Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 159

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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 159

“But becoming the leader isn’t something one can achieve merely by wanting it, is it? The seventy-two chieftains of Nokrim will surely oppose it.”
“Kill all the ones who oppose, and take only those who support.”
“Then it might not even be seventy-two—it could end up being barely ten.”
“Whether it’s many or few, we proceed either way.”
In truth, to Hyeolpung Saja it mattered little whether Nokrim had seventy-two chieftains or seven.
Appointing Do Pyeong-su as the supreme chieftain was simply a matter of convenience—the man seemed adequate for the role, and there was no desperation driving the decision.
When Seo Seok-san muttered, “Might as well sweep out all the bandits while we’re at it,” Do Pyeong-su shouted back, “You can’t just kill people on a whim!”
Do Pyeong-su studied the inverted supreme chieftain and asked.
“How long ago did you send the carrier pigeon?”
“Only a double hour past.”
“It’ll take some time before we hear back, then.”
Waiting was all there was to do—a situation unfamiliar to Hyeolpung Saja.
“What if Kang Chan-sik is already dead?”
“Then we’d have to suppress Nokrim.”
“Well, that’s obvious enough.”
“Then what else?”
At Seo Seok-san’s question, Do Pyeong-su murmured to himself, “What is it that I actually want?”
Yeon Geum-hong spoke.
“He’ll be fine. He’s not the sort who dies so easily.”
“True? He’s managed to survive this long under us.”
While they huddled together in conversation, the supreme chieftain called out to Hyeolpung Saja.
“Uh, excuse me…….”
“What?”
“Could you… could you let me down for just a moment? I need to, uh, relieve myself.”
Hyeolpung Saja responded in unison.
“Damn it! Just go ahead!”

