Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 228

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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 228

“Growing closer to Oseong Jang-won doesn’t strike me as wise.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir. The masters of Oseong Jang-won are celebrated not only throughout Hangju but across Yonryeong Province for their virtuous deeds, and their young lord Geom U-bin displays the qualities of a true knight-errant—an exceptional talent by any measure.”
“Appearances can deceive. In the Murim, we cannot afford to judge by surface alone.”
Jegal Jong-ryeo wanted to snap back that the Murim Alliance had no business saying such things, but she swallowed her retort instead.
“I’m telling you this out of caution: it would be best if Oseong Jang-won kept its distance from us. I’ll contact the head of the Jegal Family about this matter shortly.”
“I confess I struggle to understand why you speak so poorly of Oseong Jang-won.”
“Since the opportunity has presented itself, perhaps an explanation is warranted. Have you heard that the patriarch of the Mo Yong Clan is dead?”
“The Jegal Family sent condolences to the funeral rites.”
“It seems that during that time, Oseong Jang-won’s young lord was in Yonryeong Province and met with the patriarch of the Mo Yong Clan.”
“Geom U-bin?”
“Beyond the Mo Yong patriarch’s death, Oseong Jang-won’s shadow looms over the center of the Huashan Faction’s sect leader’s disappearance as well. It’s possible—even likely—that Oseong Jang-won is connected to both incidents. If that’s true, maintaining good relations with the Murim Alliance would be difficult, wouldn’t it? And if the Jegal Family grows too close to Oseong Jang-won, we will face considerable hardship ourselves.”
“There is no possibility that Oseong Jang-won was involved in such matters. And even if they were, I’m certain they would have had legitimate reason.”
A deep furrow creased Seo Byeok-sang’s brow.
“You trust Oseong Jang-won that much?”
“Yes. The Oseong Jang-won I have come to know through direct observation, personal experience, and genuine connection is the warmest, most comfortable place in the world.”
Sam Gong Taesa spoke.
“There is no need to worry about matters that have not yet come to pass. You should take your leave now.”
As Jegal Jong-ryeo turned to leave after bowing, a rough voice rang out from the first floor.
“What in blazes are you doing here?”
The voice was so thunderously harsh, and belonged to Mun So-je—an elder of the Huashan Faction who served as sect leader pro tempore—that everyone rose to their feet.
The first floor beyond the railing was seized by knife-edge tension.
Eight disciples of the Huashan Faction, led by Mun So-je, had surrounded Geom U-bin in a tight ring.
“I wasn’t aware that eating a meal at an inn required someone’s permission.”
“Hold your tongue! We know full well that you are connected to the sect leader’s disappearance. How dare you stand there and wag that sly tongue of yours with such brazenness!”
“If that’s what you’re saying, then surely you must have iron-clad evidence in hand?”
“Once we seize you and conduct the interrogation, that itself will become the proof!”
Geom U-bin looked taken aback as he asked:
“Are you announcing that you intend to torture me here and now?”
For a Huashan elder—let alone the sect leader pro tempore—to say such things to a sixteen-year-old boy was a severe blow to his dignity.
“I will declare to the entire Murim that you are the criminal!”
Unable to restrain herself, Jegal Jong-ryeo leaped down to this floor and spoke.
“You have no evidence that Oseong Jang-won is the criminal.”
“The Jegal Family has no business intervening here.”
“Geom U-bin came as my guest at my invitation. Of course I must step in.”
“Bah! So he’s nothing but a cowardly wretch hiding in a woman’s skirts.”
At those words, Geom U-bin’s expression shifted—not to anger, but to amusement.
“If such a worthless wretch is the criminal behind the Huashan sect leader’s disappearance, then how utterly worthless must the Huashan Faction itself be?”
“What? What did you say? You impudent brat, running your mouth like that!”
Mun So-je’s hand moved to his sword hilt, but he could not draw it. For the Huashan elder to unsheathe his blade and overpower a mere boy with superior martial skill and numbers would look like nothing less than tyranny.
Though he did not draw his sword, the murderous intent that filled his bearing did not diminish.
In an inn packed with nearly a hundred Murim Alliance warriors, the roar of a Huashan elder’s voice was enough to make anyone’s nerve falter.
But Geom U-bin was not anyone.
As three sect leaders of the Gudaemun Faction—the Shaolin Abbot foremost among them—descended the stairs, and as the Huashan elder stood before him looking ready to draw at any moment, not a trace of fear showed in Geom U-bin’s expression.
If anything, a thin edge of defiance flickered there.
“If the Huashan Faction treats the lord of Oseong Jang-won with such contempt, should I take it that you’re declaring us enemies?”
