CHAPTER 67

The youngest illegitimate son's martial journey was an event that inevitably drew people's attention in many ways.

It wasn't just anyone—it was an illegitimate son, embarking on the martial journey at the youngest age in history.

Moreover, during this process, he defeated his much older half-sister in a duel and, through that, passed the Senate's test.

Even if he had quietly followed the formal procedures, interest would have been inevitable. But since the event unfolded in a rather dramatic manner, everyone took notice to some degree.

And among those who paid attention, there were some who didn't stop at mere curiosity.

The backyard of the Soongmuiga estate.

Under the warm spring sunlight, Baek Hwayeon, the mistress of Soongmuiga, held a teacup in her hand.

At that moment—

A figure emerged from the shadow of a tree next to the table.

"Report."

"…My apologies. We lost him."

Baek Hwayeon's eyes twitched.

"Details."

"…We were careless. The illegitimate son anticipated surveillance from the beginning. We lost track of him when he left the family estate and passed through the bustling city streets."

"That makes no sense. He should still have a distinct appearance and magical signature."

"It is presumed that he used the equipment he received as a reward to disguise his appearance and has learned some skill to alter his magical signature. As of now, tracking is impossible. My deepest apologies."

Baek Hwayeon traced the handle of her teacup with her finger.

"A mere 15-year-old illegitimate son… managed to shake off the pursuit of an Umgeom (Shadow Sword)?"

They had set a tail on him the moment he left the family grounds.

Yet once again, he had acted beyond expectations.

Since he had officially departed on his martial journey with the patriarch's permission, direct interference was not an option.

However, at the very least, they had wanted to keep track of his movements and plans, which was why they had assigned someone to follow him.

The Soongmuiga family had an almost supernatural instinct for detecting danger, so they had been instructed to exercise extreme caution.

Still, to think they couldn't even track him for a single day—

"Well, if he couldn't even manage this much, he wouldn't have made it this far."

"…"

The Umgeom silently knelt behind Baek Hwayeon.

After a brief silence, Baek Hwayeon spoke.

"Keep gathering information. If anything even remotely suspicious arises, send someone to tail him."

"As you command."

The Umgeom vanished in an instant.

Baek Hwayeon took another sip of tea.

Even under the warm spring sunlight, a chilling aura lingered around her.

What I brought with me from the Soongmuiga estate was simple.

An identification card for official outings, four pieces of equipment I selected from the armory, and Heukya, the black sword at my waist.

And—

'About ten million won in emergency funds. They expect me to survive for years on this.'

Considering that I would have to sustain myself for several years, it wasn't a lot of money.

It was exactly what it was called—an emergency fund. Earning money was something a direct descendant on a martial journey had to handle on their own.

'This is fine for now. I'll just stick to my plan.'

Before setting out on this journey, I had already formulated a rough plan.

Normally, martial journeys involved traveling across the country and visiting various Muga (martial clans) or Mumun (martial sects).

The typical approach was to proudly reveal oneself as a direct descendant of Soongmuiga, request duels, and exchange martial arts techniques.

For the host, it was an opportunity to experience the martial prowess of the esteemed Soongmuiga. For the traveler, it was a way to gain experience and build connections.

The only restriction of a martial journey was not to exploit the Soongmuiga name for personal gain—it didn't require hiding one's lineage altogether.

'That's not a bad option, but it's inefficient for me right now. I need to secure certain things first.'

The first destination of my martial journey was the Northern Danger Zone, more specifically, Jagang Province.

I had taken some extra time to shake off any pursuers, but reaching the north didn't take too long.

The Jagang region had mostly been cleared of monsters, yet it remained largely undeveloped.

Though stabilized, it lacked social infrastructure, meaning no one had settled there.

However, for some, such places served as sanctuaries.

'A Nest of Wanderers should be here.'

Wanderers.

A term used to refer to criminals who roamed the world's lawless zones.

Not ordinary criminals, but those who had mastered martial arts, sorcery, or magic and used their skills for crime.

These Wanderers often gathered in slums near safe zones or in underdeveloped danger zones, creating settlements known as Nests.

"Maybe it's because I haven't been here in so long, but I can barely remember. I think I'm heading the right way, though."

I looked around.

With no proper transportation, I had to walk from the edge of the safe zone.

The untamed danger zone was practically a wilderness, with nothing but a road cutting through it.

Pausing for a moment, I took out my canteen and drank some water—then something caught my eye, making them gleam.

"I've found it."

Across the road, in a corner of the forest.

A rickety wooden sign tilted at an odd angle, with bone fragments unnaturally hanging from it.

It was a marker pointing to the entrance of the Wanderers' Nest.

***

The Wanderers' Nest was a gathering place for all kinds of people.

Smugglers, thieves, junkies, pimps—even murderers.

It was a haven where every kind of scum and every kind of secret converged.

Long ago, well-intentioned people had tried to eradicate the Wanderers' Nest.

But no one ever succeeded.

The Nest wasn't something built by an organization—it was more like a naturally occurring vagrant settlement.

Even if you destroyed one Nest, another would form somewhere else.

And if you got rid of that one too, the filth with nowhere left to go would simply spread and contaminate everything.

