Silence.

There was no other way to put it.

Cheon Sugang found himself speechless for the first time in ages.

So this is the kind of man he had become?

That bastard, that so-called illegitimate heir—had he truly changed this much?

Seol Unwi, whether he knew it or not, was now a name spoken throughout the martial world.

When people referred to the “Mad Dog of the Everlasting Snow Palace,” it was Seol Unwi who came to mind. Always.

And now, that very man stood before him.

“A pleasure to meet you. I am Seol Unwi, Branch Lord of Snow Compression.”

“Hohoho… Likewise. I’m Cheon Sugang of the Open Gate Sect, currently serving as Vice-Branch Lord of Geongonseong.”

Again, that faint smile played at the edge of Seol Unwi’s lips.

The same smile from moments earlier.

What the hell is he smiling for?

“To be honest, I didn’t expect this.”

“Didn’t expect what?”

“That someone like you, the infamous ‘Iron-Handed Ghost,’ would show up in person. Had I known, I would’ve prepared a banquet in your honor. What a shame…”

“Hmph, you little punk! You’ve been smirking this whole time—what’s so damn funny?”

Seol Unwi’s gaze shifted—to the man standing beside Cheon Sugang.

The branch leader of the Yangnyeong Division of Open Gate.

Wonsam.

But Seol Unwi clearly didn’t recognize the man.

He barely spared him a glance before returning his gaze to Cheon Sugang. That alone said everything.

“Senior.”

“You have something to say? Go ahead.”

“Then I’ll speak frankly. Has Open Gate fallen this far?”

Cheon Sugang blinked.

What in the world was this boy talking about now?

“Your hierarchy is in complete disarray.”

“……”

“Since when do subordinates interrupt their superiors mid-speech?”

Wonsam bristled at that, but before he could speak, Cheon Sugang laid a calm hand on his shoulder—firmly.

So firm, in fact, that Wonsam hadn’t even noticed when it had been raised.

That was the kind of movement only someone at the Realm of the Enlightened could pull off.

Wonsam gulped hard and clenched his jaw to stop himself from speaking. But then—

“It seems you want a proper, meaningful conversation,” Seol Unwi continued. “Then please remove that thing.”

That thing.

He referred to Wonsam like he was an object.

Like he wasn’t even human.

Wonsam began trembling with fury, but again, Cheon Sugang’s hand pressed down—warning him. Stay quiet.

“…Hoho,” Cheon Sugang chuckled. “That man may look rough, but he is still the Branch Leader of Yangnyeong.”

“I don’t care. Branch Leader or not, that man has already proven his worth—or rather, the lack thereof.”

“Proven…?”

“He speaks without authority, unaware of his place. He doesn’t even understand who holds command here or who has the right to speak. At that level, he’s already exposed. Don’t you think so, Senior?”

“I’m listening.”

“Is this really Open Gate?”

“……”

“Even for a sect of beggars, how can the person in charge of a regional branch be this stupid?”

Seol Unwi’s eyes were flat—utterly devoid of feeling.

And Cheon Sugang, staring into that abyss, reacted in a way that startled not just Wonsam, but the other Branch members… and even Commander Seong.

“Ha… Hahahahahahaha!”

The branch hall of Snow Compression echoed with thunderous laughter.

“Hahahahahaha!”

It didn’t stop.

Cheon Sugang laughed like he’d gone mad.

And Seol Unwi simply stared in silence.

Commander Seong had once said,

“He’s not the kind of man who should show up in Seolap.”

Seol Unwi had never agreed with that statement—until now.

Now that he was seeing it in person, he understood.

It wasn’t just that Cheon Sugang had reached the Realm of the Enlightened or even the Mythic Realm.

It was more than that.

The man known as Cheon Sugang, bearer of the nickname Iron-Handed Ghost, would one day be called the Beggar Overlord.

Not even the Sect Master of Open Gate—yet he was destined to become the King of Beggars.

A title like that wasn’t handed out lightly.

It was earned.

And clearly, he’d already done just that.

Seol Unwi thought to himself:

Fate can be such a cruel joke.

Even just looking at his history made the man seem tragic.

He always did what he believed was right.

And in doing so, he killed. A lot.

Especially Demonic Cultivators.

Serpent Valley, the venomous offshoot of the Central Blood Sect, had suffered massive losses at his hands.

Even the Thunder Demon Cult took a hit.

And though not as deeply as the Central Blood Sect, the Four Outer Demon Clans, known for their devotion to dark paths, were nearly wiped out by him.

Some of them came close to total extinction.

In the end, he vanished—taken without a trace.

His dantian destroyed.

Tortured to death.

Why was he captured?

A fundamental question.

He had reached the peak of the Blossoming Petal Fist, a force among forces.

How could someone like him be kidnapped?

The answer was simple.

The Sect Master of Open Gate sold him out.

Yes. That was the truth.

In the Open Gate Sect, Cheon Sugang wasn’t just important—he was central.

So what happens when the head of the hunting dog grows too big?

You put it down.

That’s what happened to Cheon Sugang.

And he didn’t die easily.

They tortured him. Over and over again.

