Chapter 93

“Kaaak— ptoo!”

Seo Nak-il spat into his palm and flicked it toward the wall of the Red Pillar Garden.

Seo Nak-yeon gave him a look that said he was filthy enough to die.

“What are you doing now?”

“Just watch. It’s the method the Grandmaster taught me.”

How could everything he did be so crass?

Seo Nak-il glanced where the spit had landed and said, “This way. We’ll get in from here.”

There was no time to argue.

Seo Nak-yeon climbed the garden wall in the direction her brother pointed.

“Ah!”

She pushed off to climb, but her foot slipped and she began to slide. Just before she toppled, Seo Nak-il grabbed her hand and hauled her up.

Her face flushed crimson. “I could’ve climbed up on my own.”

“Of course. Whose sister are you?”

“Shut that mouth.”

Seo Nak-yeon found his patronizing manner infuriating. She also resented how he fawned over Yeon Mujin without protest. The irritation she had been holding in burst out before she realized it.

“Don’t you have any pride, brother?”

“What do you mean?”

“You do whatever that so‑called captain tells you without complaint—meek and obedient. Have you no common sense? What on earth are you doing right now?”

“What are you saying we’re doing?”

“Sneaking under moonlight, hiding our identities, scaling someone else’s wall—do you think that’s something we should be doing?”

“Hmm…”

The thought of Brahmacharya disciples skulking through gardens at night sounded shameful. If the people of Suzhou found out, they’d become a laughingstock.

After a moment of silence, Seo Nak-il replied, “Isn’t this talk of pride laughable?”

“…What?”

Backlit by the full moon, Seo Nak-il leaned his spear on his shoulder, met her gaze and said, “When a letter arrived from the main house—when I read the one that detailed Father’s disgrace and came down to Suzhou—I was ashamed. Father accused of molesting women? The Brahmacharya Clan ruined? As his son, what could be more humiliating? Then the captain said, ‘Nak‑il, don’t worry. The External Protection Troops’ business is mine as well.’”

“…”

“When I arrived in Suzhou and heard people talk about the Brahmacharya Clan, I felt ashamed. Wouldn’t everyone condemn us in chorus? I told the captain I wanted to return—apologized for bringing disgrace, said I’d handle it myself. The captain said, ‘Do not believe what people say; believe me. It’s all a false accusation.’”

Seo Nak-yeon was startled. Yeon Mujin actually said that?

The Yeon Mujin she’d seen these past few days didn’t seem like that. He was eccentric and inscrutable, the sort who rubbed people the wrong way, yet he’d dropped everything to help his subordinate brother, persuaded their stone‑like father, and even humbled himself to aid the Brahmacharya Clan—he had done all that for her.

Seo Nak-yeon was confused. In her world, good and evil were black and white, easily separated as if by a blade. Yeon Mujin seemed both saint and sinner.

Perhaps, as her father had said, he might be a benefactor destined to help them.

Then what was true pride? Was pride throwing everything aside to help others like Yeon Mujin, or was it like Seo Nak-yeon’s—belittling and snapping at those who offer help?

Suddenly ashamed, Seo Nak-yeon lowered her eyes.

“I’ve learned one thing from the captain: my pride isn’t something I protect alone—it’s protected by those around me. My comrades, the captain, my family, my friends—they preserve it for me.”

For some reason she couldn’t bear to look at her brother and turned her head away. Seo Nak-il didn’t stop speaking.

“If shirking this filthy job is what you call pride, toss that cheap pride away. If it’s the captain’s order, I’ll do worse. Even if I commit a hundred petty acts, the Grandmaster will guard my honor. Aren’t you doing the same right now?”

“Me? What?”

“Nak‑yeon, you’re worrying about your brother’s pride too, aren’t you?”

“…”

“Thank you.”

After years apart, this was the brother she had met tonight—hooded, standing on another’s wall—and he says ‘thanks’?

He was certainly the sort of foolish brother who couldn’t tell when to speak and when to be silent.

She felt neither grateful nor concerned.

“It’s not like I’m worried, so shut up.”

She snapped and kicked off the wall, jumping down. Seo Nak-il followed.

“Who the hell are you!”

They landed among warriors clutching spears and blades. The warriors cried out in surprise; Seo Nak-yeon was flustered, and Seo Nak-il, who had fallen right after her, was equally startled.

“Thieves!”

“They seem to be in league with the ones who kidnapped the lord’s wife!”

“Seize those bastards!”

Before they could explain, the warriors shouted and surged forward.

“You said it was here!” Seo Nak-yeon snapped reproachfully.

“Uh… it should be right…”

The spit‑in‑the‑palm plan had failed. It had definitely worked when Yeon Mujin did it, though?

“Attack!”

The armed men surged like a tide. Seo Nak-il gripped his spear.

Given the situation, the second‑best plan was to overwhelm them with sheer force.

Whoooosh!

Seo Nak-il’s spear sliced the air with a fierce hiss.

Thud—thud—thud!

“Aaaaargh!”

Warriors struck by his spear collapsed like bundles of straw; it was giants against ants—his martial power was overwhelming.

“Eek!”

Seo Nak-yeon was likewise startled by his strength. It was the first time she’d seen him fight for real.

‘Was our brother that strong?’

At that moment she spotted a warrior closing from Seo Nak-il’s blind spot. Seo Nak-il was occupied with those before him; if unchecked, they’d be attacked from behind.

‘No!’

Her body moved before her thoughts. Her fist struck in the opening of the Shaolin Six‑Harmony Fist, aimed at the attacker.

