“I know you’re hiding there like a rat—come out, now!”

“…”

“Crawl out this instant!” Guyang Seon’s voice thundered across the path, his hand tight on his hilt. “If you don’t show yourselves now, I’ll start with the head nearest to my blade!”

To prove he wasn’t bluffing, Guyang Seon drew his sword in one fluid motion. The sharp ring of steel echoed through the trees, followed by the frantic rustling of the underbrush.

Within moments, dozens of men scrambled out from both sides of the road, blocking their path. Cho Yoon felt the porters and escort warriors behind him stiffen, their muscles coiling with tension.

Facing Guyang Seon’s unwavering stance, one of the bandits raised a crudely fashioned weapon with trembling hands. He squinted at the caravan, his eyes widening in sudden, naked terror.

“B-Boss! Look! That’s the Mount Hua Sect crest!”

“What? Mount Hua? What the hell are they doing out here?”

“Fuck! Who was the idiot on lookout?!”

Terror rippled through the bandits at the mention of the legendary sect, and their line crumbled into a chaotic mess of retreating footsteps.

Meanwhile, Cho Yoon narrowed his eyes beneath his bamboo hat, scanning the rabble. They were a pathetic sight—gaunt, filth-ridden bodies clad in tattered rags and uncured animal skins. Their teeth were black with rot, and their weapons were little more than rusted, chipped shards of metal.

In stark contrast, the man who finally stepped forward, casually silencing the commotion, looked remarkably well-fed. He moved with a refined air that suggested a life of comfort.

“And what brings the esteemed Daoists of Mount Hua to a godforsaken backwater like this?” the man asked. “Is there truly something worth scavenging out here?”

“Are you the leader of this rabble?” Guyang Seon countered, his voice cold.

“Listen to this little brat,” the man chuckled, stroking a wild, unkempt beard. “Didn’t they teach you any respect for your elders at Mount Hua? You’re awfully blunt.”

Yu Myeong-woo, who had been observing from behind Guyang Seon with his hands clasped at his back, took a haughty step forward. Seeing the bandits trembling at the mere name of his sect had clearly bolstered his arrogance.

“The Green Forests holds no elders worthy of respect,” Myeong-woo sneered. “Why should the Great Mount Hua Sect spare a thought for vultures who survive by extorting travelers in the wilderness? Clear the path before I lose my patience.”

“Oh, my. Well, if the great disciples of Mount Hua command it, I suppose I must comply.”

Something is wrong, Cho Yoon thought, his brow furrowing beneath his hat.

From the moment the bandit leader appeared, a sense of unease had taken root in his gut. The thick eyebrows, the thinning hair, the surprisingly high-quality heavy sword—and most tellingly, the white tiger skin draped over one shoulder—matched a specific figure in Cho Yoon’s memory perfectly.

Why is he here?

While Cho Yoon watched in mounting alarm, the situation fractured.

CRACK!

A sickeningly wet sound echoed as Myeong-woo’s head snapped to the side. A vivid, red handprint blossomed across his cheek. His lip split instantly, and his meticulously groomed hair, once adorned with ornate ornaments, exploded into a disheveled mess.

Only three people in the entire clearing were fast enough to actually see what had happened.

“W-What…?”

“Damn it…!”

Myeong-woo stared in stunned disbelief, reaching up to wipe the blood from his mouth. Guyang Seon’s face drained of color as he tightened his grip on his sword. He knew it was the bandit leader’s doing, but he hadn’t seen the attack—let alone sensed it—despite the man standing nearly thirty feet away.

In a single heartbeat, the gap in their power became terrifyingly clear.

He’s a master!

Not just a simple expert, but a Peak-level master—a realm far beyond Guyang Seon’s own transition between second and first-rate. Though he knew he stood no chance, Guyang Seon gritted his teeth and lowered his stance, his blade trembling slightly.

The bandit leader offered a greasy, mocking smile and turned away with a wave of his hand.

“Be careful out here,” the man called out casually. “The birds are awfully aggressive lately. It’s not uncommon for a stray wing to catch someone across the face. Since I have no desire to pick a fight with Mount Hua, this ‘dirty rabble’ will take its leave. Move out, boys!”

“B-Boss!”

As the man turned his back, Guyang Seon finally let out the breath he had been holding.

Cold sweat slicked his spine, even though the man’s killing intent hadn’t been focused on him. He felt a wave of relief that they had avoided a fight, until a voice shattered the peace.

“You… you filthy bandit cur! How dare you!”

“Stop, Senior Yu!”

Blinded by humiliation, Yu Myeong-woo drew his sword and lunged at the man’s exposed back. It was a dishonorable act, unthinkable for a member of a prestigious righteous sect. Guyang Seon’s frustration instantly turned to horror.

“W-What?!”

“Tsk. Mount Hua has truly fallen,” the man sighed, his voice dripping with contempt. “They’re raising children like this and calling them disciples.”

Without even turning around, the man caught Myeong-woo’s blade between his bare fingers. With no visible effort, he shattered the high-quality steel into fragments. The force of the parry sent Myeong-woo sprawling backward, where he collapsed into the dirt with a pathetic thud.

