The Great Master had a hobby of turning anyone he judged as “total shit” into a puppet. It was certainly a mindset befitting the White Path.

Still, the fact that he only selected the worst of the worst as targets could be considered a mitigating factor. For instance, he mainly remodeled death row inmates and other heinous criminals, so public opinion was generally positive. In any case, the hypocrisy of the White Path deserved recognition.

Any sharp observer would have noticed it here. They’d feel the chill from the word “death row inmate.” No need to look far—me, Lee Taebaek, had been one. If not for my cooperative relationships with Beggar Elder Seo Punggae and 31st District Branch Leader Jin Sobang, just looking at my resume, Lee Taebaek was the textbook example of a vicious criminal.

On top of that, I’d escaped prison.

After coming to the City, I hadn’t hesitated to kill.

Objectively speaking, I’m a madman.

The City was a cesspool of ruined lives saturated with might-makes-right thinking, so it was overlooked. But to Hong Geolgae, a pillar of the White Path, I wouldn’t look favorable.

Therefore, something to whet his appetite.

By offering more than that.

Not money, shares, or land. None of those.

“I’ll dedicate a new puppet to you.”

It was knowledge.

“Hoho, you’ve grasped my tastes well. But this person, there are plenty who’ve offered me puppets—”

“What if it’s Megacorp’s anti-Ten Wings weapon?”

Knowledge known only to Lee Taebaek, the developer.

The mental buff before the crucial statement worked wonders. It was truly a dutiful product.

“Then the story changes a bit?”

Such were the behind-the-scenes dealings that brought the Dragon Head Chief to his seat.

I’d seen people dying on their feet with my own eyes. Those reveling blissfully on the surface would soon meet the same fate as the underground puppets. And soon.

Which meant “that plan,” led by Siesta, was likely progressing at full throttle. Megacorp didn’t want to be at the mercy of the Ten Wings. They couldn’t tolerate stock prices fluctuating with every move those ten made. Of course. They must be grinding their teeth over it.

Moreover, from Megacorp’s perspective, the Ten Wings were ego-inflated monsters wielding immense power. Even if Megacorp held the upper hand contractually, would the Ten Wings meekly play the subordinate role? Hardly.

Megacorp wanted replacements for the Ten Wings.

Slaves devoid of ego, obeying orders faithfully. So they decided to “manufacture” them. Bio-experiments, net sockets, suspiciously expensive AI. Mixing those three ingredients led to one dangerous fantasy.

Android legions.

Megacorp was creating artificial humans. Backed by vast capital, they challenged divine authority.

The Orthodox Sects aren’t advancing this fast.

I’d planned to cover Megacorp’s arrogant ambitions in a later DLC.

But the world is changing.

I intended to exploit those changes. Megacorp’s urgency was evident in their fervor. And when people, or organizations, get desperate, they make mistakes they normally wouldn’t.

They’ve openly revealed android production.

That’s how I spoke without being cowed by Hong Geolgae’s presence. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given me the time of day. But it wasn’t empty talk—circumstantial and hard evidence had already permeated daily life.

He couldn’t just ignore it.

There was a reaction. Hong Geolgae marched into Resistance headquarters. No need to guide him.

Security concerns were moot; the Great Master knew the way perfectly. Beggar Clan’s intelligence network? Unlikely. The most plausible theory now was that he’d planted puppets among the Resistance members.

The Commander-in-Chief seemed aware too. Instead of glaring at Lee Taebaek, they fixed their gaze on Hong Geolgae opposite. Even through the helmet, a chilling hostility seeped out. Few in the City could glare at a Ten Wing like that.

“Tell us, young hero Lee Taebaek. Repeat what you said to persuade this one earlier, right in front of your superior.”

Hong Geolgae said, lifting his teacup. Despite knowing Battalion Commanders and members lurked outside the Commander-in-Chief’s office, the Great Master was relaxed. It was the leisure of overwhelming power.

“Just as I said.”

Lee Taebaek spoke up, feigning nonchalance.

“Siesta is currently developing high-performance androids to rival the Ten Wings. When I was working as a Watchdog for Siesta, it was in the final stages of development… and now.”

He paused briefly.

Now comes the lie.

The fact that it was underway was established, but details were murky. Time to improvise.

To the Great Master and the Commander-in-Chief, no less.

First time he’d ever missed a job interview.

Lee Taebaek unzipped his jacket down to his chest. Sweat rings formed on his sternum.

After a silence, he spun the tale in as calm a tone as possible.

“By now, Unit 1 should be out.”

“Ha.”

The Commander-in-Chief sighed. Reactions like that made novel-writing fun. Time to add some spice.

“At this early stage, their combat capabilities won’t even reach your ankles. That’s for sure. But soon they’ll deploy them outside for performance checks. They’ll patch deficiencies, keep improving. You all know Megacorp’s work ethic better than I do—you’ve been around the City long enough. Why do you think they’ve been so quiet lately?”

