Chapter 393: Let’s Have Some Real Fun (9)

TL Note:

Starting from this chapter, we have standardized the character 요환철’s name as Yo Hwancheol, which we consider a more natural and visually balanced romanization than the previous form “Yohwancheol.” This revised version will be used consistently in all future translations to maintain clarity and uniformity.

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The prison at the Patrol Bureau was, in truth, laughably lax.

At best, it was a brick building with straw spread out and wooden bars dividing the sections. If someone seriously wanted to escape, even a sturdy adult male—not even a martial arts expert—could manage it.

Wooden bars had their limits. If you slammed into them with your full weight, eventually, they’d snap.

So if you had even a little internal energy training, escape wasn’t all that difficult.

Of course, that was only because it was a Patrol Bureau prison.

This was a temporary holding cell, like the kind in Qing’s hometown. It wasn’t the actual Ministry of Justice’s inner dungeon, which was a different story entirely.

That’s why the unorthodox martial artists were quietly biding their time.

There hadn’t been a formal trial, no sentence had been passed, and they hadn’t even been transferred to the Ministry of Justice. It didn’t look like the authorities intended to deliver a heavy punishment.

The prison guards weren’t provoking them either. Far from it—in fact, they were so intimidated by the aura of the unorthodox men that they hadn’t shown their faces.

Even the meager meals arrived on time.

So for now—it was patience, and more patience.

And then there was one man mouthing off.

It was Yohwancheol (Yo Hwancheol), the Hall Leader of Yoga Flame Hall.

“Ahem. Among the officials of Namnyeong, not a single one hasn’t taken silver or gold from me. They won’t keep me here much longer. Of course, they can’t just let me go outright—they’ve got appearances to maintain, so they’re probably just waiting for the right moment.”

But Jo Gwangang wasn’t buying it.

“It’s been three days now, hasn’t it? You sure about that? You said we’d be out in no time.”

Yo Hwancheol thumped his chest confidently.

“Just trust me. The head constable here calls me ‘Boss.,’ you know. Honestly, it wouldn’t be strange if he stormed in right now and dragged me out—”

SCREEEEEECH.

A hideous scraping sound cut him off as the iron door scraped across the floor.

Footsteps approached.

“Prisoner Yo Hwancheol. Step outside.”

Yo Hwancheol’s cheek twitched up into a grin.

“See? Told you.”

“But why just you? Hey, what about us? When are the elite warriors of the Unorthodox Alliance’s Combined Forces getting released?”

“No idea. That’s up to the magistrate.”

“Come now, don’t worry. Magistrate Yu and I are practically blood brothers. I’ll do my best to get you out quickly.”

As the jailer opened the cell door, Yo Hwancheol strolled out with swagger and ease.

“Aww, our jailer’s all stiff today. Was my hospitality a little lacking? Hey, why don’t you escort me to Yoga Flame Hall? I’ll make it worth your while. In return, I’d like to offer some liquor to these fine Unorthodox warriors suffering here in prison. Hm? What do you say?”

Yo Hwancheol was blatantly offering a bribe.

Behind him, Jo Gwangang chuckled.

Yeah, he thought, a bottle of booze might be enough to hold out another day.

In the other cells, some swallowed audibly, while others whistled crudely.

“But seriously—what the hell is wrong with my kids? Their old man’s rotting in jail and not a single one of them shows up? Hey, is visitation banned or something? Or did literally no one come?”

The jailer shook his head.

His face was full of pity, and that made Yo Hwancheol’s stomach churn with rage.

How dare some lowborn jailer making a pittance a day pity the head of a noble hall like Yoga Flame Hall?

“The hell? You little shit. What’s your name? I was gonna go easy on you, but you’re really pushing it, huh? You think I’m someone to look down on? You know with one word I can make the constables crawl on their knees. You see someone quiet and you think they’re easy prey? Ha. This is ridiculous.”

“If you’re so close with the officials, then you should know the layout of the government office like the back of your hand. You won’t need an escort. Also, this isn’t a release—it’s a provisional release. Tsk.”

With that, the jailer turned on his heel and left without another word.

The sheer rudeness—to him, Yo Hwancheol!—made his blood boil.

But even with all his connections, it wouldn’t do to shed blood inside the government office.

