Chapter 26: The Face of Evil
The melody of the seven-stringed zither echoed through the Seomun family estate.
Seomun Woong tapped his fingers in rhythm with the music.
He knew nothing about music. He couldn’t play any instruments.
All he understood were simple labels: cheerful, sorrowful, poignant.
Born into a martial family, his sole passion lay in martial arts.
Yet he enjoyed listening to music.
Especially now, at Seohyangjeong Pavilion, he loved hearing his sworn younger brother Pyo Ryeochan play the seven-stringed zither. It wasn’t just the music—watching Ryeochan perform always drew a smile to his lips.
‘Why does seeing you fill me with such vigor?’
Whenever Seomun Woong gazed at Ryeochan, vitality surged through his entire body.
Perhaps it was because it reminded him of the day they’d sworn brotherhood.
Three years ago, Ryeochan’s family, the Pyo Clan, had been attacked by monsters.
By the time the Seomun family rushed to their aid, many—including the clan leader—had already perished.
Ryeochan, the youngest son, had been outside at the time and thus survived. But the family’s treasures and wealth had vanished, their estate reduced to ashes, making reconstruction impossible.
Overnight, Ryeochan lost his parents, siblings, and clan. Utterly shattered, he wandered in a daze.
The Seomun family took him in then.
Seomun Woong forged a sworn brotherhood with him.
Needless to say, Ryeochan regarded the Seomun family as his saviors and remained eternally grateful.
“Ryeochan, your melodies never fail to astonish.”
As the music ended, Seomun Woong praised him. Ryeochan rose and bowed deeply.
“You flatter me.”
“Flattery? To speak plainly, your performances send shivers down my spine.”
“Haha, Brother, you exaggerate too much.”
“The guests will arrive soon. Keep playing magnificently until then.”
“Of course.”
As Ryeochan plucked the zither’s strings again, a beautiful melody filled the air.
Seomun Woong nodded in satisfaction.
He knew nothing about music. He couldn’t play any instruments.
But what did that matter?
‘Pathetic fool.’
That imbecile grovels before the man who destroyed his clan, calling him “brother” with tears of gratitude.
Yet seeing Ryeochan always invigorated him. The sight was a reminder: weakness led to such ruin. It fueled his hunger to grow stronger, to seize more. A thrill coursed through his veins.
‘Yes. This time, it’s Cheonhwa Seogo.’
The time had come to claim that ink-stained scholar as his own.
Carriages lined up before the Seomun estate as invited scions of noble families arrived one by one, exchanging warm greetings.
“Hahahaha!”
When the Grand Prince of Cheonhwa Seogo burst into laughter, Ban Gyo-in covered her mouth and giggled.
“Did the Grand Prince truly say ‘prr-prr’ back then?”
“Yes. I misunderstood and offended the sect leader at the time.”
“My father started mimicking it in his quarters, going ‘prr-prr’ all the time. I worried he’d lost his mind!”
Ban Gyo-in rolled her eyes playfully.
Thanks to the Seomun family’s invitation, she reunited not only with Jang Ye of Yeomhwagak but also Myo Garyeong of Baekhwajang. While all exchanged pleasantries, Ban Gyo-in shone brightest with her radiant smiles.
Some were meeting Hou Gong for the first time.
“Wuhahaha! So this is the famed Grand Prince of Cheonhwa Seogo! I’m Wang So-han of the Continental War Bureau!”
“Mok-gung of Oghumun, at your service.”
“I am Dan Gangmu of the Iron Gold Society.”
Their greetings alone revealed their personalities.
None existed in Fan Heng’s memories—to Hou Gong, they were complete strangers.
Yet he wasn’t entirely unprepared.
He’d reviewed reports on nearby factions compiled by Yun and later gathered more details from Ban Gyo-in.
Exchanging courtesies with each, Hou Gong found Dan Gangmu of the Iron Gold Society particularly intriguing.
The Iron Gold Society excelled in metalworking.
True to his clan’s reputation, Dan Gangmu had a stern, angular face and blunt speech.
Hou Gong knew of them—a humble smithy that rose to prominence over twenty years after seizing an opportunity.
Their breakthrough came when Nung Ryang, an elder of the Hwasan Sect, commissioned a sword. The sect later gifted blades forged by the Society to its disciples.
Hou Gong had learned of them through Nung Ryang, who’d raved, “Alliance Lord, you must see this blade! It’s practically divine!”
The Society’s leader later sent a letter offering to present Hou Gong with a sword, but he’d declined, having long abandoned carrying blades unless necessary.
How ironic to cross paths here.
As Hou Gong smiled faintly at Dan Gangmu, a boisterous laugh erupted.
