Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 136

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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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#Episode 136

“What—how in blazes—what manner of monster is he!”
They’d been assured that the four overseers of Hangju’s Oseong Jang-won—masters in their own right—had vacated the estate. That was why they’d struck with such confidence. But Oseong Jang-won harbored more than just those four.
“Who are you! What are you!”
Bang Tae-mang’s shout had frozen Gong Seong-tak mid-motion. The man spoke without urgency.
“Me? I’m a blacksmith at Oseong Jang-won.”
“What—what nonsense! How could a master like you work as a blacksmith!”
“A master? You’ve simply never seen a true one. I’m barely mid-tier here, perhaps a little better.”
Bang Tae-mang took it for mockery.
A master with Gong Seong-tak’s level of Martial Arts was so rare that one could spend a lifetime in Murim without ever meeting another.
“All of you, attack at once!”
At Bang Tae-mang’s cry, the ten men surrounding Gong Seong-tak rushed forward in unison. Yet the only thing their blades could cut was the cuff of his pants leg.
His legs descended with the implacability of indestructible diamond, transforming every sword that met them into metal scraps.
Whoosh!
With each whistle of his leg carving through empty air, without fail, his attackers’ heads shattered and their torsos folded in half before flying apart.
It was over in an instant.
“Everyone, come here! Strike at him!”
Surely there were still subordinates scattered throughout the estate. Yet none responded to Bang Tae-mang’s shout.
“Seems you’re alone.”
Hearing a voice from behind, Bang Tae-mang spun around.
A man in his mid-thirties stood there, sword dripping blood.
“Who are you!”
The man scratched his head.
“Well, I’m a guest who occasionally earns his keep.”
“So you lot mock me!”
At that moment, a door from the corridor opened to the outside, and Jeon Mi-ryeo emerged.
Bang Tae-mang bellowed at her.
“Are you a master too!”
“No, I’m just a maidservant.”
“Curse this Oseong Jang-won!”
Those were Bang Tae-mang’s last words. Struck in the chest by Gong Seong-tak’s leg, he flew five paces before slamming into the wall and crumpling to the ground.
Jeon Mi-ryeo gazed at the bodies littering the courtyard and asked:
“Is it finished?”
Sang Nam-jae answered.
“So it appears.”
“But why did you wake me?”
“I thought it might be dangerous…”
“Those ugly faces are what’s dangerous. Since you’ve woken me, I might as well help dispose of them. I know a suitable place.”
They couldn’t ask the estate workers to clean up corpses.
Where Jeon Mi-ryeo led them wasn’t far from the estate, so the bodies didn’t need to be carried far.
After gathering the corpses in one spot, they took up shovels and picks, then headed to the “suitable place” to dig.
It seemed Jeon Mi-ryeo wasn’t the only one who’d thought of this as a suitable place.
They hadn’t dug far before uncovering a shin bone, and after two more shovel-fuls, a skull emerged.
These, too, were surely men who’d attacked Oseong Jang-won and become guests who’d never return.
“We’ll bury them here for now. We’ll have to find another suitable place eventually.”
At Gong Seong-tak’s words, Sang Nam-jae heaved a long sigh.
“The other suitable place is where we buried the assassins from last time.”
“Should we handle them in my forge next time?”
“Let’s think about that for another occasion.”
In silence, they continued digging.

