I tore my sleeve and tied it around my forearm to stop the bleeding. Even when I briefly clashed with Cheonak in a power struggle, I didn’t suffer a wound like this.

What does that mean?

It means this is what happens when words don’t work.

Even the Drunk looked pale. He wasn’t injured, but his breathing was unstable, likely from drawing too heavily on his internal energy. Probably because the old man guiding us was stronger than expected, and he had trouble.

The Lecher was fine.

We sat down on the dirt for a moment and waited while the Drunk practiced energy circulation.

The Lecher muttered.

“If Master were here, we wouldn’t have struggled this much.”

“No kidding.”

Scholar Chu Myeong got lucky today. If the Sword Demon had been with us, he wouldn’t have made it out alive.

The Lecher looked at me, arms crossed.

“This is pissing me off again. Let’s go back to the Wi Clan and treat your arm first.”

“Let’s not show up looking pathetic. It’s a burden.”

“It’s not like I’m dragging you back to see Lady Wi. The Law School bastards might chase us again.”

I shook my head.

“That Chu Myeong bastard got a hole through his palm. He won’t show himself until it heals. What’s worse for a swordsman than injuring their hand?”

The Lecher nodded, then after thinking for a moment, spoke.

“I figured. But something felt strange when I was fighting earlier.”

“What?”

“Their internal energy’s way too deep. I was shocked when I first clashed with them. Why the hell is their inner strength so strong? But you know what surprised me even more?”

I had a good idea where this was going.