Chapter 62 Beside the collapsed wall, the old man staggered to his feet.
As if one ear had been blown off, he rose clutching the left side of his face, drenched in red blood. Then he drew his sword and lunged forward.
"Do you know who I am, you wench!"
When a man reaches that age, no matter how impressive his cultivation realm, the moment he becomes intoxicated by the thick fragrance of alcohol, rational judgment inevitably dulls.
Thinking as much, Yeo Il leapt like a squirrel and once more unleashed sword qi toward the charging figure.
The old man barely twisted his body to avoid being scorched by the sword qi. As he spun, Yeo Il kicked him and added calmly,
"Put the payment on Chwihyang Pavilion."
The inn servant and cook hid behind a table, trembling as they nodded frantically.
Buried beneath overturned dishes and reduced to something like dog food yet still clinging to life, the old man staggered up with disbelief written across his face.
"Sword qi… how could someone like you, a mere young w—"
Unfortunately, Yeo Il had no time to spare.
Assuming Seol Seorin was still alive, bringing her back to the Murim Alliance would already be troublesome.
She was a woman who loathed Jin Cheong-ak. If luck turned sour, Yeo Il might have to carry her on her back and swim across the river herself…
Woooong.
A third surge of sword qi gathered, gleaming fiercely along the Blood-Seeking Sword Ghost's sword.
Face pale, the old man crab-stepped backward in panic and suddenly grabbed the inn servant's head from behind the table, threatening him.
"If you don't put that abomination away at once, I'll take this brat with me!"
When Yeo Il showed no reaction, he dragged over the cook, who had been curled into a ball, and placed him at his feet as well.
At that moment, somewhat heavy footsteps entered deeper into the inn.
Soaked by rain, Jin Cheong-ak approached with a large sack slung over his shoulder. No sooner had he set it upon a table than the knot loosened, revealing what lay inside.
A woman sleeping as though dead.
"Hey, Seol Seorin."
Jin Cheong-ak tapped the pale woman's cheek, but there was no response.
The old man looked momentarily flustered. Since Jin Cheong-ak had briefly left and returned, it seemed one of the parked carriages outside had belonged to him.
Approaching Seol Seorin, Yeo Il placed her sword against the woman's slender neck and warned,
"If you don't withdraw your sword, I'll kill this woman."
The old man stared at her in disbelief.
"What?"
"Choose one of two. First, lose Seol Seorin, the mistress of Chwihyang Pavilion, here and now. Second, give up one ear and answer my questions obediently, then return alive."
"..."
As the old man began seriously weighing the options, Jin Cheong-ak clicked his tongue in disgust.
"Even an old monster of the Unorthodox Faction wasn't as underhanded as you."
Ignoring him, Yeo Il continued,
"I don't have much time. If you don't answer before I count to three, I'll kill Seol Seorin and then kill you. One."
Perhaps sensing sincerity in her threat, the old man pulled the two hostages closer and spoke hurriedly.
"…Where did you crawl out from, you wench? Did you come to save the mistress? Or to kill her?"
"I'll ask the questions. You just answer."
"Damn it. To hell with it! What do you want from me!"
"Restore the bridge."
The old man ground his teeth, anger rising, before barely steadying his breath.
"…I didn't collapse the bridge."
"Then did a ghost do it?"
"..."
"Yeonghwang Yuse."
Flinch.
The old man glared at Yeo Il with a strange gaze hovering between surprise and caution.
With an already expressionless face, she repeated sternly,
"Yeonghwang Yuse."
"..."
"Doesn't react. So your head isn't completely empty."
Crack.
The old man clenched his fist.
Jin Cheong-ak asked casually,
"Was that a password?"
"Perhaps."
"A password meaning Eternal Emperor's Legacy… quite grandiose. Now I'm curious what comes next."
Yeo Il looked at the old man again.
"And the sobriquet you were about to mention earlier?"
She wondered whether he was an expert on the level of the Eight Ghosts. Though his skill clearly seemed inferior to the Blood-Seeking Sword Ghost's, reputation did not spread solely by strength.
Watching his tightly shut mouth, Yeo Il let the blade flash.
"If you don't speak, I'll kill Seol Seorin."
"Don't make me laugh!"
The man howled.
"The moment I answer, you'll fling sword qi again. Do you think I'll fall for that twice!"
At that instant—
"Iron-Faced Mad Dog Man Deuk!"
An unexpected intrusion.
The voice came from the inn's doorway. A man drenched by rain pointed at the old man and shouted again,
"That beggar is Iron-Faced Mad Dog Man Deuk! The one who murdered the Shaanxi Branch Deputy Leader of our Beggars' Sect and fled—an ungrateful son of a bitch! No, even dogs know gratitude, so Man Deuk isn't fit to be called one. He's Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk!"
That old man was a beggar who fled from the Beggars' Sect?
Yeonghwang Yuse accepted someone like that?
Salmak had only accepted members after eradicating even their direct family—erasing a person's very origin.
They said even rivers and mountains change in ten years. It seemed Salmak's principles had also faded with time.
"Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk. An unfamiliar sobriquet. New to Jianghu? A late bloomer?"
"Bullshit. Iron-Faced Mad Dog!"
The Beggars' Sect, which gathered beggars from across the land, did not elevate just anyone to Deputy Leader.
Martial realm mattered, yes—but more important were character and trust. Only someone recognized not just by beggars but by the local people of a province could rise to Deputy Leader.
A traitor who killed such a figure and fled would be treated as the vilest among them.
"Xiaoxia!"
The rain-soaked beggar cupped his fists toward Yeo Il.
Behind him, several more beggars had gathered, glaring at Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk.
"This humble one is Gaecheol of the Beggars' Sect. We have all come this far to avenge our Shaanxi Branch Deputy Leader."
"..."
"You seem unwilling to reveal your identity, so I will not ask your honored name. But I ask that you allow us to lend our hands in striking down that bastard! We have chased the traitor who murdered our master for dozens of days! We wish to see this vengeance fulfilled!"
"We wish to see this vengeance fulfilled!"
At the renewed shout, Jin Cheong-ak collapsed into a chair and muttered,
"The beggars chose their timing well."
One glance was enough to tell: Gaecheol and the others were no match for Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk.
They must have waited long for this chance. Yes—waiting only for opportunity.
Iron-Faced Bastard Man Deuk lifted his chin toward the heavens and laughed uproariously.
"Puhaha… You vermin with loose mouths spout hypocrisy so well! If you were that desperate, why did you only trail behind me like rats? Is that your so-called righteousness!"
"Shut up, traitor!"
"You sucked your thumbs while I slaughtered that wench's bodyguards and abducted her… and that's not all! When I plundered, didn't you turn a blind eye because the timing wasn't right!"
"You bastard!"
"Go on! Speak confidently! Explain clearly whether you have the right to punish me!"
Once again—
Yeo Il did not have the luxury of time.
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