That's why governments and powerful factions chose to leave the Wanderers' Nest alone.

As long as they didn't cross the line, these outcasts were free to rot away in slums and danger zones.

And in this place—the largest Wanderers' Nest in Korea—a fight was breaking out, as usual.

"You filthy bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing?! You trying to cheat me?!"

"You son of a bitch! You're the one palming cards, aren't you?!"

"What the hell are you talking about?! You're dead!"

Two men, sitting in a bar and fiddling with a deck of hanafuda cards, suddenly started throwing punches.

"Hey! The so-called 'gambling masters' are going at it!"

"I got 100,000 on the bald guy!"

"I'll put 150,000 on the guy with the lazy eye!"

No one in the bar—neither the owner nor the other patrons—paid any attention to the fight.

Because that's just the kind of place the Nest was.

Creak.

And in the midst of all this chaos, no one noticed a man step into the bar.

His face was marred by a long knife scar, and he looked downright menacing.

The man walked straight to the counter and sat down.

"One draft beer. How much?"

"Hmph…"

The bar owner squinted at the unfamiliar customer.

"Never seen you before. Who the hell are you?"

"Came down from the North. Things are rough in China right now—Kowloon Walled City's been cracking down too hard."

"You Chinese-Korean?"

"Do I look like one?"

"You sound like a kid who just hit puberty. And your accent's pure Seoul. If you're Korean, why'd you come from the North?"

"I ran away. Didn't know any better back then."

"What's your name?"

"People actually use names in the Nest?"

"…You do seem like a wanderer, at least."

The owner clicked his tongue, clearly uneasy.

The man smirked.

"Don't worry, I ain't a cop. If anything, I'm hiding from them."

"Tch! Well, you do look like one of us. Just don't go getting yourself killed. If you do, make sure it's somewhere else—don't make me clean up your corpse."

Bang!

The owner slammed a cold mug of beer onto the counter.

"20,000 won."

"What the hell? Since when does a beer cost 20,000 won?"

"Don't like it? Get out."

"…Fine."

The man tossed two crumpled bills onto the counter and grabbed the mug.

"Khaah!"

Gulping down the beer in one go, he let out an exaggerated gasp, as if he were drinking for the first time in his life.

And in a way, he was.

"How long has it been?"

I gazed at my reflection in the beer glass.

A grotesque scar cutting across my cheek, rough and tanned skin, and sharp, upturned eyes.

No matter who looked, they wouldn't see the youngest son of the Soongmuiga family, Lee Cheol. Instead, I looked like any ordinary wanderer.

'The more I look, the more flawless it seems.'

I moved my hand and brushed over the scar.

Where I should have felt the rough texture of a twisted scar, I felt only the smoothness of porcelain.

'As expected of a masterpiece-grade item—the effect is impressive.'

My altered face was thanks to none other than a certain piece of equipment I had obtained from Vigo.

A masterpiece-grade mask, Manmyeon Cheolpi.

It was an item that, when infused with mana, projected an illusion over the mask's surface.

It was undetectable to the naked eye, and aside from consuming a bit of mana, it was an extremely useful tool.

"Kuahaha! The one-eyed bastard won! Hey! Pay up!"

"What money? Screw off, you bastard!"

"The hell you talking about? You trying to scam me? Pay up now!"

"Piss off!"

"You little—!"

I glanced at the drunken wanderers brawling again and sank into thought.

In my past life, I had hidden here to escape my family's watchful eyes.

'But in the end, my third brother found me. And I encountered the Shadow Sword Squad at the Nest Inn.'

That was something that wouldn't happen this time.

I shook my head and turned away.

To make myself sound older, I even lowered my voice using mana.

"Anyway, let me ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Who's in charge of this place now? Back when I was here, it was the Guryong Chae."

"And what are you gonna do with that info?"

"I need to know the atmosphere to act accordingly. Wouldn't want to die an early death because I was clueless."

"That's easy enough to answer. Not like it's a secret. But you think I'd spill for just a beer?"

I furrowed my brows and put down 100,000 won.

"Just bring me some snacks and another beer."

"Now that's the kind of talk I like."

The bartender grinned and placed some nuts and another beer on the table.

"This place, the Nest, has been managed by Boss Baek Cheol-su for ten years now. You've heard of him, even if you were in China, right?"

"Of course. How could I not?"

My eyes gleamed.

Just as I expected.

The Butcher of Men, Baek Cheol-su.

A well-known swordsman and crime boss in this world.

His story was infamous—a former warrior of an established martial sect who murdered his master and became a rogue wanderer.

His personal strength was formidable, and he had a knack for leadership.

In my past life, Baek Cheol-su had risen to become a dominant figure in Korea's underworld.

'He took control of his organization in his early thirties and started running the black market… That means right now, some good stuff should be appearing.'

But neither the Nest nor Baek Cheol-su was my real target.

What I sought was stored in a warehouse—the place where he kept the goods he periodically released in his black market's safe zone.

A treasure no one had yet recognized for its true value.

An artifact that, in my past life, had been recovered by the Soongmuiga family.

'This time, I'll get to it first.'

Grinning, I raised my beer glass.

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