Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 11

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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#011

“If you cannot pay three thousand six hundred silver coins, return the liquor.”
“Three thousand six hundred silver coins? That’s far too much…….”
“It is not excessive at all.”
“Three thousand six hundred?”
“I failed to deliver the liquor I promised by today. I broke my word as a man. When a man breaks his word, he must pay the price. Some might forfeit their lives, others an arm. But if the debt can be settled in silver, I should consider myself fortunate.”
From the moment he’d arrived seeking the liquor, Dong Seong-bang had sensed this was no ordinary child—but he never expected to hear such conviction about a man’s honor from an eight-year-old.
“But that promise is your burden to bear. Whether you forfeit your life, your arm, or your silver.”
“Yes. And Dong’s Trading Post bears responsibility for preventing me from keeping my word. That is why I offer you a choice: return the liquor or pay the sum. One or the other.”
Dong Seong-bang studied Geom U-bin intently before speaking.
“Do you realize how much that sounds like a threat?”
“I have merely spoken the truth. How you hear it is your concern.”
He wasn’t even angry.
How absurd! An eight-year-old child walks into Dong’s Trading Post and blackmails them!
“I could simply have you thrown out. Or buried quietly.”
Even with his son Dong Chang-min listening, Dong Seong-bang spoke of killing as casually as one might discuss the weather.
“That, too, is an option available to you, Patriarch. So now there are four choices. Which will you select?”
‘Well, I’ll be damned!’
He would not find himself in such a predicament even facing the greatest figures of the Murim. Dong Chang-min spoke up.
“Father.”
“Hmm?”
“May I offer a thought, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“First, return the Sagi Liquor to this child.”
“But our guests at tonight’s banquet will be greatly disappointed.”
Disappointing the Murim League’s guests was not an option he could choose.
“The boy will take that liquor to Wolha Pavilion.”
“Of course he will.”
“Then we buy it back from them. If we offer twice what they sell it for, they won’t refuse—not with our family’s name behind it.”
Dong Seong-bang slapped his knee.
“Ah! Now that’s clever!”
This way, the entire matter could be resolved with no great loss to anyone.
“What do you say to that?”
Geom U-bin, still unmoved, gave his answer.
“Once I deliver the liquor to Wolha Pavilion, my obligation is fulfilled. It is no concern of mine who they sell it to.”
“Very well. Let us do as you suggest.”
“Since it was my proposal, I will go to Wolha Pavilion myself.”
“You do that. The cargo is substantial—a carriage will be more comfortable.”
Once the decision was made, preparations moved swiftly. The liquor was reloaded and a carriage readied.
Before a quarter hour had passed, Geom U-bin and Dong Chang-min sat facing each other in the carriage.
“You have steel in you.”
At Dong Chang-min’s remark, Geom U-bin merely gazed out the window without reply.
“Do you not think I saved you?”
“Perhaps you saved Dong’s Trading Post instead.”
“What?”
“The world is not always as it appears.”
Dong Chang-min nodded slowly.
“True enough. But you ought to show more deference.”
As he spoke, a faint, cutting smile played at the corners of his mouth—one that never appeared within the walls of Dong’s Trading Post.
“I am not nearly as kind as you imagine me to be.”
“I have never seen a kind person.”
Dong Chang-min’s eyebrows rose sharply.
Born into the highest house, he was celebrated as a prodigy, and his every action lived up to that reputation.
Though young, he had long since mastered the art of knowing exactly how to conduct himself before those who mattered.
That skill was precisely why, at so tender an age, he had risen to the position of Young Clan Master.
Yet Geom U-bin made no effort to curry favor with the master of Dong’s Trading Post. He was far too composed with Dong Seong-bang, the man before whom everyone in Hangju—indeed, all of Zhejiang Province—crawled and fawned.
Dong Chang-min, who was carefully maintaining his mask, found this deeply offensive.
“Should I show you what true discourtesy looks like?”
Dong Chang-min placed his hand on the knee of Geom U-bin, who sat across from him.
With just a little more pressure, he could shatter the boy’s kneecap like a hollow reed.
“And how would you explain the aftermath? The mask you’ve been wearing would slip right off.”
Geom U-bin, having read the Il Maein, was no longer an eight-year-old mind. Though he had not yet grasped all the profound secrets contained in the scripture, he could see straight through the heart of a fifteen-year-old Dong Chang-min with ease.
