The reason he became the head of the ginseng smuggling operation was simple.

He loved women, couldn’t keep it in his pants, used to be a total bastard when he was younger, and—most importantly—he was an illegitimate son of a powerful Joseon noble family.

The merchants had agonized over it. They needed to restart the ginseng smuggling. But after the treason scandal, the risks were sky-high. They needed backing.

They needed someone with real power, someone whose influence could shield them from other powers. That’s why they chose him.

As a condition for making him the face of the smuggling operation, the merchants offered him a share of the Kang family’s now-ownerless wealth and rights.

He played it off like he was some big-shot merchant, using the authority of his noble family and the merchants’ concessions to seize most of the Kang family’s assets, but nobody really cared.

He just needed to stand his ground when dealing with the merchants sent from the Murong Family, threaten to find other buyers, and once the setup was complete, the merchants themselves would handle the detailed negotiations.

That’s all they expected from him. And really, power makes the man—once they reached Liaodong, he actually handled the deal with surprising cool-headedness.

Until the moment Murong Sang-ah showed up and fucked everything up.

Maybe it was because her beauty could make any Joseon merchant lose his damn mind.

Or maybe it was because the man they put in charge was exactly the kind of bastard who couldn’t resist a woman like that.

Whatever the reason, what the Joseon merchants were now staring at was ginseng engulfed in flames.

------------

In the heart of the fire.

Among flames fueled by the most expensive firewood in the world, a cold, beautiful flower bloomed.

“You bitch!!! What the hell do you think you’re doing!!! Put that fire out, all of you!”

The head of the ginseng smuggling operation burst out of the tent with the other merchants, screaming.

“Burn it all.”

Murong Sang-ah’s single command turned their efforts into pointless resistance.

Even if there was a water source nearby, even if they had enough men to fight the blaze, they couldn’t get past the Murong Family, the lords of Liaodong.

“You whore! Bargaining with merchants and threatening them like a thug?!”

“The woman standing ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ before you is the head of Changbong Hall of the Murong Family. Murong Sang-ah.”

She wasn’t some merchant here to make deals.

She wasn’t some powerless woman you could insult.

She was Murong Sang-ah. The ruler of Liaodong. The mistress of Changbong Hall, one half of the Murong Family, a name no one in Liaodong dared to defy.

As the merchants stared at her, backlit by the fierce inferno, they were reminded—painfully—that this was the woman whose name struck fear across the Central Plains as a ruthless villainess.

“Urgh! You think you’ll get away with this?! I’ll make sure your Joseon court hears of this...!”

“Ha! Go ahead. Tell them. That your precious ginseng burned in the middle of an illegal smuggling operation.”

“Guh!”

It was unauthorized trade. Ginseng smuggling was tightly controlled by the state.

If this didn’t get swept under the rug by their powerful friends, if this ever reached the court, heads would roll. All of them.

“That mantis-bitch who ate her husband alive now wants to devour Joseon’s blood and sweat too! Take her down! If we capture her, everything will be fine! Get her!”

At the smuggler’s command, men in black suddenly appeared from nowhere.

“What the hell? I’ve never seen these fighters before.”

“Stop! Don’t make this worse!”

“What is going on?! Who even are they?!”

“When I get back, I won’t let this slide! Everyone, fall back for now!”

Who the hell were these black-clad men? Why the hell were they drawing swords during a business deal? How had it come to this?

The Joseon merchants had a million questions but no desire to get skewered by stray blades, so they stepped back.

As the smuggling head grinned triumphantly, about ten of the black-clad fighters drew their swords and advanced.

“Protect the lady!”

These weren’t your average fighters. The leader of the Spearwind Guard barked a tense order.

“I’ll handle this alone.”

“My lady!”

Ignoring the panicked voice of the Spearwind Guard’s leader, Murong Sang-ah walked toward the black-clad men.

A sword flashed at her in an instant—fast enough to behead an ordinary person. But she blocked it with ease.

