The days were consumed by the scorching labor of the relief station, while the nights were surrendered to the cold, rhythmic discipline of the cane under the moonlight. Whether due to this relentless duality or simply the shifting tides of power, the entrenched roots of the Unorthodox Path in Hangzhou began to tear loose, one by one. The street thugs who once strutted through the alleys demanding protection money began to tread lightly, casting fearful glances toward the White Qilin Medical Pavilion, while established criminal syndicates quietly relocated their bases, fleeing the physician’s judgment.

However, there were exceptions.

The Gambling Pavilion, the pavilion that built its empire on gambling; the Golden Plum Gang that fattened itself on usury; and the direct subordinates of the Hao Sect’s Scarlet Tower Pavilion—these three managed to weather the storm.

Those rats from the Gambling Pavilion… if I had caught them rigging the games, I would have crushed them into dust. But against all odds, they play fair.

According to covert intelligence gathered by the Beggars’ Sect, the games were legitimate. Losing was a matter of bad luck; winning was a stroke of fortune. In this era, gambling itself was not illegal, leaving Jin Cheon-hee without a righteous justification to raze them to the ground. The usurers were much the same. Had there been a single shredded ledger, a forged seal, or a hint of fraud, he would have stormed their gates and administered a harsh caning personally. But they hadn’t crossed that line, and in a world where modern laws did not apply, their predatory lending was technically legal.

Consequently, completely uprooting the Unorthodox Path proved impossible. However, pruning the wild branches was well within the authority of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion.

The result was a drastic reduction in criminal influence. Of the myriad gangs, only about three major Unorthodox factions remained defiant. The rest had either gone so deep underground they were impossible to track, or they knew that showing their faces meant immediate destruction. The balance of power in Hangzhou now stood at roughly eight major factions: three Unorthodox, five Orthodox.

And the wealth confiscated during this bloody cleanup was nothing short of staggering.

Jin Cheon-hee’s eyes wavered as he stared at the mountain of silver taels heaped before him.

So… this is why people sell their souls to the Unorthodox Path.

The temptation went beyond mere sweetness; it was survival. To live as a member of the Unorthodox Path meant one would certainly never starve. If a man could survive ten years in this brutal life and manage to wash his hands of it, he could feed his family for three generations. Of course, most in the Gangho—whether they walked the White Path or the Unorthodox—died on the end of a blind blade long before their pockets were full.

But if one could survive. If one could live long enough to wash their hands in the golden basin… what then? Money was a powerful gravitation that dominated the vast majority of human existence.

For some reason, a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

“What’s wrong, Hyung?” Cheon Woo asked, noticing the shift in mood.

“Looking at all this silver, I realized the Unorthodox Path will never truly disappear from the Gangho.”

“If there are good humans, there must be bad ones. If there are noble martial artists, conversely, there must be wicked ones. Isn’t that the nature of Taiji?”

“Hmm… Something like that.”

In modern terms, it reminded him of the Light Side and the Dark Side of the Force from Star Wars. But the discrepancy was exhausting; to maintain the good, one had to fight to the death every single day, while evil could thrive with only moderate effort. The world was truly unfair.

“I’ve made a lot of grudges in the Gangho too.” Jin Cheon-hee clicked his tongue bitterly.

Was this what his master wanted? To make him face the Unorthodox Path head-on? To force his disciple to wake from his naive dreams and witness the Gangho for the bloody reality it truly was? Unless his master appeared to answer directly, he would never know. However, while establishing the foundation of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion, he had realized many things.

“What should I feed the kids tomorrow?”

He had taken in so many orphans. Showing those children true gourmet food was a small, quiet joy amidst the chaos—perhaps because Jin Cheon-hee himself still possessed the palate of a child.

Just then, Man Seon entered the tent, her expression grave.

“Young Pavilion Master, people from the Hao Sect have arrived.”

The inevitable had finally come.

Well, considering the mess I’ve made, it’s amazing they took this long to show up.

***

Three figures stood waiting, representing the might of the Hao Sect.

Every single one was a powerful master who had reached the Transformation Realm. Feeling the intense pressure of their Qi, Cheon Woo felt the muscles along his spine stiffen involuntarily.

