.”
His joke fell flat with no response.
Scratching his head awkwardly, the young man continued, “You’re a man of few words, aren’t you? Did I make you uncomfortable by joining you so suddenly?” Bu Eunseol, who had been quietly observing him, shook his head without a word.
“Phew, that’s a relief,” the young man said, dramatically wiping his chest. “I was worried you’d kick me out any second. Haha!”
His behavior bordered on rude, but oddly, it wasn’t off-putting.
To be honest, Bu Eunseol didn’t mind the cheeky young man. Not only was he the first peer Bu Eunseol had met in the martial world, but he also exuded a bright, clear energy.
‘Is it because I chose the path of darkness?’ Seeing the young man, radiant as sunlight, made Bu Eunseol feel as though his own surroundings were shrouded in darkness. ‘Or is it because I chose revenge?’
He couldn’t pinpoint the reason. Feeling a tightness in his chest, Bu Eunseol reached for his cup again.
His way of drinking was peculiar.
Most would down strong liquor like yellow wine in one gulp, but Bu Eunseol sipped it slowly, as if savoring tea, letting it trickle down his throat.
“You…” the young man said, entranced by Bu Eunseol’s drinking. “You must have been through a lot.”
“…?”
“You drink strong liquor like it’s sweet.” With a sheepish expression, the young man continued, “My master once said that those who drink strong liquor like it’s sweet have already tasted all the bitterness life has to offer.”
His words sounded like nonsense, but they carried a hint of wit.
“Heh.” Bu Eunseol let out a faint smile, unaware of it himself.
The smile was as refined and pure as a plum blossom blooming in winter snow.
‘A man’s smile can be this beautiful?’ The young man, captivated by Bu Eunseol’s smile, shook his head to snap out of it.
“Oh, right, we haven’t even introduced ourselves. I’m—”
“Myeong Un, you damned rascal!” A loud clatter echoed as nine martial artists in navy-blue robes stormed up the stairs to the second floor.
“You little…!” The largest of the group, with thick eyebrows, spotted the young man and roared. “You snuck off again to guzzle drinks at a pleasure house, didn’t you?”
“Senior Brother!”
“Senior Brother, my foot! You wretched punk!” The burly martial artist strode over and grabbed Myeong Un by the ear. “You good-for-nothing! I won’t let you off this time!”
“Hey, wait! Ow! That hurts! Let go…” Ignoring Myeong Un’s protests, the man dragged him downstairs by the scruff of his neck with a hand like a cauldron lid.
“Brother! It was a pleasure!” Myeong Un called out, waving at Bu Eunseol even as he was dragged away like a scolded puppy. “Let’s drink again if we get the chance!”
As Myeong Un disappeared, a thin man with small eyes from the remaining eight clasped his hands toward Bu Eunseol.
“Sorry for the commotion.” Clearing his throat, he added, “I bet that rascal spouted nonsense and got you to order drinks, didn’t he?”
Bu Eunseol nodded, and the man scowled.
“If we hadn’t shown up, he’d have drunk his fill and bolted.” He pulled a large silver coin from his robes and placed it on the table.
“Our youngest brother made a mistake, so we’ll cover the bill.”
“It’s fine,” Bu Eunseol said.
“No need to feel burdened. Well then…” As the man turned to leave, a waiter who had been watching from afar scurried over.
“Great hero, this won’t cover the bill.”
“What do you mean?”
“This yellow wine costs ten taels per bottle.”
“Ten tael? For a bottle of yellow wine?”
“It’s not just any yellow wine—it’s our tavern’s premium thirty-year-aged stock.”
“What?!” The man jumped in shock.
With at least ten jugs on the table, the bill exceeded a hundred tael.
“Myeong Un… that crazy fool!” As the thin man trembled with rage, Bu Eunseol calmly placed two hundred-tael notes on the table.
“Good drink.” He stood, lightly patted the waiter’s head, and said, “Keep the change.”
“Really? Thank you!” the waiter exclaimed, bouncing with joy.
The thin man approached Bu Eunseol, holding out a money pouch.
“Let us at least cover half.” One of the group, a man with protruding teeth, interjected, “Senior Brother, that’s our travel money…”
“Shut it.” But Bu Eunseol walked past the thin man toward the stairs without a glance.
“Wait!” Feeling ignored, the thin man quickly blocked Bu Eunseol’s path. “Take it.”
“It’s fine.”
“Take it. Hyungsan Sect disciples don’t owe anyone.”
‘Hyungsan Sect?’
