Part 21 - Geumju
"Hey—seriously, can't you just stop already?"
The man in charge didn't want to invite more trouble.
Just looking at her clothes and the way she carried herself, she was obviously a young lady from a distinguished household—yet she had no intention of listening.
"Fuck."
At last, his patience snapped.
"Warnings are over, bitch."
At his gesture, one of his underlings shot forward.
Low stance, low center of gravity—fast to begin with, he looked even faster now.
He might take a hit from that fire poker, but he meant to crash in and subdue her in one go.
Got you—!
Jeong-a's body shifted exactly one step to the side, slipping past him.
If she'd been even a little faster, he would've corrected his trajectory. If she'd been even a little slower, she would've been caught.
"Urk…!"
And the tip of the fire poker she held had already stabbed cleanly into his solar plexus and withdrawn.
Jeong-a brought the raised fire poker down onto the back of his neck, cutting off his consciousness.
If it had been a sword, it would've pierced his heart and severed his neck—her posture was frighteningly precise.
Only then did the men's eyes change.
"She's no ordinary bitch! Don't go easy on her!"
Men rushed in from Jeong-a's left and right.
She retreated naturally, reducing the angle where two could attack her at once.
"Hngh!"
The first man's fist grazed her face.
His next swing also brushed past the bridge of her nose.
In that instant, the handle of her fire poker shot up from below and shattered his lower jaw.
"Kghk…!"
The second man lunged in, but Jeong-a had already stepped back, widening the gap.
"Fuck!"
As the distance kept being stolen from him, he changed tactics.
He flailed his hands wildly, trying to grab at her fluttering sleeves—anywhere would do. If he could seize even a bit of cloth, he could lock down her movement.
But no matter how he snatched, her hem only billowed and slipped through his fingers by a hair's breadth.
This… this is impossible…!
Just like the first man's strikes had all missed, this man's grasping hands cut nothing but air.
She wasn't moving at some unimaginable speed like a true martial artist—so why did every attack miss?
"Ugh…!"
Charging in without thinking, he didn't notice his unconscious comrades and tripped over them.
How…?
She had been backing away with him right in front of her.
Her gaze was fixed on him—so how could she, while retreating, avoid the bodies on the floor?
As confusion flooded his head, the fire poker flew into the back of his skull.
"…Amazing."
A quiet, involuntary admiration slipped from Se-a's lips as she stared blankly at the scene.
Even if they were barehanded and Jeong-a only had a fire poker, those men weren't nobodies.
They hadn't mastered mugong—"martial arts" that required internal energy—but they were Black Bone Sect elites forged through sheer martial skill.
As the dozens of skull tattoos advertised, they were men who'd built experience and proved themselves by taking dozens of lives.
"…Insane."
There was no helping it now.
The lone remaining leader pulled a short blade from his robe—its edge blue and keen.
"Bitch. You brought this on yourself."
To an ordinary person, all they would've seen was a flash of steel.
But Jeong-a's 'eyes' saw the blade precisely.
Not just the blade, but the grain in the metal, the hand grime embedded in the leather-wrapped hilt, the black filth under his untrimmed nails, even the dirty pores from not washing properly—
She saw it all.
She lifted the fire poker slightly and slotted it into the blade's path; sparks burst as the short blade ricocheted away.
The second strike came immediately after.
No matter how clearly she could see everything, with a body that held not a shred of internal energy, there was no way she could evade every rapid follow-up.
But she was listening to his breathing, and she could feel his muscles move.
Her senses—amplified by her eyes—were turning the impossible into the possible.
It was fun.
Jeong-a realized she was smiling.
The leader's eyes flipped when he saw it.
"You dog—!"
WHAM.
A blow that stole his breath completely.
Jeong-a, who had kept a defensive posture until now, slipped in all at once through the gap created while he spoke.
The man, smashed in the philtrum by the fire poker, rolled his eyes back and toppled over.
A perfect thrust to a single point—psychologically and physically.
"Haa… haa…"
Jeong-a panted harshly, bracing herself with the fire poker planted on the floor.
Sweat streamed down her face and dripped to the ground.
Even she couldn't escape her physical limits.
"Jeong-a!"
Se-a rushed over and supported her.
In her sister's arms, Jeong-a steadied her breathing and shook her head.
"Unni… this is… hard."
Se-a let out a hollow laugh.
"No—did you learn swordsmanship at the Sword Clan?"
Jeong-a shook her head.
"No."
"Then what?"
Jeong-a smiled faintly.
"I just… watched it, passing by. Over someone's shoulder."
Se-a couldn't understand what that was supposed to mean.
"Jeong-a, what does that even—"
Then Jeong-a slipped free of her support and corrected her stance.
"Is it still a long way until 15 minutes?"
"Still is."
Jeong-a frowned, staring toward the corridor entrance.
"This time… even I can't push it."
At that moment, the door burst open, and the subordinate Se-a had sent earlier rolled in—covered in blood.
"P-Pavilion Master… r-run…!"
From the corridor came a bright, tinkling female laugh.
