Chapter 125

Chapter 125
Chapter 125

Among the Five Great Clans of the world, the Zhuge Clan.
Shaolin, the North Star among the Nine Great Sects.
Enemies coveted his treasure, making careful preparation and countermeasures essential.
Despite the late hour, the Moon Port Tower Lord immediately departed for an undisclosed destination.
His path led toward a massive compound featuring a prominent plaque that declared “Blood Night Gang.”

“Haha! What brings the renowned Moon Port Tower Lord to our doorstep at this ungodly hour?”
“Blood Night Gang Leader. I have an earnest request to make of you.”

Hangju stood as one of the premier commercial hubs across the entire Central Plains. Consequently, the factions rooted within its borders numbered well over a hundred, with the Blood Night Gang reigning comfortably among the top ten as a colossal powerhouse.

“A request? What plea could you possibly have for a brute like me, whose entire life consists of leading sword-for-hire thugs with no regard for tomorrow? Surely you aren’t planning to entrust Moon Port Tower’s security to common black path scoundrels, are you?”

Like most regions under heaven, Hangju maintained a delicate balance between the black and white paths. Until now, the Tower Lord had carefully cultivated closer ties with the righteous factions of the white path. However, facing formidable adversaries like Shaolin and the Zhuge Clan, relying on white path sects was entirely out of the question. In truth, even most black path organizations would hesitate to entangle themselves in such dangerous matters.

That precisely explained why he had sought out the Blood Night Gang Leader. A man whose nature leaned far past mere criminality into absolute ruthlessness—brutal and endlessly avaricious—Gu Tae-rang was never one to back down, provided the price was right.

“I’ll speak plainly.”
The Tower Lord concisely outlined the day’s turbulent events and slid a prepared wooden box forward. Inside, the container brimmed with gold ingots, totaling a hundred nyang.
“This is your advance: a hundred nyang in gold. I promise substantial future commissions for the Blood Night Gang as well. Lend me your strength.”

The Gang Leader wore an amused smirk, casually scraping his chin with the sharp edge of his blade.
“Moon Port Tower Lord. Aren’t you supposed to be one of the wealthiest men in all of Hangju?”
“This conflict involves crossing not just the Zhuge Clan, but Shaolin as well—and you offer a mere hundred nyang?”
“With the remaining balance included, it comes to two hundred. Furthermore, I vow to maintain deep, enduring ties with you moving forward.”
“Hmm.”

A sudden wave of temptation caused the Gang Leader’s mouth to water as the heavy, coppery scent of wealth wafted thickly through the air.
“I will lend you the Blood Night Seven Blades. But it will cost five hundred nyang.”

The Blood Night Seven Blades referred to the seven elite martial artists whose formidable reputations echoed even within the upper echelons of the Blood Night Gang.

“……There is no need to deploy such excessive force. For now, simply retrieve the girl So Wol-hyang from their clutches, and together we can prepare for any potential fallout…”
The Gang Leader rudely cut off the Tower Lord’s words.
“I intend to send them regardless.”

At last, the Tower Lord understood the Gang Leader’s true objective: he was deliberately over-deploying lethal force purely to extort a larger sum of money. A surge of irritation flared within him, instantly followed by a strange sense of relief. An avaricious wolf driven solely by the scent of money would never abandon his prey, regardless of what transpired later.

*If I can reclaim So Wol-hyang and bind her to my side forever… it remains a profitable venture.*
Swallowing his pride, the Tower Lord bowed his head in silent agreement.

—

“Sister!”

Zhuge Seol-ha rushed forward like a sudden gust of wind, gently prying the silver dagger from the collapsed So Wol-hyang’s hand before pulling her tightly into an embrace. Clear, dewdrop-like tears welled up and glistened in her eyes. Having similarly endured a hellish existence due to an unwanted innate talent, Zhuge Seol-ha intimately understood that agonizing torment. It was only natural for her to feel a profound connection with someone traversing the exact same path of melody and rhythm while carrying a mirrored, traumatic past.

“Sister. You did nothing wrong.”
The shared tears of the two young women—neither of whom had even reached the age of twenty—dampened the floor beneath them.
“Do as senior brother advises, sister. He will handle everything. Absolutely.”

So Wol-hyang lifted her tear-streaked eyes to gaze at Zhuge Seol-ha.
Continuing her thought, Seol-ha spoke with unwavering certainty.
“Since childhood, senior brother has always found a way through every hardship and guided us all safely. So this time, too, he will surely rescue you in a brilliant, dashing manner.”

Reflecting in Seol-ha’s eyes was the steadfast image of Yang-hui—a boulder bearing countless scars yet stripped of sharp edges, rounded and smooth, but above all, completely unshakeable and solid.

“Young master. Why on earth do you wish to help me?”
So Wol-hyang’s voice trembled with a heartrending desperation as she posed the question. Betrayed by someone she trusted deeply, her past manipulated entirely by greed, trusting another soul terrified her to her core. She desperately needed absolute certainty.