“What? You think we fear some piddling Oseong Jang-won?”
“Then should I assume Oseong Jang-won need fear some piddling Huashan Faction?”
“What? What did you say? Piddling Huashan?”
When had the Huashan Faction ever suffered such an insult? Unable to contain his rage, Mun So-je finally drew his blade.
A chill emanated outward from the space between Geom U-bin and Mun So-je.
“Remember: the calamity you’ve invited today comes from that reckless tongue of yours!”
Geom U-bin’s gaze, which had been fixed on Mun So-je, shifted from right to left.
His eyes passed over the Huashan disciples who held the perimeter and came to rest on three figures who had descended from this level: the Shaolin Abbot and the others.
“Is the Murim Alliance joining this fight as well?”
Geom U-bin’s question defied everyone’s expectations.
From his stark black-and-white eyes alone, one could not discern what emotion he was feeling in this moment.
Yet one thing was certain.
Geom U-bin harbored no fear—not even as the Huashan Faction elder, sword drawn, radiated killing intent.
Seo Byeok-sang, finding himself intrigued by Geom U-bin, spoke.
“What would you do if the Murim Alliance chose to enter the fight?”
“Then I’d have to muster greater resolve.”
“Greater resolve? You mean you’d fight?”
“Faction Lord, if you were in my position, what would you do?”
The question hung too heavy for an easy answer, and silence settled—until Geom U-bin’s voice cut through it.
“A man at the center of the Murim Alliance would never find himself in such straits. I’ve asked foolishly.”
Screech!
When Geom U-bin rose, his chair scraped backward across the floor with a sharp, raucous sound.
“The Oseong Jang-won does not flee under any circumstance. So please, Elder, unsheathe that sword of yours.”
Geom U-bin stood with no apparent intention to dodge—he even clasped his hands behind his back. His posture left Mun So-je flustered.
He yearned to strike Geom U-bin down, to end him here and now—yet to do so would drag not only his own name but the entire Huashan Faction’s honor through the mud.
“What troubles you? Does having the stage laid bare make you hesitant?”
The way Geom U-bin needled Mun So-je, one would think he genuinely wished to fight.
Jegal Jong-ryeo, held back by the presence of so many luminaries of the Murim, finally could not contain herself.
“U-bin, enough.”
“This is not your concern, Lady Jegal.”
“U-bin……”
“If the Murim Alliance wields its strength to oppress the innocent, then a common man’s cudgel raised against a jackal possesses more justice than all the Murim Alliance combined. Does the blade you now raise against me contain even a grain of righteousness and virtue, Elder?”
Mun So-je, animated entirely by rage and devoid of justice, found himself wordless.
“Amitabha Buddha. Today this knight-errant grants us profound enlightenment. What difference is there between power without righteousness and the way of demons? Elder, you would do well to lower that sword.”
“But Abbot……!”
“Should true righteousness and virtue truly inhabit Elder Mun’s blade, I shall trouble myself no further.”
No matter how thick his skin, Mun So-je could not bring himself to claim he’d drawn the sword in the name of virtue and righteousness.
“It seems our awaited guest has arrived. Shall we go upstairs?”
The moment Sam Gong Taesa finished speaking, four men entered the inn.
A man in his late fifties stepped through first, followed by three attendants.
Jegal Jong-ryeo leaned close and whispered to Geom U-bin.
“That’s Hwang Bo-un, the patriarch of the Hwangbo Clan.”
Mun So-je at last sheathed his sword and ascended with Hwang Bo-un to the upper floor.
‘So they were waiting for the Hwangbo patriarch all along? But why?’
The only explanation that came to mind was the death of Hwang Bo Ji-myeong, the young lord of the Hwangbo Clan.
Hwang Bo-un had ridden this long journey seeking vengeance for his slain son against Hyeol-geom Sura.
‘So Hoon’s investigation was correct after all.’
The records had been so thorough that Geom U-bin had never doubted Jegal Hoon—and now, with this confirmation, he felt certain the account in that ledger was true.
‘They’ve brought even the Shaolin Temple’s abbot to capture Hyeol-geom Sura? That seems like overkill.’
As Geom U-bin pondered this, Jeom So-i emerged carrying the food she’d ordered. Uncertain in the tense atmosphere, she hesitated until Geom U-bin spoke to her.
“Please, bring it over. We should eat while it’s hot.”
Dumplings, stir-fried vegetables, and lotus root soup—all still steaming.
As Jeom So-i set the dishes down, glancing nervously at those around her, Geom U-bin picked up his chopsticks.
“Will you be able to eat?”
Jegal Jong-ryeo’s question drew a matter-of-fact reply from Geom U-bin.
“There’s no reason I shouldn’t.”
And indeed, Geom U-bin ate well. Only then did Jegal Jong-ryeo, sitting across from him, reluctantly take up her own chopsticks.
“I invited you, after all. I can’t let you eat alone.”
“Quite right. Food always tastes better when shared.”
They ate their meal as though nothing had happened, with evident relish.

