Martial Arts Masochist

Shattering the Ink Dragon?

Cheongwol did that to the Ink Dragon?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gwak Du Uncle perked up in an instant.

I crawled across the ground to get closer to him.

The beggar who’d brought the news glanced at me for a moment before speaking up.

“I don’t know how much of it’s true… but you know how the Thousand-Year Flower arrived at the Tang Clan just yesterday? She joined the Tang Clan gathering and wandered around Chengdu, and then at some tavern, voices got loud, and she straight-up kicked the Ink Dragon square in the chest. Word is he went flying like a ragdoll.”

“Huh… huh…”

“They didn’t draw swords or anything, but the air among the young talents gathered for the Tang Clan event turned icy afterward. Makes sense—they’re all strong personalities, bound to clash eventually. But Branch Leader, is that how Cheongwol is normally? I heard she’s supposed to be kind and always smiling…”

Gwak Du Uncle glanced at me for a second.

He’d thought the same about her for a while.

But after I explained why I was avoiding Cheongwol—after telling him about that scene on the back mountain of Mount Emei—he knew her true nature and her heart demon.

Uncle blinked a few times before replying.

“…Y-yeah. She’s a kind and good person.”

“Then the Ink Dragon must’ve run his mouth again. Everyone knows he’s brutally honest. Looks like he finally met his match. Hell, rumors are already flying that he’s leaving the Tang Clan gathering over this.”

“Haa…”

Thud.

I sprawled out flat on the ground.

My head was spinning.

The beggar eyed my pathetic state and asked Gwak Du Uncle.

“Branch Leader, is that our new brother over there?”

“Nah. He’s not joining the sect.”

Their banter didn’t even register.

I just stared blankly at the clear sky.

Ink Dragon.

The righteous faction’s rising star with no sect affiliation.

The big-brother mentor figure who teaches martial arts to the dimwitted protagonist.

He’d earned recognition as a true hero from one righteous act alone, and he’d probably be the most important figure at this gathering.

Since it was the event where he crosses paths with the protagonist.

…But what the hell did Cheongwol do?

Kicked the Ink Dragon in the chest?

And now he’s thinking of leaving because of it?

What about the protagonist then?

…What happens to that blockhead?

“Haaahhh…”

My head felt like it was going to explode.

Every time something like this happened—every time the future I knew veered off course—I got swallowed by fear.

That damn Cheongwol… she seems like the main culprit destroying this world somehow.

She didn’t crumble in her duel with Dang Soran, so now she shows up at the Tang Clan gathering to ruin the protagonist’s fateful encounter.

Does that even make sense?

“…”

…But as much as I wanted to blame Cheongwol, I knew deep down this was my fault too.

I never should’ve seen her that day on the mountain…

Then we wouldn’t have crossed paths, she wouldn’t have changed, and crap like this wouldn’t be happening today.

Things would’ve just flowed as they were meant to…!

But no, I had to be on that mountain, spot Cheongwol, and get tangled up with her.

And with the frustration came a rising guilt.

If the protagonist doesn’t grow…

Won’t an even bigger blood storm ravage this already brutal Central Plains?

How much more miserable is this godforsaken novel gonna get?

The beggar who’d come to see Uncle left after a brief chat.

Then Gwak Du Uncle scanned the surroundings before leaning in close to me, still sprawled out, and whispering.

“Hey, Seojin. This has to be the young lady’s heart demon acting up again, right?”

“…Probably.”

“Hoo… what a mess. Feels like it’s only a matter of time now.”

“…”

For some reason, Cheongwol from two days ago flashed in my mind.

The way she’d vented her rage about abandoning her heart demon and running away.

Back then, I was too scared to think straight…

…But looking back now, maybe she was desperate in her own way.

…Nah, who am I kidding? She’s still a crazy bitch.

No matter how you slice it, who the hell shows up in a surprise gisaeng cosplay?

I nearly had a heart attack.

A miracle I didn’t pass out right there.

She scares me, creeps me out, and I hate her.

“…Sigh.”

…But I pity her a little too.

The way she keeps steadily approaching to resolve her heart demon.

Every time I see her tears during our SM play.

For me, it’s just survival, so I don’t empathize much… but when I sit here zoning out, watching her actions from afar, I start to feel it.

Her fate, or whatever you call it—it’s just sad.

How rough must it be for her to cry in front of me?

Honestly, resolving her heart demon would be easy.

She could just start killing people left and right, and she’d feel better.

That’s her true nature—what can you do?

You think a lion grazing on grass wouldn’t get heart demons? Yeah right.

Problem is, I’d be the first one with my head rolling if she did that, so here I am, holding out.

“Seojin. What’re you gonna do? Where you gonna run? The young lady’s heart demon is getting worse.”

I clicked my tongue.

“…Uncle. Drop it.”

“Huh…?”

“Don’t worry about it right now. Truth is, Cheongwol came looking for me not long ago.”

Uncle froze solid.

Yeah, Uncle’s scared of her too, right? I’ve been living that nightmare.

“Can’t run anymore here in Chengdu. Unless I find another way. How do I know she hasn’t got people tailing me right now?”

Uncle whipped his head around, checking everywhere.