Bu Eunseol blinked, recalling the booklet Master Wang Geol had given him.
The Hyungsan Sect.
Once a proud member of the Nine Great Sects, it fell into decline two hundred years ago when its leader, Neung Ryeong, vanished, taking with him the sect’s ultimate techniques—the Lute Sword and Fire Lotus Secret—leaving the sect on a downward spiral.
Clang.
The thin man placed his sword on the table.
“This is a Yongcheon Sword, forged from the finest tempered iron of Zhejiang’s Yongcheon. It could fetch at least five hundred tael if pawned.” Zhejiang’s Yongcheon was renowned for its quality iron, and Yongcheon Swords were prized for cutting through steel like butter. To offer it for a bar tab?
“Second Brother!” the other three martial artists shouted.
The thin man waved them off.
“Don’t worry. We’ll come back for it later.”
‘Hmm.’ Bu Eunseol sighed inwardly.
The Hyungsan disciples, true to their noble roots, were pure and upright. But their fallen status fueled a deep sense of inferiority.
‘No choice, then.’ Bu Eunseol subtly adjusted his expression, thinking of a way to leave quickly.
“You’re from the Hyungsan Sect,” he said, approaching the thin man with a hint of surprise. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“What do you mean?”
“Had I known you were from Hyungsan, I’d have insisted on treating you to drinks.” The thin man looked surprised, and Bu Eunseol continued calmly. “I grew up in a remote mountain village, always longing to meet heroes from renowned orthodox sects.”
He gestured toward the window.
“I came to Yueyang for adventure, but with no connections, I was disappointed. Meeting Hyungsan’s heroes in person eases that regret a bit.” The usually stoic Bu Eunseol’s flattery brought a smile to the thin man’s face.
“Heroes? That’s too generous.”
“Not at all. If you’re free, how about I treat you all to a drink?” In the past, he’d never have managed such charm.
But after mastering the Art of Deceptive Enlightenment, Bu Eunseol could shift his demeanor and tone at will.
“No, no! We’re leaving Yueyang soon. Don’t trouble yourself.”
“A pity,” Bu Eunseol said, feigning regret as he clasped his hands. “Then I’ll take my leave.”
“Yes, well…” The thin man clasped his hands in return, and the other disciples bowed to Bu Eunseol.
With a few words, he’d left a good impression on the Hyungsan disciples and made his exit.
‘Inferiority… it’s like poison in the heart.’
Inferiority.
Crippling self-doubt not only demeaned oneself but was a toxin that harmed both body and soul.
***
A few days later.
After resting at a hideout, Bu Eunseol returned to the Haehyeon Old Bookstore.
“Welcome,” Shang Liang greeted warmly, seeing Bu Eunseol enter. “What brings you today?”
“I’d like to buy a book I didn’t see last time.”
“You’re becoming a regular at our shop, young master. Haha.” Shang Liang chuckled, then tilted his head, studying Bu Eunseol in his white robes.
‘Strange. He looks slightly different every time.’ The first time, Bu Eunseol seemed like an ordinary traveler. Now, he resembled a wandering scholar, adrift after years in a study hall.
‘Is it just the clothes?’ Unbeknownst to Shang Liang, it was Bu Eunseol’s mastery of the Art of Deceptive Enlightenment and Face and Bone Shifting Art that altered his appearance.
“You’re back, young master,” Ma Yun said, spotting Bu Eunseol while organizing the shelves, and bowed.
Shang Liang snapped to attention and waved a hand.
“Ma Yun, our guest wants another book. Show him to the inner shelves.”
“Understood.” Inside the secret bookshelf, Bu Eunseol raised an eyebrow.
Last time, there were only five or six books, but now dozens lined the shelves.
“So many books,” he remarked.
Ma Yun replied flatly, “Thanks to you handling the ninth-attempt job, we’ve got more work.”
That was half a lie.
Shang Liang, sensing Bu Eunseol’s exceptional skills, had gathered every difficult job available in Yueyang.
“Everything here is a Byeonho mission, fifth-attempt or higher. With your skills, you’ll manage fine, though…” Ma Yun said with a hint of sarcasm.
Ignoring him, Bu Eunseol began examining the books.
‘Hmm.’ Though labeled as five-tier or higher, many involved infiltrating sects for information or theft.
After browsing for a while, he picked up a book titled The Recluse.
Flip. Thud.
Bu Eunseol’s hands froze as he opened it.
—Byeongho, First-Attempt. Seven hundred tael.
Eliminate all Namsagok assassins operating in Yueyang.