Thwack!

In her haste she failed to gauge her strength. The warrior hit by her fist couldn’t even cry out; he flew through the air, arcing and slamming into the wall with a resounding thud.

Kudang‑tang!

Startled, the warriors froze and stared at Seo Nak-yeon. Seo Nak-il, too, looked at his sister, flustered.

‘…Isn’t that a bit much?’

She was embarrassed, of course, but couldn’t show it now. She looked at the warriors and blurted without thinking—the line wasn’t rehearsed; it slipped out automatically.

“W‑we’re robbers, you bastards. If you want to live, bow your heads and listen to us…”

By the end her voice had shrunk to the size of an ant’s. The face under her hood flushed like a persimmon.

Seo Nak-il took up the meaning.

Thump!

He drove his spear shaft into the ground with internal qi and shouted, “We’re robbers, you bastards! If you want to live, drop your weapons and bow your heads! Anyone who raises their head, I’ll cut down with a single stroke!”

Frightened by those words, the warriors began to drop their weapons one by one. Once surrender started, fear spread rapidly.

“P‑please spare us…!”

Watching the trembling people bow, Seo Nak-yeon thought, ‘As a disciple of the Unseen, what have all those years amounted to…’

There was no one there to answer her.

Meanwhile, in the Master of Net’s Garden in Suzhou.

Lord Yuk Seung-wan sat across from a young server—the same one who had carried tea when Yeon Mujin’s party visited. He produced a pouch of silver and pushed it forward.

“Here’s the remaining balance.”

Yuk Seung-wan’s manner toward the server was oddly off as he slid the pouch to her. She didn’t even check before stuffing it into the purple cloth she carried; a clinking sound came from within.

“What kind of load did you pack like this?”

“None of your business, so mind your own.”

“Can’t you at least check that the amount is correct?”

“You can tell by the sound whether it’s money or not.”

A shrill, old woman’s voice—like someone in her eighties—burst from the server’s mouth. It did not suit her young, innocent face, but Yuk Seung-wan wasn’t surprised. This was the woman he’d hired to bring down the Brahmacharya Clan.

“Is that so? You did the job so well I added a little extra…”

“…It seems like it.”

No matter how the garden masters spread rumors, baseless gossip had its limits. Her role here was decisive.

The woman before them could be a girl who bit her tongue and died, or one who threw herself into the river, or a woman who stabbed her chest with a dagger. She might be thirteen, then eighteen, then shift into the face of an overaged woman.

Yuk Seung-wan watched in dismay. A woman whose true face no one had seen and whose name no one knew—elusive, living other people’s lives—those few who knew her called her with awe: Reverse‑Use Demon.

It was purely thanks to her that the plan to topple the Brahmacharya Clan could be carried out. That’s why Yuk Seung-wan paid extra; he wanted to leave a connection to Reverse‑Use Demon at all costs.

“May I know the old woman’s honorable name?”

Reverse‑Use Demon sneered. “What would you do knowing the name of an old woman who’s about to grow old and die?”

“I can give you more money. After the Brahmacharya Clan falls, the Master of Net’s Garden will grow in power. If this links us to Taiyuan’s Drunken Flower Manor, I can grant the old woman requests worth twice as much.”

Reverse‑Use Demon waved her hand as if annoyed. “No deal. If you get tangled up with a place like the Bukgung Family, your life gets ruined. It’s hard to do big things when you’re old.”

“If the name’s a problem, at least give me a contact to reach you…”

“Uh‑huh.”

When Yuk Seung-wan tried to grovel, an edge crept into her voice. “The old woman doesn’t work again with anyone who’s been paid once.”

“…May I ask why?”

“A reason? You want to know?”

Her voice shifted into that of a sweet‑voiced woman. Mood, expression, tone—everything changed in an instant. Talking with her felt like speaking to multiple people.

“Because it’s not fun. Heh heh heh heh heh.”

The laugh that burst out at the end sounded like a young boy.

“Fun?”

“Yes. The old woman needs neither money nor honor. She likes to toy with old lives to her heart’s content and move on amused.”

Reverse‑Use Demon rose abruptly. “Don’t try to catch a passing wind. Men who get possessive disgust me.”

Her voice changed once more. She chuckled, picked up the cloth bundle, and slowly walked toward the door.

Yuk Seung-wan had a hunch: after today he’d never see Reverse‑Use Demon again.

But then—

“What the— you! How did you get in here?”

Just as she was about to leave, a guard’s shout came from outside. Someone kicked the door open and burst in. In that brief instant, Reverse‑Use Demon slipped back into the guise of the young server.

Bang!

They kicked so hard the hinges tore out and the door collapsed. What poured through was a writhing mass of piled bodies.

“Oh my, my bones…”

The heap of people muttered, then tumbled to the floor with a grunt. From among them rose a shiny‑headed old monk.

Yuk Seung-wan scanned the faces sprawled across the floor and swallowed hard. He knew them—the Garden masters subjugated on the Blood Path—wide‑eyed and stunned. Not one or two, maybe a dozen; it was astonishing they’d arrived bearing so many people.

“What… who is this honored guest?”

Quick‑witted, Yuk Seung-wan addressed the uninvited guest with an honorific.

The monk, tapping his waist as if bored, said, “My dharma name is Jong Haeng. I’m that Shaolin Victorious Fighting monk, so don’t ask. And don’t speak casually. Just answer the questions I ask.”

“Y‑yes…?”

“Is it true that you did foul things to the Brahmacharya Clan’s leader?”