As I sat on the steps, the Lecher and Baekri Hyeok appeared and walked toward the courtyard I had just swept.

Maybe this was why I bothered sweeping so diligently.

Above me, a window creaked open. The Drunk was watching the courtyard. On the other side, the eldest son of the Baekri Family and the daughter stood side by side, gazing down at the scene.

But the Sword Emperor and the Sword Demon didn’t open their windows.

Baekri Hyeok said to the Lecher,

“...Apologize before I beat you senseless.”

I looked at the Lecher.

If this were just about the duel, the Lecher would’ve run his mouth like usual. But his tone was heavier than usual—he was genuinely pissed.

“Apologize? Are you shitting me? Fine. I can apologize. But first, you should apologize to the Lord of Haomun for speaking informally and calling him a lunatic out of nowhere. Once that’s done, I’ll admit I spoke out of turn. But that won’t be the end of it. You stared me down and told me to come down, so we still have to duel. Whether we both apologize and then duel is your decision, Baekri Hyeok. Start by apologizing to the Lord.”

Baekri Hyeok looked at me, flustered.

“What is this...”

Then the voice of the Baekri Family’s eldest son came down from above.

“Hyeok, apologize to Lord Zaha. You were in the wrong.”

Baekri Hyeok looked up.

“What?”

“Are you such a pathetic brat you can’t apologize when you’re clearly wrong? This isn’t the Baekri Family. With that kind of attitude, you’ll pick fights with every senior and junior here.”

Baekri Hyeok looked at me again, then reluctantly tilted his head and clasped his hands in a respectful gesture.

“I was rude to you, Lord of Haomun. I apologize.”

I stood up, brushed off my rear, and deliberately responded in a serious tone.

“Think nothing of it. Young Lord Baekri, I’ll consider it a lesson. I laughed out of sheer surprise—don’t take it to heart. I have an unfortunate condition where I can’t hold in laughter.”

I said my piece and sat back down.

Once the mutual apologies were exchanged, the Lecher chimed in nonchalantly.

“Young Lord Hyeok, I let my anger get the better of me and said things I shouldn’t have. I apologize.”

The Lecher bowed politely to Baekri Hyeok, then glanced up at the window with a nod. The Baekri Family’s eldest responded.

“Young Lord Mong, I didn’t realize you were present. My younger brother has a rash and coarse nature. Even if he angered you, I ask that you don’t injure him too seriously.”

The Lecher nodded, clearly displeased.

Baekri Hyeok scowled and looked up at his older brother.

“You’re saying I’ll get hurt?”

The eldest finally snapped back, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Baekri Hyeok, get your act together.”

Baekri Hyeok now looked the Lecher up and down with renewed scrutiny.

“...”

The Lecher asked in a bored tone,

“Are you ready? With swords? Draw or don’t, up to you.”

That last bit—"draw or don’t"—made me laugh, and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand. Just covering my mouth wasn’t enough, so I had to cover my nose too.

Baekri Hyeok, realizing the situation, answered calmly.

“I will use my sword—but I won’t draw it.”

Implying he would use it like a wooden sword. The Lecher, with no particular stance, nodded.

“I’m ready.”

The Lecher yielding the first move seemed to irritate Baekri Hyeok, whose temper flared again.

It was a shame, though, that the eldest son had stepped in—because now the Lecher wouldn’t be able to utterly crush him. Clearly, the eldest had assessed the Lecher’s and my skill levels and figured even he couldn’t guarantee victory. So with his younger brother already in the courtyard, he had subtly asked us to go easy on him.

Baekri Hyeok charged forward.

He used three consecutive forms as a warning. The Lecher, recognizing the formality, dodged lightly while retreating.

The fourth move.

Having realized the seriousness of the situation, Baekri Hyeok’s pace changed completely.

He’d already figured out that he couldn’t win with a half-hearted effort. But then the Lecher, using an odd footwork pattern that looked like he was sliding across the ground, landed a clean strike on Baekri Hyeok’s shoulder.

Baekri Hyeok spun and countered with a left palm strike.

Thwack!

That sneaky bastard, the Lecher, had delivered the blow with an air of nonchalance, but from the sound alone, I could tell it had serious force behind it.

Moreover, it had baited Baekri Hyeok into a direct clash of palm energy.

But the difference in skill and internal energy between them was vast. When opponents are close in skill, the fight stretches on—but with this kind of gap, it ends quickly.

Baekri Hyeok stepped back several paces and tried to steady himself.

But he couldn’t. His stance wobbled.

Flustered, he tried to control his breathing and raised his sword again—only to stagger.

“Huh?”

The Lecher, now with his hands behind his back, simply stared at him.

“...”

Baekri Hyeok was starting to look pitiful. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees, trembling as he slammed face-first into the courtyard.

Looks like the Jade Ice Arts had seeped into his body.

Upstairs, there was a clatter as the eldest and the daughter came rushing down the stairs.

The Lecher glanced at me.

He still looked mad.

But since he was holding it in well, I tossed him a word of praise.

