Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 112

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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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#Chapter 112

“What are you talking about? If you want to live, move aside this instant!”
“The appearance does match, but we should verify just to be certain.”
Geom U-bin descended into the wagon’s cargo bed and pulled back the burlap covering it.
Beneath lay stacks of cheap cloth.
“Bandits? I’ve already paid the toll!”
“You’ll be able to collect the next toll from someone you’re about to meet.”
Geom U-bin hurled the bolts of cloth outside, revealing four boxes nested underneath.
They were the same sort he’d seen at Dongryeo Suchae.
“As I thought…….”
“The boy’s got a death wish!”
Ji Cheol-seok burst forward from behind the driver’s seat, blade drawn, but he was hopelessly outmatched against Geom U-bin. As the sword descended toward his head, Geom U-bin let it pass before his eyes and struck Ji Cheol-seok’s pressure point.
In a single move, Ji Cheol-seok was subdued and fell heavily across the four boxes.
Geom U-bin rolled him aside and lifted the lid of the nearest box. Inside lay gold chests stacked tightly together.
“Checking just one is enough.”
Ji Cheol-seok’s mute point remained unsealed—he could still speak.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Go back and verify it yourself with your own eyes.”
After sealing Ji Cheol-seok’s mute point as well, Geom U-bin covered the wagon with cloth again, leaving the man pinned beneath in a position where breathing came hard.
Geom U-bin tore up several trees to clear a space, then turned the wagon around and retraced his path.
“Every road has its master, but—wait, wasn’t he the one from before…….”
Yang Dae-gong had been about to say “little one,” but the martial arts the boy had displayed made him hold his tongue.
Geom U-bin tossed a silver coin to Yang Dae-gong and spoke.
“There’s an adult over fifteen riding in the cargo bed. So you can take the toll, right?”
What a grateful traveler, going out of his way to pay the toll.
As Geom U-bin receded into the distance, he called back one last word.
“When you get tired of banditry, come to Oseong Jang-won in Hangju! My name is Geom U-bin.”
Geom U-bin had taken a liking to Yang Dae-gong, who valued principle over coin.
Driving the wagon at a leisurely pace, Geom U-bin arrived about two double hours earlier than the appointed time with the Bloodwind Four Lions.
He hitched the wagon at the promised inn and even finished a leisurely meal.
The Bloodwind Four Lions would arrive late if at all, but never early.
True to expectation, they came at precisely the appointed hour. Do Pyeong-su was the first to see Ji Cheol-seok’s face.
“Wow! You’re amazing!”
Seo Seok-san and Yeon Geum-hong arrived next.
“I knew our brother would come through!”
Jang Man-dok, who saw Ji Cheol-seok’s face last, was also the one who had wanted it most desperately.
Upon seeing Ji Cheol-seok, Jang Man-dok’s eyes seemed ready to roll back in fury, ready to kill him on the spot—yet surprising everyone, he remained composed. More than that, he was so overjoyed he wept.
No, he wept openly. His tears testified to how deeply wronged Jang Man-dok had felt all this time.
Jang Man-dok, his face awash with gratitude toward Geom U-bin, took the trembling Ji Cheol-seok by the arm and disappeared.
“So in the end, it was revenge.”
Yeon Geum-hong had interrogated Ji Cheol-seok before Jang Man-dok arrived and learned why he’d spread such absurd rumors.
It turned out Ji Cheol-seok had nearly died because of Jang Man-dok.
Not that Jang Man-dok had done it deliberately—he’d been fighting in the city, and a building collapsed. A piece of debris struck Ji Cheol-seok, or so the story went.
His severed earlobe was also a result of that accident.
Unable to take revenge directly on Jang Man-dok, Ji Cheol-seok had resorted to such petty means at last.
In any case, Ji Cheol-seok had exacted his revenge, but after thirty years, he’d finally paid the price for it.
Geom U-bin watched Jang Man-dok return with a lightened step and spoke.
“Now it’s time to go home to a happy household.”
Yeon Geum-hong nodded.
“Yes. Leaving home means hardship.”

