Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 148

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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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#148

“I haven’t sparred in so long, I’m not sure I can control my strength properly. Master Geom.”
“Just fight like you normally would.”
“Then you might die, Master Geom.”
Yeon Geum-hong said it flatly.
“Our brother isn’t that weak. Though he should probably hold back a bit, shouldn’t he?”
Even as Hyeolpung Saja said this, he positioned himself to launch forward at any instant.
Facing Eun Bi-yeon, Geom U-bin tensed in a way he never did sparring with others.
Eun Bi-yeon was unpredictable—she could treat a sparring match like a fight to the death.
Eun Bi-yeon’s opening was indeed different.
A high-pitched keening filled the air.
As Eun Bi-yeon drew up her Martial Force, white frost settled in a three-zhang radius around her.
“That insane woman!”
Seo Seok-san stopped Yeon Geum-hong as she moved forward.
“Wait. Let’s watch.”
Geom U-bin was anything but weak—his protective instinct wasn’t the only thing at play. Outside the Oseong Jang-won, there weren’t twenty masters in the world stronger than him.
Geom U-bin attacked first, his body parallel to the ground as his legs scythed through the air—his opening strike was the Jincheon Leogak.
Eun Bi-yeon crossed her arms to block his attack. With a sharp crackle, the fabric of his pant leg shattered like ice.
Geom U-bin spun through the void and drove at her with the Chwihwa Naksoo fist art.
Dozens of palm strikes bloomed in the air, each one a testament to his mastery.
“Ah!”
Yeon Geum-hong gasped despite herself. Geom U-bin’s level was far higher than she’d imagined.
Yet that alone wasn’t enough to overcome Eun Bi-yeon. She met his palms strike for strike with ease, deflecting his assault.
The cold Qi that Eun Bi-yeon released was so bitter that an ordinary master would see their lungs freeze with every breath.
Hang Ju-sa-ung couldn’t even watch the sparring without drawing upon his own Martial Force.
‘Who exactly is this woman?’
Hang Ju-sa-ung had only heard that she was a close friend of Hyeolpung Saja, who had practiced the Bamnoh Hwandong.
He’d been shocked to learn Hyeolpung Saja had close friends at all, but at this level of Martial Arts, she was more than worthy of the title.
A deafening boom rang out.
After the explosion, Geom U-bin and Eun Bi-yeon both retreated one zhang, perfectly matched.
White frost clung to Geom U-bin’s chest, and Eun Bi-yeon’s forearm was flushed red.
“Master Geom, you truly astonish me. I doubt Ma Gun-ja achieved this level at your age.”
“Thank you. But this isn’t over yet, is it?”
“Of course not. Things are about to get much colder.”
As Eun Bi-yeon spoke, the breath from everyone’s mouths grew thick and white.
Her outstretched hands began drawing inward, and between them, a white sphere took shape.
“No, surely not…….”
Yeon Geum-hong’s eyes widened. The signature technique of the Northern Ice Palace, the Tangi Binggong, was about to unfold.
“Stop!”
Yeon Geum-hong cried out urgently, but Eun Bi-yeon’s arm extended too quickly.
A sphere of searing cold energy flew toward Geom U-bin, white ice spreading around it like spilled paint.
Geom U-bin thrust both hands forward, channeling all his Martial Force. The two energies collided in the void with a deafening bang.
Hang Ju-sa-ung and Gong Seong-tak scrambled backward, while Hyeolpung Saja shot toward Geom U-bin.
The trail left by Geom U-bin’s recoil stretched five zhang long.
“Brother! Are you all right?”
Geom U-bin’s entire body was white, as though he’d stood in a blizzard for an hour.
When Do Pyeong-su, alarmed, reached out to place his palm on Geom U-bin’s back, Geom U-bin exhaled deeply.
“Haaah!”
With that breath, all the frigid energy coating his body dispersed cleanly.
His complexion was still ashen and his lips bloodless, but his eyes were clear and sharp—he was unharmed.
Geom U-bin caught Yeon Geum-hong’s arm just as she was about to shout at Eun Bi-yeon.
“I’m fine. Actually, I’m grateful to Miss Eun.”
“But you were nearly injured! How can you be grateful?”
“Because fighting with such absolute commitment—that’s what truly helps me. And…….”
Geom U-bin turned to Eun Bi-yeon with a question.
“Are you all right?”
Eun Bi-yeon’s pallor wasn’t merely the result of deploying her ice technique. Though less affected than Geom U-bin, she too had sustained a considerable shock.
Eun Bi-yeon shook her head slowly and spoke.
“Just how strong are you and the others trying to make Geom U-bin?”
Though Eun Bi-yeon didn’t know the martial arts of Murim’s masters with precision, she could have wagered her entire fortune that Geom U-bin was stronger than any patriarch of the Five Great Families.
Gong Seong-tak was as startled as Eun Bi-yeon. He’d known Geom U-bin’s martial prowess through sparring sessions, but he’d never imagined Eun Bi-yeon might surpass him.
‘She seems stronger than me.’
That he’d tried to fight someone like her, calling her a cult leader, meant he’d nearly died without even fully transmitting the Jincheon Leogak technique.
Jang Man-dok forcibly dragged away Geom U-bin, who appeared unscathed. He needed to perform Chugung-gwahyeol to stabilize her meridians, just in case.
Eun Bi-yeon brushed the dust from her clothes and spoke to Do Pyeong-su.
“I need to go out for a while.”
“Go out… and come back?”
“Yes, I’ll definitely come back.”
Both of them placed emphasis on the word “back.”
“Where are you going?”
“There are some matters regarding tea I need to look into, and I need to retrieve someone I left in another’s care.”
“Someone you left in another’s care?”
“You’ll understand when I bring them back.”