And yet—even then—his will didn’t break.

By chance, Seol Unwi visited during that time.

Cheon Sugang had passed on several pieces of crucial information.

Then he made one final request.

“Kill me.”

So he did.

Back then, Seol Unwi never imagined he’d see Cheon Sugang again.

Never in this life.

And certainly not… here, in Seolap.

****

Everyone watched as Cheon Sugang roared with laughter.

At some point, it stopped—abruptly.

“Good. I think I understand what kind of man you are now.”

“And what kind is that, exactly?”

“Rumors are just that—rumors. But you… you strike me as a true man.”

“They say even a bear will dance if praised, but unfortunately, I’ve never had much talent for dancing.”

“That’s quite alright. Don’t worry about it. I’ll enjoy your dance another time—if the chance comes.”

It sounded like casual banter, friendly even.

But peel back the surface, and it was anything but.

Cheon Sugang had just cast his bait.

A true man.

“Then, as a man, how do you intend to take responsibility for what you’ve done?”

He’d lifted him up with flattery—only to now measure his worth through judgment.

That was Cheon Sugang’s style.

Seol Unwi responded with a faint smile.

“Why should I be the one to take responsibility?”

“…Then who should?”

Still wearing that smile, Seol Unwi stepped forward.

“I have a question for you, Senior. In front of the Branch Lord of Snow Compression, an Open Gate thug with only one knot tried to chase me off—just because his Branch Leader wasn’t present. He acted as if he outranked me. He even used the Open Gate Sect’s name to threaten me.”

“…And so you shattered his limbs? Even if he was disrespectful—”

“How was that disrespectful?”

“You’re saying it wasn’t?”

“I’m saying it wasn’t disrespect—it was betrayal.”

The word struck like lightning.

Cheon Sugang’s eyes widened. The others around them stared in stunned silence.

Betrayal?

“And is that how a beggar who eats martial arts is supposed to behave?”

“…Ah… So that’s why you called it betrayal.”

“Open Gate’s beggars have the right to receive martial arts only because they’ve earned that right. If they don’t have it, they shouldn’t be taking martial arts in the first place. That one-knot punk threw away his qualifications.”

To eat martial arts…

A strange turn of phrase, yet oddly respectful.

It wasn’t about begging for food or scraps—it was about martial inheritance.

No one likes being mocked outright. Even beggars have their pride.

But the way Seol Unwi said it elevated them. Eating martial arts implied worthiness—honor.

That was when Cheon Sugang’s anger faded.

Now, he was just… curious.

“Then what about the three-knot elder? Why did you kill him?”

Unwi calmly reached into his robes and pulled out a ledger.

He handed it to Cheon Sugang.

“…What is this?”

“A ledger.”

Wonsam’s eyes immediately gleamed.

He took a sharp breath—he would’ve lunged and torn it apart if not for Cheon Sugang’s subtle signal to stay still.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because there’s no reason not to.”

“There is a reason. What if I burn it?”

“Then Open Gate isn’t eating martial arts. It’s eating filth.”

“…You’re very good at making people speechless.”

“I don’t think so. I’d wager you have one more question on your mind.”

And he was right.

This young man—barely seventeen—spoke like someone who had lived through the worst of the martial world.

“Before killing the three-knot elder Chwi Igae… you also killed a two-knot. Why?”

“To kill the three-knot.”

“…So you’re saying there was no reason?”

“No. I’m saying the reason was to kill the three-knot.”

“……”

“I think there’s a misunderstanding here. If I had needed to kill every beggar in that room to eliminate Chwi Igae, I would’ve done it—without hesitation.”

“…Hah…”

“That’s what grudges are, aren’t they? Or am I wrong?”

Cheon Sugang said nothing.

He was stunned.

Because Seol Unwi was right. Completely, undeniably right.

What is a vendetta, if not absolute?

No excuses. No compromises.

If someone must die, they die. If others stand beside them, they fall too.

Eradicate the root.

That’s the foundation of true vengeance.

But few in the martial world ever follow through.

Most negotiate.

Settle in the middle.

Trade pain for favors.

Seol Unwi… had gone to the root.

And this—this—was a seventeen-year-old boy?

“…The root… no. You’re right.”

Cheon Sugang murmured as he flipped through the ledger.

Then he stopped.

His eyes locked on Wonsam.

The man flinched.

And in that pause, Seol Unwi delivered the final blow.

“As you can see, every coin that passed between Yawoon and Open Gate—both here in Seolap and in Yangnyeong—is in that record. As for the man standing beside you, there’s no need to say more.”

“……”

“The bribes are spelled out, crystal clear. How can anyone speak of responsibility in front of me?”

“…Hmm…”

“Tell me, Senior. Can someone who took money to sell off the very land he was meant to protect—can he really ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) claim the right to receive martial arts?”

Cheon Sugang’s expression turned cold.

But not toward Seol Unwi.

In a flash, faster than anyone could react—

SPLAT.

His hand slammed down with a crack of bone and blood.

Wonsam’s skull shattered.

The atmosphere snapped in an instant.

Everyone froze—except for Seol Unwi and Commander Seong.

They had seen this coming.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep