Chapter 53
“Master!”
Yoo Hyun-hwa cried out in shock at the sudden appearance of Cheon Moo-jin, and the building shook as if in response.
Park Don-man’s men, desperate to survive, pressed their daggers even closer against the throats of their hostages.
“Y-you lunatics! Back off! Do you want to see these bastards die?!”
The thug shouted in a trembling voice, unable to conceal his fear. Cheon Moo-jin turned his head toward him, pulled a slip of paper from his robe, and said calmly:
“Ah, so you’re the one who calls yourself his right-hand man. Jo Chan, was it? A good name. A shame, really.”
Crumpling the paper with Jo Chan’s details, Moo-jin flicked it away with a careless wave—just like discarding trash.
It was such a trivial gesture, so insignificant that even those glaring at him with desperation couldn’t take it seriously.
“B-brother? What are you—”
But before the bewildered Jo Chan could finish, the man behind him placed a hand on his shoulder.
And then—
Thud.
Like a toy falling apart, Jo Chan’s head dropped to the ground.
A fountain of blood arced through the air, painting it red, proof that his heart was still beating.
“Hiiieeeeek!!”
Even a man hardened by a lifetime of violence screamed at the horrific sight.
The hostage in Jo Chan’s grasp fainted the instant his captor’s head rolled.
“Your parents gave you such a fine name, only for you to waste it like this… What a pity.”
Moo-jin clicked his tongue as if disappointed.
The men around him trembled in terror. Those who had been in this line of work long enough recognized the type—
Men who could kill, then mutter nonsense as if nothing had happened, all shared the same trait:
They simply did not care.
Not about human life.
“Uwaaaah!!”
One of the terrified underlings bolted to flee—only for his head to hit the ground the next instant.
The man hadn’t even realized he was dead. His eyes were still wide open, his mouth frozen mid-scream.
The survivors squeezed their eyes shut—not out of grief for their fallen comrade, but because—
“Spare us!”
“We’ll tell you everything we know! Take all we have!”
They wanted to live.
In such a situation—where death came so swiftly they couldn’t even grasp it—there was nothing to do but beg.
Watching the trembling men, Moo-jin nodded.
“Now we’re starting to have a real conversation. Good. Let’s begin.”
* * *
“Thank you.”
“Eh, no need to thank me. You would’ve handled it fine without me.”
“No. Without you, the hostages wouldn’t have survived.”
After the situation was resolved, Do Woo-jin expressed his gratitude. Moo-jin smiled faintly.
“Good. Being harsh on yourself is a virtue.”
Glancing down at the unconscious captives sprawled across the ground, Moo-jin chuckled.
“Seems like the plan’s going smoothly, don’t you think, senior?”
“Yes. No issues so far. At this rate, by today or tomorrow, we’ll secure everything we need.”
“Excellent. The Grand Lord should contact us soon. Once we add these ones to the tally… the end’s in sight.”
Watching Baek-woo drag the captives away like fish strung on a line, Moo-jin’s smile turned chilling.
What exactly was he planning?
Do Woo-jin didn’t dare ask. He simply followed silently behind Moo-jin, questions gnawing at his mind.
The answer came the next day.
“…They’ve dwindled a lot.”
“Looks like only about half remain.”
“Indeed.”
Though their numbers had been declining gradually, the sudden drop this time was unsettling.
As Yoo Hyun-hwa listlessly fiddled with her spear, staring at the now half-empty training yard—
“Phew. Finally, I can rest.”
“Grand Lord!”
“Argh, don’t shout. My head’s ringing.”
“You’ve been gone for days, what happened?”
“What else? I was working.”
“And the ones who disappeared…?”
Yoo Hyun-hwa hesitated, unable to bring herself to ask if he’d killed them.
Baek-woo cut in bluntly:
“You killed them?”
“Some of them. I knew they were troublemakers, but turns out they were complete idiots. Still thought this place was a battlefield.”
On the frontlines, manpower was always short. As long as someone could work, most issues were overlooked. They’d die to monsters soon anyway, so why waste energy punishing them?
“But those fools deluded themselves. Thought they were indispensable to the Mu-pung Corps. Thought young master Cheon would be soft on them.”
Yet Moo-jin had never once abused his status. He never lorded his birth over others, never bullied the weak.
He addressed seniors with respect, even helped them with their duties.
He was known as a good person.
Perhaps that’s why those fools thought they could get away with it.
“Ahh, some fresh air feels good. Well then, I’ll be heading in.”
“Already, sir?”
“Yes. Oh, and don’t go bothering the vice commander about training. He’s passed out cold right now.”
“You came all the way here just to tell us that?”
“Pssh. What’s the point of me explaining? Just keep quiet for three days, like mice hiding in their holes. It’ll be better for everyone.”
The Corps Commander’s stomach churned as he recalled the nightly interrogations of the past few days.
“Wait! And what about the young master? Is he resting too?”