“Well done holding back.”

The Lecher gave a bitter smile.

The daughter rushed into the courtyard, checking on Baekri Hyeok.

“Brother!”

The Sword Emperor’s voice rang out.

“Stop fussing. Bring him.”

The eldest son picked up Baekri Hyeok with one arm and looked at the Lecher.

“...Young Lord Mong, whether you showed mercy or not is... difficult to say.”

The Lecher met his gaze.

“This was plenty merciful.”

The eldest nodded.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Feel free.”

Once the eldest led his brother back inside, the daughter—left alone in the courtyard—stared at the Lecher, her former betrothed.

“...So you were Mongrang?”

The Lecher stared back and replied coldly.

“Yes.”

She said sharply,

“I’m sorry the engagement was canceled so abruptly. But your conduct was already well known even within the Baekri Family. There was too much opposition.”

The Lecher glared at her like he was about to grab her by the hair.

“Is that so? I never wanted that engagement to begin with, so—”

She didn’t even let him finish and turned on her heel, vanishing inside. The rudeness made me burst out laughing.

The Lecher stood alone in the courtyard, his face flushed red.

Then the daughter snapped at me.

“Why are you laughing?”

I responded, feigning surprise.

“You were so rude I couldn’t help it. Not much better than your brother. True, Mongrang’s conduct has been poor in the past, but if you’re going to apologize, just apologize. Don’t sprinkle in that condescending sarcasm. Your father, the Sword Emperor, built his reputation with great effort—what a shame his children turned out like this.”

“What did you just say?”

“Your tone, your eyes, your posture, your behavior—they all reek of pride in being from the Baekri Family. That kind of pride belongs at home. If you show it outside, it just makes people dislike you. Keep it in check.”

“You bastard!”

“You bastard?”

From one of the rooms, a crash rang out. Sounded like a table got smashed.

Then came the Sword Emperor’s voice.

“Yeong-ah, get up here.”

“Yes, Father.”

Baekri Yeong glared at me before going inside. I glanced at the source of the crash and muttered,

“Something broke, huh? That’s destruction of Alliance property.”

Clack— A door slid open, and the Sword Demon’s voice followed.

“My disciple.”

The Lecher looked up.

“Yes, Master.”

“You’ve become famous in Jianghu even before your martial skills earned it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Sword Demon was not one to mince words.

“I’ve always thought that being called illegitimate or second-born wasn’t your fault nor something to be ashamed of. But if your conduct at Baek Eung-ji is now widely known, then it is shameful. You’ve brought this on yourself, haven’t you?”

“That’s correct.”

“Go for a walk. Clear your head.”

“Yes, Master.”

The Lecher turned like a scolded child. He’d won the duel, but looked utterly deflated.

Wow, I thought. Raising just one disciple properly is no easy task.

I called after him.

“Hey, Young Lord Mong.”

The way I said it must’ve sounded weird, because he looked back.

“What?”

“Don’t go flirting with pretty Alliance members again. Just take your walk.”

He gave me a completely dumbfounded look.

I said,

“What? Why are you staring? Get lost.”

He sighed deeply and walked away.

At this rate, the Sword Demon won’t reach enlightenment through his sword—he’ll achieve it by teaching this disciple.

Still, the Lecher’s movements were different than before. Looks like he’d started incorporating ice arts into his footwork. The rest of us had been gathering experience rapidly, fighting all kinds of enemies in a short time. During downtime, we’d each been contemplating our martial arts.

It was only natural we were growing fast.

From above, the Sword Emperor was scolding his kids. But it didn’t sound all that serious.

Listening to them, I thought—

He must’ve spent his days mentally drained, constantly distracted and stressed because of his children.

Just then, from the wall outside Moonlight Pavilion, I heard voices.

“...Master, is Martial Alliance food really that good?”

“It’s delicious. To me, food at the Martial Alliance tastes better than anywhere else in Jianghu.”

“Then why didn’t you bring me sooner?”

“Im Sobaek doesn’t like me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I eat too much.”

Then both men burst into laughter.

“Ahahaha!”

The disciple said,

“I eat even more than you, Master.”

“You’ll get kicked out soon too. Oh? Look at that guy’s walk.”

“Hmm. He walks well. As expected of the Martial Alliance.”

“Doesn’t look like one of the Alliance, though.”

As I listened, I had a realization.

The Fist King of my past life wasn’t the only idiot. His master was one too. An idiot training another idiot—it made sense.

Soon, two men appeared at the entrance of Moonlight Pavilion. My eyes didn’t go to their faces but straight to their shoulders.

Rare muscle-bound gorillas were approaching across the courtyard I’d swept.

It was the present-day Fist King and the young idiot.

Still, since the latter had once admired his master deeply, I figured I should show some respect.

I stood and clasped my hands.

“Welcome, Senior Fist King. I am Yi Zaha, Lord of Haomun.”

Both master and disciple were visibly startled, then looked at each other.

“He says he’s the Lord of Haomun.”