Tsss. When their blades met, it didn’t sound like steel clashing. It sounded like kindling catching fire.

Startled by the strange reaction, Sang-ah took a step back—but more blades came at her.

It didn’t last long. She deflected each one, pushing them back and gaining distance.

These weren’t just random thugs. Their skills were too high, their swords wreathed in dark energy, their identities hidden beneath black clothes.

Neither Murong Sang-ah nor the Spearwind Guard leader, who watched anxiously, had trouble figuring out who they really were.

“Demonic arts! My lady! Protect her, now!”

“It’s fine. Stay back.”

Her voice was calm.

Was this a trap?

Something felt off. Had her brother’s hand been in this? Or was that bastard part of the Demonic Sect?

She saw it—the black energy flickering along all of their blades.

They all charged at once.

But even though these were skilled Demonic Sect fighters, she didn’t flinch.

It didn’t matter.

There was no need to worry.

The woman who killed her husband lived only to kill them.

In the heart of the fire, the dance of a phoenix burning Demonic Sect scum was as beautiful as it was brutal.

------------

“No, no way!”

The head of the Joseon smugglers fell to the ground, scrambling backward as the woman approached him, having slain every last black-clad fighter.

“What’s your connection to them?”

Murong Sang-ah pointed to one of the rolling heads as she looked down at him.

“M-my, my bodyguards! I brought them from Joseon... no, the Central Plains... the border...? Where was it? Where did I meet them? ...Ugh?!”

He clutched his head, pain shooting through his skull.

When did he hire them? It was at night. Someone came to him as soon as he crossed the border. They said they’d give him power to oppose the Murong Family. No payment needed.

They promised him beautiful women from the Central Plains. He followed them. He had fun. How did he have fun...?

He couldn’t remember that night.

He watched the woman approach, his head ready to split.

Yeah. She was beautiful. Too beautiful.

So beautiful he wanted to hurt her, like all the others. Wanted to make her his. So beautiful he forgot this wasn’t Joseon, but the Central Plains. Forgot he was in the middle of a smuggling operation.

“Why? Why did I do that? Huh?”

Why? Why the hell did he act like that?

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Black blood trickled from the man’s nose.

— So you lust after beautiful women. Fine, from now on you’ll...

Who was it?

That was the last thought he had as he lay dying on the cold ground, black blood spilling from his mouth.

“He was under the influence of demonic arts.”

Was Murong Bi behind this? Murong Sang-ah looked down at the dead man with bitter eyes.

“Please, have mercy! Spare us!”

The Joseon merchants were panicking. Their representative was dead at the command of the Murong Family’s infamous villainess. If things continued like this, they’d be next.

They were sharp when it came to profit, but completely clueless about martial arts, and now fear of death had paralyzed their senses. They couldn’t grasp the situation clearly at all.

“Take all the ginseng, take all the money! Just please, please let us live!”

Murong Sang-ah gazed indifferently at the black-haired merchants groveling at her feet.

She had a good guess as to what kind of demonic technique the man had been hit with.

A technique that obliterates self-control. It messes with the brain, only works on weak-willed idiots without internal energy, and kills them within days.

The kind of thing only Demonic Sect bastards would use. But Murong Sang-ah had no intention of correcting their assumptions.

She needed their fear.

“Put out the fire.”

She raised her hand and ordered her subordinates to extinguish the flames.

“Only thirty percent burned. Thank the heavens! What luck!”

Because she had dealt with the Demonic Sect goons so quickly and cleaned up the mess herself, only about thirty percent of the ginseng was lost to the fire.

“I’ll pay you half the usual price for today’s shipment.”

Murong Sang-ah looked at the relieved merchants and spoke, finally getting down to business.

“What?!”

Half price? That was insane. The merchants’ eyes widened in shock.

“I suffered a loss because my ginseng burned. Naturally, you’re going to cover that.”

