Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 225

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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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#225

The remaining six disciples all agreed to follow Jeon Jin-seong. Like him, they thought So Gi-cheon’s proposal was chasing clouds—utterly impractical.
“Understood. Begin the pursuit. Remember what I said at the start.”
“Watch him, but don’t try to capture him or get too close—is that right?”
“Never break that rule. Not once.”
“Which way are you heading, Master?”
“Who knows.”
Noh Dae-sul was a man whose actions defied prediction, so Jeon Jin-seong and the other six set off northwest, following the trail.
“You’re not coming?”
“I have to.”
So Gi-cheon wondered if he’d go with Noh Dae-sul, but even as he left, Noh Dae-sul remained studying the corpse.
‘What’s he thinking?’
So Gi-cheon regretted his choice before even a quarter hour had passed. It would have been easier to simply follow along with the others, he thought—a pointless endeavor. But once he’d started down this path, he couldn’t turn back now. Still, within that brief span of time, he realized he’d made the right call.
Though he’d never formally trained in tracking technique, he didn’t need such specialized knowledge to spot the signs someone had left behind.
Patches of low grass lay flattened, and footprints marked the rocks.
The tracks he hadn’t seen before were visible now because whoever left them had stopped trying to hide.
‘He thought he’d shaken off his pursuers and dropped his guard.’
Following the trail, So Gi-cheon assumed the quarry had already fled far ahead.
The gaps between one trace and the next stretched nearly ten zhang. With lightness skill like that, So Gi-cheon couldn’t catch him in a year of chasing.
“I don’t even have solid proof these tracks belong to the Bloodwind Swordsman. I’m exhausting myself for nothing.”
Yet he kept pursuing, driven by resentment toward Jeon Jin-seong.
Not all of Noh Dae-sul’s disciples were equals.
They divided themselves by rank—only the top ten were considered true disciples; the rest were treated like chaff.
So Gi-cheon, relegated to that chaff tier, had every reason to feel bitter.
“What if I found him myself? That’d wipe the smirk off his face.”
The thought drove strength into his legs as he pushed off harder against the earth.
He didn’t care about securing his standing in the Gae Bang sect through accomplishment. He just wanted to crush Jeon Jin-seong’s pride.
He crested a ridge, crossed through a rocky stretch, and entered thick forest—when screams suddenly pierced the air.
The screams continued long enough for So Gi-cheon to close the distance.
After eight separate cries, silence fell abruptly. The last scream seemed to come from about thirty zhang away.
Startled birds and wild creatures fled; insects held their breath. The sudden hush felt even deeper in its weight.
Crouched behind a boulder, So Gi-cheon stretched his neck to peer at the place where the screams had come from.
The dense forest denied him even ten zhang of vision.
‘The Bloodwind Swordsman?’
The odds seemed high, but without seeing with his own eyes, he couldn’t be certain.
So Gi-cheon steeled himself and moved forward.
He didn’t brush branches; he minimized even the faint rustle of grass against his trouser legs. His own presence was inaudible even to himself—so even if the Bloodwind Swordsman were present, he wouldn’t detect him.
But that was only So Gi-cheon’s faith in himself.
As he skirted a tree and rounded a rock, his body suddenly lurched upward.
“What—?”
A face appeared inches from his own.
Only then did So Gi-cheon realize he was dangling helplessly, gripped by the scruff of his neck.
The man holding him was an old one—skeletal face stretched tight with parchment skin, coarse beard bristling across his jaw.
