In the courtyard of the Blood Debt House, a middle-aged man was surrounded by a dozen menacing thugs. The master of the house counted the money from a pouch and sneered.

“Well, well, I wondered why you came so early in the morning. Here to repay your debt, are you?”

“I’ve returned the money I borrowed. Now, give me back my daughter.”

Meanwhile, a young girl was being dragged out from the main building. Upon seeing the man, she cried out, her voice trembling.

“Father!”

“Yeong-yeong!”

The thugs around them exchanged mocking glances and burst into laughter. Despite confirming his daughter’s safety, the man felt an inexplicable sense of dread.

The master of the house drove the nail in deeper. “You’ve paid the principal, but what about the interest?”

“What are you talking about? I included the interest in the pouch I gave you. The interest was thirty nyang, wasn’t it?”

“Thirty nyang was the interest if you paid within a month. You’ve taken over four months. The interest keeps piling up after the first month.”

The man’s face turned pale at this unexpected revelation. “That’s absurd!”

“Hey, Gak-cheol, bring out the contract.”

A burly man standing nearby pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. The master unfolded it, revealing a document filled with writing, ending with two signatures.

“See? It’s all clearly written in the contract, and you signed it yourself. Pretending not to know won’t reduce the interest, will it?”

The man’s eyes trembled at the master’s scolding. He recognized the contract he had signed, but he couldn’t read. He had relied solely on the master’s explanation.

“You never mentioned this when I signed!”

“Oh, did I forget? With so much going on, it happens. But it’s all there in the contract. If you could read, you’d know.”

The master feigned ignorance, fully aware the man couldn’t read. Realizing he’d been tricked, the man’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.

“Father!”

The girl tried to run to him, but a thug held her back. The master helped the man to his feet, a snake-like smile on his face.

“Paying off the interest will be tough. How about trying your luck at our gambling den? With a bit of luck, you could clear your debt in a day.”

He offered the pouch back, tempting him, but the man, overwhelmed, remained silent. The master’s smile faded.

Slap!

The master struck the man’s cheek, grabbing his hair to force eye contact. “Pay up, or hand over your daughter. We’ll get a good price for her at the brothel.”

The man’s heart sank at the master’s harsh words, and he could only curse the heavens.

“Tsk, tsk. Still not getting it, are you?”

The master approached the girl, lifting her chin to inspect her face. “She’ll fetch a decent price. Boys, take her to the brothel.”

“Yes, master.”

The thugs dragged the girl away, and the man clung to one of their pants, pleading.

“I’ll find a way to pay! Please, let my daughter go!”

“Get lost!”

Kicked in the face, the man watched the master laugh, shouting in despair, “You’ll pay for this!”

“If divine punishment were real, I’d have been struck down long ago, you fool. Hahaha!”

Boom!

A sudden explosion silenced the master’s laughter. Turning, he saw the gate shattered, its wooden pieces scattering like spring petals across the courtyard.

“What the hell is that?”

The master glared at the man who boldly entered through the destroyed gate. The fallen man also turned to see what had caused the noise.

‘Flowers… plum blossoms?’

A young man, barely past his youth, stood there. On his sleeve, a vivid red plum blossom was embroidered.

* * *

“Hmm…”

Mujin tried to steady his breath, genuinely taken aback. He had imagined their senior brother would enter through the main gate, clearly stating the Blood Debt House’s wrongdoings and declaring justice in the name of the Mount Hua Sect.

This wasn’t just a vague fantasy; orthodox sects usually operated this way, valuing a righteous cause. But to start by blowing the gate off its hinges? Mujin’s jaw trembled at their senior brother’s unorthodox approach.

‘Is this really okay?’

As Mujin wrestled with his thoughts, Muhui stepped over the threshold without hesitation. Muteol, who had been watching with a blank expression, followed, and Muhwa and Mujin quickly trailed behind.

“Huh? Brothers, this is…”

“Oh, I see what’s going on.”

A middle-aged man and a young girl lay on the ground, surrounded by a dozen thugs. The master of the house glared at their senior brother, who had just demolished the gate.