“My… my sword… my sword is…”

“Senior Yu! Get back here!” Guyang Seon roared, but Myeong-woo was lost in a daze of shock. Finally, Guyang Seon rushed forward, grabbed Myeong-woo by the collar, and dragged him back to their line like a piece of luggage.

Throughout the entire display, the bandit leader remained stationary, appearing lost in thought. Cho Yoon, who could guess exactly what was going through the man’s head, began to lead the children in a slow, silent retreat.

This is bad.

Things were about to get very bloody, and he didn’t want the children to witness it.

“Hmm… I shouldn’t kill him, but I really want to,” the man muttered, opening and closing his hand as he brushed the sword fragments from his palm. “Should I kill him? Or let him live?”

“Eek!” Myeong-woo let out a strangled whimper and scrambled to hide behind Nan Wi-jeong.

Surprisingly, the merchant remained eerily calm, showing none of the terror expected of a civilian. “It seems Senior Yu is in no state to offer an apology,” Guyang Seon said, stepping forward once more. He sheathed his sword and offered a deep, respectful bow. “So I shall apologize in his stead. I am truly sorry. He will face severe disciplinary action when we return. Please, let this matter go.”

From his position in the crowd, Cho Yoon silently rooted for Guyang Seon. He prayed the situation would resolve itself without further violence; this confrontation hadn’t been part of the future he anticipated.

But as usual, reality refused to cooperate with his wishes.

“Hand over that little piss-ant,” the bandit leader said, his voice flat. “Do that, and I’ll let the rest of you walk.”

“Gah!”

“Senior Yu is a member of the Mount Hua Sect,” Guyang Seon argued, his voice tight. “Harm him, and you invite the wrath of the entire sect. It will not end well for you.”

“A dozen men just watched him try to stab a man in the back,” the leader countered with a smirk. “If word of this gets out, the elders of Mount Hua will probably expel him themselves. Don’t you think?”

“Th-that’s impossible! Mount Hua would never abandon me!”

“Then the rest of you die here.”

The man grinned, revealing a row of yellowed teeth as he began to cackle. Sweat beaded on Guyang Seon’s forehead as he realized they were trapped in an impossible choice. In the heavy silence, Nan Wi-jeong leaned in and whispered to the Mount Hua disciple.

“We might have a chance.”

“What?” Guyang Seon blinked in shock.

The bandit leader merely crossed his arms, seemingly content to let them deliberate. Nan Wi-jeong’s voice continued in a low, rapid-fire whisper.

“Warrior Jo is a first-rate master I hired at great expense. If he joins forces with the three of you from Mount Hua, surely you can take him?”

“But that’s…”

“My warriors will protect the porters, so you won’t have to worry about the other bandits. If we sacrifice a disciple of Mount Hua here, I’ll never be able to do business in Shaanxi again. I’d rather die fighting at your side.”

Is he insane? Cho Yoon thought, his jaw tightening.

The gap between a first-rate master and a Peak master was an abyss. Ten first-rate warriors could charge him at once and still have no guarantee of victory. Yet, it was a difficult proposal for Guyang Seon to ignore. If he handed Myeong-woo over and fled, he would be branded a coward who sold out his own brother.

A storm of conflict raged in Guyang Seon’s eyes. Finally, he reached down to pull Myeong-woo to his feet and signaled for Lee Yeon to join them. His mind was made up.

Cho Yoon felt like his head was about to explode. Nan Wi-jeong, why the hell are you stirring the pot?!

He bit back a shout of frustration, his lips trembling. Beside him, Cheon-oh looked up, trying to peer beneath the brim of his hat. Cho Yoon grabbed the boy’s hand, gathered the siblings, and pushed as deep into the center of the porters as he could. He sent a single mental pulse to all three.

[If things go south…]

What do I even tell them? he wondered. Tell them to fight? Tell them to close their eyes?

He knew his disciples could handle common bandits, but they were children—fifteen, thirteen, eleven years old. He couldn’t bring himself to command them to draw blood. He wasn’t a typical Murim warrior; he couldn’t just treat them like child soldiers.

[Clear your minds and stay calm. Do not move from my side, no matter what happens.]

It was a half-measure, but it was all he had. The bandits began to spread out, slowly encircling the caravan. It seemed their leader had guessed the nature of the whispered conversation.

I hope I’m not making a mistake, Cho Yoon thought, glancing at Guyang Seon as the porters around him began to wheeze with terror.

Just as he was bracing for the explosion, a thread of Voice Transmission reached his ears.

[Master, can’t you just step in and take care of him?]

The question was innocent, coming from Cheon-oh. Cho Yoon’s lips parted to answer, then snapped shut.

I mean, I could. I could, but…

How was he supposed to explain the truth? How could he tell them that twenty years ago, he had shattered the pride of a major sect, causing the very crisis this merchant guild was currently suffering through? That the man he was hiding from was the one person most likely to recognize him if he so much as took off his hat?

And how could he explain that the man standing there—the ‘bandit leader’—was actually Baek Ho-cheol, the King of the Green Forests?

That the man was in league with the corrupt elements of the White Chivalry Alliance, and that if word got out that the Immortal Healer had returned with three disciples, their lives would become a never-ending nightmare of political schemes?

Before he could find a way to answer the boy’s question, the silence broke.

CLANG—!

The first strike of real combat rang out, shattering the heavy air.