Chapter 84: Brothel Skirmish

Ilhong and I grumbled as we ran out after the bodyguard.

“Seriously, your mouth gets you into trouble.”

“What, you punk.”

Wasn’t it allowed to hope for at least a little peace of mind?

I never expected that to act like a flag, though.

“Master! Over there!”

The brothel’s interior had been packed with customers — the sort of crowd you saw at a thriving establishment. We pushed through them and the brothel’s wide garden and main gate came into view.

The well-kept lawn was being trampled by a swarm of nasty-looking types.

“…Bodyguard uncle, those aren’t people on our side, right?”

“There are no uglier men than that on our side, Master.”

Because high people frequented the place, the madam was careful when hiring floor managers so as not to ruin the atmosphere.

If only they’d hired on skill alone.

“Boss. Even a rough count puts them over a hundred.”

I had no idea where they’d come from, but there were a hell of a lot of them.

Judging from the malice and murderous intent radiating off them, they didn’t all come with good intentions.

I guessed that Honghwa’s gang had gone and rounded up people on purpose after causing trouble earlier.

“You cowardly dogs who ambushed the Murim guests of the Heartless Three Ruffians and shattered their dantian! Dog-Beating Dragon, come out here!”

A hundred or so thugs shouted my alias and demanded I show myself.

“Boss, you’re popular.”

“This is troublesome, really.”

The life of a popular man — always being mentioned everywhere.

I scratched the side of my head and looked around.

Guests poked their heads out the windows like sparrows at the loud shouting, wondering what was happening.

“…What on earth is all this racket!!”

Madam Okryeong of the brothel rushed out barefoot, furious — the composure and elegance she usually wore gone, her face flushed with anger.

The men who had burst in and occupied the garden pointed at her as if that suited them perfectly.

“You bitch — you hired that Dog-Beating Dragon to beat our innocent brothers!”

“How dare you touch our Jeollyongmun?!”

“Do you think the high people of the brothel will have your back?!”

A torrent of sharp accusations for reasons unknown made rage and disbelief flare in Okryeong’s eyes.

“You uncivilized bastards…! The heavens and the earth know it was ordered by ‘Honghwa Brothel’! How can you cover the sky with your palm!”

Okryeong and the Jeollyongmun fellows went back and forth in front of everyone, trading accusations — as if building legitimacy or a pretext before one faction swallowed the other.

Of course that pretext felt like nonsense to the side being attacked, and blood boiled inside me.

“Those bastards… who attacked whom?”

Juwol-a came out and, seeing the thugs’ behavior, clenched her fist so tight her whole body trembled with anger.

She was one of the ones who’d been attacked, so no wonder she was furious.

“Ugh, enough! Women don’t talk sense!”

“If you don’t want to be dragged into this fight — if you don’t want your skull bashed in — get the hell out!”

“From now on Jeollyongmun’s martial enforcement begins; anyone unrelated, get lost!”

A hundred martial men armed with vicious weapons surged forward — no one stuck around to posture against that.

With the order to clear out, customers streamed out of the brothel like a receding tide.

“Tch, business ruined.”

“Indeed, boss. How much money did that cost in customers?”

Thugs were a problem wherever you went. They came into legal businesses, overturned things, caused chaos — the pure definition of nuisance.

Even the righteous sects, while pursuing profit, tended to control themselves in front of others’ eyes.

Of course some righteous houses were as hypocritical as the unorthodox sects, like the Murong clan, but still.

“Boss, can we win?”

Ilhong asked, watching the enemy begin to form a surrounding formation.

We, including the bodyguards and the hired wanderers, numbered maybe twenty.

On the other side there were over a hundred.

And I sensed many first-rate martial artists among them.

It felt like an entire unorthodox sect had rolled out to destroy one brothel.

“Well, we won’t know until we try.”

There was no answer to sheer numbers. Even masters tired, breathed hard, and moved slower once wounded.

If a mix of top-tier and second-rate fighters threw themselves in waves, even I couldn’t confidently call the outcome.