Though they didn’t know the full story, it was clear the thugs were oppressing the man. They had heard rumors of the Blood Debt House tormenting the villagers, but seeing it firsthand made the disciples’ eyes darken.

Even Muteol wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“What’s going on here?”

“Who are they?”

Thanks to Muhui’s dramatic entrance, more thugs poured out from the building. Muhui, unfazed, walked toward the middle-aged man and the master, a smirk on his lips.

“Busy little worms, aren’t you? Hard at work even in the morning.”

As Muhui approached, the master waved his hand at the thugs. “Get these bastards inside.”

“Yes, master.”

The thugs grabbed the man and his daughter by the neck, dragging them away. Muhwa shouted in anger.

“You bastards! Stop!”

Enraged, Muhwa leaped forward to rescue them. Though she brushed past him, Muhui didn’t stop her.

“Muhwa!”

Startled by Muhwa’s sudden charge, Mujin and Muteol quickly followed. Muhwa, without drawing her sword, used her bamboo leaf hand technique.

“Ugh!”

With her left hand, she grabbed the man’s sleeve, and with her right, she struck a thug’s chest, pulling the girl to safety. Another thug joined in, but Mujin and Muteol swiftly shielded her.

‘Mount Hua disciples?’

The master frowned, watching the Mount Hua disciples easily subdue his men. Normally, he would have stopped the fight and tried to appease them, but there was no need now.

With the Red Wolf Sword being entertained inside, he had no reason to fear these young disciples.

‘These brats must have barged in, relying on the Mount Hua name, thinking four of them could handle this?’

Emboldened, the master shouted to his men pouring out from the building. “Subdue them! Just don’t kill them.”

With the master’s confident order, the thugs, who had hesitated at the sight of the plum blossom on their uniforms, charged all at once.

“Hmm. This isn’t so bad.”

Surrounded by fifty thugs, Muhui watched his juniors with interest. He had intended for them to clash with the thugs, but not like this. Still, this turn of events was acceptable.

In fact, the chaos allowed him to see his juniors’ true abilities. But as he watched, dissatisfaction crept into his eyes.

“Tsk, they’re clearly inexperienced in real combat.”

Muhui clicked his tongue, observing Mujin and Muhwa’s struggle. According to the information from the Beggars’ Sect, the thugs of the Blood Debt House were all trained in martial arts.

However, their skills were so poor they posed no real threat. Despite this, Mujin and Muhwa were having a hard time.

Their swords were too soft, unlike in their usual sparring matches. While the disciples hesitated, the thugs attacked with vicious intent.

‘It’s their first time using real swords against people, so they’re probably hesitant about cutting flesh.’

Moreover, the thugs attacked from all sides, unlike the controlled sparring at the main sect. They used dirty tricks, throwing dirt and hidden weapons, even spitting, making the disciples’ movements more chaotic.

It was a clear demonstration that life and death in the martial world weren’t determined by skill alone.

Sighing in frustration, Muhui picked up a few stones from the ground, flicking them between his thumb and middle finger.

As he flicked his fingers, the stones shot out like hidden weapons, striking the necks of thugs trying to ambush Muhwa.

“Argh!”

A thug screamed and collapsed, and Muhwa realized Muhui had saved her.

“Junior, were you planning to face the thugs with just the flat of your blade?”

Muhwa flinched, the senior brother’s cold words piercing her ears despite not being spoken with any internal energy.

“Tch.”

Muhwa adjusted her grip on her sword, but she couldn’t swing it as freely as she did in sparring with her brothers.

“You arrogant wench!”

As Muhwa hesitated, the black-clad opponent swung his sword fiercely at her legs.

She quickly pulled back, but her uniform was slightly torn, and a small drop of blood appeared.

“Right, this isn’t the Hwasan Sect where opponents stop attacking if you get hurt!”

Muhwa’s face, which had been on the verge of tears, suddenly hardened. Her eyes sharpened with determination.