“If you wanted to silence me, crushing a kneecap wouldn’t be enough.”
“The dead have no tongue.”
Killing Geom U-bin would cost Dong Chang-min no pangs of conscience whatsoever.
“If I died, you’d be the most obvious suspect. Surely you have that much sense?”
Dong Chang-min had the confidence to kill him; Geom U-bin had the confidence not to die.
In truth, if he chose to, breaking Dong Chang-min’s wrist would be nothing at all.
Fortunately, no such thing came to pass.
Dong Chang-min, who had been glaring at Geom U-bin with narrowed eyes, withdrew his hand.
“You’re more cunning than I was at that age.”
“That’s the difference between someone who learned the world from books and someone who met it in actual combat.”
Geom U-bin even offered up a thin smile.
‘This bastard! I really can’t stand him!’
The carriage arrived at Wolha Pavilion in complete silence.
At word that the young clan master of Dong’s Trading Post had come, Ha Seok-mun rushed out in his socks. Everyone shows a reaction like Ha Seok-mun’s when they hear the name Dong’s Trading Post.
‘Everyone but that one.’
Dong Chang-min watched Geom U-bin descend with the liquor, then immediately turned to Ha Seok-mun with a practiced smile.
“It’s an honor to meet you at last. I’ve long heard of Wolha Pavilion’s excellent reputation, but this is my first visit. I am Dong Chang-min, young clan master of Dong’s Trading Post.”
“Well, well! We’re honored by such a distinguished guest. You really shouldn’t have troubled yourself—and at your age too. Ha ha ha!”
“Then I suppose I’ll be visiting quite often from now on.”
After exchanging pleasantries, Dong Chang-min brought up his purpose.
At the mention of paying double the usual price, Ha Seok-mun bowed deeply, saying, “Well then, we’re most grateful.”
But gratitude was the last thing he felt.
Half the patrons who ascend to the topmost floor of Wolha Pavilion come for the Sagi Liquor alone.
The money they spend is not twice but five times over what the liquor costs. If the Sagi Liquor were gone, they might stop coming altogether. So even if they paid double for the liquor, the loss would be considerable.
Yet Ha Seok-mun had no choice but to hand it over.
In Hangju, there is no one who can refuse a request from Dong’s Trading Post—except perhaps a child too young to understand.
‘But how did U-bin manage to get the liquor back?’
Only after Dong Chang-min had paid and left could he ask about it.
“The clan master turned out to be a man of reason.”
“He just gave it back when you asked?”
“Yes.”
After a moment of silence, Ha Seok-mun simply nodded.
“I see. In any case, I’m grateful you at least recovered the payment.”
“That must be frustrating for you, though.”
“What can I say?”
“Fortunately, I have a small reserve supply. Let me bring that to you instead.”
A smile spread across Ha Seok-mun’s face at once.
“You can do that?”
“I must. I bear some responsibility for how this turned out.”
“I’m truly grateful. I’ve seen many merchants in my time, but that the most honorable among them all should be an eight-year-old boy—the world is truly full of wonders.”
“Uncle, where in Hangju makes the finest silk garments?”
“That would be Dansem’s Textile Shop. Now you’re thinking of spending some money, I see. I’ve been curious where all that earning would go.”
“Yes. I’ll buy the most expensive ones. I hope my aunt and uncle will like them.”

***

“We’re so grateful that you receive people of such modest station with such warmth, Clan Master. Ha ha ha!”
“Don’t say such things! If the Master of the White Tiger Lodge of the Murim League were modest, then this Dong would have to walk with his head hung low! Ha ha ha!”
Yang Sang-nak, the Master of the White Tiger Lodge—one of the ten lodges of the Murim League—and a second-generation disciple of the Huashan Faction, which vied for supremacy among the Nine Great Sects, was a man whose favor Dong Seong-bang had to court, even as the master of Dong’s Trading Post.
“Upon entering Zhejiang Province, I’ve heard much of Dong’s Trading Post’s renown. I confess myself impressed.”
The middle-aged man who spoke was Jeong Man-jung, who oversaw the Qilin Lodge of the Murim League.
“Compared to the Dian Cang Faction under Master Jeong, our name is but a flickering firefly beneath the moon—scarcely worthy of mention.”
“Should you become our formal family within the Murim League, the renown of Dong’s Trading Post will spread beyond Zhejiang Province to the whole of Murim.”