***

Home wasn’t entirely joyful.
With three hundred and fifty refugees gathered there, chaos reigned.
Even so, thanks to Hang Ju-sa-byeon, Gwak Bong, and Kang Chan-sik joining forces to eliminate the remnants of the Dongryeo Suchae, Geom U-bin and the Hyeolpung Saja had no further reason to fight.
After the treatment was finished, the refugees returned to their original homes.
Geom U-bin’s offer to make a place for them in Hangju was undone by their preference for their homeland.
The gold, silver, and treasures that had been in the Dongryeo Suchae, along with silver coins, were used to rebuild the village that had followed Dongryeo Unha, and before long a village far better than before would emerge.
Thus the second family journey came to an end after its twists and trials.
And so it seemed peace had returned to Oseong Jang-won once more.

***

Blood streaming from her side had soaked through to her leg, and the impact to her chest made breathing difficult.
Yet Jeon Mi-ryeo dared not pause for rest as she ran through the forest. With each step, pain surged from her wounds, and her breath came in jagged gasps, threatening to fail at any moment.
The pursuers were nowhere to be seen, but this was not yet the time to stop.
Once she escaped this crisis, she could surely repay today’s debt in time to come.
‘Wait and see! Hypocrites!’
Gritting her teeth, Jeon Mi-ryeo tore through the forest, her body opening small wounds as she went.
Her legs, which had refused to stop until she reached safety, halted against her will—cut short by a cliff that appeared the moment she burst from the woods.
A hundred zhang down or more, a chillingly blue river flowed at the base of the precipice.
The far cliff was fifty zhang away—a distance no one could leap across.
Clutching her wounded side with one hand, Jeon Mi-ryeo turned left. But she had not gone even ten zhang before she stopped again.
Two figures had suddenly emerged from the forest, blocking her path. As she spun desperately to turn back, her body froze against her own will.
Behind her lay the cliff; ahead, masters of the Murim League cut off all escape.
“There’s nowhere left to run.”
The man in martial robes, wearing a smug smile, closed the distance between them.
As he advanced, Jeon Mi-ryeo retreated—until her heels caught the cliff’s edge.
“Surrender the secret manual now, and I’ll let you live.”
“You’ll let me live? Hypocrites! That’s impossible.”
“If you don’t hand over the manual, you’ll surely die. Wouldn’t it be wise to hold onto even a sliver of hope?”
“I’d rather die than give that manual to you.”
Jeon Mi-ryeo’s weight lurched backward.
“Stubborn wretch!”
The man lunged desperately, but he could not catch her as she fell from the cliff.
The chillingly blue river swallowed Jeon Mi-ryeo in an instant.