Of course I had some traits — being the Heaven-Slaying Star — that bent the rules of mass combat a bit.

“Let’s go! It’s time to avenge our brothers!”

“Tear open their dantian and crush their limbs!”

They raised blades and clubs high and charged into the brothel with a shout.

“Stop them however you can!”

“Rally around the Dog-Beating Dragon, Master!”

Damn it, after that Blood Cult riot, and now this brawl — I hadn’t expected to get dragged into another melee.

“Waaaaah!”

The roar rose. Two armed groups clashed in the busy streets of Beijing.

Someone once left a pithy saying about war.

First: do not start a war on your enemy’s territory.

Second: absolutely obey the first rule.

The point was: if you planned to fight, fight on someone else’s ground or in their building.

“Show them what happens when they touch Jeollyongmun!”

“Kill them all!”

Crash—!

Bang—!

And the reason was clear.

When over a hundred people fought fiercely around the building, Cheonhwa Pavilion turned into a madhouse in an instant.

Every time experts’ inner power and qi strikes collided, windows shattered, tables splintered, and walls crumbled.

“No! Cheonhwa Pavilion…! Ah!”

Madam Okryeong screamed — the expensive brothel we’d poured money into being destroyed in real time. It looked like that time a random poisoning had smashed up someone’s inn in Beijing long ago.

Clatter! Crash! Bang!

“Aah!”

When an unorthodox-looking thug burst through the bodyguards’ line, the courtesans inside screamed.

I immediately filled my palm with internal power and kicked a nearby table.

The table slid and slammed into the charging thug’s ribs.

“Ugh!”

I swung the Dog-Beating Staff straight down onto the bowed bastard’s skull with a groan.

Ppaak!

The jolt traveled all the way to my fingertips. This guy wouldn’t wake up for days at the very least, that was certain.

“Dog-Beating Dragon! I need help!”

“They’re about to break through here too!”

Enemies surged in like a pack of wild dogs. Calls for support came flooding in from everywhere.

“They’re trying to abduct the courtesans!”

The livelihood of a brothel was ultimately its courtesans. Looked like they had been ordered by Honghwa Brothel to snatch them away if things went south.

Thud!

A crushing blow shattered the skull of a bastard trying to kidnap a woman.

The unorthodox sect scum’s head caved in slightly, and he spewed nosebleed as he was flung backward.

Pupupupuck—!

The Dog-Beating Staff flashed. Terrifying inner force burst forth from my toes, soaring and vanishing like a ghost—Whirlwind Steps.

Together with Ilhong, I swung the Dog-Beating Staff with wild ferocity, rampaging across the battlefield.

Each time the staff split the air and struck with a dull thud, the martial artists of Jeollyongmun collapsed one by one, groaning in agony.

Pueok—!

Seventh Stance—Staff-Lift-Mangy-Dog. I slammed into a Jeollyongmun disciple who had slipped through a broken window.

As the name suggested—like hoisting up a mangy mutt—the bastard shot upward through the air, only to crash back out the same window.

“Th-thank you, Master. You saved me again.”

So that bastard had been aiming for Juwol-a, the cash cow of Cheonhwa Pavilion.

“If you’re thankful, just pack some extra meat in the next meal box.”

“Of course. I’ll prepare it so lavishly it’ll put the emperor’s feast to shame.”

I grinned, and she replied with a bright face, saying she’d make it look like the emperor’s own table.

“Tsk.”

And then Ilhong clicked her tongue quietly, as if something didn’t sit right with her.

That girl—just watching her reactions was amusing sometimes.

“You bastards! You’re going too damn far!”

“Die!”

The Jeollyongmun bastards, their swords dripping with blood, charged at me with savage shouts.

Judging from their sharp execution of Swift Swords, they were all first-rate martial artists.

Piiing!

A blade flashed like a streak of light, its arc bending to graze my chin.

Another sword sliced past my armpit. I barely avoided their strikes by the thickness of a sheet of paper.

Pueong!