Dong Seong-bang spared no expense, holding nothing back in his hospitality toward these guests. The Murim League was an alliance of the orthodox factions within the Murim, yet not every sect classified as orthodox could simply join its ranks.
Only the Nine Great Sects, the Five Great Clans, and three other schools besides them—including the Xuanxian School—had registered as blood covenant members.
The other orthodox factions had gained entry, but not as blood covenant members.
The difference between membership and blood covenant was as vast as the difference between sea and river.
Once a faction became an official blood covenant member of the Murim League, should any one of them come under attack, the entire League would mobilize to defend them with full force.
But if a faction merely held membership without the covenant, they could expect no such assurance, and at times might not even receive the League’s attention.
In other words, the title of official blood covenant member of the Murim League was as good as a credential of a prestigious orthodox faction. With this alone, Dong Seong-bang could stand as an equal to the Five Great Clans, which he so desperately desired.
That was why Dong Seong-bang was willing to endure the humiliation of bowing to even a single warrior of the Murim League. Their report held the power to determine whether his sect would gain blood covenant status or remain as mere members.
“Is all the idle chatter finally finished?”
The one who broke the silence that had been maintained until now sat at the far end of the long table.
An old man in a tattered, patched robe and with unkempt hair looked to anyone like a beggar. Yet his words carried such weight that it silenced everyone present—because he was none other than Noh Dae-sul, Pavilion Master of the Sect.
Dong Seong-bang ventured carefully, “Is there something that displeases you, Pavilion Master?”
His face was plainly etched with irritation.
“Why did I come to this place?”
Dong Seong-bang wondered the same thing.
Despite the Murim League’s desperate courting, the Sect had never joined its ranks.
‘Beggars must remain free’—that was the surface reason, though the real cause was that the recent doings of the orthodox factions simply didn’t sit right with him.
Still, one could not afford to slight the Pavilion Master of the Sect.
The Murim League still desperately hoped that the Sect would become a blood covenant member.
Since no one but Noh Dae-sul himself knew why he had come, everyone could only watch and wait.
“I hear that today you’ve prepared the Sagi Liquor, which has quite the reputation in Hangju…….”
Noh Dae-sul shook the wine bottle before him as he continued speaking.
“You’re not trying to pass off horse urine as the Sagi Liquor, are you?”
He raised the bottle to his nose and sniffed dramatically.
“Phew! Well, it’s not quite horse urine, I’ll grant—it’s actually a rather fine malt wine. But when expectations run high, disappointment runs higher, as they say. And human palates are inherently fickle, after all. Hehehehe! So where is this Sagi Liquor?”
The door opened, and Dong Chang-min entered carrying a tray upon which sat eight gourd bottles.
“My apologies. I’m afraid I’m a bit late.”
“That’s all right. Come now, and pay your respects to our honored guests from the Murim League.”
Dong Chang-min set the tray on the table and bowed deeply to the eight guests from the Murim League.
“I am Dong Chang-min, Young Master of Dong’s Trading Post, and I offer my respects to you honored elders of the Murim League.”
Yang Sang-nak smiled as he spoke. “They say the Young Master of Dong’s Trading Post is not only exceptionally clever but also gifted in martial arts—and indeed, you fairly radiate the aura of one destined for greatness.”
Each of the eight guests offered Dong Chang-min a word of praise in turn, but Noh Dae-sul’s eyes never once turned toward him.
His burning gaze was fixed entirely upon the gourd bottles, as though he meant to incinerate them with his stare.
“So those are the gourd bottles with the famous reputation for the Sagi Liquor?”
Dong Chang-min quickly seized one of the bottles and approached Noh Dae-sul.
“Would this humble one be permitted to pour you a cup?”
“I’ve never had a grandson like you. And wine tastes best when shared with a friend; if a friend is absent, then drinking alone is the next best thing.”
Noh Dae-sul snatched the bottle from Dong Chang-min’s hands and pulled the stopper.
The fragrant aroma that wafted forth revealed itself as a fine liquor even before it touched the lips. Yet the scent tickling his nose seemed strangely familiar.
In that same instant, a name came to him.
“Could it be…….”
Noh Dae-sul poured the wine into a cup and brought it to his lips.
The taste that blossomed across his palate was one that, even though he had tasted a thousand varieties of wine in his life, he could never possibly forget.
‘Pungryuju! If that’s the case……!’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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