The place was noisy as hell, and on a crowded street like this, no one could overhear us.

…But people who could be watching us? Overflowing.

All because of the crowds drawn to see the young talents’ gathering in Chengdu.

Uncle was panicking, but I was racking my brain.

The real problem right now: the protagonist’s fateful encounter—the one meant to clean up all this world’s shit—might be ruined.

My fault.

My interference caused it.

Honestly, my only screw-up seems like being in that weird spot at the wrong time.

But dealing with all the fallout from that? Way too unfair.

…Can’t just sit here feeling sorry for myself, though?

The blood storm coming in the future might sweep up me and everyone I know.

Regretting it then won’t change a damn thing.

…I had to do something.

I clutched my head and groaned.

“Urk… ughhh!!”

“What’s wrong with this guy now?”

“Gahhh!”

That much was clear.

Why does this Cheongwol bitch need so much damn babysitting!!

****

In the solitary room where Cheongwol had retreated to calm her anger, she reflected on the past few days.

She admitted it herself. She’d been overly sensitive lately.

And no wonder—after all that time and effort pouring into finding Han Seojin.

…She hadn’t managed any reconciliation with him, no constructive talk at all.

Just like when they’d parted in the basement, they’d both flushed red and gone their separate ways.

Cheongwol couldn’t understand why it hurt so much.

To begin with, she’d never cared about this gathering here.

Her journey had been solely to find the vanished Han Seojin.

So even spending time chatting with these so-called young talents felt like a waste.

Forced to converse with people she didn’t give a damn about, plastering on fake smiles.

Especially painful with those two watching.

One was Dang Soran.

Just seeing her face made her blood boil.

It felt like her relationship with Han Seojin had gone wrong because of that woman.

Even before the duel, Cheongwol hadn’t liked Dang Soran, but now the hatred burned deeper.

Looking at her brought back images of Han Seojin washing her feet.

Turning his back on Cheongwol while doting only on Dang Soran…

Resentment and rage kept churning together.

The personal time she’d shared with him felt as vivid and shocking as if it were yesterday.

The liberation he’d given her, the gratitude for the burdens he’d shouldered in her place, the pathetic side of herself she’d only shown him—it all kept resurfacing.

The next hardest to look at was the Ink Dragon.

He disgusted her.

A man wrapped head to toe in black.

No sect background, so zero manners.

Yet he obsessed over the common folk’s gaze, acting like words or a single deed made him the whole story.

Hypocritical phony. That’s how Cheongwol sized him up.

“We should greet the crowds who came to see us.”

“The reason sword-swinging types like us can survive is thanks to the commoners farming for us. Let’s always be grateful.”

“If there’s a chance, I’d love to spar and entertain everyone.”

Cheongwol had always hated the commoners judging her, and the Ink Dragon’s obsession with them seemed naive at best.

He could spout that crap because he didn’t belong to any sect.

His reputation didn’t tie to a faction’s, so he could think so carefree.

He never had to worry about their scrutiny if things went south.

But for Cheongwol, every step felt like walking on thin ice.

Chengdu teemed with people.

They clung to her annoyingly, demanding endlessly.

Pet the kid. Name the baby. Shake hands. Show us a technique. Let us see your virgin palace mark… and so on.

As an Emei Sect nun, she’d vowed to meet any proposition with a smile alone—so the commoners spewed the most uncomfortable crap without hesitation.

That’s why the Ink Dragon’s words grated even more. That’s why she ignored his suggestions outright.

If you’re so grateful to the rabble, do it alone. Why drag everyone else into your show?

And who the hell are you to belittle all the other young talents?

Sure, he was older than most, but when had he even seen them?

Finally fed up with his theatrics, Cheongwol stood at one tavern and said.

“I’ll be heading back to rest. I’m not feeling well.”

The Ink Dragon pushed back.

“Young lady. Sit down. Ignoring the crowds who came for us is a betrayal.”

“I said I’m not well—do I have to endure that and worry about their stares? I’m going.”

“I said sit.”

As Cheongwol ignored him and walked away, the Ink Dragon shot to his feet and scolded her like a teacher.

“Cheongwol! What’s with that attitude these past few days—?”

Something snapped in Cheongwol’s mind.

All the pent-up anger, frustration, and irritation converged.

Holding back her rage had gotten harder lately.

The more people she killed, the fiercer the urge seemed to grow.

Bam!

When she came to, she’d already kicked the Ink Dragon square in the chest.

He smashed through a table and crashed into the wall.

Everyone froze at Cheongwol’s sudden outburst.

The faint internal energy she’d honed with Han Seojin flowed across her skin.

‘Wh-what, Cheongwol young lady?’

‘Th-that’s…!’

‘Her… her cultivation level…!’

Whispers erupted around her, but Cheongwol didn’t care.

Just like when she’d encountered bandits on the mountain, her hand naturally went to her waist.

She surrendered to her heart demon.

Channeling this energy flowing through her body into a sword would be devastating.

Bad luck, though—her sword was back at the Tang Clan.

Cheongwol advanced on the Ink Dragon slumped against the wall.

“Cowardly… sneak attack…”

“…How dare you.”

She warned him with utter sincerity.

“How dare you call me ‘Cheongwol.’ We’re not that close.”