The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel

The Pavilion Head was alive.

I quickly scanned him as he made his sudden entrance. For someone who’d agreed to act as bait while being chased by the Black-Clad Assassins, he was surprisingly intact—no limbs missing, no wounds visible.

“The Pavilion Head!”

“Wasn’t he missing?!”

I wasn’t the only one shocked by his sudden appearance.

Everyone allowed to attend the Council as observers held high-ranking positions within the Tang Clan. No one could possibly be unfamiliar with the Pavilion Head, one of the Clan Head’s closest confidants. Naturally, the entire room broke into chaos at his entrance.

The only place that remained quiet was where the Elders supporting me had gathered. They looked at the Pavilion Head with smug, satisfied grins.

So maybe the earlier buzz had been because he arrived in secret?

“How have you been?”

The Pavilion Head ignored the barrage of stares and, taking advantage of the commotion, asked me how I’d been.

“I’ve been trying to be fine, but the world wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Though my words were prickly, I couldn’t hide the relief on my face. That he showed up in this moment to support me—this was a support fire worthy of a World Cup final goal assist.

“Seems to me you’re the one who wouldn’t leave the world alone.”

The Pavilion Head chuckled lightly at me.

“Well, when you want to stay alive, you end up doing things. Still... I’ll admit I’m a little disappointed to see you in such perfect condition. Thought you’d at least be a bit roughed up.”

“I have to clean up the messes I make.”

Mess? Before I could ask, the Pavilion Head gave my shoulder a light pat and stepped forward toward the Council.

---------

“When did you arrive, Pavilion Head?”

The First Elder turned to face him.

“Just now. I wanted to rest, but I heard a bunch of dogs were barking, so I came running.”

Whoa. That’s bold. The Council of Elders is second in power only to the Clan Head in a martial family, and this guy just called them dogs.

“How dare you call the Elder Council dogs! Even if you’re the Clan Head’s closest aide, we won’t overlook such an insult!”

“And what would you call this circus? Dozens of children died because of Tang Geo-ho! I and the Medical Pavilion guards bled to protect one child who survived that hell. And now what? That same child returns half-dead to the family, and instead of comfort, you reject her?!”

The Pavilion Head exploded in righteous fury, his voice thundering across the hall.

“Handing over the Human-Faced Spider’s Poison Pellet is not a simple matter!”

“Oh, but letting my men die was?!”

“Kuh...!”

“Hwa-rin—that girl is the closest we’ve come to unlocking the Tang Clan’s forbidden legacy. With that Poison Pellet, we could witness the birth of a perfected Poisoned One in our generation—and yet you hesitate?”

“T-this assembly is to determine whether that bastard child truly carries Tang blood! We’ll discuss the rest afterward!”

Shifting the subject now that you’re cornered?

The Pavilion Head must’ve realized that no amount of reasoning would get through, because he sneered and turned directly to the First Elder.

“Kang Yun-ho is the son of the former Young Lord and a Joseon courtesan named Hyang-ah. I will testify to this.”

The Pavilion Head declared proudly before the entire Council that Tang blood flowed through me. A testimony not even given between brothers—he was giving to me.

It was enough to make me want to ask him to co-sign on Daseogak’s debts out of sheer gratitude.

Even a shaky loan can become a solid one depending on who backs it. Surely now the Council would acknowledge it—between the Pavilion Head, the Medical Pavilion guards, and that culinary monstrosity.

“You expect us to believe that?! None of us in the Council ever heard of the Clan Head having a bastard child!”

No matter the era, who in their right mind proudly announces they had a child out of wedlock? Still... now I was curious. Why did the Pavilion Head know this, but the Council didn’t?

“We silenced him.”

The Pavilion Head looked between me and the Council before turning fully toward them and bringing up what happened twenty years ago.

“We?”

“Some of you may remember. Back then, the Young Lord’s position was extremely unstable. Due to internal conflicts and the Lecher affair, there were even calls to strip him of his title.”

“I remember.”

“The Young Lord, filled with a sense of responsibility, believed it more important to correct the family’s mistakes himself and chased after the Lecher. But we—his aides—had different plans. We all admired him. So we decided to use the situation—have him fix the scandal, reinforce his image, and secure his position. But then, a problem arose.”