“I heard it too.”

“I heard he was rude.”

“Seems different from the rumors.”

“Fascinating. To see a celebrity in person.”

“Indeed. As expected of the Martial Alliance.”

Like curious monkeys discovering a rare fruit, the two of them came closer and started inspecting me from all angles.

The Fist King asked,

“How’d you recognize me? Haven’t we never met?”

I nodded.

“You’re unmistakably the Fist King.”

“Yeah?”

Up close, they looked like a small monkey and a big monkey. The Fist King was about my height, but the young idiot was a whole head taller.

The Fist King wasn’t small himself, but the idiot was so big people would stare just seeing him walk down the street.

The Fist King introduced himself.

“Unmistakably the Fist King, huh? Strangely, I’ll accept that. I am the Fist King.”

The idiot also introduced himself—I heard the name Yi Gun-ak again after so long. But strangely, it didn’t feel like it had been long. It felt like we’d only met a few days ago.

The Fist King said,

“...Lord.”

“Yes?”

“Mind if I touch you a bit?”

“...Sure.”

Before I could even reply properly, the Fist King walked up and started groping my forearm. He touched my shoulder, tapped my stomach like a watermelon. Looked like he was about to feel up my entire body, so I had to stop him.

“Alright, cut it out.”

“Sorry. It’s a habit.”

The idiot asked his master about me.

“How is he, Master?”

The Fist King looked at me.

“Looks like he started martial arts late, but still reached this level. Impressive.”

“Really?”

“Wait—did you start early?”

“No, a bit late.”

“See?”

“Yes.”

“Even looking generously, I’d say you’ve been training your external techniques for maybe three or four years. Don’t neglect external arts. When combined with internal energy, they shine. In battle, muscle recovery is often faster than internal energy recovery. When you’re in a prolonged match against a strong opponent, it’s not your internal energy that’ll save you—it’s your external training.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Fist King looked at me seriously.

“...I’ve heard rumors of your feats. It’s unexpectedly nice to meet you in person.”

Beside him, the idiot Yi Gun-ak added,

“He’s too skinny. Must not eat much. Probably doesn’t sleep either. His personality looks touchy—shows in his eyes.”

The Fist King told him,

“You shouldn’t say things like that in front of the person.”

“But I meant it as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Understood.”

The Fist King apologized on his behalf.

“He’s lived on a mountain too long. Speaks his mind.”

“I understand.”

“Not many would. You’re quite tolerant.”

Then he looked up toward the building.

“The Sword Emperor’s here already, right? Inside?”

“Yes.”

The Fist King raised his voice.

“Hey, you old prick! Sword Emperor! I’m here! Come down and fight already! Won’t your food taste better if we brawl first? You think anything will go down your throat before I smack you around?”

Whoa. That was sudden.

A skilled provocateur.

The Sword Emperor replied,

“You brat! Got tired of mountain weeds and came down? Go stuff your face with all the Martial Alliance food you love.”

Wow. The Sword Emperor had a sharp tongue too.

The Fist King smirked and looked at his disciple.

“...Looks like the Sword Emperor chickened out right away.”

The idiot grinned.

“Seems so.”

When I started chuckling, the master and disciple also burst into laughter.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Aha ha ha ha!”

For a moment, it felt like we were three idiot brothers. But I couldn’t help laughing—because these two fools, chasing the pinnacle of martial arts through sheer stupidity, were just hilarious.

The Fist King patted my arm and said,

“Lord, let’s eat together later.”

“Sure thing.”

“Come on, let’s go in. The beds here are real comfy. You’ll fall right asleep. The bathhouse is huge too. It’s nice.”

The disciple chimed in.

“As expected of the Martial Alliance. But Master, I sleep anywhere once I close my eyes.”

“That’s... a bit too carefree.”

“Is it?”

“You have to know how to stay alert. Look at that Lord—probably never gets caught off guard because he’s so jumpy. A warrior needs that edge.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. This was a good trip. Lots ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) to learn.”

I watched the Fist King and the idiot Yi Gun-ak as they disappeared into Moonlight Pavilion.

That master and disciple pair were something else.

They didn’t look like they came to mess with Im Sobaek.

More like... they rushed here just to watch some fights.

So I decided to treat them as reinforcements—on my own terms. With a bit of subtle provocation or spicy commentary, the matchups might become a little more favorable.

After all, kings should pull each other’s hair in their own league—it’s way more fun to watch.

Anyway, Yi Gun-ak looked strong even though he hadn’t yet become the Fist King.

Thinking of the matchups—Lecher, the Baekri Family’s eldest, and the idiot Yi Gun-ak—it wasn’t child’s play.

Just like the idiot said...

As expected of the Martial Alliance.

The top fighters of this generation were gathering, one by one.

Their ultimate goal might be the Alliance Leader Im Sobaek—but it was my job to keep pestering the Emperors along the way.

Not for some grand purpose.

Just because...

Bullying pathetic fools is boring—

But tormenting the brilliant?

That’s immensely fun.