“I told you before, sis. I’m just playing the role of a wandering ronin, helping out because there’s a profit in it.”
“For the sake of a single musical stanza?”

Yang-hui offered a faint, gentle smile, echoing the exact same response he had given in his past life.
“A single stanza from So Wol-hyang—the direct descendant of Su Xiaoxiao and Su Dongpo, celebrated as Hangju’s foremost courtesan at such a tender age! That is a treasure easily worth ten thousand pieces of gold!”

In truth, another underlying motivation existed. It was the exact reason he had accepted her desperate plea in his previous life, despite his ignorance back then.

*The righteousness I inherited from my father lies in rescue and compassion.*
*You acted in righteousness through rescue, yet your compassion did not fade. How then could I stand idly by?*

Those were the very words his father had once uttered while gazing down at an abandoned beggar boy huddled in a dark, dismal alley.
Rescue meant the active intent to save. Compassion meant taking pity upon the suffering.
*Why should one ever need a convoluted reason to rescue the pitiful and assist those in desperate need? Right?*

Sensing the atmosphere growing far too solemn, he tossed out a lighthearted jest to ease the tension.
“Besides, a true man can never simply stand by while a helpless beauty suffers oppression.”
“So trust in me, sis.”

So Wol-hyang could only sob quietly in response. Yet, the emotional currents within her flowing tears had shifted subtly from before.

—

Yang-hui’s group escorted So Wol-hyang to the Dongpo Inn and secured private quarters for her. It was a location already familiar to her, and sufficiently isolated to ensure ordinary civilians would not be caught in the crossfire of the impending conflict.

As Zhuge Seol-ha enthusiastically savored the exquisite Dongpo pork meticulously prepared by Chef So, she abruptly tossed out a question.
“Senior brother. So, what is our actual strategy?”
“Hm? Regarding what?”
Seol-ha’s gaze flicked pointedly toward So Wol-hyang and back.
*Sister’s situation, of course. Shouldn’t we take action swiftly?*

Receiving her silent mental transmission, Yang-hui paused to ponder for a brief moment. *Hm. Should I fill her in? Or keep her in the dark?*
For the sake of So Wol-hyang’s peace of mind, at the very least, a short explanation seemed warranted.

“We cannot afford to make the first move. The justification must rest squarely with the Tower Lord.”
Regardless of his past misdeeds, the contractual agreement binding So Wol-hyang and the Tower Lord remained technically legitimate. Massive wealth or not, the Tower Lord was still registered as a common civilian, preventing them from arbitrarily wielding martial force against him.
“Therefore, we wait patiently until he crosses the line.”

He paused, a faint recollection of his past life flickering through his mind. The timing differed slightly, but the ultimate outcome would surely follow the same trajectory. If that held true… things had just grown significantly simpler.
“It will happen soon enough anyway. The Tower Lord is desperate for a rapid resolution.”
“Really? Let me know if there is anything I need to prepare.”
“Hmm. Gear up for an all-out fight? Nah, no need for anything like that.”

While Yang-hui calmly and leisurely enjoyed his Dongpo pork, a sudden uproar erupted from outside. Chef So burst frantically through the doorway, screaming in sheer terror.
“Y-Young master! The Moon Port Tower Lord is approaching with a band of warriors!”
“Speak of the tiger and its stripes appear. Let’s head out. A-du, you come too.”

He stepped outside, flanked by Zhuge Seol-ha and A-du.
*The Tower Lord accompanied by roughly twenty warriors. Seven peak-level martial artists among them, by the look of it.*
They were fierce-looking black path experts, all bearing crimson saber sashes tied tightly around their waists. They appeared somewhat younger here, yet wore the exact same faces etched into his memories from his past life. Even back then, this exact group had gathered—evidently none of them dying for another decade.

*Every single one of these bastards who fell by my hand in the previous life is gathered right here.*

“If it isn’t the infamous Blood Night Seven Blades. Have you truly fallen so low as to serve that old coot?”
The leader of the group, Number One, curled his lips into an ugly smirk.
“As long as the pay is right, I’d gladly suck a dog’s cock.”
“Oh? Well, here is a hundred nyang—feel free to give it a try. What a magnificent spectacle that would be: seven peak experts eagerly slurping a hound’s dick.”
“That was a figure of speech, you brat. Are you truly so eager to die?”
“Who in this entire world wants to die badly enough to answer such a foolish question?”

Unlike Yang-hui’s utterly nonchalant retort and A-du’s vacant, wide-eyed stare, Zhuge Seol-ha instantly grew rigid, instinctively shielding So Wol-hyang behind her own body. Facing twenty adversaries, including seven peak-level threats, made her tense reaction completely natural.

*Senior brother. Isn’t this an absolute crisis?*
*It is.*

They were heavily outnumbered in both individual prowess and sheer numbers—a genuine crisis. With A-du by his side, he could somehow manage a way out, but attempting to protect both Seol-ha and Wol-hyang while simultaneously fending off twenty deadly foes left him with zero margin for error.