Fine, then. He’d remember that insolent bastard. He’d see if the brat could keep that attitude after watching his own family bleed.

Grumbling to himself, he stomped toward the exit.

And then he froze.

“Provisional release?”

It was release, sure—but provisional?

He’d only heard of temporary release in cases where a prisoner was allowed out to attend a funeral.

This wasn’t that. Was it?

The realization hit him like ice water.

No, no way, he told himself, nearly sprinting through the government office to reach the outer gates.

But Yo Hwancheol’s panicked homecoming was blocked—by a wall of martial artists stationed outside the gate.

“Where are you rushing off to?”

It was Kang Suyang, Sect Master of the Rooster Forest Sword Sect.

Yo Hwancheol’s expression twisted.

“You bastards! My children—! How can you still call yourselves orthodox martial artists?!”

But Kang Suyang shook his head.

“By the honor of my sect, my elders, my departed master, and myself—I swear, we’ve done nothing to Yoga Flame Hall. Heavenly Flower Sword here can vouch for that.”

“That’s right, that’s right~.”

Qing nodded with a teasing grin.

“Then who—YOU!”

Yo Hwancheol pointed to another man—Master of the Jangsan Martial Bureau.

The man raised both arms and shrugged with a mocking smile.

“Our Jangsan Bureau doesn’t have much history, but if it would help, I can swear on the honor of every master here, on my name, on my children. We didn’t touch Yoga Flame Hall. Heavenly Flower Sword—will you vouch?”

“Of course! Yep, yep~.”

Qing nodded again.

Even an unorthodox fighter would hesitate to lie when they’d staked so much.

Well—hesitate. Not refuse.

Yo Hwancheol let out a small sigh of relief.

But then panic took hold again.

Even if it wasn’t these two, just being released didn’t mean he was safe.

His sons had turned on each other like mortal enemies. They could’ve killed each other.

Wasn’t the Chief and Vice-Chief whispering behind his back about the first and second sons?

“Master Kang. I’ve received word that something’s happened to my family. I must return quickly. I know there’s ill will between the Orthodox and Unorthodox factions, but surely you wouldn’t stop a father trying to check on his household’s safety? Please, I’m begging you.”

“You don’t need to check on them. Your family’s already ruined. That good-for-nothing third son of yours colluded with the Assassins and used extreme poison with malicious intent. Afterward, the servants looted everything and ran. Tsk tsk. That’s what happens when a man hoards goodwill—your master dies and your servants turn to bandits.”

Yo Hwancheol’s heart dropped again.

“Wait—what do you mean, who died? Was it Yeon? Seong? Ahyeon?”

“I heard all your children died. Well, the third probably survived. Maybe someone else too—I wouldn’t know. I’ve been busy, you know. Had a banquet to host.”

Kang Suyang’s eyes turned cold.

“Had to hold funerals for my disciples, too.”

At that, the warriors of Rooster Forest and Jangsan simultaneously drew their weapons.

“Apologies. We need a traitor’s head to place on the memorial tables of our fallen disciples.”

“Cowards!”

“To soothe the wronged souls of the innocent dead—I’ll accept the insult.”

“You bastards! You came here intending to kill me all along!”

This wasn’t about family anymore—his life was on the line.

Yo Hwancheol whipped around.

He had to flee back inside the office.

Would’ve been a good idea, if only the main gates hadn’t been shut tight.

And the three guards who should’ve been stationed at the central gate?

Gone. Vanished.

Their message was clear.

We don’t know what’s happening.

We don’t see it and don’t want to see it.

A perfect example of “no interference in official matters.”

****

“Prisoner Jo Gwangang. Step outside.”

“What, already?”

Jo Gwangang’s lips stretched into a wide grin.

“Heh. Gotta love money. Everything gets taken care of fast. But what about my brothers? Still in there?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was just told to release you.”

“Tch. So uptight. Hall Leader Yo must not’ve bribed you enough, huh? You’re still stiff as a board. What’s a lowly jailer got to be all high and mighty about? You feed the higher-ups, not the underlings. Am I wrong?”

His words dripped with condescension, but the jailer didn’t respond.

“Ugh, boring. Well, anyway—hey, guys, I’m out first! Don’t worry, I’ll get you all out soon. At worst, I’ll throw a feast so big you’ll be drunk for days!”

