At the end of the bustling street, a wide road came into view.

As we crossed it—like stepping through a gate—another vibrant street unfolded before us, no different from the one we had just passed.

I watched the bustle with mild surprise.

“Hm.”

Just like when we first arrived, it was an ordinary scene. Still filled with people, vendors at their stalls, merchants openly cleaning fish, and everyday customers eating rice or snacks.

Their demeanor—bold and natural, as if they had nothing to do with the Number One of the Evil Path—seemed both ridiculous and admirable.

Someone came running, shouting.

“People are dying like flies on West Water Road! Experts from Jianghu came to kill the Number One of the Evil Path! Sounds like the infamous Lord of Haomun has arrived!”

I mumbled in response.

“That’s right. I’m here.”

As we entered the bustling street, some stall vendors averted their gaze, while others turned their heads to openly stare.

At the entrance, an old man selling teaware looked at us and spoke.

“...Why would only four of you come to kill the Number One of the Evil Path? I’ve been selling here for years, but I’ve never seen so few people come charging in.”

The vendor next to him exclaimed in surprise.

“Old man, don’t get involved!”

The old man looked at us stubbornly.

“If they were really dangerous, would they kill a merchant for no reason? I doubt it.”

I was about to pass by, thinking I might end up beating the old man to death if we talked longer, but the Sword Demon stopped and glared at him.

I looked between the Sword Demon and the old man.

“...”

If the Sword Demon killed a local merchant here, it would cross the line, so I couldn’t help but watch.

But walking away without doing anything left me with a sour taste too.

The Lecher stopped the Sword Demon.

“Master, let’s just go. He’s just an old man with no internal energy.”

The Sword Demon looked around and replied.

“Really? Then how does an old man with no internal energy know who we are?”

The Lecher finally looked at the old man as well.

“That’s a good point.”

Now everyone was staring at us.

They were all blended into everyday life, so there was no way to tell who was one of the Number One of the Evil Path’s men, and who was just a regular local.

The old man said boldly,

“...Thanks to the Number One of the Evil Path, Dongho has found some measure of peace. Twenty years ago, there was no such peace. Back then, black-path scum from outside and local thugs clashed constantly, killing each other. We spent every day cleaning up corpses. It was the Number One who finally brought order. If he dies, will you lot take responsibility for this entire city?”

Maybe emboldened by the old man, others began to shout criticisms from all directions.

“How will the Lord of Haomun take responsibility for this place?”

“Isn’t this all because of that Black Fragrance thing?”

“That’s Black Fragrance’s fault. Not the Number One’s. How could he control all his subordinates? Is that worth making this big of a fuss?”

“Lord, the Number One of the Evil Path doesn’t have a bad reputation here. How else could he rule so long? He’s never even been captured.”

Complaints and whining overlapped and poured down on us.

They weren’t trying to fight—just running their mouths—so killing them over it felt wrong.

The dumpling shop owner turned to me.

“Doesn’t Haomun have black-path members too? If your subordinates caused trouble, would you take all the blame yourself? That would be fair.”

Someone muttered quietly,

“What’s the point of asking that? They’re clearly just here to fight.”

Voices came from inside the inn too.

“They say even the Left Guardian of the Demonic Cult is among them. Though he’s supposedly left the cult now.”

I looked at the Sword Demon, the Lecher, and the Drunk, then laughed.

“Bunch of clowns. Running your mouths from hiding.”

I waved my hands and encouraged them.

“Go on, keep talking. I’ll listen to all of it. I’m used to criticism. I can tolerate even the most absurd nonsense. Seems like you’re set on attacking us with words, so go on. I’ll hear it.”

I began to spot people here and there suppressing their killing intent.

“If you want a war of words, fine. But if I catch a whiff of hostility, I’ll lay you next to the rotting fish like the ones who died on West Water Road. Is this guy supposed to be the king of Dongho? If he’s gone, law and order collapses, people starve, black-path scum run wild, and chaos returns—is that what you’re saying?”

“...”