***

Eunsi County in Hubei Province was a prosperous city with a great silver mine and well-developed silversmith techniques.
Always crowded with people, it harbored many who lived by unusual means—and Geum Dae-bang was among them.
“So what happened to Ma Gun-ja after he went to Sae-oe? What do you think became of him? I’ve been telling this story so much my throat’s gone hoarse. A cup of bamboo leaf tea would clear my throat and loosen my tongue, I’m sure of it.”
Geum Dae-bang removed his hat and circled it before the gathered listeners.
“Now, the truth about Ma Gun-ja that came to light afterward is all the more shocking! My weary throat needs relief before the next part of the story can flow, so if you’re curious, five coins will do nicely. I won’t complain about more. Hehe!”
Though no one dropped five coins into the hat, a considerable amount still accumulated.
Geum Dae-bang was a storyteller who earned his living by tales.
Particularly, the Murim—a world ordinary people never encountered—and within it, Ma Gun-ja was his most popular subject.
After nearly half a double hour spent unfurling his narrative bundle, Geum Dae-bang concluded for the day and promised to continue tomorrow.
Though he’d spoken about Ma Gun-ja as if he were an expert, much of it was his own invention.
He took the legends about Ma Gun-ja that circulated through the Murim and embellished them with his imagination until they became a compelling tale.
A professional storyteller never counts his earnings before his audience.
Only when Geum Dae-bang entered the alley leading home did he draw out the purse heavy with coins.
Just as he was about to open its mouth, a voice sounded ahead.
“What is Ma Gun-ja’s name?”
Startled, he lifted his head and saw a man of slight stature.
Across his back was slung a long cloth wrapping—a sword or blade, no doubt—yet Geum Dae-bang answered without betraying alarm.
“Hmph! Is it a storyteller’s tale you’d hear for free?”
“Do you know it?”
“No one knows Ma Gun-ja as thoroughly as I do. Of course I know.”
Since the tales themselves were lies anyway, adding a few more lies to them hardly pricked his conscience.
Ting!
A silver glint reflected in the sunlight flew toward him.
Geum Dae-bang caught it and swallowed hard.
A single silver coin—something he’d struggle to earn even talking in the marketplace for ten straight days—now lay in his palm.
“Satisfy me, and I’ll give you nine more.”
“Hehehehe! Ask me anything at all. I’ll explain it perfectly!”
The forty-year-old Geum Dae-bang bowed deeply to the man who appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties.
Ten silver coins were worth bending one’s back in either direction.
The man turned wordlessly and began walking.
Geum Dae-bang hurried after him, keeping pace, but as the streets grew narrower, unease began to creep in.
They passed through a slum where shabby houses huddled together, beyond the bustling city proper, and before long the path had led them into the wilderness hills.
“Sir… it seems we’re going rather far?”
The lengthening shadows unsettled him as well. He had no desire whatsoever to meet nightfall in these hills with such a man.
‘Life matters more than money.’
Geum Dae-bang withdrew the silver coin from his pocket.
His hand trembled as he prepared to return the coin, which glinted like gold in the fading light.
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you the story today… Ahhh!”
His words dissolved into a scream.
The man suddenly seized him by the back of the neck and began running up the mountain. In that grip, Geum Dae-bang was nothing more than straw to be carried.
His speed was such that the forest blurring past appeared nothing but green.
Only when they reached the Abandoned Temple halfway up the mountain did the man release him.
He was undoubtedly a master of the Murim.
Which meant that any attempt to flee would likely end in death.
“What is it you want?”
“Ma Gun-ja’s name.”
In the Murim, perhaps only five people knew Ma Gun-ja’s true name.
Ma Gun-ja himself, and the Hyeolpung Saja.
Because he was certain of this, Geum Dae-bang could state his friend’s name with confidence.
“It is Jang Do-gun.”
The man, who had been studying Geum Dae-bang intently, murmured something.
“An ordinary name.”
Geum Dae-bang released an inward sigh of relief.
“Where is Ma Gun-ja?”
“Sir? How would I know such a thing?”
“You said you knew everything about Ma Gun-ja.”
Good heavens! The man had actually believed every word a marketplace storyteller spoke!
Clearly he wasn’t a sharp one.
“I know his past, not his present whereabouts.”
In truth he knew neither, but at least half of what he’d said was factual.