***

The Geumseondang was the department that managed and executed the Murim League’s budget, with Jeung Seok-pil serving as its master.
That Jeung Seok-pil had risen to master of the Geumseondang, one of the Murim League’s key posts, owed much to his endless hunger for money.
A childhood spent hungry more often than fed had shaped the man he was today.
At sixteen, after graduating from an academy, he took his first position at the Golden Dragon House, the greatest trading house in the Central Plains.
His experience at the Golden Dragon House became a crucial reason the Murim League courted him.
Most Murim martial artists were poor at financial matters, which made Jeung Seok-pil perfectly suited as master of the Geumseondang.
The Murim League was hardly a bad arrangement for him—his monthly salary was double, and what he could pocket on the side was many times that.
Especially on missions like this, traveling away from the Murim League’s headquarters to visit several locations, he could pocket at least three years’ worth of monthly salary.
‘This time should be slightly better than usual.’
The thought came naturally as he entered the main gate of the Dongsi Doga.
“Welcome. We are grateful for your long journey.”
On the grounds that doubled as a training yard, some fifty warriors stood arrayed, waiting to receive Jeung Seok-pil.
The Dongsi Doga’s long efforts to join the Murim League were plainly visible.
In the reception hall where he was shown, Ga-ju Dong Seong-bang and Dong Baek-jae, the ga-ju’s third brother and current commander, were waiting.
The exchange of empty courtesies and well-wishes stretched on quite some time.
With a smooth talker like Jeung Seok-pil, he could prattle on about such matters for a whole double hour.
As always, the one in greater need speaks first.
“What is the mood within the Murim League?”
“Please, have no concerns. We are well aware of the Dongsi Doga’s efforts over this time.”
“We’ve been working toward this for years, and still we haven’t entered the Blood-Bond Alliance. It’s hard not to feel impatient.”
“Heh heh heh! We’re almost there now—surely we can’t stop at this point?”
In truth, the Dongsi Doga’s entry into the Murim League’s Blood-Bond Alliance had been decided nine years ago.
As the largest martial faction in Zhejiang Province, becoming a blood-bond member would hardly be bad for the Murim League—the only drawback being that they weren’t quite strong enough or influential enough to warrant such status.
The Dongsi Doga likely believed themselves comparable to the Five Great Houses, but by the Murim League’s objective assessment, they still had far to go.
Yet the qualification for blood-bond membership ultimately rested on how much benefit they could bring to the Murim League.
“We’ve come merely one step away.”
Dong Seong-bang had heard something similar a year ago, so his mood didn’t brighten at these words.
Dong Baek-jae broached the subject gently.
“It seems there’s something necessary for that final step.”
He’d prepared many words to lead into this very topic, but as expected of a Ga-ju, Dong Baek-jae’s instincts were sharp.
“The leadership has been quite satisfied with the sincerity Dongsi Doga has shown the Murim League thus far. However, as you know, the admission conditions for the Blood-Bond Alliance are most exacting. The entrance fee is hardly negligible either.”
“As for the entrance fee, we’ve already made a deposit….”
Dong Baek-jae squeezed Dong Seong-bang’s hand, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Of course, we intend to demonstrate our sincerity to the fullest. How could money be an issue when we’re graced with the honor of becoming the Blood-Bond Alliance of the Murim League?”
“We appreciate your kind words. Money is always such an awkward subject, isn’t it? Ha ha ha!”
Jeung Seok-pil, who had softened the mood with his laughter, continued.
“Since nothing is quite fixed in these matters… I wonder what would constitute appropriate sincerity from Dongsi Doga.”
In cases like this, eight times out of ten, silver coins sufficient to satisfy Jeung Seok-pil’s desires would appear.
“I understand. We’ll prepare everything before you depart.”
“Oh, and before I came to Hangju, I gathered some information, and I heard that a place called Oseong Jang-won has become quite famous in Hangju lately.”
“For all its reputation, it’s merely a brewery.”
Dongsi Doga naturally wished to diminish Oseong Jang-won’s standing, but according to the information Jeung Seok-pil had collected, Oseong Jang-won’s wealth had already surpassed that of Dongsi Doga.
Like a sparrow that couldn’t resist swooping past a mill, Jeung Seok-pil was not one to miss such an opportunity.
‘How much can we extract from Oseong Jang-won? They hand over money the moment they hear the Murim League’s name—it’s a heaven-sent enterprise. Heh heh heh….’

***

Go Seo-bang and Gal Ma-pyeong sat in a rowboat, casting their fishing lines into the river.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just wade in and grab them by hand?”
Gal Ma-pyeong had said the same thing five times during one double hour. But each time, Go Seo-bang had countered with stubborn insistence.
“Fish taste best when caught with a line!”
“They taste fine caught by hand.”
Gal Ma-pyeong, who had spoken, glanced at the empty basket beside him.
“And you know we haven’t caught a single one.”
“Just wait a bit longer. I’ll hook something so big the boat will rock.”
He’d heard that line at least ten times already.
Gal Ma-pyeong wasn’t pleased to be spending a rare moment of leisure with Go Seo-bang doing nothing but fishing, but the ladder lottery had decided it—there was no help for it.
‘I should have picked the left one.’
If he had, they’d be sightseeing in town right now, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Then a thought struck him.
Two aging martial artists approaching sixty—and the only choices they could make were between sightseeing and fishing.
A wave of melancholy washed over him.
He was thinking that their lives needed some kind of change when suddenly Go Seo-bang shouted.
“It’s here!”
Go Seo-bang’s fishing rod curved like a bow, and the line was so taut it looked ready to snap.
The moment something caught on the rod, Gal Ma-pyeong’s melancholy thoughts vanished entirely.
“Careful bringing it up! It took a whole double hour to get this one!”
“Don’t worry! Once I’ve hooked something, I never let it slip away!”
“How big do you think it is?”
Go Seo-bang hauled up the rod triumphantly.
“At least two feet!”
But what emerged was far more than two feet long. And it was a “she,” not an “it.”

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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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