Chapter 513
Hunan’s Xixia, where a tributary of the Yangtze River flowed, was as bustling as ever, swarming with countless people.
The docks were packed with ships, large and small, while merchants, their goods stacked high, haggled with fervor.
“Get it while it’s cheap! Musk, excellent for stamina, just one tael of silver!”
“I don’t need that nonsense.”
“You there, lovely lady! Wouldn’t you like a fine hand mirror?”
“I’m not buying that.”
“…Damn, what a bunch of cold-hearted brats.”
The streets were filled with noise, a chaotic mix of hawking, shouting, and lively chatter.
However, the true atmosphere of a place wasn’t dictated by its noise but by the kind of people gathered there.
And in that sense, the merchant who instinctively reached out to stop a passing young warrior had chosen the wrong person to engage.
“Hey there! Judging by your looks, you must be a martial artist heading for Mount Song. How about a finely crafted weapon to—”
The merchant’s well-practiced sales pitch was cut short as he sucked in a sharp breath.
At first, he had been drawn in by the young man’s striking features. But now, even that seemed trivial.
The moment his gaze fell upon the deep blue silk robe, the embroidered black characters, and the dragon motif stitched onto it, an involuntary cry escaped his lips.
“Bl-Black Dragon Demon Sect!”
Though it wasn’t a loud exclamation, the mere mention of those four words was enough to cast a suffocating silence over the bustling street.
“The Black Dragon Demon Sect…!”
“There’s no doubt. Those ruthless heretics from Gansu.”
“I heard rumors that they arrived in Hunan late last night… Could it be they’re here to join the alliance?”
The silence spread like wildfire.
Merchants who had been shouting at the top of their lungs, common folk idly wandering the marketplace, and armed martial artists moving in groups—all of them stopped and turned toward the source of the voice.
And amidst the countless stares, the young warrior from the Black Dragon Demon Sect merely smiled at the merchant.
“You have quite the keen eye for a mere trader. To recognize the insignia of my sect at a glance.”
“T-That is…”
“You don’t seem to have much connection with the martial world. Are you originally from Gansu? Or did you just overhear some third-rate swordsmen spouting rumors?”
Glancing over the merchant’s shoulder at the weapons neatly displayed on his stall, the young warrior clicked his tongue.
“They’re all worthless junk, nothing worth taking even for free. Here, give me your best weapon.”
“E-Excuse me?”
“Oh, I forgot you’re a merchant. Not the best, then—just the most expensive.”
“A-All right.”
With trembling hands, the merchant pulled out a heavy iron chest from its deepest storage.
Inside lay a single sword, without so much as a sheath to protect it. The young warrior let out a whistle.
“Oh? This doesn’t seem like something that should be found in a place like this.”
Among those watching, particularly the martial artists, many unconsciously nodded in agreement.
Despite its apparent age, the blade shimmered with a faint, multicolored luster, and its edge remained sharp and intact.
It was, without a doubt, a sword worthy of being called a famed weapon.
Noticing the flicker of greed in the eyes of several martial artists, the merchant instinctively hunched his shoulders.
“I-It was passed down by my late father.”
“Was your father a martial artist?”
“O-Of course not. He just… happened to acquire it by chance. But he always warned us to keep it secret and treasure it as a family heirloom.”
“I see. That makes sense. A blade like this would have drawn no shortage of covetous eyes.”
Greed often led to bloodshed.
Most martial artists wouldn’t bother paying hundreds of taels of silver for a legendary sword when they could simply take it by force.
After all, drawing a cheap iron blade was much more cost-effective than gathering enough silver to buy a true weapon.
“Your father was a wise man.”
“Y-Yes, indeed…”
“But it seems you didn’t inherit his wisdom. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have displayed this so carelessly.”
“T-That’s…”
The merchant’s words caught in his throat, and the young warrior let out a soft chuckle.
He already knew exactly what the merchant was too afraid to say.
Facing a member of the Black Dragon Demon Sect, with death looming over his shoulder, the merchant had no time to think.
Offering a lesser weapon might have cost him his life, so instead, he had chosen to show his best.
For the merchant, this was an unprecedented situation.
But for the young warrior, it was a scene he had seen countless times before.
“I understand. Most people who meet me tend to think and act the way you just did.”
The young warrior swept his gaze over the merchant, who stood frozen like a mute.
“And so, I shall do you a favor.”
A flicker of suspicion flashed in the merchant’s eyes.
“T-Then… what you’re saying is…”
“I’m saying I’ll pay for it and take it.”
“Oh!”
The merchant’s face lit up with relief.
His mind had been in turmoil.
Showing the sword had been an act of desperation, but now that so many eyes had witnessed its existence, it was only a matter of time before bandits, wandering vagrants, and petty thieves came sniffing around.
But if this young warrior took the sword with him, everything would be solved.
Of course, there would still be those who would covet the silver he received, so he’d have to leave town soon, but he’d be alive—with a small fortune to start anew somewhere else.
Having finished his calculations, the merchant immediately bowed.
“If you are truly willing, sir, I could ask for nothing more!”
“Not completely witless, I see.”
The young warrior let out a soft chuckle and tossed a small pouch onto the merchant’s stall.