***

So Gi-cheon was on his way back from delivering a box at the Yangyang County branch of the Sect—a task Noh Dae-sul had asked him to complete.
The errand done, attending Jegal Jong-ryeo’s sixtieth birthday celebration to feast under the guise of offering congratulations was entirely So Gi-cheon’s choice.
Of course, So Gi-cheon was not one to decline such an indulgence. Crossing the city streets with a light heart, he spotted a familiar face.
It was a group of three men and one woman he’d had a brief altercation with at a restaurant, now accompanied by a man he’d never seen before.
Judging by his gait, the stranger didn’t seem to have trained in martial arts, but his fine clothes suggested he was likely a wealthy merchant’s son.
So Gi-cheon tried to pass without notice, but Seo Do-myeong called out to him.
“Aren’t you a disciple of the Sect’s chieftain?”
There was a deliberate mockery in his tone. So Gi-cheon tried to move on, but another jab followed.
“Where’s Geom U-bin, who used to protect you? Now you’re wandering about like a destitute beggar?”
A beggar of the Sect may lack money, but not pride. When begging, pride means accepting the need to beg; when someone provokes, pride means not letting the provocation pass.
“So the Taoist abandoned by a woman has finally grasped his true identity and started hitting on men.”
“What did you just say?”
“With that dried-squid face and those dark ears, what woman would ever like you?”
“Well, well—the thirtieth disciple of the Sect’s swollen pride has burst right out of his belly.”
“Let’s be precise. Not a disciple of the Sect, but a disciple of the chieftain. And I thought I was about the thirtieth, but turns out I’m the twenty-second.”
“Such an impressive twenty-second disciple you are.”
“At least I don’t take out my frustrations on others just because I was rejected by a woman—I’m not that pathetic.”
It wasn’t solely because of Jegal Jong-ryeo, but So Gi-cheon still knew nothing of the wager with Geom U-bin.
“A beggar like you should be out begging, not picking fights with disciples of the Orthodox Faction in broad daylight. Are you hoping to shatter your begging bowl?”
“Remarkable—your mouth is crooked, yet you still manage to speak twisted words. Tell me, who started this trouble? Why are you trying to pin false accusations on me?”
Bok Cheol-bang, who had been watching, stepped in.
“Just a small-mouthed beggar brat.”
“Who are you calling small?”
“Then are you saying you’re an adult, not a mere child?”
“If disciples of the Orthodox Faction want to pick fights in the streets like this, then you’re looking for a real fight. Come on then—I’m ready to oblige.”
Having come this far, So Gi-cheon couldn’t very well back down.
“Take a hit and run off to report to your faction leader? That’s exactly what a little beggar would do.”
Seo Do-myeong and Bok Cheol-bang pressed So Gi-cheon from both sides, trading barbs.
“Hmph! You take a hit from me, then go crying to your own faction!”
Bok Cheol-bang stepped forward.
“You don’t use a great ox-slaughtering blade to kill a chicken—so I’ll correct this little beggar’s manners on behalf of my sect.”
Bok Cheol-bang, twenty-two years old, was one of the most promising disciples within Huashan Faction.
In great martial sects, they divided disciples by martial arts level from childhood, and Bok Cheol-bang showed the kind of cultivation trajectory that would let him climb at least to faction leader or elder without difficulty.
So Gi-cheon glanced around the Main Street, where passersby were coming and going without particular concern, and asked:
“You want to settle this here?”
“Are you worried you’ll be embarrassed losing in front of so many people?”
“I’m worried innocent people might get hurt. Don’t disciples of the Orthodox Faction ever think of such things?”
“There’s no way anyone else could be hurt while I dispose of you.”
The twenty-second disciple of a sect master not yet fifteen years old was beneath Bok Cheol-bang’s notice.
The two of them stood three paces apart, while the remaining five took positions behind Bok Cheol-bang like a screen.
Passersby stopped in their tracks at the sudden fight between Murim martial artists and became spectators.
“This is a fair duel, and there’s no question of going back to your sect and speaking of revenge. Do you agree?”
At Bok Cheol-bang’s question, So Gi-cheon nodded vigorously.
“Of course!”
“I’ll yield the first move.”
“If you’re offering, it’d be rude not to take it!”
So Gi-cheon pushed off the ground. Three paces evaporated in the blink of an eye.
Bok Cheol-bang was startled by So Gi-cheon’s speed—faster than expected. He barely blocked the punch aimed at his chest when a leg sweep came whipping toward his shin.
Crack!
The force transmitted through his raised leg was no trifle.
‘One careless moment and I’m done for!’
He’d looked down on this common sect master’s disciple, but the skill was far from contemptible.
As Bok Cheol-bang teetered, losing his center, a punch flew at his face. He raised his arm to block, but the elbow strike that followed toward his solar plexus came too fast.
Bok Cheol-bang had no chance to counterattack, only to backpedal frantically while defending.
That a promising Huashan disciple was being pushed back by a beggar from another sect was itself humiliating.
Bok Cheol-bang employed the Hyeonhyeon Bobeop footwork to widen the distance. He needed space if he was to find any opening for a counterattack.
But So Gi-cheon refused to surrender the advantage he’d seized.
From the shock of colliding limbs, he could sense that the internal power flowing through Bok Cheol-bang was not his superior.
Pushed back further and further, Bok Cheol-bang drew closer to the onlookers surrounding them.
Alarmed spectators hastily scattered, and the fruit vendor abandoned his stall.
As Bok Cheol-bang ducked to avoid So Gi-cheon’s punch, a small blade from the abandoned stall caught his eye.
Dropping his stance, he retreated and quickly snatched up the small blade.
Even in a fight, there were unspoken rules that both sides observed.
For either fighter to draw a weapon now was unacceptable foul play.
But Bok Cheol-bang reasoned that foul play was preferable to shameful defeat.
So Gi-cheon, mid-punch, was startled by the sudden blade blocking him and pulled back his strike.
In that instant, the small blade thrust toward So Gi-cheon’s chest.
“You coward!”
As So Gi-cheon retreated, Bok Cheol-bang pressed close immediately. The unexpected metal had completely transformed the nature of the fight.
If it came to swords, even Shaolin Temple would defer to Huashan Faction—and the small blade in his hand was far more lethal than bare fists.
Yet So Gi-cheon did not fall easily. Though forced onto his back foot, he was no weakling to be felled in a single exchange by Bok Cheol-bang.
Had Bok Cheol-bang wielded that blade all along, the fight might have ended in a draw.
But they were in the city with many witnesses. As the blade thrust toward his face, So Gi-cheon became aware of someone directly behind him who couldn’t move in time.
If he simply ducked to let the blade pass through, it would run straight through an innocent bystander.
Instead of evading, So Gi-cheon struck upward at Bok Cheol-bang’s blade-arm. It was a reckless move, and such moves always demand a price.
Thud!
Bok Cheol-bang’s fist drove into So Gi-cheon’s chest.
“Ugh!”
So Gi-cheon staggered back with a strangled gasp as another punch flew at his face. He raised his arm to block it, but couldn’t escape the impact to his thigh.
Crack!
The sharp pain told him something was wrong with the bone. His arm was then seized, and an excruciating pain shot through his shoulder.
Before he could even register the agony of his dislocated shoulder, Bok Cheol-bang’s fist smashed into So Gi-cheon’s face.
So Gi-cheon was hurled backward, colliding with someone standing behind him. They both went down in a spray of blood, and Bok Cheol-bang’s foot came down at So Gi-cheon’s ribs.
“Gasp!”
All he could manage was a choking, wheezing sound—no breath left to cry out with.
“The bastard!”
It was only because Byeon Jae-yong had stopped him that the beating ended after two kicks.
“That’s enough.”
“Let me go! I’ll kill that beggar scum today!”
“Do you want to be expelled from the sect?”
He was no mere beggar, but a disciple of the Sect’s leader. This much might be smoothed over, but if he died, the consequences would be irreversible.
“Ptooey!”
Bok Cheol-bang spat and turned away, and Byeon Jae-yong moved to help So Gi-cheon to his feet.
“Come on. I’ll take you to a physician.”
But So Gi-cheon thrust away Byeon Jae-yong’s hand. Stumbling under his own weight, his face streaked with blood, he glared at Bok Cheol-bang.
“Before this day is through, you’ll regret your cowardice—I swear it.”
So Gi-cheon spat out the blood pooled in his mouth, clutched his ribs, and limped away into the crowd with a pronounced hobble.
“The vicious little wretch!”
As the excitement faded, Bok Cheol-bang grew quietly uneasy. What worried him was not the threats, but the thought of this reaching his master—discipline might follow.
He gave no thought to the bitter words So Gi-cheon had left behind.
“I won in a fair sparring match. You all saw it, didn’t you?”
Everyone knew it hadn’t been fair, yet no one rebuked Bok Cheol-bang for his excess.
Byeon Jae-yong spoke to the agitated Bok Cheol-bang.
“Send him something for his medical expenses later. If the Huashan Faction and the Sect end up at odds because of this, you’re the one who’ll pay the price.”

