The man with the flute, who had been heading west, suddenly spoke as if he had made a decision.

“Monk, I have something to say.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be following you anymore.”

“...What?”

“Ah, don’t misunderstand. I was never one of those Murim criminals to begin with. I did realize they were bad people. That’s my fault, I suppose. I only acted as a guide a few times because they said they’d pay me well. Now that I’m going back, I plan to leave all that behind and focus only on my music... Monk, are you listening?”

Dong-su replied with a baffled look.

“Suddenly... where are you saying you’ll go?”

“I’ll go back to where I used to live. I have no reason to travel all the way to the Western Regions and live as a monk.”

“So what you said to Sword Demon, the Sect Leader, Physician Moyong, Master Yukhap, Director Cha, and Lord Mong was all a lie?”

The flute man feigned innocence.

“You all decided among yourselves to let me live and said the monk would take me. When did I ever agree to that? Even my head—Lord of Haomun told me to shave it, so I was forced into it.”

Dong-su, who had been silently listening, suddenly smiled as if enlightened.

The flute man asked with an annoyed expression.

“Why are you laughing? Is that mockery?”

Dong-su answered with a smile.

“Is there a law saying monks can’t laugh?”

“Well, no. But anyway, let’s part ways now. Walking the quiet road with you, monk, taught me many things. I sincerely thank you. Goodbye.”

Dong-su said,

“Donor...”

“I didn’t offer anything, so don’t call me that.”