And as an enemy lunged at me, Ilhong flicked her hidden weapons, instantly dropping five men.

Dusting black powder residue from her hands, she muttered,

“…Well, they are acting like idiots.”

“Hey now, calling the captain an idiot?”

Regardless, we pushed deeper into the battlefield like that.

Working in tandem with the bodyguards and wanderers, we barely held back the tide. Still, frustrated cries erupted from the enemy’s side.

“What the hell are you doing, you bastards?!”

“You call yourselves Jeollyongmun martial artists?!”

As the fighting intensified and their losses piled up, the bastards changed tactics.

“Target that Dog-Beating Dragon first!”

“Grind him down with the Chariot Formation!”

“Unleash the Jeollyong Chain-Lock Formation!”

Leaving just enough men to pin down the bodyguards, all the rest charged at me.

They surrounded me from every direction, blades flashing as they spun in circles, striking without pause.

Shwiik! Ttak! Ddak-ddak!

Parrying one sword meant five more strikes flew in from five directions.

Even when I managed to block everything and take one down, the gap instantly closed.

“What the hell… this formation’s so tight…!”

Unlike before, I was forced into defense, desperately batting away their ceaseless attacks.

This was the Coordinated Formation Strike—tens of warriors grinding down the strength of a master.

It was the orthodox method for weaker martial artists to fight a stronger foe, forcing exhaustion and heavy wounds.

But this method had one critical flaw.

Ttak-tak! Pueok! Ttak!

“Damn it! Something’s wrong…!”

“Why the hell isn’t he getting tired?!”

“And even when we cut him, his movements don’t slow down!”

They had run headlong into a body that shattered the very principle of their formation.

This was the flesh of the Heaven-Slaying Star—heaven’s gift to slaughter the earthbound ceaselessly.

“…This monstrous bastard!”

I’d heard that line often back in my beggar days.

As my momentum refused to break, their formation began to falter.

Only a few slowed in reaction and movement, but I didn’t miss the chance—I threw myself in.

“Uh-oh!”

A sword slashed in, as if to say, “Where do you think you’re going?” I took the blow head-on, dodging only the fatal edge, and swung the Dog-Beating Staff with full force, qi bursting from it.

Pupupuck!

The Reverse-Cleave-Dog’s-Hip stance swept sideways, smashing into their backsides.

“Aaagh!”

With the sound of buttocks bursting, their formation collapsed.

I drove into the opening, expanding the damage.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

One strike per man, enemies screaming as they were flung away by the Dog-Beating Staff Technique.

“Stop him! Stop him!”

“We can’t, damn it!”

At first, I’d been wary of their numbers. But compared to Blood Cult bastards, these were far easier.

At least they weren’t insane enough to throw suicidal attacks, obsessed with blood and frenzy.

These were mere mortals—once their tactics broke and momentum faltered, they crumbled fast.

“D-don’t falter! Fleeing means certain death!”

“If Jeollyongmun unites, we can carve this bastard to pieces!”

But no matter how hard they shouted, it was useless now.

War and battle had always been contests of momentum.

As I alone pushed against their massed ranks, morale surged in the bodyguards and wanderers, who rallied with shouts, driving the enemies back.

“We have the Dog-Beating Dragon!”

“Push them back! Beyond the main gate!”

Even while I took blows and cuts, I pressed forward, the men rallying around me as the spearpoint, driving the battle line out of the building and into the courtyard.

“Why… why won’t he fall…! Gahh!”

I smashed a bastard’s jaw with a swing, his white teeth scattering everywhere.

“Die, you bastards!”

This kind of bloody melee, thick with killing intent and malice—that was my specialty.

I absorbed the rain of blows into my flesh and charged like a raging boar.

Each staff strike, powered by monstrous strength, shattered shins, arms, and shoulders, dropping foes screaming to the ground.

“Wow… he really fights like a brute.”

Among the bodyguards, Ilhong muttered in disbelief, swinging a captured sword, clearly unnerved by my way of fighting.

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