CHAPTER~18
Woo-hee had never imagined she’d have to listen to such nonsense about “righteousness” after saving the Black Blade.
Sure, she could admit there were two paths in the martial world — the righteous sects’ way and the demonic sects’ way — but where on earth had this righteousness business suddenly sprung from?
Maybe it was some Central Plains trend, where they used righteousness in their own special way?
Like, maybe when they wiped out all their so-called righteous enemies, they called it righteous justice. A fresh, creative interpretation from the demonic sects, perhaps.
Yeah. That must be it.
This must be what they meant by being a righteous warrior of the demonic path.
…Then why did she still feel so uneasy?
As Woo-hee glanced down at Baekho, who fainted at the slightest hint of excitement, she wondered for a moment what the problem might be.
After a short moment of thought, she reached a rather pitiful conclusion — perhaps the new subordinate she’d picked up had a few loose screws in his head.
Having paused her journey to the Central Plains because of her little “Baekho-picking” incident, Woo-hee decided to resume it at last.
Completely unaware that the man she’d just rescued was the sole surviving heir of the Moyong clan’s former head, she pressed onward.
Determined to become the most fearsome villain in the martial world, she carried a righteous sect’s young disciple on her back, setting out on a journey riddled with misunderstandings and absurd assumptions.
Woo-hee slung Baekho over her shoulder like a sack of rice and used her lightness skill. This kind of thing was child’s play for her — she was a secluded martial master living deep in the mountains, after all. Carrying an unconscious subordinate? She could practically do that without even lifting a finger.
Well… she did have to lift a finger, but still.
Either way, she was starting to crave a proper meal — and more than anything, she longed for a warm, soft bed.
A true villain always had a few underlings tagging along. Woo-hee never expected much from hers. Having one more piece of luggage to haul around didn’t change anything.
Woo-hee and Yeongho darted forward together, neither willing to yield the lead. Their movements were like a textbook on lightness skill — each step so fast that the scenery blurred into streaks of color.
As the endless stretch of forest receded behind them, Woo-hee found herself oddly pleased by the idea that people now saw her as some hermit master with demonic righteousness.
Come to think of it, Baekho’s misunderstanding wasn’t completely off.
She had lived tucked away in a remote corner of the Northern Sea her whole life. She’d achieved skills far beyond her age, so being mistaken for a hermit-like master wasn’t that strange.
A reclusive master of the martial world!
She didn’t really know what it meant, but it sounded cool, mysterious, and kind of awesome — she liked it.
Woo-hee decided to go along with that setting.
As the mountain ridges blurred past, leaving only afterimages behind, she suddenly sent a message through internal sound transmission.
[Yeongho, where are we now?]
[Judging by how far we’ve traveled, we’ll be out of Liaoning within half a day.]
[Was the Moyong clan in Liaoning?]
[Yes. It’s better to keep moving straight into Hebei. You’re not planning to run into those people just yet, right, Junior Sister?]
[Hmm, fair point.]
It was, miraculously, the first time in ages they’d ended a conversation without bickering.
The two continued their contest of speed, flying over mountains and rivers at an incredible pace.
Some time later, Woo-hee’s tone turned into a whine as she sent another message.
[Yeongho, when do we get to Hebei?]
[Am I a map? How would I know exactly?]
[Find me a village, now! I’m sick of mountains! I want real food! Not pig slop — human food!]
Yeongho, who had just used the last of his cooking skills to prepare what Woo-hee called “pig slop,” immediately snapped back.
[Are you insulting my cooking, Junior Sister?]
[You call that cooking? Please. All you did was roast a wild boar you caught — anyone could do that!]
[Then why don’t you cook yourself, Senior Sister?]
[I’m the junior sister. You’re the senior brother.]
[In any decent sect, the junior does chores for the senior — not the other way around.]
[In any decent family, the elder takes care of the younger.]
[Didn’t you just throw a fit about not being a child? When did that change?]
[So if a fifteen-year-old throws a tantrum and says “I’m an adult now,” are you just gonna pat them on the head and say, “Of course you are, little one”?]
[……]
Naturally, Yeongho would just snort and mock them for being a brat — not actually treat them like an adult.
But still, a fifteen-year-old demanding to be treated like an adult really shouldn’t be the one pointing that out.
It was simply against all logic.
[What you made doesn’t even deserve to be called cooking. If I weren’t so generous, I’d tell you straight up — if some inn served that kind of garbage, the first passing hermit master who tasted it would beat the poor waiter senseless, shouting, “How dare you serve me this trash!”]
[Why would a random hermit even be eating my food? And why take it out on an innocent waiter?]
[Because the hermit just came out of decades of fasting, looking forward to his first real meal — and the first thing he tastes happens to be your food.]
[And the waiter?]
[I read in a martial novel that no matter who’s at fault, the waiter always gets beaten first. Must be one of those Central Plains traditions.]
[……]
Yeongho decided he no longer wished to converse.
In his opinion, there had been absolutely nothing wrong with his cooking. The wild boar was roasted to perfection, and the fact that all three of them had stripped the bones clean proved it was a success.
As always, the only problem was Woo-hee’s warped sense of taste.
When Yeongho ignored her, Woo-hee stopped talking too, focusing instead on her footwork.
Regardless of taste, she was full, had gained a subordinate, and her villainous journey was going smoothly. Her whole body felt light, her spirits high.
More than anything, she realized — this was the first time she’d ever truly moved freely, using her lightness skill without restraint.
For six days, she’d been too stubborn to lose to Yeongho in endurance to even notice, but now that her pride had settled, she could finally enjoy the feeling.
Each step she took, weightless and boundless, made her feel as though she were walking on clouds — as though she’d become a celestial being riding the wind itself.
In the Ice Palace, she could only practice her skills within formation boundaries. It wasn’t bad, but it was suffocating at times — like being trapped in a cozy yet tiny birdcage. To say she’d never felt that confinement would’ve been a lie.
Now, she savored this indescribable sense of liberation, her legs dancing lightly, her face bright with laughter.
Everything felt like it was finally going her way.
It was a perfectly exhilarating feeling.
I’ll Paint It Pitch Black!
Woo-hee was not someone who made plans.
Her philosophy was simple — planning was for people with bright futures and plenty of time.
For someone who lived every day not knowing if she’d die tomorrow or the next, the only right thing to do was what she wanted, right now.
That was how she’d lived all fifteen years of her life — spontaneous, reckless, and impulsive.
And now, this same person was expected to suddenly become a meticulous planner just because she left home? Impossible.
Her grand plan for becoming a villain went something like this:
Roam the Central Plains, earn a reputation as fearsome as any demonic cult, see lots of cool things, eat delicious food until she bursts, deliver the letter her mother entrusted her with… and that was it.
No steps. No order. No strategy.
So, naturally, under the leadership of this planless woman, their “destination” was simply — “Run until we reach Hebei, there’s bound to be a village there.”
And indeed, after traveling almost half a day without rest, the thick forest began to thin.
As they emerged from the mountains, faint traces of human paths appeared, leading them to a proper open road wide enough for carriages.
At last, Woo-hee, Yeongho, and the unconscious bundle on her back arrived at the entrance of a village.
Though a bit worn, the signboard carved with its name looked decent enough. Considering this was the border between Liaoning and Hebei, the place was surprisingly large.
Namyu Village (南有村).
The first village she’d reached since setting out into the martial world.
Woo-hee strode boldly through its gates — still carrying Baekho over her shoulder.
Her steps were light, almost jaunty, as she effortlessly bore a body one and a half times her size like a fluffy sack.
To any
one sane, it was a sight best avoided — strange, dangerous, and undeniably unsettling.