The ear-piercing volume made it obvious: the woman was a martial artist with internal energy.
"How dreadfully boring. Where did everyone go? Why are there only pathetic, worm-like things like this left?"
Se-a knew that voice.
"…Geumju."
Striding in through the open doorway was a stunning beauty in flamboyant clothes and heavy makeup.
Her garments were entirely crimson, and even her makeup was all in red tones—her impression was violently intense.
Behind her, three figures with wildly different looks stepped into view, armed to the teeth.
With even their faces plastered in black skull tattoos, all three were unmistakably martial artists.
And the corridor was packed with ordinary Black Bone Sect members.
"Oh? What's this?"
Geumju, who had entered in high spirits, looked down at her underlings sprawled unconscious on the floor.
Then, taking in Jeong-a and the fire poker, she raised a hand to her forehead.
"To think I fed and raised these as 'elites'…"
Of the three behind her, the one in monk's robes flicked his sleeve.
"..."
Jeong-a hurriedly moved to shield Se-a, but the monk's posture had already returned to neutral.
Fortunately, the attack hadn't been aimed at them.
Needles shot from the sleeve and pierced the vital points of the unconscious men.
Just like I thought—I couldn't react…!
Jeong-a bit her lip.
Her 'eyes' sensed the sign, and she could even see the incoming weapons were needles—but the speed difference was too great to matter.
It was the limit of an ordinary person without internal energy.
If those needles had been aimed at them…
"Geumju—what, exactly, is this supposed to be?"
Se-a stepped forward, sweeping back her hair, and asked in a low voice.
"You know there'll be repercussions if you do something like this."
Geumju shrugged.
"This place is so bad at hosting guests. Not even a single cup of tea."
One of Geumju's underlings darted in from the corridor.
He searched the spot where Se-a and Jeong-a had been sitting and found the tea leaves—the tea leaves Se-a had specially prepared for Jeong-a.
"…Guests? That's a joke, right?"
At Se-a's words, Geumju let out a snort.
"You always pretend to be smart, but I guess your brain suddenly froze."
Arms crossed, she went on.
"If I were here as an enemy, do you think you'd still be standing so intact?"
Se-a flicked her pipe.
"Since you're wasting time with nonsense, I guess you didn't come as an enemy after all."
She took the teacup straight from the underling brewing it.
So brazen that the underling could only stare at her in a daze.
"Then say it."
Se-a sat with one leg crossed over the other, savoring the tea fragrance.
"Ha. Seriously."
Geumju burst into a hollow laugh.
"That nerve of yours—honestly, I wish my brats would learn it."
Geumju crooked a finger, and the monk's sleeve flicked again.
A few needles skimmed past, and several strands of Se-a's hair were severed and scattered.
But Se-a didn't even blink—she simply glared at Geumju with her one remaining eye.
"Tch."
Geumju clicked her tongue as if bored and got to the point.
"Lately, even among my brats, the ones who are actually usable have been getting ambushed a lot."
"Isn't that the price of aggressive expansion?"
"But I've got this strong feeling… that you're behind it."
Se-a looked at Geumju like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"…You caused all this chaos over a feeling?"
Geumju waved her hand.
"No. I heard something from somewhere, that's all."
Se-a took a sip of tea and replied calmly.
"Stories are stories. If you've got a mouth, stories pop up anywhere."
At Se-a's composure, Geumju bared her teeth.
"You still don't get how I managed to show up at this exact moment? The moment your defenses were thin?"
Se-a set down her cup and lit her pipe again.
The smoke she exhaled drifted up and spread across the ceiling.
"A spy, I guess."
Geumju wagged a finger.
"Nope, nope. Don't dodge."
Her voice dropped low.
"Doesn't it mean I, Geumju, finally have a corner where I can get proper information?"
With her voice charged with internal energy, the tea in the cup trembled faintly.
"It means I won't be pushed around by half-assed playgroups like yours anymore."
The aura spilling from her pressed down heavily on the entire space.
"So?" Se-a sighed, unbothered.
"So that 'real' intelligence organization told you I'm the one behind it?"
"Not quite enough yet. But there's something you got wrong…"
Geumju rummaged through her wide sleeves and pulled out a round token.
"This isn't some 'real deal'. In Luoyang, in Henan, in the entire Central Plains—this is the strongest."
The round metal token gleamed, and four raised characters stood out clearly:
Luoyang Sword Clan.
"A Sword Clan Copper Token…?!"
The one who blurted out the name was Jeong-a.
Geumju looked at Jeong-a with curiosity.
"You recognize this? Who are you?"
"..."
But Jeong-a only pressed her lips shut.
"Whatever. Doesn't matter."
Geumju shook the Sword Clan Copper Token toward Se-a.
"Now you get it, right? Why I can raise hell on mere suspicion? Why I don't worry about repercussions even if I do?"
Geumju grinned wide, flashing her white teeth.
"Could I take a look at that?"
A voice suddenly cut in.
At that familiar voice, Jeong-a's face brightened.