~CHAPTER 17~
“So here’s what we’ll do. You can think about it all you want. While you’re thinking, I’ll treat you as my subordinate. Once you’ve finished thinking, you can just keep being my subordinate—no need to tell me your decision. That way, we’ll both be satisfied, right?”
Moyong He could think and decide whatever he wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that he was already a subordinate—and therefore, had to act like one.
It was, in short, miracle logic.
“Uh, if this is your way of letting me repay your kindness, then of course I’ll gladly do so… but if I become your subordinate, you’ll be turning the Murong clan into your enemy…”
“Oh, that’s fine. I hate the Moyong clan anyway.”
“……”
“They’re boring, humorless, and completely lack tact. Always charging in to annihilate someone’s entire bloodline without even trying to read the mood. What’s there to like?”
As the youngest son of the Murong clan head, Moyong He had heard many insults in his life—but none as childish or blunt as this.
And yet, strangely… he didn’t feel offended.
In fact, to be honest, it was a little refreshing.
“Well then, you’re my subordinate now!”
The boy nodded up and down like he’d been possessed by a ghost.
“Great! Since your real name is unlucky, I’ll give you a new one that brings good fortune!”
Woohee’s eyes sparkled as if she were naming a brand-new pet puppy.
Moyong He figured that if she didn’t care about his clan’s blood feud, telling her his real name wouldn’t make much difference anyway, so he opened his mouth to say it—
“How about Ilho? It means ‘number one,’ right after Yeong-ho. No, wait, that’s too fast of a promotion. When I checked your energy earlier, your strength wasn’t even close to the dirt under Yeong-ho’s toenail. Hmm… maybe Baekho or Cheonho instead?”
“Um, benefactor, since you’ve said you’d help me avenge my grudge, perhaps it’s fine if I tell you my real—”
“Oh, about that. I said I don’t like the Moyong clan, so I don’t mind making enemies of them, but now’s not the time. They’re still looking for you, right? If you keep your original name, they’ll find us too quickly. So let’s just take this opportunity to change it completely!”
Woohee spoke with a dead-serious face, her nonsense flowing like a mountain stream.
“That guy says if you went after the Murong clan alone with your current skills, it’d be tough. You should probably gain some experience in group battles and raise your level for a few months before storming their gates.”
Moyong He felt his head spinning again.
So when she said she’d “take care of them,” she didn’t mean she’d kill the assassins chasing him—she meant she was going to wipe out the entire Murong clan?
Alone?
After just a few months of training?
Why? For what reason?!
No, more importantly—since when could martial artists just train for a few months and suddenly leap to the next realm?
There were countless martial artists who spent decades trying to reach the next stage, many dying before even touching the wall of mastery.
The more she spoke, the more Moyong He felt his entire worldview crumble apart.
“Right, and since you’re my new subordinate, I want to give you a fresh name myself. I like things that sound new and exciting!”
Her tone wasn’t something one should hear deep in the mountains—it belonged in the middle of a marketplace tantrum.
Moyong He, failing to keep calm, opened and closed his mouth helplessly like a fish pulled from water.
Is this… really okay?
Does changing one’s name actually make them a new person?
When did that become a thing?
He had no objection to being her subordinate, nor to hiding his real name for safety, but he couldn’t shake a strange sense of impending doom.
It was as if nodding here would doom him somehow—he just didn’t know why.
It was the first time in his life he’d felt something like this.
“Ah, this is tricky. I’ve never named anyone before! Still, Baekho or Cheonho both sound good. Hey, which do you like better? Baekho? Or Cheonho?”
She treated the act of renaming someone as if it were a casual joke.
At that moment, Moyong He froze.
A story he’d once heard came to mind.
In certain unorthodox demonic sects—like the Black Path—it was common to treat people like disposable tools, stripping them of names and replacing them with numbers.
“…Baekho it is. Let’s go with that.”
Moyong He—no, Baekho now—went pale as a sheet.
“Cheonho’s too far up the ladder; it’d just feel tiring. Baekho is only about a hundred steps below Yeongho, so you can always dream of catching up someday, right?”
There wasn’t a single part of that reasoning that made sense to him.
He knew that Yeong-ho, the black-clad man who seemed both close to and irritated by Woohee, wasn’t exactly a normal subordinate.
No sane subordinate would talk back to their superior that much.
“Baekho! You like it, don’t you?”
The newly renamed Baekho looked at her in shock.
Her violet eyes, sharp and glimmering between her lashes, flashed like she could kill or laugh in the same breath.
“Y-yes! I love it!”
There was no other option.
“Just so you know, I didn’t put Yeong-ho ahead of you because I like him more. I ranked you purely based on skill. So don’t feel too bad, okay?”
Baekho didn’t feel the slightest bit bad. In fact, “feeling bad” was the last thing on his mind.
Utterly lost, unable to comprehend how any of this made sense, Baekho turned toward the silent man who’d been watching this absurd scene with zero interest.
It was Yeongho.
Something told him this man might at least be more reasonable, so he silently pleaded for help with his eyes.
To his surprise, Yeongho actually responded.
“You don’t need to thank me. She’s the one who saved you. I barely even lifted a finger.”
Wait, what?
Baekho had assumed there were two benefactors—so hearing that it was just her felt like being struck on the back of the head.
“Y-you mean she was alone?”
Yeong-ho snorted instead of answering.
Meaning—she had single-handedly dealt with more than a dozen Moyong clan experts at the end.
The Murong clan’s secret martial arts were among the top three within the Justice League. The assassins who’d chased him were at least first-rate fighters, if not higher. And she’d taken them all out without so much as a scratch?
Baekho turned wide, trembling eyes toward Woohee, who was humming cheerfully, her silver hair gleaming.
She looked barely his age—or younger.
It was absurd to think someone like that could possess such terrifying skill. Unless… she only looked young.
Could she actually be a reclusive grandmaster in disguise?
“C-could it be… that you’re a legendary master in hiding?”
At that, Woohee’s eyes flared dangerously.
“Wait. Are you—”
Her eerie voice rose into a furious shout.
“Are you calling me some wrinkled old hag?!”
Baekho was certain of it now.
She really is a hidden master!
He’d heard that people always explode in anger when they’re hit right on the mark.
“To think such true chivalry still exists in this cruel world… If not for your heroic spirit, my life—though barely spared—would’ve been meaningless—”
Thud.
Overcome with emotion, Baekho wobbled and collapsed flat on the ground.
His long, messy hair spread across the dirt like fallen ink.
Woohee blinked, then spoke in a dumbfounded tone.
“Chivalry?”
It wasn’t that she didn’t know what chivalry or honor meant—she knew all too well. That’s why it sounded so ridiculous.
“This bastard—after all I did for him, he accuses me of being righteous? Why’s a fellow dark sect brat spouting such unlucky nonsense?”
