CH 21
What Jang Yi-seo wanted was simple.
“A sincere apology. Whether from the Sa brothers or their backers. Someone must give that much. Let’s stop there for now.”
“What?”
Mao, who had been listening quietly, gaped in shock. What kind of nonsense was this? What did he expect from the Sa brothers?
“Are you insane? Why push it that far? Let’s stop here!”
Mao hissed in disbelief. Jang Yi-seo snorted.
“Why? Don’t you want to receive it?”
“It’s not about wanting it! Why keep escalating things?”
“Escalating?”
“Yes! Do you think those bastards will apologize?”
Was an apology such a grand thing? How hard was it to utter a few words? The longer someone clung to power, the harder it became. Yet the funniest part was victims like Mao understanding and letting it slide.
Jang Yi-seo opened his eyes like an elder brother scolding a wayward sibling.
“Seventh Prince. Remember this clearly. There’s no room for half-measures now. Once a fight begins, it must continue until someone yields or dies. Otherwise, they’ll crawl back to the end. Understand?”
“Well… I do agree, but…”
The Sa brothers ranked within the top 100 experts of the main sect. Did he even know what he was saying? Mao’s eyes flickered as he swallowed his words.
Jang Yi-seo, feigning indifference, gave a curt bow to Ji Dae-ho.
“Then it’s settled. Regardless… I entrust this to you, Sect Leader.”
Ji Dae-ho burst into booming laughter and returned the bow.
‘An odd one has joined the Seventh Palace. Mount Cheon will soon grow lively.’
Truthfully, while observing their exchange, he’d initially radiated contempt—more precisely, fury toward the Seventh Prince.
As Jang Yi-seo said, an apology might not come. No, it wouldn’t.
But a master shouldn’t rebuke a subordinate for speaking truth. That was the act of petty men clutching rice bowls.
Yet Jang Yi-seo…
Ji Dae-ho’s eyes shifted again, like a cat spotting a new toy. Jang Yi-seo felt an inexplicable chill but dismissed it.
Piiiii—
Ji Dae-ho whistled through cupped hands. The bamboo forest rustled as his subordinates swarmed in, forming flawless ranks.
“This is the Seventh Prince and his advisor, Jang Yi-seo. Pay your respects!”
Thud! The Ho-ryong members prostrated as one, fists pressed to chests.
A man who handled hierarchies with crisp efficiency.
Ji Dae-ho nodded curtly and bowed formally to the Seventh Prince.
“Once the investigation concludes, I’ll report back.”
“Yeah. Do as you will.”
“Move out.”
Yes! The subordinates slung the corpses over their shoulders and followed Ji Dae-ho into the forest. Before vanishing, he glanced back at Jang Yi-seo once more.
A silent promise to meet again.
Thus ended the prolonged ordeal of the Butcher’s Den’s assault.
Left alone, Jang Yi-seo and Mao awkwardly surveyed the Seventh Palace’s weed-choked grounds.
“What now?”
Mao asked. Jang Yi-seo lazily nodded.
“We’ll fill it. Bit by bit.”
Many things were lacking. But one day, everything would shift to rightful order—for his ascent to sect leader.
“Though just two now, someday…”
As Jang Yi-seo began voicing grand ambitions—
“Seventh Prince! Advisor! Are you unharmed?”
Yong-tae and Mae-gi stumbled from the bamboo forest, faces etched with worry. Jang Yi-seo chuckled.
“We’ll fill it soon enough.”
Mao and Jang Yi-seo exchanged a laugh.
They needed proper sleep tonight.
A thoroughly exhausting day.
*
Days had passed since the Butcher’s Den attacked Wolha Village.
The villagers soothed their fears and resumed daily life, clearing debris as if nothing occurred.
Meanwhile, Chwiseon Pavilion hosted a modest feast under the Seventh Prince’s name to placate the people. Jang Yi-seo settled fully into his advisory role.
Whoosh!
“Ah! My eyes! What—can’t you see I’m sleeping? Why open the window?”
“It’s morning.”
“Damn it! Get lost! You’re fired!”
Of course, much remained to adjust.
But becoming the Seventh Prince’s confidant was progress enough.
Jang Yi-seo mentally organized his encrypted report and stepped out. Upon opening his door, he found Mao slumped against the hallway wall, glaring through bloodshot eyes.
“What?”
“Be honest. Why’d you come to me?”
“I’ve told you already.”
“Sect leader? Ridiculous. All you do is wreck my sleep by opening windows at dawn. You’re here to leech off my stipend.”
“I prefer fortunes over scraps. Who’d grovel for mouse-tail wages?”
Unbeknownst to Mao, Jang Yi-seo’s past earnings defied imagination—leaving empty-handed, returning in gold carriages. A mere stipend was laughable.
Jang Yi-seo snorted and brushed past. Mao lunged forward, blocking his path.