“Black Fragrance wasn’t some innocent mistake. They billed me for monetary losses. How is that a mistake? You must’ve read the flyers I posted. Beating a merchant to death, kidnapping a child who lost her parents, slapping the label ‘half-blood girl’ on her and selling her for cash—that kind of bastard gets defended? What a stupid world. Shameless pigs yelling about survival. You filthy dogs—lower than slaves—licking the toes of that so-called Greatest Sword of Dongho until you die. Your kids should grow up licking his toes before their mother’s milk. Wouldn’t that be fitting?”

Wow... I didn’t expect it to get this quiet.

The guy who’d been chopping off fish heads with a cleaver suddenly hurled the knife at me.

It was surprisingly fast.

I didn’t bother catching it, just dodged with a flick of my head. Unfortunately, it grazed the vendor across from us and embedded itself in a pillar, drawing a scream.

I turned to the fishmonger.

“Stick to cutting fish heads. Why the hell is your knife laced with poison, huh?”

I half drew my sword to kill the guy, then pushed it back in.

Since he didn’t run, he probably had a role—like ambushing me while I attacked the fish vendor.

I sheathed my sword.

The old man spoke again.

“Listen, Lord of Haomun. To be honest, some of us here serve the Number One of the Evil Path. Some don’t. But we all have something in common.”

“What?”

“None of us have actually seen the Number One. We know he exists, but we’ve never seen him. Do you think killing everyone here will make him show up? He’s not that kind of man. Maybe someone here knows, but there’s no guarantee they’re telling the truth. Could be a proxy.”

In the end, I crouched in front of the old man’s stall.

“You old bastard. You talk way too well for a teaware vendor.”

The old man glared at me.

“I heard the Lord of Haomun protects the working people. Is this your idea of justice? You’re no different from the black-path.”

From that crouched position, I drew my wooden sword, sliced off the old man’s head, and shook off the blood on the floor.

With a soft thud, the head rolled across the ground.

I used my blade to prod the stall’s wares. A small kettle spilled black liquid, which quickly dissolved everything on the table, reeking horribly. It reminded me of that corrosive stuff from last time—Huagolsan.

I hooked the kettle’s handle with my sword and flung it toward the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} fish vendor. He raised a cutting board to block it.

SSSSHHHHH!

While he was distracted, the Drunk unsheathed his sword and swung. The board split in half—and so did the fish vendor’s body. Split down the middle, he died without a scream. His body gushed blood as it crumpled to the floor. Silence returned.

I addressed the surroundings.

“...Everyone, I’m here. Do I look like some goody-two-shoes philanthropist spreading virtue? If the Number One won’t show, I’ll kill all his subordinates instead, so don’t worry. If you want to keep pretending to be humble merchants, go ahead. I’ll let you live. Oh, can’t stand this damned Lord of Haomun? Then step up like a man or launch a sneak attack—your choice. I’ll kill you either way.”

I raised my right hand and asked the crowd,

“Anyone else want to run their mouth like the dead old man who tried to splash me with Huagolsan? Seems like this town has a lot of smooth talkers. I’ll split your lips wide open. Anyone got something to say?”

A middle-aged man steaming dumplings replied.

“Lord, do you know how many districts like this there are? Even if you make it out alive, your infamy will spread across the realm. Can you bear that?”

I answered the dumpling man.

“Boss, save the nonsense for the Martial Alliance. How much are the dumplings? Pork? Got veggie ones? Just make tasty dumplings and quit lacing them with dumbass poison. Why the hell is a dumpling guy worried about my reputation, you bastard?”

Still holding my sword, I walked over and looked him in the eyes.

“How much for ten dumplings?”

“...”

The man, posing as the owner, stared at me in a daze.

Maybe it was the killing intent. I hadn’t even swung yet, but he gripped the pot lid in front of him. I sliced through both the thick lid and his torso diagonally.

Blood spurted from the split, exposed through the cracked lid.

“You’ve got to be kidding me... Wow, look at these bastards.”

I stared at the crowd lining the street.

They were already mixed in with those waiting for us. Probably even forced some civilians to mingle among them.

“Impressive, I’ll admit. I can’t just kill innocent people.”

But as the body count rose, their faces paled.

I rejoined the Four Great Villains and continued walking.