Lee Taebaek was a former Siesta Watchdog. That’s why he’d nearly been barbecued on an electric chair. It was ironclad credentials.

“The point is this. ‘Stripping humans of free will’ blatantly violates the Resistance’s ethos.”

He flicked his gaze to the right sofa. There, the Commander-in-Chief nodded the helmet in agreement. Lee Taebaek nodded back and continued.

“And its purpose as a ‘Ten Wings replacement’ conflicts with your very existence, Great Master. It might even be the key to assassinating the Ten Wings.”

“There’s a flaw in that logic.”

Hong Geolgae cut him off. A cold, formal smile clung to his lips as a bonus.

“I’m not particularly hostile to Megacorp. I swear on the Jianghu, I’ve never taken their money. And people lump me with the others as one of the Ten Wings, but honestly, isn’t that just a nickname others slapped on me? No reason for Megacorp to see me as a threat.”

This was a probe.

“Might as well be good. Those Ten Wings types gouge enormous sums under that title anyway. Maybe it’s time to shed some greed. A Ten Wings replacement? Sounds fine to me. Hm, talking it out, I’m starting to regret coming here blinded by the puppet promise. Feels off showing up personally where they’ve hidden the knife so well.”

“Optimistic thinking.”

“…What?”

The atmosphere shifted. An artificial pressure vibrated the sealed room. But Lee Taebaek knew even this was feigned intimidation.

With Hong Geolgae’s experience and mental stat, growling at a jab was pure acting.

To seize the high ground in negotiations, a high-handed attitude was necessary. Just raising his voice a notch would have the opponent prostrating and begging for life.

“Great Master, your role as subway lord in a public space like the underground? From Megacorp’s view, you’re obviously a thorn in their side.”

“…I’ve handled that with an agreement.”

“What have you heard so far? Megacorp hates even sitting at the table with you lot, so they’re making replacements. Great Master, you’re no different from the rest—just a formal distinction. You’ve cut some deal with them.”

Even if it cost him his legs, a man of the Jianghu wouldn’t kneel. What of that pride now? Lee Taebaek scratched at it. His life was expendable anyway. Roll the dice again.

“It was odd earlier too. Your puppets pack the subway lower levels, but the upper ones crawl with Megacorp puppets. You know it. Net socket wearers spying on you for Megacorp. Yet you strut high-handedly. Not very wise. Age aside.”

“…”

He might lose in raw power tier, but verbally, he cornered the Great Master. Lee Taebaek, master of the silver tongue at Ten Knots.

Of course, with anyone else, backtalk meant talks collapsed—instant blade frenzy for stress relief.

The Great Master is different.

His nature was good.

He also harbored deep resentment toward Megacorp. They’d effectively shattered the Jianghu he loved so dearly.

Bearing that grudge, the entire Beggar Clan migrated to Megacorp territory, only to compromise with reality soon after.

The Nine Great Sects couldn’t form a standoff. They’d scattered to the winds.

Except hardcore fundamentalists, they’d bowed to money, abandoning righteousness and camaraderie long ago.

He.

Hong Geolgae.

Passed his twilight years reminiscing lost glory. He projected the departed onto puppets, devoting his remaining days to mourning vanished Central Plains.

Even he, one of the world’s strongest, blamed himself for failing to protect his homeland, endlessly self-flagellating. Swallowing thorns for decades had honed his tongue razor-sharp.

“Officials and martial artists do not invade each other.”

At those words, his thorn-bristled lips parted.

He’d squeezed out obscure wuxia knowledge. To reignite the embers of a man of the Jianghu that reality had extinguished.

“Right before meeting you, I saw this romantic old-timer dude. Gave me chills—in a good way. Then I saw walking corpses, and it pissed me off. Thinking about it, I could’ve been first. With my temper, living meekly is worse than death.”

“Born in the wrong era. Pure Jianghu stock.”

The tension eased.

“Heard that a few times before.”

“So.”

Hong Geolgae abruptly asked.

“Say I fall for your sweet talk. Ah, no need to mention android puppets. I know that’s just pretext. If I, as leader, cooperate personally, the Beggar Clan elders will rebel, but frame it as force augmentation, and they’ll quiet down. That’s what you had in mind, right?”

“Well…”

…Not quite calculated that far. Hong Geolgae seemed swayed more by romance than puppets.

“Lee Taebaek, what do you gain from this? The Resistance will reward you separately, sure, but it still doesn’t add up. You’re awfully proactive. Curious. What drives you? Simple revenge against Megacorp?”

“That’s got me curious too.”

The silent Commander-in-Chief turned the helmet.

Silence stretched. Lee Taebaek paused long before speaking.

“To reclaim it.”

“What?”

The world marches on. It doesn’t look back at the fallen. They go extinct, vanishing into obscurity.

“A world where people matter.”

That mustn’t happen.

Especially not in the world I created.

Because I made it for people to enjoy.