Chapter 134

Chapter 134
**Chapter 134: Third-Rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven**

The first floor of the Hundred Whites Pavilion.

The guest who had requested their meeting was the last person anyone would have expected.

A child?

A boy who looked roughly twelve or thirteen years old, dressed in scholarly robes that seemed far too mature for his years.

It was him.

The boy, who had been sipping his tea with a gravity well beyond his age, rose to his feet.

“You have arrived, Great Young Master Baek Yang-hui of the Baek Clan Manor. This one is So Ga-ra, of the White-Clothed Sect.”

This one. So Ga-ra of the White-Clothed Sect.

No ordinary child would ever speak of themselves in such a manner.

“Right, right. Boy, what is it you want from me?”

The boy’s brow furrowed deeply. It was clear he took great offense at being addressed like a youngster.

“I have been told you are sixteen, Young Master Baek. That makes me only three years your junior—so I would ask you to set aside that ‘boy’ label.”

Call him what he liked, physically he might be close in age, but mentally he was still nothing more than a child.

“Fine then, boy.”

“Your ‘elder brother’ here has pressing matters to attend to. Can you get straight to the point?”

“Those titles you shared—where did you hear them?”

The boy puffed out his cheeks before answering.

“I did not hear them anywhere. I created them myself. If anything, it is I who should be asking you: you made mention of *Righteous Bandits of the Green Forest*, so you must have some understanding of its meaning.”

Yang-hui went silent, studying the boy intently.

*Righteous Bandits of the Green Forest*. It was one of the novels penned by One Stroke Writer in his former life. Which meant that at this moment in time, no one else in the world ought to know of it at all.

Yet here was this boy, speaking of it as if it were common knowledge.

Could this child actually be the true One Stroke Writer?

Impossible. The One Stroke Writer he had known in his past life had been at least twenty years older than this boy. Still, that left a handful of possibilities to consider.

“Don’t know what you’re on about. I’ve nothing to say on the matter.”

“If you intend to be difficult, then so be it. I shall explain everything clearly, point by point. The works publicly attributed to One Stroke Writer are *Pure Sword Spans Myriad Miles*, *Eastern Land Against Western Demons*, *Peerless Love’s Endless Delay*, and *Return to Mount Hua*. *Eastern Land Against Western Demons* tells the tale of defending the East—the Central Plains—against the demonic beasts that come from the West. Its protagonist is of mixed blood, descended from both Eastern and Western lines, yet he stands firm in his resolve to protect the spirit of the East. The early chapters weave these elements together seamlessly within the story’s structure, shaping the personalities of every character to fit perfectly within that foundation, and the entire narrative unfolds exactly as established…”

The boy went on at considerable length, recounting intricate details of *Eastern Land Against Western Demons*. Far from finished, he then launched into equally thorough accounts of the other novels as well.

Good grief, this child certainly loved the sound of his own voice.

“Get to the point.”

“I am making my point as we speak.”

“Make it brief.”

“I am being brief.”

“You call this brief?”

“Would you prefer even greater detail? Every part is fully planned out, even those not yet revealed to the public—I could continue indefinitely.”

Not that he *could*—it was simply that he *wanted* to.

Deciding not to indulge him any further, Yang-hui cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“So what you are saying is that you are the original author of the stories published under the name One Stroke Writer by the Baek Book Merchant Group.”

“More precisely: Young Master Baek has stolen and published works compiled from my own personal notes and drafts.”

“Me?”

“Precisely. Because you are One Stroke Writer.”

There was unshakable certainty in his voice.

That was why he had dangled *Righteous Bandits of the Green Forest* before him—to test him. For one so young, his mind was remarkably sharp.

“Suppose all that were true. How could you possibly know I took your notes?”

“Because no one else could write stories of such quality. My notes contained nothing but rough concepts, yet you managed to capture every core idea perfectly. It is obvious you took them.”

Alongside his quick wit came an unshakeable belief in his own brilliance—bordering, in fact, on arrogance. It was one thing to carry himself with maturity, but had he some departed braggart’s spirit attached to him?

“Boy.”

“I am not a boy.”

“Very well then, Little Scholar.”

“Ugh—not ‘Little Scholar’ either!”

“Your name is So Ga-ra, is it not?”

“You added ‘Little’ on purpose just to make it sound patronizing!”

“With or without it, you remain Little Scholar to me. So then—what is it you want? Are you asking me to return what you claim was stolen?”

“I am asking for proper compensation.”

“In what form?”

His answer was simple enough.

“Appoint me as Sect Leader of the White-Clothed Sect.”

It was an outrageous demand, the sort of thing one might only dream of in fantasy.

Yet as he listened, Yang-hui began to understand. The question that had lingered in his mind—the very reason the White-Clothed Sect had grown so formidable in his past life—now had its answer.

It was this boy.

“And you have the approval of the White-Clothed Sect’s elders for this?”

“What use is permission from short-sighted fools bound by meaningless measures such as age? Especially when the sect stands on the very edge of ruin.”

There was truth in his words. Drunk on his own brilliance, he had not yet learned to temper his speech for the benefit of others. But in four or five years, when the White-Clothed Sect rose to prominence, he would be fully grown and respected by all. The timeline matched perfectly.

In his former life, this boy had served as the White-Clothed Sect’s master strategist.

Hm. It felt as though a whole new world of possibilities had just presented itself. Time to dig deeper.

“Why should I grant your request to make you Sect Leader?”

“Still shameless, as expected. But my proposal benefits you as well. It is simple: your Baek Clan Manor—or rather, the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan—has declared itself a champion of unyielding righteousness and has established a presence in Nanchang, the very heart of White-Clothed Sect territory. From a broader perspective…”

Before he could even finish answering, the boy was off again, speaking rapidly from start to finish, unable to resist displaying the full depth and breadth of his knowledge.