“Brother Fan, you’re nothing like I imagined! Expected gloomy eyes and brooding aura, but you’re all smiles! Makes my head spin!”
The speaker was Wang So-han of the Continental War Bureau, round-faced like a steamed bun.
As the son of a wealthy magnate, he lacked malice but had no filter.
‘I’d marked him as a threat…’
Meeting him now, Hou Gong realized his caution was misplaced.
With his plump cheeks and body evoking a doughy bun, the man radiated harmless warmth.
“Brother Wang, what does a ‘gloomy gaze’ look like?”
“Gloomy? Hmm… Like this!”
Wang So-han immediately contorted his face into what he imagined was a somber expression.
Hou Gong burst out laughing at the absurd sight.
Has this fool ever known hardship?
His attempt only resulted in a comical grimace.
The onlookers erupted in laughter.
Yet Wang So-han showed no embarrassment—he chuckled heartily, clearly delighting in the jovial atmosphere he’d created. His disregard for others’ opinions was palpable.
‘No, this dumpling won’t be a variable…’
Hou Gong had been wary due to rumors of marriage talks between the Seomun heir and the Continental War Bureau’s daughter. He’d expected hostility, but his worries proved unnecessary.
If anything, the daughter was fortunate the marriage hadn’t proceeded—divine intervention, even.
A sneer cut through the air.
“Tch! The audacity of Cheonhwa Seogo!”
The speaker was Mok-gung of Oghumun, his gaunt frame exuding disdain as he wrinkled his nose.
“I’m appalled Cheonhwa Seogo lacks even basic shame. Shouldn’t you at least pretend remorse, Brother Fan? That grinning face without even a mask of contrition is beyond grotesque.”
Mok-gung’s eyes flashed provocatively.
The crowd stared in shock.
“Lord Mok! How dare you speak so rudely at such an event!” Ban Gyo-in snapped, brow furrowed.
Mok-gung jutted his lip and shrugged.
“Rude? What’s rude about stating facts? Everyone knows Cheonhwa Seogo spread those rumors, yet their prince acts oblivious. I’ve never seen such shamelessness!”
“Since when do you decide what’s factual?”
“How quaint.”
Mok-gung smirked.
“Even a three-year-old could see it. Does Miss Ban lack wit? Or did Cheonhwa Seogo bribe you? Or perhaps you’ve taken a fancy to their prince?”
“Lord Mok! This is inexcusable!”
Ban Gyo-in’s temper flared as Jang Ye and Myo Garyeong joined in rebuking him.
Unfazed, Mok-gung raised his hands.
“Easy now. Have I lied? The Cheongwol Sect was also wronged, yet Miss Ban shows no anger. Curious, no?”
Hou Gong inwardly clicked his tongue.
Oghumun…
Ban Gyo-in had described them as “a faction loyal to the Seomun family.” She’d undersold it.
Oghumun were the Seomuns’ lapdogs. Their master didn’t need to order them to bark—they’d attack on cue, only for the Seomuns to feign reprimand afterward.
Though Mok-gung was merely doing his duty, Hou Gong couldn’t let the provocation stand. A rabid dog required a beating, but violence here was impossible.
Intervening as tensions rose, Hou Gong calmed Ban Gyo-in and the others.
“Please, cease. I’m unharmed.”
“Unharmed? Since when is such disrespect tolerable!”
“I appreciate your concern, Brother Jang, Miss Ban, Miss Myo. But it’s best to stop here.”
Hou Gong turned to Mok-gung.
“Lord Mok seems unwell today. You must’ve ingested something foul. Why else would you bark like a dog at this gathering? On such a day, getting bitten would be… inconvenient. Best not engage.”
“Wh-what? Dog? You… How dare—!”
Mok-gung’s face flushed crimson.
Wang So-han roared with laughter.
“Wuhahaha! A dog? What a splendid metaphor! Scholars truly have a way with words! Devoured him in one bite!”
His guffaws dismissed Oghumun entirely. Mok-gung glared but dared not retort against the Continental War Bureau’s heir.
Ban Gyo-in and others stifled giggles.
Damn it.
Mok-gung’s face twisted. His attempt to crush Cheonhwa Seogo’s momentum had backfired, leaving him a laughingstock.
The group moved to the banquet hall.
At the long outdoor table, maids served tea. Light conversation flowed until a raspy voice interrupted.
“My apologies for disturbing your discussions…”
A bald old man smiled at Hou Gong.
“Would the Grand Prince of Cheonhwa Seogo grant us a moment? The Young Lord wishes to meet you before the feast.”
The “Young Lord” meant the Seomun heir.
Eager, Hou Gong nodded.
“Of course. Lead the way.”
As Hou Gong followed the elder, a quiet bark came from behind.
“Heh. Let’s see how smug you’ll look when you return.”