***

Nam Jae-seok vaulted over the wall of a house at the town’s edge.
Dogs barking from all quarters seemed to announce his presence to the pursuing Murim Alliance warriors.
He dropped into the courtyard and pressed his back against the wall, breathing hard. He’d gone to meet Hyeol-geom Sura, but his martial arts proved too meager to pierce the Heavenly Net the Murim Alliance had woven.
Caught at the foot of Cheomgeom Mountain, where Hyeol-geom Sura was said to hide, Nam Jae-seok had been forced to retreat all the way down to the town.
Crouched in darkness, he steadied his breath and moved with cautious steps.
He had to breach the Murim Alliance’s Heavenly Net again and meet Hyeol-geom Sura, no matter what it took.
What quickened his pace was the sound of an emergency whistle carrying over the wall.
At that shrill cry—the kind that promised capture was mere moments away—Nam Jae-seok vaulted over the adjacent compound’s wall without hesitation.
“There!”
The shout and whistle rang out harshly, and roughly a dozen Murim Alliance warriors began pursuing Nam Jae-seok.
By any objective standard, Nam Jae-seok’s martial arts were not weak. Yet he lacked the skill to surpass Murim Alliance warriors, and his lightness technique fell short on that same measure.
He crossed the village, vaulting over dozens of walls and rooftops, but eventually Nam Jae-seok found himself cornered in the back garden of the largest building in town—an inn.
The space, with its pond and pavilion, was broad enough to accommodate Nam Jae-seok and the ten Murim Alliance warriors with room to spare.
Nam Jae-seok drew his blade, but he harbored no intention of fighting the Murim Alliance warriors.
“My aim in seeking out Hyeol-geom Sura is to share information of grave importance, not to harm the Murim Alliance!”
“You can share that vital information once you come with us,” came the reply.
The man with the thick voice was Baek Do-myeong, a squad commander of the Chuyeong Order.
“There’s no time to waste! I am the sole survivor of the Blood Incident in Dalimdol Valley, Sichuan Province, the crime Hyeol-geom Sura is known to have committed! In truth, that affair was not her doing but the work of a band of masked ones!”
Because it was the back garden of an inn, any guest with restless nights and keen ears would have heard Nam Jae-seok’s outcry.
Two such guests—Do Pyeong-su and Jang Man-dok—lodged at that very inn, both blessed with deep sleep yet keen ears.
Waking at the crude bloodlust in the air, they caught Nam Jae-seok’s words clearly enough.
Whether Hyeol-geom Sura lived or died mattered little to them. Thus her false accusation was equally beneath their concern.
“Why’s he causing a fuss out here?”
Do Pyeong-su rose from his bed and moved toward the window.
He took a few steps while deciding whether to kill those men or simply drive them off. Then something struck his back.
It was a peanut, thrown by Jang Man-dok, who had also awoken.
“What? You’ve had a good thought? What sort of thought? We should save that man being hunted? Why take on such tedious trouble? Ah, I see! If we save him, we’ll have an excuse to meet with him!”
They had already pinpointed Geom U-bin’s location. Yet they had not sought him out at once, lacking sufficient reason to do so.
Geom U-bin had departed Oseong Jang-won alone, leaving Jang Man-dok behind. Appearing before him unannounced risked offending him.
So they had been pacing anxiously when the man being pursued presented itself as the perfect pretext to meet Geom U-bin.
While the man and the Murim Alliance warriors continued their standoff in the back garden, the two prepared to depart.

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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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