“Yes, Squad Leader!”

“Right! Heheh, just hang in there a little longer.”

With that, Jo Gwangang strolled out cheerfully.

Out of the prison. Out the front gate.

****

The Yoga Flame Hall in Namnyeong—nearly annihilated.

Technically, not completely. One member of the Yo family still remained.

But that one Yo had no intention of preserving the family line, so it wasn’t much different from annihilation.

Basically annihilated.

Three Unorthodox Alliance combat squads—nearly wiped out.

Because among those who came out of the government office, occasionally Qing’s finger would point.

“That one—don’t kill him. I heard he’s not that bad.”

“Th-thank you, thank you...!”

“Live well. If I hear you’re trash again, I’ll break your arms and legs and hang you in the marketplace.”

“Y-yes ma’am! I’ll be good!”

Warning and release, case closed.

Frankly, it left the disciples of Rooster Forest and Jangsan speechless.

Where the hell was she even getting this intel?

And just because she had it, she’d decide—this one lives, that one dies?

She’d spare a random footsoldier and behead another?

But it was Heavenly Flower Sword asking.

Our Heavenly Flower Sword?

If she wants it, she gets it!

Let her do whatever she wants!

The government and Martiial World were already on thin ice. And this wasn’t even our royal office—it was someone else’s.

So the special unit that struck the rear with Qing—the royal family’s retainers—got rebranded as hidden masters and allies with close ties to Qing.

So among the warriors of Namnyeong, the prevailing perception was this:

They volunteered for the most dangerous missions, charged into the jaws of death, and performed heroically.

Didn’t she even defeat Mun Jeongyeok, the famed “Sword of Bokju,” known as a supreme-level late-stage master? And she didn’t even take his sword?

“Dragon of the Era,” “Most Promising Youth of the Martiial World”—titles meant to protect her status as a junior.

But now, she wasn’t even that.

Not a junior. Not just a rising youth.

She was Heavenly Flower Sword—a true gem of the Orthodox Martiial World, beyond age or generation.

On top of that? A beauty contending for the title of the most beautiful under heaven.

Gentle, courteous, humble.

Treated like a savior by the righteous sects of Namnyeong.

All that remained was to lie back on silk bedding, gorge on wine and delicacies, and return home in glory.

“Boss.! Invitation, sir!”

“Hm. Where from this time?”

“From the Jeong family manor, the Uiju Martial Bureau, Chaga Academy, oh—and the abbot of Yeongsan Temple came personally to ask if you’d write the new signboard! From here on, they’re all love letters! This one’s from the Inspector-General’s son, this one from the head of Gwangil Market, and this one from Magistrate Hwang of Hyeonhyeon...”

“Agh, so annoying.”

Now that things had calmed down, the avalanche of invitations was the real headache.

She couldn’t not go—but when she did, all the men stared at her with those greasy, lovesick eyes. Ugh.

And it wasn’t just Namnyeong. Invitations were flying in from all over Guangxi Province.

At this point, just writing rejection letters was becoming a full-time job.

And so many people passed out swooning from the elegance of her handwriting that now there were requests just for calligraphy commissions.

Qing shot up.

“Nope. Not happening.”

“Y-yes!?”

“If I stay here any longer, I’ll spend the entire winter paying visits instead of resting. I’m out. I don’t even need to stay at Rooster Forest anymore, right?”

“Such! Words! No, sir! Boss. may stay here forever! Forever! If there is an honorary figure of Rooster Forest, it is Heavenly Flower Sword! If there is a Heavenly Flower Sword, it is our Rooster Forest’s honored guest! I shall block them with my life! You, Boss., must rest peacefully in retreat!”

Unaram shouted with fierce passion.

But Qing had already made up her mind.

“The Martial Alliance said my mission was to keep watch since those Unorthodox bastards were acting shady. Namnyeong’s safe now, so I should go somewhere rougher. I heard Jin Family Manor’s in trouble these days.”

While staying in Namnyeong, she’d heard rumors.

That Jin Family Manor was in a tough spot.

The pampering was nice, and the gourmet banquets were fine.

But she figured it was better to go where she could actually help—rather than just lying around doing nothing.

Besides, if the Unorthodox bastards were that bold here, who’s to say Guangdong would be any different?