“You’ve lied to me.”
He’d lied to an indefinite crowd, not specifically to this man. But it seemed pointless to argue that distinction with someone of this caliber.
“I don’t know for certain, but there are ways to find Ma Gun-ja.”
The man who had been about to untie the long cloth wrapping on his back asked a question instead.
“There’s a way to find Ma Gun-ja?”
“Of course. A very reliable one, in fact.”
“How?”
“You’ve heard of the Hyeolpung Saja, haven’t you?”
“Ma Gun-ja’s subordinates.”
“Precisely. If we’re talking pure infamy, they actually surpass Ma Gun-ja himself. If anyone knows his whereabouts, it would have to be those four.”
“Where are they?”
He could have given any location. But he was certain—wherever he said, he’d deliver the man there without fail.
It was always better to settle such matters quickly.
“About eighteen years back, there were men impersonating the Hyeolpung Saja. It started by accident, but once they invoked that name, they discovered a miracle—people simply handed over their money without question. Drunk on that power, these four fools decided to make a proper business of it. They were foolish enough to believe that even if the real Hyeolpung Saja learned of them, they couldn’t possibly be found in all this vast Zhongyuan. But the Hyeolpung Saja found them nonetheless. And what do you suppose happened?”
Geum Dae-bang drew a finger across his own throat.
“The four corpses left to rot in the fields were never collected, not even by officials—they were terrified of offending the Hyeolpung Saja.”
“And your point is?”
By now he ought to grasp the crux of the story, yet it was plain this man was far from clever.
“If Your Excellency impersonates the Hyeolpung Saja, they will come seeking you out.”
“So you don’t know where they are now.”
“It’s been nearly ten years since they last showed themselves.”
“They could be dead.”
Geum Dae-bang laughed despite himself, a short, involuntary snort.
“The Hyeolpung Saja? To claim their lives, it wouldn’t be common death-bringers—it would take the King of Hell himself.”
“So they’re dead or alive—which is it?”
Geum Dae-bang felt an inward sigh. He was beginning to understand that with this man, everything had to be spelled out, one piece at a time.
“Without question, they are alive.”
“Good. How do we impersonate the Hyeolpung Saja?”
The plan had taken shape the moment he’d brought them up, though he deliberately let the silence stretch.
“Well… ah! I’ve just had an excellent thought. Not far from here, there is a sect called Hyegeomun. It’s not a major power, but it enjoys considerable standing among the Orthodox Faction. If we trouble them in the name of the Hyeolpung Saja, word will spread properly, and the Hyeolpung Saja will certainly come looking.”
“But I’m one man, and they’re four. Hmm, but there’s no real need for witnesses. Let’s go to Hyegeomun.”
Geum Dae-bang smiled inwardly.
Hyegeomun was a sect founded a hundred fifty years ago by a lay disciple of the Mudang Faction. Lay disciples they might be called, but this one had been brilliant enough to establish his own school, and it wielded considerable power even now.
If the man walked in alone, he would at best be crippled—nine times out of ten, he’d be dead.
Ten silver coins would slip away, but if he kept his life and earned even one coin, it would make for a worthwhile day’s work in memory.
Of course, it was grueling for now.
The man had seized Geum Dae-bang by the back of the neck and deployed his Lightness Skill, covering in a quarter hour what should have taken a full double hour.
Hyegeomun displayed its grandeur brazenly—all nine halls blazed with light.
At twenty paces from Hyegeomun’s main gate, the man stopped and asked.
“This is Hyegeomun?”
“It’s written on the plaque there.”
Abruptly, the man seized Geum Dae-bang by the collar.
“Agh!”
“Don’t speak to me of characters again.”
“Y-yes… understood.”
Releasing his grip, the man stalked toward Hyegeomun, his stride heavy and deliberate. Geum Dae-bang considered fleeing then and there, but curiosity about what fate awaited the man kept him rooted to the spot.
Two martial disciples guarding the main gate stepped forward to block his path.
“What brings you to our Hyegeomun sect—”
The questioning guard collapsed mid-sentence.
Geum Dae-bang hadn’t even seen it happen, but the man had already drawn his blade and split open the chests of both disciples.
He stepped over the threshold and vanished inside.

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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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