***

Bae Do-sang, the master of the Oseong Merchant Association, greeted Kang Chan-sik warmly.
“What brings the Association head here?”
“I hear a caravan departs tomorrow morning bound for Hebei Province.”
“Yes, we have business in Beijing.”
Bae Do-sang opened the lid of an elegantly crafted wooden box.
“Bok Seon-nyeo came by just a moment ago and asked if we could sell this. She gave it to me.”
“Hwach’a Tea, I see.”
“Would you care to taste it?”
“I’m not particularly knowledgeable about tea.”
“With this tea, knowledge matters little.”
Bae Do-sang steeped Bok Seon-nyeo’s tea and handed it to Kang Chan-sik.
“The fragrance is remarkable.”
Even to Kang Chan-sik, uninitiated in tea, the crisp, refreshing aroma came through. And the moment the tip of his tongue touched the hot brew, an involuntary gasp escaped him.
Sipping slowly, the tea conveyed to him the kind of deep satisfaction a true drinker of fine spirits might know.
“This is truly exceptional tea, isn’t it?”
“Exactly as you feel it. A connoisseur would not begrudge a fortune for such tea.”
“You say Bok Seon-nyeo gave you this?”
“Yes, I intend to present it to the Emperor as a tribute during our journey to Beijing.”
“If fortune smiles, the Oseong Jang-won will gain yet another treasure.”
After finishing his tea, Kang Chan-sik cast a longing glance at Bae Do-sang, but no more appeared.
“Thank you for the rare tea.”
Bae Do-sang detained Kang Chan-sik as he rose to leave.
“Surely there was another purpose to your visit?”
“Ah! I became so absorbed in the tea I nearly forgot. I was wondering if I might join the Oseong Merchant Association’s caravan tomorrow.”
“If the Association head himself would travel with us, we’d be honored and grateful. But what brings this about?”
“I have a sister living in Hubei Province. I’d like to see her face.”
“I see. Please let us know if there’s anything we should prepare for you.”
“Since I’m joining to avoid traveling alone, there’s no need for any special preparation.”
In truth, it was a difficult undertaking for Kang Chan-sik. He and his sister had severed contact for ten years.
She had cut ties with him, disgusted by his involvement with the Triad, and he’d harbored resentment, refusing to seek her out.
Yet recently, he’d begun to miss her deeply. Ever since he’d come to understand her shame of the Triad, her heart had become clear to him.
‘It’s time I tried to be a proper brother.’

***

Thirty years as a hunter hones one’s senses as keen as any beast’s.
‘Blood.’
Bo Sik-dal moved with careful steps. The scent of blood mingled with the distinctive reek of a carnivore.
‘A stench this strong—it has to be a tiger.’
Bo Sik-dal drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it to his bowstring. The nickname “Tiger Catcher” had been given to him when he took down his tenth tiger.
There was no need to hire dozens of beaters in grand fashion. He always hunted alone, armed with nothing but bow and arrow, and never flinched when he encountered a tiger.
‘Wind…… perfect.’
The headwind meant his scent would never reach the tiger. The smell of blood meant the tiger was feeding on prey it had killed.
The beast’s moment of inattention—and his moment of opportunity. Bo Sik-dal drew a long, silent breath, held it, and moved swiftly forward.
By the blood-scent, the creature was no more than ten paces away. One arrow through the throat, and victory would be his.
After that, he need only follow the wounded tiger’s panicked flight. Bo Sik-dal slowly parted the grass before him with his hand.
There—the distinctive stripes of a tiger. A large specimen, its length easily exceeding ten feet all the way to its tail.
As Bo Sik-dal drew back the bowstring, something gave him pause. He’d expected to find the creature feeding, yet it lay perfectly still.
Such absolute stillness was wrong. Bo Sik-dal steeled himself and crept closer.
Only then did he understand: the blood-scent came not from the tiger’s prey, but from the tiger itself.
The tiger’s throat had been torn open. It lay crumpled in the grass, stone dead.
“What? Did two tigers fight to the death?”
The broken sapling and trampled grass suggested as much. In thirty years of hunting, he had never seen one tiger kill another.
Bo Sik-dal’s muscles coiled tight again. Whatever had killed this tiger might still be near.
Grrrrr……
A deep, predatory growl sounded directly behind him. Bo Sik-dal felt his heart lurch into his throat.
Caught in the headwind, he had never sensed the beast at his back.
‘Damn.’
Ssshhh.
That footfall—those few heavy steps—extinguished any hope. The creature was no more than three feet away.
Even at his fastest, he could never draw the bowstring before claws found his throat.
‘To die like this. So pathetic.’
If death must come, at least he’d look his killer in the eye. A man owed himself that much courage before the end.
Bo Sik-dal turned his head slowly. What first caught his sight was sheer bulk.
He thought it another tiger—until reason insisted it was nothing of the kind.
‘What?’
Pointed ears pricked upward, sleek golden fur with a lustrous sheen, a black nose, and eyes that seemed almost kind—it was a dog.
Sniff-sniff!
The massive hound caught his scent and wagged its tail with obvious joy. Yet Bo Sik-dal’s heart could not settle, for the beast’s protruding muzzle was caked in blood.
The fur stuck to that blood was unmistakably from the dead tiger.
‘A dog killed the tiger?’
Looking closer, he noticed a fresh wound on the dog’s shoulder—the kind a tiger’s claws would leave.
Whine.
The dog tilted its head, puzzled that the man was not petting it.
Suddenly its ears snapped forward, and its gaze fixed on something below the ridge.
Bark!
The dog leapt skyward with a single powerful jump—clearing a boulder a full ten feet high in one bound—and vanished before Bo Sik-dal’s eyes. He collapsed where he stood.
“What in the world was that?”
It was a dog, and yet it was no dog at all.

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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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