“Explain.”

The Pavilion Head cast a brief, regretful glance toward me, then faced the Council again.

“The Young Lord fell in love. But it was a love that could never be. He was already engaged to a woman chosen by the family. If he brought back the courtesan, even solving the Lecher affair wouldn’t save his claim to succession. So we made a decision behind his back.”

“What decision?”

“We agreed: if the Joseon courtesan returned, we would drive her away, saying the Young Lord had abandoned her. And we never told him.”

So that’s how it happened. Since it wasn’t really my past, I didn’t feel particularly upset—but still, as someone sacrificed for a [N O V E L I G H T] succession plan, I frowned and looked at the Pavilion Head.

If this had been my real story, I probably would’ve been furious. But as an outsider, I understood. In this era, the wife’s family was often even more powerful than the groom’s. Marrying into a strong in-law clan was strategic for a reason.

The Young Lord’s position was hanging by a thread. His fiancée’s family supported him out of obligation. If he came back from a mission with “the love of his life” and announced they were getting married?

That would’ve led to a literal bloodbath.

His aides must’ve wanted to avoid that at all costs—so they cast the courtesan out.

“Hah... so that’s what happened twenty years ago...”

“The Young Lord resolved the Lecher incident and fulfilled his marriage, eventually becoming the Clan Head. But...”

The Pavilion Head glanced at me again, guilt etched deep in his face.

“...we didn’t know she was pregnant. If we had, we never would’ve cast her out in the dead of winter.”

His face was full of regret and anguish.

---------

A heavy silence descended over the hall.

So now my identity as the Clan Head’s bastard son had been proven. Time to move to the next part of the plan. I was just about to start planning when the Elder Council reminded me they weren’t so easy to deal with.

“If no one knew she was pregnant back then... then maybe she wasn’t pregnant at all.”

Like a venomous snake biting down, the First Elder pounced on the weakness in the Pavilion Head’s testimony.

“What nonsense is this?”

The Pavilion Head raised his head sharply, glaring in disbelief.

“Hyang-ah was a lowly courtesan! How do we know she didn’t lie—claiming to carry Tang blood while carrying another man’s child?!”

Okay. I can’t just sit here and let that slide.

“What did you just say?!”

Yeah, even if my undercover identity’s immune to insults, hearing someone talk like that about my mother? No. Just no.

I shouted with fury, channeling the rage of Hyang-ah’s son. Then, on purpose, I strode past the Pavilion Head—making a beeline for the First Elder.

Pavilion Head. You do realize it’s a lose-lose here, right? Whether I hit him or get hit, it’s bad.

“Stay where you are.”

Thankfully, the Pavilion Head grabbed my shoulder and stopped me.

“Let go! You expect me to stay quiet after that?!”

Please, for the love of god, make me stay quiet. The Pavilion Head held me back with effort, sighed deeply, and turned to face the Council.

“I later heard by chance that it was true. She really was pregnant.”

“By chance? How could you know when everyone else didn’t? Doesn’t that seem suspicious?”

The Council wasn’t about to let their prey go. Like predators tearing into weakness, other Elders joined in.

“You trust the word of a courtesan? Isn’t that laughable?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“He may not be a bastard child at all, but a spy from the Demonic Sect trained to eat pineapple pizza!”

“How can we entrust the Human-Faced Spider’s Poison Pellet based on the words of such a lowborn bastard?!”

The Elder Council didn’t miss their chance to raise their voices. Troublesome. How did they even find out? Pavilion Head—tell me you didn’t say it was me who told you.

“...That is...”

The Pavilion Head’s face twitched with discomfort just as the door swung open and a voice rang out.

“I said it.”

A deep, resonant voice—rich with power and internal energy—snapped everyone's attention toward the entrance.

“That Hyang-ah was pregnant.”

The man who appeared at the door was someone I recognized instantly from the game.

No one needed prompting. As soon as people saw who it was, they shouted his identity.

“The Clan Head!”