***

Geom U-bin rushed to the clinic in one breath. No one had specifically brought him word of So Gi-cheon’s injuries.
When martial artists brawled on the Main Street, news of it never escaped the Jegal Family compound.
With Jegal Hoon as the leader of the Honil Party, intelligence reached him swiftly, and through careful investigation, they learned the wounded man was So Gi-cheon.
Though So Gi-cheon had walked to the clinic under his own power, his condition was grave: his nose was broken, ribs cracked, his leg fractured, and his left shoulder dislocated.
Even so, when he saw Geom U-bin, So Gi-cheon managed a smile.
“You came quickly, brother.”
“What happened? You fought a Huashan disciple?”
“I could’ve beaten him bloody, but the coward used a dirty trick, and instead I ended up the one beaten black and blue. Ha! Ah, my nose.”
“Tell me what happened.”
So Gi-cheon began his account from when the group of three men and one woman had provoked him. He still believed it stemmed from Seo Do-myeong’s resentment at being rejected by Jegal Jong-ryeo, but Geom U-bin knew there was more to it than that.
The fact that So Gi-cheon had come to this state bore some responsibility on Geom U-bin’s own shoulders. His suspicion hardened all the more when he learned it was Bok Cheol-bang who had fought So Gi-cheon.
The physician, who looked well past sixty, displayed his bright skill within a taciturn composure, saying almost nothing.
“The treatment seems to have gone well.”
“The old man’s hands are skilled. And brother.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s forget about revenge. When I think about it, there’s nothing good that comes from this blowing up. If Master steps in, it damages the Sect’s relationship with the other faction. If you step in, the Estate falls out with several schools. It’s not life-threatening, so it’s better to settle it here.”
Though he’d lost not from lack of skill but because of Bok Cheol-bang’s treachery, and bore these wounds for it, So Gi-cheon spoke with quiet dignity.

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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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