Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 165

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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 165

Gam O-heung, owner of the Daseong Merchant Association, stared at the promissory note lying on the table before asking his question.
“You came to collect money?”
“That’s what’s written on the promissory note.”
Gam O-heung, who had been watching Geom U-bin intently, let out a low chuckle.
“You didn’t think I’d actually pay, did you? And not just a small sum—six hundred and twenty thousand silver taels.”
“A promissory note isn’t worth keeping around for nothing.”
“And if I refuse to pay, what exactly will you do about it?”
Geom U-bin tucked the promissory note back into his coat and replied.
“True. The real debtor isn’t you—it’s your second son, Gam Il-cheon.”
“Threatening my boy won’t get you a single tael. Besides, you couldn’t even if you tried.”
“We’ll see about that. Today I’m just paying my respects.”
Geom U-bin turned to leave, then added a parting remark.
“Oh, one more thing—since the agreed deadline has passed, interest will naturally accrue. Being in the usury business, you must know that well.”
“Go ahead and add as much as you like.”
“How generous of you to grant me such freedom. Truly, the wealthy are different. Well then, I’ll take my leave.”
Having never expected to collect anything today, Geom U-bin left the Daseong Merchant Association without regret and made his way toward the Huashan Faction.
To extract money from the Daseong Merchant Association, leveraging the Huashan Faction was the best approach.
The Daseong Merchant Association cared only for profit, but the Huashan Faction was a prestigious Orthodox Sect that valued propriety and reputation.
They could not simply overlook the name of Bok Cheol-bang, the guarantor written on a promissory note for six hundred and twenty thousand taels.
But Geom U-bin had been too optimistic. He traveled to the Huashan Faction compound in Hwain County, a double hour’s journey away, promissory note in hand. He expected a reaction when he presented it, but he couldn’t even get past the main gate.
A disciple of perhaps thirteen or fourteen years who had been sweeping near the entrance listened to his business, went inside, and returned after a quarter of an hour.
“He says you should just leave.”
“Did you make sure to explain my business clearly?”
“Yes.”
“The Faction Leader himself said this?”
“No. The Guest Reception Master said so. And he said if you cause trouble, I should beat you away if necessary.”
Geom U-bin smiled bitterly. He should have anticipated this. Back in Hangju, nearly everything could be arranged with the name Oseong Jang-won, but this wasn’t Hangju.
Even if he sent word directly to Baek Jong-dan, the Faction Leader himself, the response would likely be the same.
‘So the Huashan Faction ignores promissory notes too?’
It seemed both the Daseong Merchant Association and the Huashan Faction believed that if they dismissed the promissory note, Geom U-bin would have no recourse.
“I understand. If you wish to invite humiliation, I’ll be happy to oblige.”
Geom U-bin turned and left without protest. He had planned to confront Baek Jong-dan directly and make threats, but first he needed to manufacture the leverage to threaten with.
Once the cowardly tactics Bok Cheol-bang used against So Gi-cheon became public knowledge, relations between the Huashan Faction and the Sect whose disciples So Gi-cheon brought would surely deteriorate.
Geom U-bin returned to the inn in Xi’an when his shadow had grown three times the length of his body.
It was too late to do anything that day, so he would have to start moving the next morning. After washing briefly in the quarters behind the inn’s dining area, Geom U-bin went to the restaurant to eat dinner.
Shensi Province’s capital, Xi’an, was always teeming with people. The inn’s restaurant—with no particularly special dishes and no grandeur—was continuously packed with guests.
Geom U-bin claimed a corner table and ordered. Just as he lifted a chopstick of warm thin noodles to his mouth, a loud voice cut through the clamor.
“Damn it! Wine! I want wine! Why won’t you bring me wine!”
The noise was so overwhelming that the old man’s voice was quickly swallowed by the general din.
But the innkeeper, unable to ignore the disturbance, rushed out.
“Here you are again, causing trouble! I’ve told you repeatedly! No more credit!”
“What? You won’t serve me wine? Me, Jong Mok-jin, the Plum Blossom Sword Inspector of the Huashan Faction? You won’t serve wine to me, Jong Mok-jin, who studied martial arts alongside Baek Jong-dan, the Faction Leader?”
The innkeeper let out a long sigh.
“You’ve been milking that story for thirty years. I’m sick of it. Now get out! Go!”