They were stunned by her confidence.

The smell of burned ginseng in their noses clearly came from their own unsold goods, but she dared to claim it was hers?

“H-how can you say this ginseng belongs to you?”

Murong Sang-ah didn’t answer. She simply raised her hand again.

The Spearwind Guard moved as one, following their mistress’s signal.

Those closest to the ginseng raised their torches. The rest gathered tightly around her.

They were about to be turned into ashes.

Just as that dreadful thought raced through the merchants’ minds, a chest filled with money was shoved in front of them.

Fire—and money.

Take the money and live, or watch all the ginseng go up in flames.

Only one fool here was stupid enough to miss what Murong Sang-ah meant, and he was already dead, coughing up black blood.

“From this moment on, all Joseon ginseng that passes through Liaodong belongs to me, Murong Sang-ah.”

She made her quiet declaration.

This was the moment she seized control of the ginseng smuggling trade.

------------

“All ginseng passing through the border from now on will be purchased exclusively by the Murong Family.”

Late at night. The merchant leader under Murong Sang-ah came to her with the head of the Spearwind Guard, handing her a document detailing the agreement between the merchants.

“Well done.”

“But, my lady, that ridiculous half-price demand will cause trouble.”

Most of Joseon’s ginseng smuggling routes passed through Liaodong.

No one had dared to complain today, but the moment they valued their money over their lives, the complaints would come.

The merchant’s voice was full of concern.

“Adjust the prices as our relationships improve.”

Murong Sang-ah replied, flipping through the documents she needed to process.

“You mean... we should pay more?”

“The ones wagging their tails at us—buy from them first. And pay them more. Keep stirring up division between them. Make them fight each other over scraps. In the end, they’ll be so obsessed with the bait I toss them, they won’t have time to get mad at us.”

“Haha. You’ve opened my eyes, my lady. As you command.”

The merchant laughed, satisfied, and took his leave.

“Commander, is there something else?”

Murong Sang-ah turned to the Spearwind Guard leader, who hadn’t left, smiling proudly at her.

“You showed great restraint today. With each passing day, you become more and more fit to lead the family. Young Master Kang would surely be pleased.”

She had been threatened. Tied up in a mess with the Demonic Sect. She could’ve ordered the slaughter of every last Joseon merchant there. But today, for once, there hadn’t been any pointless bloodshed.

The guard leader was pleased.

“...You must be tired. Go and rest.”

“Yes, my lady.”

He bowed deeply and left.

Once no one was around, Murong Sang-ah set the papers aside and opened the window.

The heart of Changbong Hall, protected by layer upon layer of defenses, was so still you couldn’t even hear the insects. A cold, lonely breeze brushed her soft face.

She looked up at the night sky, its indifferent stars shining down.

It had been a hard day.

She was the mistress of one of the Murong Family’s two factions, leading her subordinates, managing a house, constantly exposed to plots, schemes, and assassins.

Far too much for a woman who simply loved wielding a sword.

“I’m tired.”

She whispered in a voice full of sorrow to someone who could no longer hear her.

If things had gone even slightly wrong, she would’ve put everything he left behind at risk.

I worked hard today, didn’t I?

She wanted to rest her head on his chest and tell him about her day. To pout a little, to look up at him.

But she couldn’t.

She had made sure of that.

— Young Master Kang would surely be pleased.

The words left by her guard lingered painfully in her heart.

“I’m just struggling.”

How could she hope for praise?

All she could do was struggle. Fight her way forward. Hoping that one day, when she finally stood at the judgment seat she knew was waiting, she could see his face one more time.

Hoping that when she did, she wouldn’t be met with that cold, disappointed gaze.

The wind was sharp.

She stood there, lost in thought, gazing at the sky. The moonlight made her face look more pitiful than ever.

But there was no man to hold her, to comfort her.

And she didn’t want one.

The only man she wanted to be held by was already in the afterlife.

And today, her infamy grew once more.