People scrambled aside to make way, but the harsh glares didn’t stop. Everyone was cursing us with their eyes.

Then one man stumbled forward, shoved from behind, and shouted,

“Why’d you push me?! I didn’t do anything! They pushed me from behind!”

He held up both hands with a dazed expression and stared at us.

I asked him,

“Not you?”

“N-no, I’m not a subordinate.”

“Turn around.”

“Pardon?”

“I said turn around.”

As he turned, I approached and whispered into his ear.

“Then who is? Point them out. We’ll kill them. Just name one accurately, and I’ll let you live.”

I grabbed his shoulder and injected a hint of cold energy—both to threaten and to test his resistance.

He trembled violently, scanning the area, but I wasn’t going to give him much time.

“If you don’t point someone out, you’ll freeze to death. Why? Just bad luck. That happens in life.”

He pointed at a bundle-carrying vendor in a bamboo hat.

“That guy pushed me. On purpose.”

Before he even finished saying “on purpose,” the Lecher moved like lightning and struck the vendor with a palm.

WHUMP!

After the force exchange, the Lecher returned to his spot. The vendor, mid-reach, turned pale and stiffened on the spot.

I told the man I was holding,

“See that? That’s what happens when you’re unlucky. Look at his face. Point out another. We’re stronger anyway.”

The man, trembling harder, raised his hand slowly. But before he could name anyone else, over ten people charged at us.

I watched with a grin.

“Here we go.”

Three or four flew back from the Lecher’s twin palms, and the Drunk severed a few arms from those charging with weapons. Screams overlapped in an instant.

I asked the man I was still holding,

“By the way, how much are ten dumplings here?”

“Two iron coins.”

I grabbed his head and turned it to face me.

“Wrong. What’s going on here?”

Seeing his panicked face, I slapped him unconscious.

“Nine out of ten must be the Number One’s men. There’s a lot.”

I stepped ahead and addressed those blocking the way.

“Move. You idiots. Unless you want to die.”

I slapped a guy nearby and kept walking.

“He asked for a one-on-one, and you all still jump us. Move, assholes. Do I need to do a whole lap before he shows up?”

The Drunk covered the rear left, the Lecher rear right.

Behind us, the Sword Demon followed.

I took the lead and pushed forward through the crowd.

Finally, they started to understand—they’d die if they fought us. That was progress.

I offered advice to those stepping aside.

“Just report that it couldn’t be helped. ‘Dear boss, you need to come out personally. Why are you hiding like a rat? Be brave. If you’re the Number One of the Evil Path, stop acting like a coward. There’s only four of us. Come on. Doesn’t anyone have the guts to say this to your face? Of course not. Because your minions are all even bigger cowards.’”

Sighs echoed here and there, full of conflicted emotion.

I turned to the Four Great Villains.

“Ah, screw it. I’m hungry. Let’s eat somewhere.”

The Lecher asked,

“What if it’s poisoned?”

“Then even better. We’ll take over the place. Use silver needles, treat this like a serious situation. Let the owner try it first. Or I’ll go cook noodles myself.”

The Sword Demon looked at me.

“Restrain yourself. I already heard your cooking rumors from Jang the cook.”

The Lecher added,

“He almost threw up.”

I glared at him.

“Don’t make stuff up.”

The Drunk, face dumber than usual, said,

“I heard too. That inn went bankrupt, right?”

Ignoring them, I entered the inn. As soon as I stepped in, everyone eating scrambled to escape.

Too stunned, I shouted after them.

“...Hey, you bastards, aren’t you going to pay first? No?”

I looked around the inn.

“Guess not.”

I sat at an empty table and watched the others enter.

“Wow, so many of the Number One’s men in one place. We picked the wrong inn.”

Suddenly I looked up at the ceiling—and with a crash, people upstairs began leaping down. One guy twisted his ankle mid-jump and cried out in pain as he hobbled away.

I turned to the three seated with me and said dryly,

“Inn takeover complete. I suddenly have new respect for Guan Yu.”

“Why?”

“He stormed past five gates without even eating.”

Maybe I was wrong, but since we were all dumb, the three of them nodded.

“Amazing.”