As the innkeeper pushed him, an elderly man who looked to be well past sixty stumbled backward.
“You brat! If you treat me like this, Jong-dan will come and smash this inn to pieces!”
“The Faction Leader would never do such a thing! You drunk!”
Jong Mok-jin staggered backward under the innkeeper’s shove, but continued shouting.
“I’ve known Baek Jong-dan since I was ten years old, rolling around with him! I’m a comrade-in-arms who flew the Plum Blossom Sword banner and went all the way to Yunnan to purge the Hyeol Sect! A comrade-in-arms!”
At the mention of the Hyeol Sect and Yunnan, Geom U-bin’s attention suddenly shifted to the old man.
“I’ve heard that story so many times my ears could fall off!”
Geom U-bin asked Jeom So-i, who had brought the extra dumplings he’d ordered.
“Is what that old man is saying true?”
Jeom So-i, glancing at the old man who had been pushed toward the door, answered casually.
“That appears to be the truth. But it’s all in the past now.”
Jeom So-i disappeared into the kitchen, muttering to herself, “I’d better not end up looking like that when I’m old.”
Perhaps he could coax some useful information about Baek Jong-dan out of Jong Mok-jin.
Geom U-bin called after the bustling innkeeper.
“Bring the old man over here, will you? I’d like to buy him a drink. If I’m lucky, I might even settle what he owes you while we’re at it.”
“Really? Are you certain? Once that old codger gets going, he talks for at least two double hours straight.”
“The longer the better.”
Jong Mok-jin, catching his foot on the threshold, crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Ow! This cursed place is trying to kill me!”
As Jong Mok-jin lay sprawled on the floor, Jeom So-i went over to the innkeeper—who was snorting indignantly—and said something to him.
Whatever the old man’s debt was, no merchant would turn down the chance to collect it.
After the innkeeper helped Jong Mok-jin to his feet, he pointed a finger at Geom U-bin and said something. Jong Mok-jin’s face lit up at once.
Three front teeth—top and bottom—were missing, giving him a comical appearance. Limping over, Jong Mok-jin dropped himself onto a seat across from Geom U-bin.
“And who might you be? A disciple of the Huashan Faction, perhaps?”
“No, just a scholarly youth who admires the Murim. I heard you were once a Plum Blossom Sword Inspector for the Huashan Faction, so I thought I’d invite you to share some of those old stories.”
“Hehehehe! If it’s Murim tales you want, you’ve found yourself the right storyteller!”
While Jong Mok-jin was still laughing loudly, wine arrived. It was premium Zhuyeqing, prized for its crystal-clear color.
As Geom U-bin lifted the bottle, Jong Mok-jin reached for his cup with trembling hands.
Clink! Clink!
The rim of the cup chattered against the bottle’s mouth, betraying the tremor in his palms.
“I heard that you went to Yunnan to eliminate the Huashan Faction’s sect leader and the remnants of the Hyeol Sect. That’s new to me—it should be interesting.”
Jong Mok-jin drained his cup in one gulp and began to speak.
“Ahh! We went, all right. This wine tastes excellent. Pour me another.”
“I’d like to hear about that time.”
A bitter smile played at the corners of Jong Mok-jin’s mouth.
“My leg became useless because of that. Those ruthless bastards from the Hyeol Sect!”
“But thanks to great heroes like them, common folk like us can live in peace. We ought to be grateful, shouldn’t we?”
“That’s right, that’s right. You’ve got good sense in your head, young man!”
“So the Huashan Faction’s sect leader went with you on that operation?”
“He did. We were both Plum Blossom Sword Inspectors, you see. Baek Jong-dan was extraordinary even as a boy—a once-in-a-century talent, everyone said. He was my closest friend too.”
“The sect leader must have accomplished great things back then.”
“Between him and me, we wiped out most of the Hyeol Sect remnants. Ahh! This Zhuyeqing really is splendid. Could I order another bottle?”
“Of course.”
Geom U-bin signaled Jeom So-i to bring another bottle of Zhuyeqing and continued.
“Please, tell me the details of what happened then. I find those kinds of stories most entertaining.”
Jong Mok-jin, who had been drinking hurriedly, lowered his cup and shook his head slowly.
“I don’t want to talk about that time anymore.”