“Ah, Cheon Gong-ja… well—”
The Corps Commander turned his gaze into the distance and smirked faintly.
“He’s gone to tie up loose ends.”
* * *
“Is this the place?”
Arriving at the front gate, Moo-jin asked the woman trailing behind him.
“Yes, this is it. But, young master, I…”
“Come now. I’m only doing this for you, Lady.”
If this were really for me, you wouldn’t have dragged me here in the first place…!
Suppressing a sigh, Baek Ryeon-ru, branch master of the Hao Clan, shifted uncomfortably.
She was disguised head-to-toe in black infiltration garb, her identity well-concealed. That wasn’t the problem.
The problem was—
Two people alone, against this place? He must be insane.
They stood before the front gate of the Ho-un Zheng Clan.
Though not one of the Four Great Houses, it was a well-known clan within the cult, strong enough that anyone with a little knowledge would recognize the name.
Its patriarch was said to be on the cusp of reaching peak realm, and the clan’s warriors were no pushovers either.
And worse—
If the Wei Clan finds out Hao is involved, they won’t sit quietly…
Since the Wei Clan backed Ho-un Zheng, she feared the storm this would bring.
But Moo-jin simply strode forward.
“Hm? Who are you people?”
A sleepy gatekeeper emerged, frowning. Normally, he would’ve barked at them for loitering, but Moo-jin carried himself unmistakably like a noble scion, flanked by what seemed to be two guards.
The gatekeeper moved cautiously—
Only for Moo-jin to casually slap him unconscious and march straight through the gate.
Baek Ryeon-ru and Geom Yoo-jin followed close behind.
“Oh, everyone’s busy.”
The heat of morning training wafted from the inner courtyards.
What should he do?
After a brief thought, Moo-jin plopped himself down on a decorative rock.
“No need to go running around.”
Resting his chin on his hand, he smiled faintly—
And Baek Ryeon-ru shivered. A chill shot up her spine, her body trembling violently.
What… what is this?
Her mind screamed questions, but her lips couldn’t form them. The oppressive aura pressing down made her feel like even breathing required permission.
Luckily, she wouldn’t need to ask—
Because someone else was already charging in to do so.
“Who dares trespass?!”
A middle-aged man with a sword stormed forward. Baek Ryeon-ru recognized him instantly.
The Clan Head!
Patriarch of Ho-un Zheng, rumored to be near the pinnacle of martial cultivation. He had once fought on the eastern front against the Martial Alliance.
Though whispers spoke of him stealing his subordinates’ achievements or dealing with enemies under the table, his skill was undeniable.
And soon, elite warriors swarmed in—over thirty of them, encircling Moo-jin’s group.
Not all were first-rate, but a mix of seasoned second-rates and first-rates in such numbers could rival a small force.
More reinforcements would surely come.
Baek Ryeon-ru felt a sinking dread—
But Moo-jin only smirked.
“Quick gathering. I like that.”
She forced her expression neutral. Right. He’s the Cheon heir. Surely nothing will go wrong…
Then—
“From this moment forth, the Ho-un Zheng Clan is annihilated.”
“…Young master?!”
Her voice was drowned out by the patriarch’s furious roar.
“You mad fool! Do you know where you stand, to spout such drivel?!”
“Where else? Isn’t this the Ho-un Zheng Clan? I’m right where I need to be.”
“And knowing that, you dare—!”
“Whew. Thank goodness.”
Sighing in relief, Moo-jin rose playfully to his feet and strode toward the patriarch.
The surrounding warriors flinched but held back at their leader’s gesture.
The patriarch’s sharp eyes regained composure—he had finally sensed Moo-jin’s true level beneath the suffocating killing intent.
“Young whelp, spewing killing intent without restraint…”
“Oh, so I did come to the right place after all.”
Moo-jin grinned.
Crack!
The sound of breaking ribs filled the air as his sudden blow landed. The patriarch gasped, swinging his sword wildly—
Clang!
But Moo-jin’s arm blocked it with ease. The patriarch’s eyes widened—
Thud!
A fist crashed into his jaw, rattling his skull.
Reeling from broken ribs and a shaken jaw, his vision blurred, his legs faltered. He stumbled back desperately.
Distance! I need distance—!
It was the basic rule: a swordsman’s advantage lay in keeping away from a brawler.
But before he could regain footing—
Wham!
A lightning-fast strike smashed into his shoulder.
Barely holding onto his sword, the patriarch lashed out with his free palm—
Only for Moo-jin to catch his wrist with a grin.
“Stacking internal energy alone doesn’t make you strong.”
And then—
“Gaaaahhhh!!”
The patriarch’s scream tore through the courtyard as his knee buckled.
His face flushed dark red, blood gushing from his nose and ears—clear signs of internal rupture.
“From your ties to Ho-chal’s forces, to trying to worm your way into my men… I had my suspicions.”
Pressing on the man’s acupoint, Moo-jin smirked.
“Looks like I was right. And I’m in a damn good mood about it.”
