Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 48

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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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#048

“Am I better than Boram’s tail?”
Gal Ma-pyeong was asking with complete earnestness.
The bright, eager eyes of the middle-aged man drew a sigh from Hyeolpung Saja.
‘Even so, he’s still my disciple.’
When Hyeolpung Saja turned away without a word, Gal Ma-pyeong spoke carefully.
“I’ll attach it back properly.”
“Attach? What’s the use of that! What does it matter if a dog loses its tail!”
Seo Seok-san, suddenly irritable, snapped the words out and left. Do Pyeong-su then asked.
“By the way, how did Boram’s tail end up like that?”
“Some men from the Hangju Underworld tried to steal Sagi Liquor by scaling the wall. A fight broke out with them, and in the chaos…… that’s when it happened.”
“What happened to the ones who scaled the wall?”
Gal Ma-pyeong answered hesitantly.
“Regrettably, four were killed, and for the remaining eleven, we merely…… disciplined them somewhat.”
Though he said “somewhat,” five of them would have to subsist on gruel for the rest of their lives, and three would live out their days as cripples.
“You let them live? Why?”
Do Pyeong-su blinked, asking in disbelief.
“At first I was angry and went a bit too far with my hands, but I thought about it—they hadn’t committed crimes worthy of death, and it didn’t seem right to commit murder in Oseong Jang-won without permission from the masters and our teachers.”
Go Seo-bang took up where O Tong-su, his words trailing off, had left off.
“It wasn’t worth risking our lives over. So halfway through, we decided to just let them go.”
Do Pyeong-su nodded as he listened to both of them.
These men had never been gentle with human life. Otherwise, how would they have earned the epithet of the Three Evils of Gangseong? Men capable enough to wander the Murim with such a fearsome name attached to them.
At least, in their own eyes it had seemed unremarkable.
Yet such men had shown mercy—whether out of guilt or simple caution—sparing the very ones who would have killed them. That alone proved that something had changed since they’d come to Oseong Jang-won.
‘Though not entirely because of us.’
If one could learn compassion from Hyeolpung Saja, then perhaps even a demon could attain enlightenment.
‘The senior has truly transformed even these men.’
Do Pyeong-su joined the three who sat at the Pavilion by the Lake. Seo Seok-san and the others were all in rather subdued spirits.
Once Do Pyeong-su was seated, Seo Seok-san filled his cup and asked.
“Was I really that harsh with my disciples?”
“You weren’t alone. We were all the same.”
“Then we were all equally harsh. How could a disciple worry about dying over a dog losing its tail?”
Yeon Geum-hong spoke as if to comfort him.
“He probably wasn’t truly worried. He was just speaking carelessly. If it bothers you that much, you can simply treat them better from now on.”
A brief silence fell.
After a round of drinks had made its way around, Do Pyeong-su asked Yeon Geum-hong.
“But what does it mean to treat them well?”
And silence fell again.
Even Seo Seok-san and Yeon Geum-hong, whom they’d believed to be clever, had no sense of how one ought to treat disciples kindly.
“We can’t do it the way we do for the masters and senior, can we?”
“Have you lost your mind? We’d sooner kill them outright.”
“Do we have to ask the senior about this too?”
At Do Pyeong-su’s words, Seo Seok-san gave a sharp retort.
“If we did, the senior would think we’re complete fools.”
They all nodded in agreement. In the end, they reached no conclusion and merely emptied their cups.
Just as their prepared liquor was running low, Geom U-bin returned.
The first to greet Geom U-bin were four dogs.
“Eh? Boram! What happened to your tail?”
Of course, the question hadn’t been asked with any expectation of an answer from the dog. Gal Ma-pyeong, rushing forward with a delighted face, resolved Geom U-bin’s curiosity.
“He was injured while hunting!”
The perfectly practiced lie—rehearsed a hundred times for flawless delivery—was delivered because of Hyeolpung Saja’s firm insistence that there was no need to inform Geom U-bin of the Hangju Underworld’s intrusion.
“Did he meet a tiger? But then…….”
Geom U-bin asked Hang Ju-sa-byeon, who stood nearby.
“Duck-Walking Training is finished, then?”
“Yes! The masters said that physical training ends today, now that they’ve returned!”
Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s spirited reply made him look pleased.
“Looks like the disciples are happy to be home after so long. Same goes for the staff.”
Do Pyeong-su stepped into the courtyard and asked Geom U-bin.
“How did things go in the city? Did you manage the contract with Seoyang Pyoguk well?”
“Yes. Seoyang Pyoguk agreed to handle the deliveries. But the chief manager at Wolha Giru didn’t look well. He seemed to have something on his mind.”
Go Seo-bang spoke.
“It’s probably because the owner of Wolha Giru died. He likely passed away either the day the master left or the next day.”
“Then who’s running Wolha Giru?”
“I think his son is running it? But I doubt Wolha Giru is even on his mind. From what I hear, the owner of Wolha Giru is supposedly the richest man not just in Hangju but in all of Zhejiang Province! The spoiled only son must have hit the jackpot.”
Now that he thought about it, despite all those years of business dealings, he’d never once laid eyes on the owner of Wolha Giru.
“Why worry about such things? Let’s think about what we should do next. Should we take another family trip?”
Geom U-bin smiled and answered Do Pyeong-su’s question.
“I need to train in martial arts.”
“Ah, yes, of course. That’s what matters most.”
Watching Geom U-bin grow stronger day by day was fulfilling and joyful. Yet nothing quite compared to the pleasure of a family journey.
‘When will we take another long trip to deliver liquor?’