“But I’d like to hear about the Huashan sect leader’s heroic deeds…….”
“All the Plum Blossom Sword Inspectors fought with everything they had—he didn’t do it alone!”
“And yet, the fact that he became sect leader today is surely because he’s been building his reputation and fighting bravely since he was young…….”
“Brave? That bastard’s nothing but a coward who hides behind talismans!”
The sudden darkening of Jong Mok-jin’s mood stemmed from bitter memories of the injury he’d suffered then.
If his leg hadn’t been so badly damaged in Yunnan, he would by now have risen to a high position in the Huashan Faction and lived a comfortable life.
But with one leg rendered useless, Jong Mok-jin could no longer practice his martial arts.
To forget that loss, he needed alcohol. Yet the more he drank, the deeper the loss cut, until he became the man he was today.
Meanwhile, Baek Jong-dan, his fellow Plum Blossom Sword Inspector, had climbed steadily upward to the position of sect leader.
An old friend who had become a stranger. He had sold that friend’s name for drinks here and there, but jealousy gnawed relentlessly at Jong Mok-jin’s heart.
When wine loosened his tongue and Geom U-bin began praising Baek Jong-dan, that jealousy erupted.
“It was this small, round, black tablet—and from childhood, that bastard carried it like a talisman wherever he went. A martial artist with a talisman! If the world knew, they’d laugh him to scorn, so Jong-dan never showed it to anyone. I remember the shame on his face when I saw it while he was bathing. He made me swear never to tell, and I’ve kept that promise all these years, but him……he……damned bastard!”
As Jong Mok-jin tilted his cup roughly, Geom U-bin asked him a question.
“A black tablet? I have a talisman like that too.”
“You do?”
“Yes, my uncle gave it to me as a gift.”
Geom U-bin rummaged through his clothes, then said, “Oh, I left it in my room,” and traced a picture on the table with his finger.
“Doesn’t it look something like this?”
Perfect accuracy wasn’t necessary. Geom U-bin drew the shape of the Black Tablet, Ma Gun-ja’s keepsake, and Jong Mok-jin nodded emphatically.
“Yes, that’s how it looked.”
He had only wanted to learn more about Baek Jong-dan, yet he had stumbled upon something strange.
‘The owner of that tablet was the Huashan Faction’s sect leader?’
Of course, it wasn’t certain. Geom U-bin had drawn a crude sketch with his finger, leaving no trace, and Jong Mok-jin’s memory was hazy.
But Baek Jong-dan possessed a black tablet—something only the Miao people carried.
‘Why did he have a black tablet?’
He’d said it wasn’t something he acquired during the campaign against the Hyeol Sect in Yunnan, but rather something he’d carried since childhood.
‘Could the sect leader be Miao?’
It was an almost impossible conjecture. The Miao were called barbarians in Zhongyuan, after all. The notion that the leader of a prestigious Orthodox sect was Miao was a fact difficult to accept.
That night, Geom U-bin bought six bottles of Zhuyeqing for Jong Mok-jin and settled all his accumulated debts.
After listening to Jong Mok-jin lament his circumstances for a full double hour, Geom U-bin returned to his room.
The black tablet’s sudden appearance had pushed the Daseong Merchant Association problem to the back of his mind.
“How am I supposed to identify this?”
The most pressing question was whether Baek Jong-dan was truly the owner of that black tablet.
Geom U-bin sketched the black tablet on paper. He’d observed it so often that he remembered even the scratches along its edges.
One drawing he rendered with meticulous precision; the other he fashioned to resemble the black tablets the Miao carried.
As Geom U-bin set down his brush after finishing the sketches, a faint sound caught his keen ear.
Footsteps traced across the roof with surprising lightness, yet they could not escape his acute hearing.
The sound halted directly above his head.
‘Am I the target?’
The footsteps shifted toward the window. Geom U-bin placed a chair facing it and sat.
Moments later, a head appeared through the window, inverted. Hair bound at the back hung down, its long tail streaming upward.
The crown of the head came into view, then the forehead, and finally eyes appeared.
Geom U-bin’s gaze and the eyes of the intruder met head-on.
The man hanging upside down, caught mid-reconnaissance, froze in shock.
Geom U-bin smiled at the man and waved his hand. Apparently startled beyond measure, the man suddenly plummeted from the window.

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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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