You might not believe it, but someone who plays the flute well might actually survive.

Considering Sword Demon’s personality—his cold eyes, his always-serious demeanor, and his permanently grave atmosphere—saying “the flute sounded good” wasn’t sarcasm. It was praise.

As tension filled the air, I scanned Bi-gaek’s group, trying to figure out who was playing. But I couldn’t tell.

Maybe it was because Monk Dong-su’s bald head was gleaming. Unusually, I found myself moved by pity and muttered,

“Even dragged into a tiger’s den, if you play the flute, you might live.”

“....”

The clueless bald man turned to me and asked,

“Is that a real saying?”

I looked at Dong-su.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You upset about that?”

“No, sir.”

At that moment, a man stepped out from the rear of Bi-gaek’s group, moving slowly to the side. Everyone’s eyes followed him. After walking about ten paces, he sat down, lifting the sleeves of his long robe and holding his flute. He looked at Sword Demon and asked,

“I can perform Guangling’s Intention, Ten-Sided Ambush, Ho Ga-myeong, and Fifteen Army March.”

Sword Demon nodded.

“Play Ten-Sided Ambush, please.”

The flute player replied,

“It’s best suited for pipa, but I’ll do my best to imitate it.”

And with that, the man began playing Ten-Sided Ambush. I had no idea what the piece was, but the title alone meant encirclement from ten sides. As the music began, Sword Demon’s voice cut in over the melody.

“My disciple.”

The Lecher immediately answered,

“Yes, Master.”

“I hear you’ve been labeled a martial criminal.”

“That’s true.”

“You know, that could mean either you opposed the Martial Alliance and clashed with their leader... or you’re just a pervert who keeps flipping up women’s skirts and has a knack for running away. Both get called martial criminals, but the meaning’s very different. Which one are they?”

The Lecher answered with a heavy expression.

“The latter.”

Sword Demon gave him the usual piercing stare.

“I see. So not like the second son of the Mong family.”

“Correct.”

I almost burst out laughing but held it in. It felt like if I laughed, the Lecher might lose it. I barely stifled it and lowered my hand.

Bi-gaek chimed in,

“I didn’t know Young Master Mong had a master. Did you come from the Wind-and-Cloud Mong Family?”

Sword Demon replied without even looking at him.

“I’m speaking to my disciple. Be quiet for a moment.”

I glanced at Bi-gaek, puffing my cheeks like I was going to laugh, then suppressed it and smiled silently.

Sword Demon continued,

“On my way here, I saw the Sect Leader’s injured and Master of Six Harmonies looks pale. You and I have eaten our fill at the guesthouse, so it’s time to pay for our meals. That leaves ten opponents. If I’m being honest, that man with the long sword looks to be around your level. The others aren’t weaklings either. What do you say? Facing ten together means we’re walking into Ten-Sided Ambush ourselves.”

The Lecher answered,

“Understood.”

“If you’re against it, speak now.”

“How could I fear Ten-Sided Ambush when I’m fighting alongside you, Master?”

I couldn’t help muttering,

“But Hundred-Faced Ambush sounds worse.”

The Lecher glared at me and mouthed,

“Shut it.”

I watched as the master and disciple stepped forward and asked,

“Can I join?”

Moyong Baek, standing nearby, clicked his tongue and glared at me.

“Tsk.”

“......”

A middle-aged man in Bi-gaek’s group unsheathed his saber and muttered,

“Absurd.”

Not knowing who he meant, I answered for him.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Arms folded, I watched the battle. I figured Sword Demon must’ve been studying the Dokgo Heavy Sword I gave him. I originally wanted to join and slaughter them all, but since Sword Demon had already spoken, I couldn’t barge in lightly.

Meanwhile, the flute music continued—Ten-Sided Ambush still played. The player’s forehead was already glistening with sweat.

Then Sword Demon and the Lecher leapt forward, and Ten-Sided Ambush began in earnest.

The Drunk muttered as he watched,

“It refers to when Emperor Gaozu surrounded Xiang Yu at the Battle of Gaixia.”

“Ah.”

Knowing the meaning changed how I heard it. The weight of the music deepened.

As Sword Demon began swinging the Bright Sword, the Lecher deliberately pulled back, taking up a support position behind his master. In an instant, the ten foes scattered into formation. All kinds of strange weapons emerged.

Swords and sabers were common enough.

Short spears and whips, occasionally seen.

But iron rods, magistrate brushes, fly-whisks, wolf-tooth clubs, and iron fans—those were rare.

From the way they moved together, I could tell this Bi-gaek group had fought in coordinated formations before. The Lecher, fighting barehanded, looked the most vulnerable.

If a massive wolf-tooth club came flying at him...

In a one-on-one, he’d just grab it and freeze it. But the ones wielding the magistrate brush, fly-whisk, and iron fan—those were fast and agile. They’d strike and retreat, while the whips and spears filled in the gaps.

The Lecher didn’t have the room to inject frost energy into any one opponent. This was the terror of Ten-Sided Ambush.

The only relief came from the Bright Sword’s performance—each time it deflected the iron rod or wolf-tooth club, the attackers’ faces twisted in frustration.

The moment I realized how fluidly they worked together...

I instinctively stared at the flute player’s face.

He was still sweating heavily.

I narrowed my eyes and told him,

“After Ten-Sided Ambush, play Guangling’s Intention, Ho Ga-myeong, and Fifteen Army March. Then go back to Ten-Sided Ambush. If you stop playing... you’ll be performing the next song in the afterlife.”