So distinctive was his appearance that So Gi-cheon recognized him instantly: the Bloodwind Swordsman.
“You don’t smell like Murim Alliance scum…… Sniff sniff! A Gae Bang disciple?”
“Yes.”
“You followed me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll have to kill you.”
“Wait, wait! I was just trying to find you, that’s all!”
“Exactly why I have to kill you.”
“But killing someone just for looking for you—that’s cruel, isn’t it?”
“Why else would they call me the Bloodwind Swordsman?”
“That’s, well, fair point. Um…… would it be all right if I fought back?”
“What? Pu-ha-ha-ha!”
The Bloodwind Swordmaster’s laughter didn’t ease for some time, and eventually he broke into coughing.
“Cough, cough! Now there’s an amusing fellow!”
So Gi-cheon made no move to attack Maeng Mang-do, who appeared defenseless.
The gap between their martial prowess was beyond any adequate description.
Without a way to kill him outright, a surprise attack would be pointless.
Rather than wage a battle he couldn’t win, it was best to return to a beggar’s proper station and lie flat on the ground—a resolve strengthened by Noh Dae-sul’s firm warning never to fight under such circumstances.
“Who is your master?”
“Noh Dae-sul, sir.”
“What? Bang-ju?”
“Yes, though I’ve lost count of which number disciple I am—there have been so many. But I’m certainly his most recent one.”
“So when his time was running out, he finally took on a sharp-witted disciple.”
Just then, Noh Dae-sul’s voice rang out.
“So let go of my disciple, whom I took in when my time was running out.”
“Master!”
The joyful greeting turned instantly into a shriek—a pine cone Noh Dae-sul had thrown struck him on the forehead.
“What—what are you doing!”
“You wretch, Noh Dae-sul? Am I your friend?”
“My life’s hanging by a thread—is this really the time to worry about such things?”
“Even if death comes tomorrow, there are things you must uphold! And you won’t kill my disciple, will you?”
The last question was directed at Maeng Mang-do, the Bloodwind Swordmaster.
“As I said twenty years ago, Bang-ju, you are far too optimistic about everything.”
“That’s the secret to longevity.”
As Maeng Mang-do moved his arm, So Gi-cheon dangled limply with it.
“If this wretch behaves himself, I’ve no mind to kill him out of old affection for Bang-ju.”
“If you won’t kill him, why keep holding his arm like that? It must ache.”
“I said I wouldn’t kill him—I never said I’d let him go.”
“So you mean I’m to hang here until you grow old and die?”
A chestnut flew from Maeng Mang-do’s hand where the pine cone had struck him, and tears sprang involuntarily from his eyes along with the cry of pain.
“You, addressing me so formally? I see I’ll need to take Bang-ju’s disciple in hand and teach him some proper manners.”
“What do you intend to do with the boy?”
Maeng Mang-do let out a long sigh.
“As Bang-ju surely knows, I’m not the villain the Murim Alliance makes me out to be. Among the Orthodox Faction, only Bang-ju knows the truth.”
“It pains me that there’s no way to clear your name.”
“I’ll clear it myself.”
“How?”
Maeng Mang-do shook So Gi-cheon again.
“By using this wretch.”
“I’m relieved the boy might be useful for something, but how exactly will Gi-cheon help clear your name?”
“Well… in any case, I’ll be taking him with me for a while, so understand it that way.”
Noh Dae-sul, studying Maeng Mang-do with suspicious eyes, pressed further.
“You haven’t actually figured out a method, have you?”
“Why do you pry so persistently? Either stop me or get out of my way!”
“I won’t block you—there are plenty of roads. But before you go, swear you won’t kill the boy.”
“As long as he doesn’t do anything foolish, I’ve no reason to kill him.”
Maeng Mang-do was about to leap away when So Gi-cheon cried out.
“Wait!”
“What?”
“Doesn’t anyone care what I think?”
Maeng Mang-do simply leaped away, making it clear he did not.