Her sword, which had been wavering, now gleamed with a newfound sharpness. She deflected the incoming strike and drove her blade into the opponent’s shoulder.

“Aargh!”

The sensation of her sword tearing through flesh was vivid in her hand, and Muhwa’s eyes trembled slightly.

Her heart pounded for a moment, but she swiftly withdrew her sword and parried the club that came at her from the left.

Though she wasn’t yet fighting at her full potential, her movements were noticeably better than before.

“That’s more like it.”

The sound of flesh tearing and blood spilling from the opposite side caught Muhwi’s attention.

Mucheol was also under attack by a group of black-clad fighters, but more of them were falling, bleeding, than standing.

The Hwasan Sect’s swords were longer and thinner than usual, and in Mucheol’s hands, it looked more like he was wielding a giant chopstick.

With precise swings, Mucheol was taking down his opponents one by one. Unlike Mujin and Muhwa, Mucheol was the only one displaying his true skills.

Muhwi watched Mucheol intently.

Mucheol was using the Hwasan Sect’s unique sword techniques, focusing on strength and weight.

He was playing to his strengths.

“That guy, not just his body but his temperament too… He seems more suited to the Dokgo Sword Technique than the Hwasan style.”

Recently, Muhwi had been pondering how to blend the Dokgo Sword Technique, known for its fierce reputation, with the Hwasan Sect’s martial arts. This made him pay even more attention to Mucheol.

“Just because it’s Hwasan’s martial arts doesn’t mean it has to focus solely on illusion and transformation.”

The new sword technique Muhwi intended to create would be entirely different from the Dokgo style.

But before creating a new technique, he thought it might not be a bad idea to plant the seeds of Dokgo in Hwasan.

“There’s no need to stubbornly stick to creating just one sword technique.”

A sharp clang of swords.

The sound came from Mujin, who was locked in a struggle with another black-clad fighter.

As Mujin deflected a sword, two more opponents immediately closed in from the sides.

These five seemed to be the direct subordinates of the leader, as their skills were superior to the others, and they were attacking Mujin together.

“Trying to mimic a sword formation, are we?”

The leader, who had been watching for an opening, extended his sword low and began to approach Mujin from behind. Mujin was completely unaware.

Seeing this, Muhwi frowned and slowly reached for his waist.

“Is this how it’s done?”

Muhwi’s right foot stepped forward, balancing on the tip of his toes.

He leaned his upper body forward, shifting his weight to the front.

The Bi-jo Sword of the Swift Swordmaster.

Originally, it was a technique to rapidly close the distance while unleashing sword energy.

Muhwi modified it slightly.

Instead of releasing sword energy, he infused the swift movements of the Nongpung Sword into his draw, refining his movements with the internal energy of the Seonhyang Step.

Boom!

At the moment his entire weight was on his right toes, the sound of his uniform flapping was followed by a red line appearing on the leader’s neck, who had been about to ambush Mujin.

Muhwi shot forward like a cannonball, slicing through the group of black-clad fighters.

His extended sword traced an arc, cutting through the necks of the leader and the fighters attempting a joint attack.

Thud.

As Muhwi sheathed his sword, the heads of the leader and the black-clad fighters fell, a brilliant spray of blood blossoming.

“What the…!”

“Gasp, the leader!”

The sudden turn of events left the black-clad fighters staring at Muhwi in shock, halting their battle.

Even with blood splattered on his face and uniform, Mujin stood there, dumbfounded, staring at Muhwi.

He hadn’t seen what Muhwi had done.

“With your skills, you could have dismantled this clumsy sword formation in less than twenty moves.”

Mujin, feeling a surge of emotion, tried to protest, but Muhwi had no intention of listening.

“Mujin, are you afraid of cutting people down, of seeing blood? If you plan to keep thinking that way, go back to Hwasan.”

“Wise words for someone so young.”

On the second floor of the Blood Lotus Pavilion, a middle-aged man with a sword at his waist looked down at Muhwi.

Recognizing the man’s appearance, Muhwi smirked.

“I was worried you might not be here, but it seems you are. Jeokrang Sword.”

End