Late at night.
I was wandering the alleys of the Holy Capital.
It was a bit scary and frightening... but there was no helping it.
I had to confirm it with my own eyes.
"Seojin, what's this whim of yours tonight?"
"W-Well, just a stroll, you know."
Fortunately, Gwak Du Uncle was ambling along beside me.
Even if he was from the Beggars' Sect, a martial artist was still a martial artist.
And if he was the branch leader, he wouldn't easily fall to common thugs.
I perked up my ears as I moved from one alley to the next.
The Holy Capital was vast and complicated.
I had no idea where that incident would break out.
But it was definitely going to happen somewhere.
Maybe not today or tomorrow.
But it would happen.
...No, it had to happen!
Otherwise, we were truly doomed!
With desperate resolve, I searched for the place where the incident would occur.
Now that Cheongwol had disrupted the protagonist's fateful encounter once, I needed to see the story's plot settle back on track.
An alley not too far from the Tang Clan headquarters, yet secluded enough that few people passed through.
A spot that reclusive types would love.
A place that screamed "a fight or two must have broken out here."
Narrowing down the candidates like that, before I knew it, Gwak Du Uncle and I had entered an alley with no sign of another soul.
A naturally formed uphill slope, and houses piled indifferently, filtering out even the moonlight.
"...Hold on, Seojin. I hear something."
"L-Let's go check it out."
"Huh? Getting involved in this won't do us any good—"
"—Quick, let's go see."
I hadn't heard a thing, but Gwak Du Uncle tilted his head as if he had caught something.
Gwak Du Uncle let out a sigh.
Unable to break my stubbornness, he finally moved his feet.
And the place we tracked the sound to.
"You bastard! How dare you!"
"Don't you know the Sichuan Three Ghosts? That's us, you punk!"
"Judging by that sword, you're a swordsman—well, you've met your match!"
There it was!
I crouched low behind Gwak Du Uncle, muffling my footsteps, and cautiously peeked over the wall.
There, a pitiful figure huddled, taking blows from the alley thugs without resistance.
Petite build.
Face smeared and bruised, but the features peeking through the blood drops... were strikingly handsome, almost eerily beautiful.
Yeah, if it wasn't this guy getting beaten here right now, who else could it be?
Anyone else would have eyes in the back of their head in an alley like this.
The protagonist of this novel, the Namgung Family's good-for-nothing, Namgung Yeon.
He was getting thoroughly thrashed, unbelievably so.
"Y-You bastards! D-Do you even know who I am!"
His resistance lacked any dignity, and the opponents just snorted.
"Who cares who you are? Even if you're the Shaolin abbot, right now you're crawling under our fists!"
A woman was trembling, hiding behind Namgung Yeon.
No skills to speak of, yet couldn't resist meddling again, huh.
The moment Gwak Du Uncle saw the scene, he gripped his staff.
Anger welled up in his eyes.
"Those bastards—"
"—W-Wait!"
I hurriedly clamped my hand over Uncle's mouth.
No.
Not now. The fateful encounter that would guide the protagonist's destiny at this moment... couldn't be Gwak Du Uncle.
I really love Uncle too, but no.
He's not the great figure meant to lead Namgung Yeon... right?
And if Uncle got tangled with Namgung Yeon for no reason, he'd step even deeper into the bloody storm brewing in the future.
This was precisely because I cared for him.
"Why are you doing this, Seojin...!"
Bewilderment at my incomprehensible actions filled his eyes.
"Just a moment...! Please wait just a bit!"
He looked at Namgung Yeon, then back at me... and in the end, silently waited.
And so we watched Namgung Yeon get brutally beaten once more.
He'd be done if he just stayed down, but he kept trying to rise, earning even harder blows.
Watching that, Gwak Du Uncle squinted to get a better look, then belatedly realized who was getting beaten.
"Th-That Namgung—"
"—Just a sec, really just a moment."
And sure enough, something emerged from the darkness.
Not the simple thuds from Namgung Yeon's body, but bone-rattling cracks split the air.
Crack. Snap.
And silence.
The three thugs crumpled in an instant.
"...Is this all the Namgung heir amounts to?"
"Haa... haa..."
"I've thought it before, but you're nowhere near ready for the Tang Clan branch meet. I'm not expecting Thousand-Year Flower level skill... but doesn't 'Emperor's Sword' feel like a waste on this?"
A figure cloaked entirely in black intoned coldly.
It was the Black Dragon.
Namgung Yeon clung to the ground, trembling.
No need to look closely—I knew she was shedding indignant tears.
It was heartbreaking, but for now, relief outweighed it.
"Haa..."
I let out a deep sigh from the depths of my soul.
Good.
Finally, the story had found its way back.
"...All good now, right? They're both safe, yeah?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"Uncle, let's head back now. Like you said, no good comes from getting involved."