---------

The Clan Head of the Sichuan Tang Clan—Tang Baek-ho.

If Tang Geo-ho had been a venomous serpent wearing a tiger’s skin, then Tang Baek-ho was the white tiger himself—dignified, serene, and exuding the pure energy his name implied.

The Elder Council can’t even lift their heads...

So it was true—the current Clan Head truly had total control over the Tang Clan. The moment he appeared, the Elder Council was visibly shaken.

As the Clan Head slowly scanned the room, those who had opposed handing over the Poison Pellet avoided his gaze altogether.

Normally, Elders of a noble family are respected senior members, but this? This was a different level.

Maybe he was once a precarious “Young Lord” with a shaky position—but now, just as I’d heard, the Clan Head’s authority was overwhelming.

The First Elder fumbled to relinquish the highest seat in the room to the Clan Head.

I never expected the Clan Head himself to appear here...

Maybe he’d come with the Pavilion Head. Judging by the Pavilion Head’s expression, that seemed likely.

What now? The board just flipped again. I’d barely managed to force the Elder Council onto the chessboard, and now someone else had come and swept all the pieces aside.

But I expected this possibility.

From the moment I began heading toward the Tang Clan estate, I’d considered dozens of scenarios involving the Clan Head. Even if the situation kept flipping, I wasn’t about to sit and watch helplessly.

Kang Yun-ho. Find a way to use this. The board has changed—but it’s still one of the scenarios I prepared for.

Stick to the plan.

---------

The beginning is always a silent standoff.

I looked up at the Clan Head without saying a word.

So I’m finally meeting the Clan Head face-to-face.

As expected—he was handsome. The kind of man who looked like a martial arts novel protagonist grown older and seasoned.

He didn’t seem to have aged much—probably due to martial arts—but the weight of battles, clan politics, and time had carved itself into his expression.

He must’ve broken more than a few hearts in his youth. No wonder Hyang-ah, the most famed courtesan of Hubei, fell so hopelessly for him.

As I stared at him, murmurs rose around me.

“Don’t they look alike?”

“They do, kind of.”

“Do they...? I mean, both are good-looking.”

“The son’s even more—”

“Well, he is the son of Hubei’s top courtesan.”

It’s an illusion. People are just seeing what they want to see because the story fits too well.

I clenched my jaw and kept my mouth shut, staring right back.

The Clan Head, his expression unreadable, didn’t shy away—in fact, he stared at me like he was trying to pierce through my very soul.

“Are you just going to keep staring?”

He finally spoke when I didn’t answer.

Exactly what I was waiting for.

I took a breath. I am Hyang-ah’s son. I am Yun-ho. A bastard abandoned by his father. A man who clawed his way to the Sichuan Tang Clan after twenty years of hell.

What would the son of Hyang-ah say?

Father... sob sob... I missed you! These people are bullying me! Please save Hwa-rin! Should I go with that?

No.

“I was just getting a good look at the bastard who ruined my mother’s life.”

I’m a bastard child, cast aside twenty years ago. There’s no love to be found in this story.

“You insolent—!”

The Clan Head’s aides looked ready to leap at me as they shouted. The Clan Head raised his hand gently, stopping them.

Back off. This is a family matter—just on a slightly larger scale. Not your place to step in.

The aides, still fuming, glared daggers at me but didn’t disobey.

Like I’d flinch from that. If I were the kind of guy to cower from that, I wouldn’t even be here. If you want to break my spirit, try unleashing the same killing aura the Heavenly Killing Star emits.

“Are you truly Hyang-ah’s son?”

“I am.”

“Then you must really be...”

The Clan Head trailed off, gazing at me as if trying to rediscover something long lost.

“No.”

I cut him off coldly.

Whatever he hoped to find in me—his lost past, the trace of an old lover—I had no intention of giving him the time.

“What... did you just say?”

A crack formed in the mask of the dignified Clan Head.

I get it. You want a nostalgic reunion. But I don’t have the time.

I need to get through this crisis. I need to save Hwa-rin’s life. That means using the most effective method available.

I steeled my face and opened my mouth, ready to play the move I’d prepared.

“I am not your son.”