Every one of them is a monster.

Man Seon felt the same, her grip tightening around her fishing rod. They were fundamentally different from the rabble the Medical Pavilion had swept aside thus far. These were the real deal.

‘Young Pavilion Master,’ Man Seon’s voice projected into his mind via sound transmission. ‘I have fought countless villains, spanning both the Orthodox and Unorthodox Paths.’

‘I see.’

‘You must be careful. The ones standing before you have crossed the line between life and death countless times. As you know well, even within the Transformation Realm, the difference in levels is vast. They are…’

Jin Cheon-hee cut her off gently. ‘…At the very least, they must be people who have taken over a thousand lives.’

The man in the center clasped his hands in a formal, yet mocking, greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you, Young Pavilion Master. I am Black Blood, Deputy Sect Leader of the Five Assassination Faction.”

The Five Assassination Faction. The dedicated murder branch of the Hao Sect. They were contract killers, the very same group that had been sent to kidnap Sama Hyeon in the past. The assassin sent back then, the Ancient Wood Blood Demon, had been incredibly strong—strong enough that Jin Cheon-hee had been forced to risk his life. But this man, Black Blood, was far stronger than the Ancient Wood Blood Demon had been. He wouldn’t have ascended to the rank of Deputy Sect Leader by gambling; he must have killed more people than he had eaten warm meals.

Back then, I was barely protecting Sama Hyeon against a fraction of this power. Now, a Deputy Sect Leader has come to deal with me personally.

“Pleasure to meet you. Deputy Sect Leader Black Blood. I am Jin Cheon-hee, Young Pavilion Master of the White Qilin Medical Pavilion. And who is the person beside you?”

“This is Geum Chi-san, Deputy Sect Leader of the Gambling Faction.”

“Pleasure. And the remaining one?”

The master standing on the right kept his hands tucked deep inside his sleeves, his eyes unreadable. “Just know me as a master invited by the Hao Sect.”

“Hmm, understood.”

Refusing to reveal his name? It didn’t matter. There was only one reason a master of this caliber would walk into this place on his own two feet.

“You don’t look like you’re here because you’re sick.”

At that remark, Black Blood of the Five Assassination Faction stepped forward, his voice dropping an octave.

“We aren’t exactly in a relationship to share tea and have a leisurely chat. I’ll get straight to the point. If you defeat the three of us, you can do whatever you want with Hangzhou.”

“And if I lose?”

He smirked at the question, a gesture devoid of warmth. “Do you think you’ll be alive to care?”

“We don’t necessarily have to assume death, do we?”

At Jin Cheon-hee’s retort, Black Blood answered with reluctant annoyance. “If you happen to survive… the White Qilin Medical Pavilion must withdraw from Hangzhou. Everyone. Down to the last person, including the small clinics.”

“…I see.”

Jin Cheon-hee looked up at the sky. A bird was flying leisurely overhead—perhaps a stork, or an egret. It possessed a freedom that suited the clear day perfectly. Eventually, he lowered his gaze and met the assassin’s eyes again.

“We have delicious refreshments prepared. I can pour you some wine if you wish.”

“Young Pavilion Master… I don’t have the disposition to eat while looking at a bastard I hate. You should appreciate the mercy in the fact that we three came alone without bringing our minions.”

“Still, isn’t it too early for violence? How about eating breakfast before fighting? The Jerusalem artichoke rice is delicious. The side dishes are quite good too…”

“Can you just shut up?” Black Blood cut him off, his patience snapping. “Do you think we came all this way to eat that kind of pigswill?”

“…”

As the three masters began to emit a suffocating killing intent, Cheon Woo couldn’t hold back.

“Hyung, leave them to me.” He looked ready to grab the nearest assassin and smash him into the dirt right then and there.

Jin Cheon-hee raised a hand, stopping him. “Don’t, Cheon Woo. This is my job anyway. I started this, and I created this grudge.” He sighed, a sound of genuine fatigue. “Right. I know. In the Gangho, things like this are more important than refreshments or potatoes.”