I'd achieved my goal and turned to leave, but this time Uncle stood firm, as if intent on watching more.
Then, the Black Dragon lifted his head toward us.
Uncle and I ducked our heads in unison and held our breath.
A long while later, the voices of the Black Dragon and Namgung Yeon resumed.
Only then did we straighten up and quietly slip away.
"Whew..."
Only after putting some distance did I finally relax.
For now, Namgung Yeon's fateful encounter was back on track.
Nothing mattered more.
Uncle, meanwhile, shook his head.
"What's the Namgung Family coming to? I heard he was a good-for-nothing, but I didn't think the young master would get beaten by alley thugs. Full of侠义心, but no skill to back it up. Tsk."
"Don't worry. He'll be fine."
I brushed it off vaguely.
"By the way, Seojin. You knew something like that was going to happen?"
"...W-What, I'm no fortune-teller. I-I just saw that woman behind Namgung Yeon enter the alley and not come out."
"..."
Uncle gave me a suspicious look but, as always, didn't press further.
When it came to family, he turned endlessly patient and forgiving.
He never pried about how I'd caught Dang Soran's eye, what was in my basement, or why I disliked martial artists.
Same as always.
He probably saw me as a bit of a weirdo by default.
Uncle sighed again and returned to the earlier topic.
"Is the Namgung Family really going to fall like this?"
"..."
"The son they struggled so hard to have, ending up like that."
Unlike Uncle, I was relaxed.
Namgung Yeon might be a good-for-nothing, but that was just one obstacle for the protagonist to overcome.
She would crumble, shatter, break.
Endure countless pains, and from them—be it revenge or whatever—cultivate her strength and awaken.
Because she was destined to become the world's best.
For now, she just needed to get beaten a lot, cry a lot, and roll a lot.
Sorry, spin like a top.
At the end, I'd cheer your human victory and be moved.
****
Cheongwol was spending time today as well, atop a towering three-story inn in the heart of the Holy Capital, with the other late-generation prodigies.
Seated in the prime spot by the window, their conversation was heating up.
The main topic: Namgung Yeon, who had suddenly shown up covered in bruises.
Why had it happened?
Who did it?
How did she end up like that?
Everyone asked, but Namgung Yeon just gave an ambiguous smile.
She claimed it was from intense training, nothing more.
Cheongwol paid little heed to the fuss.
She offered perfunctory words of concern, then gazed out the window again.
What caught her eye was the crowd in the square below.
Were they the same people who came every day, or ever-changing faces?
Cheongwol could no longer tell.
Her popularity showed no signs of waning, and it was always noisy enough to deafen.
Yet Cheongwol still wore her smile.
...Then, suddenly, she questioned herself smiling like that.
Why was I catering to them?
Smiling to please them, nodding along, tempering every word, exchanging insincere pleasantries—what was the point of this time?
Ah, for the sect, right?
...But did I still truly love the sect?
I definitely had once.
Back when I embraced doctrines and rules as my entire life under the warm guidance of Master and the sect leader.
...But now?
That love felt faded now.
When I couldn't survive alone, I clung to the sect and professed love for it.
But now that I had the strength to live on my own, the dependence and love had drifted away.
...Wasn't I just a beast without any loyalty?
Cheongwol sneered at herself lightly.
Or was there another reason for enduring these times?
The public gaze couldn't be favorable.
Maybe crushed under the weight of her reputation.
...Definitely not for fun.
That much was true.
No way she'd want to do that with Han Seojin here in the Holy Capital.
...Endure humiliation, receive shame... and affection...
"...Wol-ah?"
"Yes?"
Cheongwol startled at the sudden voice calling her.
Dang Soran, seated across, had called out.
"You okay? Your cheeks are a bit flushed."
"...I'm fine."
She took a hasty sip of her cooled tea.
"...I was sorry before."
Suddenly, Dang Soran spoke up.
Cheongwol froze at the words.
She knew exactly what the apology was for.
Unthinkingly, Cheongwol leaned toward Dang Soran.
And whispered so the other prodigies couldn't hear.
"This isn't the place to talk about it."
"Ah, yeah. But chances to talk never come up..."
Cheongwol rolled her eyes.
And spat out what was on her mind.
"...As long as you never eye it again, there's no issue."
As long as she never approached Han Seojin again, no problem.
"..."
Dang Soran fell silent.
Cheongwol unwittingly glared coldly at her.
"...Senior?"
"Ah, yeah. Sure."
Dang Soran averted her eyes in reply.
Cheongwol's heart grew unsettled at the vague response.
Her anger toward Han Seojin remained, but toward Dang Soran, it burned even fiercer.
"What if... Huh?"
But in that moment, a figure entered her sight.
She didn't know how she'd spotted him amid the throng.
But Han Seojin was there among the people. He appeared abruptly.
In an instant, Cheongwol lost all awareness.