“Enough. Are you asking me to install you as a figurehead?”

“I had not yet reached that part. You are quick-witted, are you not? No wonder you were able to refine my ideas into something so presentable.”

Quick-witted? Was that really how one spoke to someone older than oneself?

He was bright, certainly—but still lacking in experience. Even so, he was undoubtedly a rare talent.

Without question, this boy was the true One Stroke Writer. Whoever had claimed the title in the past had been nothing more than an imposter.

He did not know exactly what had happened in his previous life—whether the boy’s work had truly been stolen, or whether the boy himself had been exploited by someone else.

In his former life, the White-Clothed Sect had risen from the most respected in Nanchang to the preeminent force across the entire Gangseo region. Their expansion had been driven by bold, shrewd calculation. It had been this very strategist who had elevated them to the brink of provincial dominance.

If that strategist was indeed the boy standing before him… he would still need to be certain.

“Boy—excuse me—Little Scholar. I am willing to give you a chance.”

“I am *not* a boy! Watch your words! And is that all I am offered—a mere chance? It is pitiful recompense for what was taken, but… I shall raise myself up, then. Very well.”

Yang-hui smiled and led the Little Scholar up to the highest floor of the Hundred Whites Pavilion.

“Father. Uncle. I have something important to discuss.”

“What is it? And who is this child you have brought with you?”

The Little Scholar spoke at once, bristling with indignation.

“I am not a child! Address me as Little Scholar!”

Baek Mu-ryang turned his gaze toward Yang-hui instead of responding. His look made it perfectly clear he was asking what was going on.

“He belongs to the So family, one of the White-Clothed Sect’s founding lineages. I had questions for him, and I knew you both would want to hear his answers.” He turned back to the Little Scholar. “And do not ask how I knew your family was one of the founding houses—you would never have raised the matter of Sect Leader otherwise.”

“Indeed, Young Master—you are at least worth speaking with. Perceptive.”

Choosing to ignore the arrogant remark, Yang-hui waited for Baek Mu-ryang and Jeon Jeon-seon to give their approval. Fortunately, both appeared intrigued by the boy.

“I am not entirely sure what you are asking, or what answers you expect to find—but I have a feeling this will prove most interesting.”

“Yang-hui, out with it—what scheme are you hatching this time?”

“Of course, sir.”

He proceeded to outline the Baek Clan’s current circumstances to the Little Scholar: the ten-year pact with the Dang Clan; the wager set to take place in nine months—the young master of the Namcheon Martial Hall’s challenge against Baek Heon-so; the events at Jeongwol Gate and the gathering that was soon to follow; along with details of the clan’s financial standing and its affiliated businesses.

Baek Mu-ryang trusted Yang-hui implicitly and said nothing, but Jeon Jeon-seon shook his head in disapproval.

“Yang-hui, is it truly wise to share such confidential details? He comes from a family we may still consider our enemies.”

Even Jeon Jeon-seon had expressed concern, yet the Little Scholar remained entirely unperturbed, as though it were only natural to seek counsel from someone of his standing.

“There is no cause for alarm. If he proves unreliable, we shall simply remove him.”

Naturally, it was a bluff—intended only to see how he would react.

The Little Scholar answered with unshaken boldness.

“There will be no need for such measures! You will grant my request and treat me with the utmost respect!”

“Very well then, Little Scholar. Now—what is your assessment? Given all these circumstances, what course of action should the Baek Clan pursue?”

The Little Scholar considered deeply for a moment before speaking.

“Between Gilju and Wonju, you must strike at Gilju first. More precisely—you must take full control of Gilju.”

“Why?”

“The Baek Clan has been at a disadvantage against the White-Clothed Sect. Without the Jeon Jeon Clan stepping in, they would already have secured victory.”

“That is true.”

“There is only one reason: the Baek Clan lacks sufficient manpower. Half your warriors hail from the Black Path, do they not? You have integrated them well, but outsiders remain unconvinced. Even with the Chaegil Escort Agency brought on board through payment, most are hired guards—you still do not have enough loyal men of your own.”

“You mean we need people who are truly devoted to the Baek Clan—ideally those who see their own future as inseparable from ours?”

“Ah. You guessed that from my mention of Gilju? You are not merely clever—you truly understand the situation.”

“Watch it, boy. I am older than you. It feels strange indeed to be praised like that by someone your age.”

Baek Mu-ryang and Jeon Jeon-seon watched the exchange between the sixteen-year-old and the boy of thirteen, wondering exactly who was the elder in this conversation.

In any case, both carried themselves well beyond their years. One had proven it time and again; the other was proving it now.

“In any event, Gilju will serve as the foundation from which the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan grows stronger and advances further. Once it is secured, it will become a stronghold as vital to us as our home county of Agan.”

“Insult the people of Wudang near their own mountain village, and see what happens—the common folk will rise up against you. Even those with no martial training will defend their own without hesitation. Controlling the lands surrounding one’s base is that important.”

“The Heaven-Covering Baek Clan is rooted in Agan County. Being confined to a single county limits how far we can expand.”

“Precisely. You understand.”

“Of course I do. But there is more to consider. Regarding the Namcheon wager… and the agreement with the Dang Clan, there are additional factors to weigh…”

“That will be enough.”

If he let him speak, he would go on for hours.

“You pass, Little Scholar.”

“Not so fast, Young Master. You should ask to retain my services—properly. And politely.”

Yang-hui studied him closely. The boy was still dwelling on being called a child? If he was to take him on, he would need to find a way to temper that pride.

“However… you have overlooked something.”

“What? That is impossible!”

As he watched the Little Scholar flush with indignation, refusing to admit there could be any flaw in his reasoning, Yang-hui smiled and continued.