Did they really have to see blood? Jin Cheon-hee asked one last time, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“At the very least, I don’t want the children I’ve taken in to see the sight of human blood. Can we move to another location? Please.”

“It’s too late now that we’ve met. Blue-Eyed Mad Physician, we’ve heard plenty about the bizarre things you’ve done. How do we know what tricks you’ll pull while moving locations?”

“I promise I won’t…”

BOOM!

Black Blood stomped the ground with a Seismic Step.

This wasn’t a reinforced building; it was a simple relief station tent in the slums. The earth screamed, and a few tents collapsed instantly from the mere shockwave of his footfall. It was a terrifying display of internal energy, but before anyone could process the awe of that power, the surroundings descended into chaos.

“Aaaagh!”

“Mom! Mommmm!”

Patients capable of movement scrambled away in terror, while those who couldn’t collapsed in despair. But the children… the children did not scream. They curled up into tight balls. To them, violence from adults was a familiar language. Since resisting changed nothing, the logic of the slum orphan was to simply surrender their bodies and choose the path that resulted in the least amount of beating.

In an instant, the sanctuary of the relief station turned into hell.

Jin Cheon-hee sighed again, but this time, the sound was different.

“Man Seon, clear the area.”

“By your command!”

“Cheon Woo. You protect the children.”

“Hyung… will you be okay?”

Cheon Woo realized that Jin Cheon-hee’s face showed little change in expression. This was rare. It meant he was angry. Truly, deeply angry.

But no matter how strong Hyung is, facing these three alone… is it even possible?

“Cheon Woo. Listen to Hyung.”

“…”

Cheon Woo ground his molars together, the sound sharp like cracking stone.

“At least prevent them from seeing what happens next,” Jin Cheon-hee continued, his voice void of emotion. “They’re already scarred kids; if they see this, they won’t sleep for days.”

Even in this situation, standing before three executioners, Jin Cheon-hee worried about the trauma the children would receive. In truth, it was a naive worry. Unless reality itself changed, it was like trying to bail out the ocean with a gourd. Living in Hangzhou was simply like that. These children had already seen brains spilled on the pavement; some might have even done the deed themselves.

One child had already killed someone in that process.

The adult who had exploited him and broken his arm. But even after becoming an adult, that child would remember that day. How bright the moon was. The sensation of the knife entering flesh. Other people’s gazes could be faced during the day, but when the sun set and he was left alone, another gaze would open its eyes: the ‘me’ of today looking back at the ‘me’ of the past.

Could this child ever sleep well again?

Jin Cheon-hee stared blankly at the broken tent before speaking.

“…We can just rebuild things like this. It’s fine.”

Everyone in the Medical Pavilion was watching him. If he showed weakness now, even the children who had trusted him enough to come inside would be terrified.

“Huu-eup.”

He deliberately took a deep, audible breath and straightened his back. It was exactly like a beast puffing up its fur to appear larger before a predator. A physician was used to falling down, dusting themselves off, and standing up again.

“Objects are just objects. We can rebuild, remake. It’s annoying, sure.”

It might be a bit shoddy now, but once the White Qilin Medical Pavilion Branch No. 2 was completed, it wouldn’t collapse from a mere master’s stomp. And when that time came, they would handle it in that time’s way.

Cheon Woo looked at his brother’s back.

His Hyung was much shorter than him. The loose green cotton clothes were comfortable to wear and take off, but they were terribly inconvenient for martial arts. Yet, his Hyung didn’t bother changing into martial arts robes.

He plans to take them off after seeing blood.

Cheon Woo realized exactly what his Hyung was thinking from that appearance alone. He planned to fight these monsters in the morning and return to the relief station in the afternoon to treat patients. After all, if blood and saliva got on his clothes, he would have to change, and he certainly couldn’t treat people in soiled garments.

He’s crazy… He is absolutely crazy.

Realizing this, Cheon Woo was so dumbfounded that a dry laugh escaped his throat. Why was he saved by such a brother, and why was he trying to repay such a man? By the standards of the martial arts world, Jin Cheon-hee was definitely not normal.

But he couldn’t help but follow him. Like a magnet, even in this moment of impending violence, this man naturally drew people to his side.