And now I saw it—the flute might be a signal device.

Words wouldn’t cut it, so I sat beside the flutist. If he pointed that flute at the Lecher or Sword Demon, today’s concert would be his last.

I began reading Sword Demon’s movements—what belonged to the Dokgo Heavy Sword, and what was his original style. To my surprise, there wasn’t much that looked like the Dokgo Heavy Sword.

Through Sword Demon, I realized something: the Dokgo Heavy Sword loses its effectiveness when encircled. You’re too busy defending to unleash its full power.

As I got used to their attack and defense patterns...

The Lecher’s movements became livelier. He began scattering frost energy like seasoning.

Why “seasoning”? Simple.

He targeted the club-wielder’s hands, the moment the iron fan opened, the tip of the magistrate brush, and the tassels of the fly-whisk.

The result...

The massive club, once fluid and versatile, grew sluggish.

The iron fan, usually used folded to stab and opened to slash, froze mid-open and couldn’t be used to stab.

The magistrate brush, now frosted, drained the scholar-looking man’s face of all color.

The fly-whisk, known for unpredictable angles like a horse’s tail, hardened from the frost and became a clumsy one-handed weapon.

While Sword Demon held the front line, the Lecher diligently “seasoned” them with frost.

Once the second round of attacks began—now with a twist—wounded enemies began to pile up.

The magistrate brush flew off somewhere, the fly-whisk was split in two, the open iron fan had a hole punched through it, and the club-wielding man in his thirties took a solid blow from the Lecher and staggered back, coughing up blood.

The Lecher grinned at just the right moment.

“Hehehe.”

The only ones still fighting well were Bi-gaek with his longsword, the middle-aged man with the saber, and the whip user.

Then, out of nowhere, Monk Dong-su said,

“...Show mercy.”

I cut him off immediately.

“You bald bastard, can’t keep your mouth shut? If you wanted to preach, you should’ve done it before the bloodbath. What, you want the seniors to die in your place? One more word and I’ll jump in there and start tearing the wounded apart myself.”

Dong-su stared at me for a long moment, then closed his eyes. He began chanting, but like the flutist, sweat now poured down his face.

Just then, I heard the flute falter. I snapped at the man beside me.

“Do you want to die? Why’s your playing suddenly sloppy, you worthless bastard? Flute’s the only thing you’re good at, and now you’re screwing that up too? I can hear just fine now—you missed a note. Want to get beaten to death or play it right? You felt good bringing ten guys to corner us, huh?”

As I berated him, the flute wobbled even more.

“......”

I made eye contact with him and scowled.

“I won’t yell anymore, so just play properly.”

The flutist—face drenched in sweat—nodded. I had now grown familiar with Ten-Sided Ambush and began conducting with my hands.

“Good. Smooth there—yes. Flow into the rise. Idiot. Now the rhythm’s finally balanced.”

Glancing over, I saw the Drunk, internal injuries and all, grinning like a fool. Our eyes met.

“......”

He instantly wiped his ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) face blank and focused back on the fight. Just then, someone’s scream cut through the music like an ascending soul.

It was a high-pitched cry.

The kind of voice that would’ve done well in music—what a waste. A moment later, Sword Demon ended the poor bastard’s dreams of singing forever.

A man struck by the Lecher’s frost blast fell with his head tilted back.

In a flash, the fight shifted from ten-on-two to ten-on-eight—and I started getting that itchy feeling.

Eighteen bastards, huh...

Just then, one of the sharper ones tried appealing to Dong-su mid-fight.

“Monk, please mediate. We...”

Dong-su opened his eyes wide, but the Drunk placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Monk, these men were involved in human trafficking. Even traded children as goods. The Sect Leader and I were there—we rescued a child and killed all involved. If they were truly people, they wouldn’t come demanding compensation. Don’t you agree?”

Dong-su looked at the Drunk.

“Is that true?”

The Drunk nodded.

“There’s a child inside we brought back. Decide what’s false. We’re no saints, but these bastards don’t deserve mercy. Interfere, and I won’t stand by.”

Dong-su fell silent, and only then did the Drunk withdraw his hand.

He continued watching and said,

“Honestly, just watching is painful. I want to be in there fighting. You’d feel the same, wouldn’t you?”

The Drunk spoke my mind better than I could have.

This time, Dong-su watched without closing his eyes.

Out of nowhere, Cha Seong-tae—who’d been silent the whole time—spoke up.

“...Everything he said—is it all true?”

He looked at me, and I answered.

“Yeah.”

Moyong Baek looked at me, met my eyes, and said,

“Sect Leader.”

“What?”

“Do we really have to hold back? I respect Senior Sword Demon, but... do we have to?”

Looking into both their eyes, I nodded.

“You’re right. Why should I hold back? Good point.”

I stood and looked down at the flutist, who suddenly tossed his flute aside and prostrated himself.

“...Please spare me, Sect Leader.”

“I told you to keep playing.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he scrambled to retrieve his flute, Cha Seong-tae drew his saber, and even Moyong Baek stepped forward beside me.

From the fury on Moyong Baek’s face, I saw the me of old. Sensing that these two might get themselves killed, I leapt into the air first and drew my wooden sword. While Sword Demon and the Lecher battled on, I made a simple announcement:

“...I’m joining.”

As my wooden sword swung toward Bi-gaek, the flute’s rendition of Ten-Sided Ambush reached its climax once more.