At the Ja-Ha Guest House, the Sword Demon was immersed in training with a grim expression, and Mo Yong Baek was busy gathering herbs and devoting himself to internal energy cultivation, so I didn’t bring him.
As for Dong-su, my former monk senior... let’s not even talk about it.
From my past life, I already knew I hated traveling with monks. The ones who constantly urge you to show mercy are frustrating, but the wild monks who beat people to death on sight—well, they’re still monks at the core.
It probably started from back then.
That urge to harass anyone with a shaved head...
Three people were enough to collect the unpaid balance: myself, the Drunk, and the Lecher.
Honestly, this lineup is more comfortable.
Sometimes, when I look at the Sword Demon’s perpetually brooding expression, my breath gets caught in my throat. But since the Sword Demon wasn’t with us, there was no way to stop the Lecher’s constant grumbling.
That’s how the world works—when you gain something, you lose something.
“I can tolerate being the youngest among the Four Great Villains,” the Lecher muttered.
“Then how about you keep tolerating it?”
“But I can’t accept being the youngest of the Southern Six Dragons. That list doesn’t even include my master.”
What kind of dogshit logic is that?
I was listed on both rosters, but somehow the Lecher had excluded me in his logic.
Still, I went along for strategic reasons.
“You’re right. It’s shameless. As martial artists, we should determine rank only after testing strength.”
“At the very least, we should settle it with a game of Go. That’s the righteous way of Jianghu, isn’t it?”
The Drunk nodded with a serious face.