However.
“Well, get on with it.”
“Get on with what?”
“You have that one specific task to handle first. I want to watch the Tower Lord’s expression twist in horror before the actual fight begins, so finish it quickly.”

All seven members of the Blood Night Blades widened their eyes in sudden realization as they caught the precise meaning behind Yang-hui’s words.
“How did you figure that out?”
“All black path thugs operate with the exact same predictable mindset.”
“Hahaha! Such nerve, backed by genuine cunning, eh?”

Visibly flustered and anxious amidst this unexpected turn of events, the Tower Lord hurriedly barged forward.
“Great heroes of the Blood Night Seven Blades, carry out the gang leader’s direct command immediately.”
“Ah, right. Almost forgot.”

Number One slowly drew a small pouch from his inner pocket and tossed it toward the Tower Lord.
“Catch. Is this the one they call Wol-hyang? That covers the full price for the courtesan’s body.”
“What is the meaning of this?! The gang leader would never condone such insolence!”
“It is precisely the gang leader’s order. He caught wind of how precious a treasure she is and decided he wishes to possess her personally, to cherish her with his own hands. So hand her over as sold.”
“……I have no intention whatsoever of selling Wol-hyang.”

Number One replied with icy indifference.
“Refuse us, and your head rolls down the dirt.”

Therein lay the fundamental distinction between the white and black paths: unlike righteous sects that required convoluted justifications, the black path freely wielded brute force without a second thought. That precisely earned them the designation of the “black path.”

This was the exact moment he had been waiting for. The instant the Blood Night Gang intervened openly, the entire dynamic shifted. It transformed the situation from a white path martial artist unjustly plundering civilian wealth into a clear-cut confrontation between the black and white paths—vastly expanding their operational leeway.

“Hey, old man. Are you completely brainless? What on earth possessed you to invite the black path into this?”
The Tower Lord’s face drained entirely of color under Yang-hui’s biting mockery. Only now did he fully grasp the catastrophic mistake of inviting a pack of starving wolves to his doorstep.
*Stupid bastard, all driven by blinding greed and utterly devoid of sense. With members of Shaolin and the Zhuge Clan currently present, you couldn’t seek assistance from other righteous sects anyway.*

That explained why the Gang Leader had pushed far beyond a simple mercenary commission—harboring much grander, darker ambitions. He certainly hadn’t anticipated running into someone else equally willing to shatter conventions.

“Listen well: the courtesan Wol-hyang now officially belongs to our Blood Night Gang. Here is the deal: drop to your knees right now if you wish to keep breathing.”
“And if we refuse?”
Number One flashed a savage, predatory grin.
“Then you die here. We stepped into this heedless of the consequences, so we certainly won’t leave any loose ends behind.”

A low snort escaped Yang-hui’s lips involuntarily.
“So you intended to slaughter us after surrender all along.”
“Figured it out, did you? Heh, sharp for a brat.”

The members of the Blood Night Blades smoothly fanned out, forming a tight, inescapable encirclement. They drew their heavy swords, the blades encrusted with dark, dried layers of old bloodstains. A suffocating wave of pure killing intent blanketed the area—a spine-chilling spectacle.

“S-Senior brother. What on earth do we do now?”
To Seol-ha, absolutely no escape route remained visible from this deadly crisis—unless Yang-hui had somehow managed to call for hidden reinforcements beforehand.
*The opposing numbers are simply too vast, though I can handle a few initially. Peak-level experts are entirely out of the question, however.*

Even when optimized for dealing with large crowds, sound-based arts possessed inherent limitations. Particularly against peak-level practitioners who could easily neutralize them, a simple defensive protective aura was enough to slash the technique’s effectiveness in half. That single flaw explained why so few martial artists pursued the path of sound arts.

“Yang-hui. Shall I go play with them?”
“Nah. Time to hand out some proper punishment.”
“Then let’s go! This sounds like fun!”

Unlike the deeply worried Seol-ha, A-du beamed with innocent excitement, raising her pot-lid fists into a solid defensive guard.
Yang-hui tossed a quick caution her way.
“Hold on. Charge blindly now and sister Wol-hyang becomes a hostage—that spells massive trouble.”

Rampaging freely was fine, but if their client got snatched away, it would spell total disaster. Therefore…
Grinning broadly, Yang-hui suddenly raised his voice.
“You can come out of hiding now, Master!”

At that exact instant—

Chiming!

A dense, suffocating fog of profound melody swept across the surroundings—not merely a sound perceived by the ears, but physical vibrations felt directly across the skin and echoing through every bone in the body.

“Urk!”
“What the—?!”
“Gah! Cough!”

The exquisite, devastating tune instantly forced every single Blood Night warrior crashing down onto their knees. Simultaneously, the figure of a young girl appearing roughly fifteen years of age slowly descended gracefully from the open air above.

The Sound Witch touched down lightly upon the ground, let out a soft sigh, and cast her gaze toward Yang-hui.
“Just how did you figure out I was here, young hero?”

Yang-hui merely responded with another wide, effortless grin.