***

Kang Chan-sik dropped to all fours with his palms pressed to the ground, stealing a glance at Jang Man-dok from the corner of his eye.
Jang Man-dok’s eyes went wide.
That wasn’t it either. This time he tried a mounted stance, but Jang Man-dok’s expression only grew more forbidding.
‘Why did I come here?’
In truth, he’d come to show a little muscle.
It was entirely his effort that had resulted in a letter being sent through the Censorate to the Provincial Governor of Hapbi.
Since that action had spared the Oseong Merchant Association from government harassment, he’d hoped for some praise—but he’d chosen both the wrong place and the wrong time.
Geom U-bin and three of the Hyeolpung Saja were away; only Jang Man-dok remained.
Jang Man-dok’s mood had soured considerably.
He’d been dreaming of a quiet hour alone with Geom U-bin, but that time had proved far too brief.
Geom U-bin had left the Oseong Jang-won estate, abandoning Jang Man-dok to his own devices, and his spirits plummeted accordingly.
That was precisely when Kang Chan-sik arrived.
Hearing from a laborer that everyone had gathered in the Back Garden, he found a scene from hell itself—the most brutal punishment imaginable.
Hang Ju-sa-ung and Gwak Bong hung inverted from the rafters or balanced on a single hand in a handstand, their heads pressed firmly into the ground.
It was called training in name alone; in truth, it was punishment.
He’d turned to leave at the sight of it, but then he caught Jang Man-dok beckoning him with a single finger.
He should have fled at that moment.
But his nerve wasn’t stout enough to ignore a summons from Jang Man-dok, one of the Bloodwind Four Lions.
Jang Man-dok merely gestured.
Yet somehow it was immediately clear what he meant—to begin training. The prone position only widened Jang Man-dok’s eyes slightly, and the horse stance did the same.
‘Damn it all!’
Kang Chan-sik pressed his head to the ground and clasped his hands behind his back.
Rolling his eyes to their limit, he found Jang Man-dok’s expression utterly unreadable.
‘How do those two Lords read that face?’
At least it didn’t look angry, so the head-pressing must be the correct move.
Go Seo-bang, who was pressing his own head to the ground beside him, threw Kang Chan-sik a look of commiseration.
‘What was I even thinking coming here?’
Regret deepened with each passing moment, and so did the pain.
His head ached, and the torment crept downward into his neck and shoulders.
When he tried to release his clasped hands to brace himself against the ground, a heavy thud echoed through him.
One false move and those rolling feet might crush his skull. The Bloodwind Saja he knew was perfectly capable of such a thing.
A bowl of dark liquid was set before Kang Chan-sik, who was already drenched in sweat.
“Ugh!”
An involuntary groan escaped him at the acrid stench rising from whatever that was.
As his body instinctively lurched leftward to escape the smell, Go Seo-bang’s voice cracked out.
“Provincial Governor! Hold steady!”
The sheer firmness in that tone made him snap his posture straight again.
“If the Provincial Governor collapses, he has to drink that medicine.”
“What—what is that stuff?”
“According to our master, it’s good for the body, but unless it grants immortality, you’d choose pain over drinking it.”
“The smell alone suggests the taste will be dreadful.”
“The taste is the least of it. Drink that and you won’t sleep for three days.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll ache. You’ll need to visit the privy once every quarter hour. Once you’ve tasted it yourself, you’ll understand the agony.”
“I absolutely will not drink it.”
He made his vow firmly enough, but Kang Chan-sik’s body had begun to tremble.
“How—how much longer must we keep this up?”
“We have a set time, but the Provincial Governor…” Go Seo-bang trailed off. “Until he collapses, I’d wager.”
“Then there’s no way to avoid drinking that medicine!”
A wave of compassion washed over him, but it wasn’t strong enough to override his body’s failing will.
Thud!
Kang Chan-sik finally toppled to one side.
In falling, he should have knocked the bowl over, but his body wouldn’t obey him even that much.
The medicine bowl was placed directly before Kang Chan-sik’s gasping face.
“Ungh!”
The smell alone triggered a dry heave.
Jang Man-dok’s expressionless face gave a slight nod.
“Since it’s come to this, drinking it would be wisest.”
It would be wise to follow Go Seo-bang’s counsel. Kang Chan-sik drew a deep breath, pinched his nose, and brought the bowl to his lips.
Holding your nose dulled the vile taste considerably.
Until now, it always had.
But this nameless medicine was altogether different from anything he’d consumed before.
“Ungh! Ungh!”
What he’d forced down surged back up, and fearing death if he spat it out, he was forced to swallow it again—a cycle that repeated endlessly.
By volume alone, he must have drunk five bowlfuls.
Having drained the final bowl, Kang Chan-sik felt proud of himself and swore never to set foot in the Oseong Jang-won estate again.

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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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