Clink.
A solid weight hit the wooden counter. The merchant hesitated before opening the pouch and blinking in confusion.
“S-Sir, this is…”
The young warrior, now examining the sword he had pulled from the chest, glanced over.
“Is something wrong?”
“I-It’s just… I believe you’ve miscalculated the amount.”
“Miscalculated?”
The warrior tilted his head, and the merchant swallowed nervously.
The sword he had inherited was a family heirloom, easily worth hundreds of taels of silver.
Yet, the contents of the pouch were laughably insufficient.
“Sir, twenty taels of silver is simply—”
“Well, I see things a bit differently.”
“Pardon?”
“That amount should be plenty. After all, I deducted the price of your life.”
The young warrior’s voice dropped, and in an instant, the air turned frigid.
The once lively marketplace fell deathly silent.
The common folk, caught between curiosity and fear, trembled. The merchant’s fellow traders, who had once shared food and drink with him, averted their gazes, unwilling to get involved.
But not everyone turned away.
“So this is the might of the Black Dragon Demon Sect, huh? Even brats still wet behind the ears are running rampant.”
A gruff voice cut through the tension as the crowd parted.
A middle-aged man stepped forward, revealing yellowed teeth in a sneer as he stared at the young warrior.
“Let’s not waste words. Put that sword down quietly and get lost.”
The young warrior blinked.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Heh, who else would I be talking to?”
“Oh, no misunderstanding then. I heard you just fine… I just never imagined someone like you could speak to me that way.”
“…Someone like me?”
For a moment, the middle-aged man simply stared. Then, he burst into laughter.
“Hah! HAHAHA! You’re a funny one, kid!”
“Strange. No one back in Gansu ever told me I had such a talent for comedy.”
“Boy, what’s your name?”
“I see no reason to tell you. Nor do I care to.”
“You look nervous. Are you scared?”
“Not really… I just find talking to someone like you thoroughly unpleasant.”
The middle-aged man chuckled.
His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were not.
Then, just as his muscular, scarred arms began to move—
“That’s enough, Blood Staff.”
The moment the name was spoken, the man—Do Sang-ho, the infamous Blood Staff—stiffened.
And he wasn’t the only one.
The martial artists who had been watching the confrontation also flinched.
Blood Staff wasn’t exactly unknown. His appearance and the red staff at his waist made him easy to identify.
But what shocked the crowd wasn’t the recognition of his identity.
It was the way the young warrior spoke to him.
An upstart from the Black Dragon Demon Sect, treating a well-established martial master like some common thug.
Even Do Sang-ho himself found it bizarre.
“You… know me?”
“I’ve heard of you. That you’re the kind of man who’d lick a beggar’s backside for the right price.”
The warrior’s tone had shifted.
Gone was the polite, conversational air. His words dripped with mockery.
Blood Staff’s eyes widened in fury.
But before he could lash out, the young warrior continued.
“Now that I’ve met you, I see those rumors were true. So, let me make you an offer.”
“An offer?”
“I’ll give you silver. In exchange, you’ll lick the top of my foot. If you do, I’ll spare your life.”
“You little—!”
Blood Staff trembled with rage.
He was no mere street brawler—he was a seasoned master, feared and respected. The urge to crush the young upstart’s skull was overwhelming.
But the four characters—Black Dragon Demon Sect—weighed heavily on him.
This brat was too calm, too composed. If a fight broke out, things might not end well.
His gut told him to let it go.
“…Damn it.”
With a reluctant growl, Blood Staff lowered his raised weapon.
Seeing this, the young warrior smiled.
“Silver is a powerful thing, after all. Now, are you going to lick my foot?”
“You bastard, shut your damn mouth!”
A roar of internal energy sent shockwaves through the market.
Lesser martial artists staggered back, clutching their ears.
Terrified commoners screamed.
Amidst the chaos, Blood Staff glared at the young warrior, eyes burning with rage.
“I don’t care who you are or where you come from. You’ll regret this day.”
The young warrior clicked his tongue.
“You seem quite worked up. But I think that’s enough.”
“I, Blood Staff Do Sang-ho, never forget a grudge! You may have won today, but next time—”
CRACK!
Blood splattered in all directions.
Do Sang-ho’s skull was shattered before he could finish his sentence.
The young warrior let out a slow breath as he gazed at the lifeless body.
“I really didn’t want to make a mess. You should’ve just let it go.”
No one had even noticed the newcomer’s arrival.
A massive man, nearly eight feet tall, wielding an enormous daechosa-gun—a great cudgel.
His dull voice rumbled.
“Dare insult… the Young Master… I will not tolerate.”
The young warrior sighed.
“Well, I suppose it’s fine. Blood Staff was hardly a righteous man anyway.”
As the words left his mouth, the marketplace erupted.
People screamed and scattered in all directions.
“A-A man’s been killed!”
“AAAAAAH!”
“What the hell…?”
Even the gathered martial artists were frozen, unable to react.
And just then—
Beyond the fleeing crowd, a group of monks, clad in saffron robes, began approaching.
The young warrior narrowed his eyes.
“Great. I knew this was going to cause trouble.”