“Aha! Now I see! You’re here to scam others using my name, right? Caught you, bastard!”
“Delusional? If I sold your name in Wolha Village, they’d chase me with knives for their money back. Even thugs’ coins aren’t safe from you.”
“Exactly! So what’s your plan?”
“What are you talking about?”
When Jang Yi-seo asked back, incredulous, Mao tilted his head slightly, twisted his body like a pretzel, and said with a smile, “Well… for example, making a genius like me, Mao, the greatest under heaven.”
Is this guy out of his mind? Jang Yi-seo glared at him with disgust and took a step back. Then Mao quickly ran up to him again and said, “Or, like last time, you handle everything and make everyone kneel before me. You can do it, right?”
Hah. Is this punk for real?
Jang Yi-seo scratched his forehead. Did this guy think becoming a deputy sect leader was like being some gang boss? Seeing him excitedly moistening his lips with his tongue, it seemed he’d been indulging in delusions these past few days.
Of course, strengthening Mao and making the Five Dragons Hall or the Elder Council kneel—all of that was necessary.
But first, there was something he needed to understand.
“Why do you think the Sect Leader took a liking to you, Seventh Prince?”
“Hmm. For starters, I’m built strong. Manly, with a good physique. That must’ve caught his eye. Or maybe he instantly recognized I’m the type to deliver when it counts.”
“Hah, this bastard…”
“What?!”
“Listen carefully. The Sect Leader favors you, Seventh Prince, not because of your looks, your exceptional dantian, or your temperament. It’s one thing: you were born right.”
At Jang Yi-seo’s words, Mao pushed off the wall and crossed his arms. Tilting his head, he said, “Isn’t that what I just said? Born privileged, destined for greatness. That’s me.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
“You weren’t born privileged and destined. You were simply born privileged. To put it bluntly: you’re of the Ma bloodline. That’s all.”
Mao’s eyes narrowed—a sign of wounded pride.
“Funny. No one’s ever said that. And if blood mattered, why me? Why not Ma Yi-shin? I’m just a bastard.”
“That’s politics.”
Thud! Mao’s eyes flickered at Jang Yi-seo’s words.
This was entirely new to him.
Becoming the Seventh Prince for political reasons? Even the records from Zhuge Library stated it was due to his dantian.
But Jang Yi-seo thought differently.
‘That’s part of it, but not the truth. The real reason is the Sect Leader balancing factions through adoptees.’
Yes. This was the core.
“The Sect Leader reached the Heavenly Demon throne through martial arts that shook heaven and earth—no backing, just power. And he’s shrewd. That’s why he adopted heirs from the three great families. To redirect their ambition from real power to the empty title of Deputy Leader.”
“What?!”
“Oh, he’ll genuinely pass the Heavenly Demon Divine Arts to the chosen Deputy. Someone must succeed. But the process? Brutal. You might die. He feels no parental affection.”
Mao furrowed his brow, lost in thought.
Of course he’d be shaken. The Sect Leader was a godlike figure in the Demonic Sect. Learning his adoption stemmed from the family he despised—how could that not unsettle him?
‘But Jin Wu-guang’s cruelty is the martial world’s opportunity. Mao’s loyalty will shift from sect to them.’
A faint smile touched Jang Yi-seo’s lips.
“So…”
Mao, having pondered, finally spoke.
“He picked me as the Ma family’s representative?”
What the hell?!
“Fine. I’ll play this cruel game. So, where do I start? Mountain runs? Sandbag training? That cliché stuff?”
Ugh. This idiot. Jang Yi-seo chewed his lip before grudgingly nodding.
“…Yes. Go ahead.”
“Wahahaha! I’ll be the greatest under heaven!”
Thudthudthud! Mao sprinted off, kicking up dust. Jang Yi-seo stared blankly before murmuring, “Can he actually do it?”
He had to. What choice was there? Still, the fool’s innate talent was undeniable. Even now, his untrained leaps mimicked qinggong, all raw power.
His meridians were like wide-open channels—energy surged through them effortlessly. Others consumed elixirs from birth to purge blockages… but this guy? Born different.
“He might truly be the Ma family’s heir.”
Jang Yi-seo stepped onto the porch, dusted his shoes, and exited. Glancing back, he said, “If he wants change, we’ll change. Starting with this dump.”
Crumbling tiles. Creaking floors. A missing gate. It resembled an abandoned palace.
“If we’re renovating, let’s go grand.”
A vicious smile curled his lips.
Swoosh.
Turning toward rustling bamboo, he spotted a beauty draped in an outer robe like a fairy.
Jang Yi-seo waved broadly.
She shyly waved back.
Murong Lan.
No—Chwi Hong-ran, mistress of Chwiseon Pavilion.
The banquet preparations were clearly finished.
Jang Yi-seo strode forward.
#Moving Forward Without Looking Back (1)