***

When Gong Seong-tak’s foot connected with a head, skulls shattered; when met by a blade, both sword and wielder flew backward in pieces.
No one could withstand his Jinchen Thunder Kick.
Corpses piled in his wake, and streets ran red with blood.
“Stop him! What are you all doing standing idle? Forward, now!”
A man wearing a crimson crown and resplendent crimson robe foamed at the mouth as he shrieked.
It was Bang Su-in, the sect leader of Obanggyo.
Well past eighty years old, yet still a creature of pure greed.
He was one of Fukien Province’s deepest problems—a sect harboring many first-rate masters among its disciples, making it too dangerous for anyone to move against carelessly.
Yet Gong Seong-tak had come.
―Surrender your neck, and I will spare the rest.
Bang Su-in had sneered, and Gong Seong-tak, as if he’d expected no less, showed no mercy in his methods.
Not a single disciple escaped his lethal strike.
They all understood better than anyone that once you’d thrown in your lot with Obanggyo, there was no path to redemption.
Corpses mounted throughout the fortress-like structure built into the mountainside.
Among the over two hundred bodies lay thirty-eight of Obanggyo’s vaunted elite—the sect leader’s personal guard.
Now only seven guardsmen remained, stationed around the sect leader.
As Gong Seong-tak approached Bang Su-in, archers appeared atop the temple roof and loosed their arrows.
Thirty arrows found their marks without exception, each striking Gong Seong-tak true.
And not a single one remained embedded.
Gong Seong-tak’s Body Protection Qi was far too dense to pierce with ordinary arrows.
His gaze fixed on the thirty archers above. He could have launched himself up and dispatched them in moments, but chose instead to conserve time.
Gong Seong-tak’s raised foot came down against the earth.
Crash!
The shockwave released with full martial force was indistinguishable from an earthquake.
Cracks spiderwebbed through the building’s pillars, and the structure began to collapse. Three pillars were enough to bring the whole edifice down.
The archers on the roof shrieked and vanished beneath the rubble. Eight more came at him next, but their weapons couldn’t even graze a single strand of his hair as it fluttered in the wind.
Now truly only the seven guardsmen remained.
“Are you from Jinchen Yilmun…? Why has the sect leader come here to do this?”
Though Gong Seong-tak had revealed nothing of his identity, Bang Su-in knew—likely because someone among the guard had informed him.
“You killed my parents. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“I killed your parents? What… what on earth are you talking about?”
“Gong Jin-su and Yeo Un. My parents were disciples of Obanggyo.”
Bang Su-in’s eyes widened to the size of lamps. Fury bloomed across his face in the same instant.
“You whelp! Our sect upholds a law of loyalty passed down through generations! If your parents were disciples, then so are you! Kneel this instant!”
Gong Seong-tak knelt for no one—instead, he rolled forward.
The distance between them evaporated. The final seven who guarded Bang Su-in were first-rate masters, but they were not equipped to contend with the Jinchen Thunder Kick.
Gong Seong-tak dispatched the seven with seven precise kicks.
At last, only Bang Su-in remained.
Gong Seong-tak regarded him with an emotionless stare.
How many times had he imagined this moment? Easily more than ten thousand.
He had envisioned just as many ways to make Bang Su-in’s death as agonizing as possible. Yet faced with the trembling, broken old man sitting soaked in his own filth, the urge simply was not there.
“Please, spare me. I beg you…….”
He couldn’t bear to hear that murky voice any longer.
As Gong Seong-tak’s foot cleaved the empty air, Bang Su-in’s head burst like an overripe melon.
His revenge was finished.
He had completed one of the two most important things in his life, yet he felt far less unburdened than he’d imagined.
“Perhaps it’s because one more thing remains.”
Gong Seong-tak went to a mountain stream, bathed, and washed his clothes.
He cleaned himself this way because he had to return to the world of men.
With his revenge complete, the last great task of his life lay ahead: finding a disciple worthy of inheriting the Jinchen Yilmun Martial Arts.
Five years, if he found a true prodigy. A full decade, perhaps, for one of exceptional talent.
The thought of accepting a dull student made him shudder.
He would endure every hardship his own master had inflicted on him.
―Don’t you dare come looking for me! When I think of the suffering you’ve caused me!
Those were his master’s parting words as she drove him away, saying she had taught him all she could. Twenty years after performing the Nine-Bow Ceremony before her, he was cast out.
He had never achieved Grand Completion in the Jinchen Thunder Kick.
Nor had his master, nor his master’s master—both had fallen short of that summit by far.
Gong Seong-tak himself had barely reached the Eighth Stage Realm, enough to emerge into Murim and settle his long-desired blood debt.
Any disciple he took need only reach that level.
He would wish for them to achieve Grand Completion through bone-grinding effort, but even if they merely preserved the Jinchen Yilmun lineage at that stage, it would suffice.
“Now it’s only a matter of finding a disciple, and everything will be done.”
Gong Seong-tak gazed at the sky and sighed.
Following the simple truth that one must go where people gather to find people, he set his path toward a major city.

***

“Thank you, Master!”
Do Pyeong-su walked toward the pavilion, leaving O Tong-su bowing deeply behind him.
The three men gathered in the pavilion drinking—Jang Man-dok communicating through expression—all spoke at once.
“What are you doing?”
“The master just taught one of his disciples a martial technique.”
“So eagerly?”
“It’s admirable, how he sweats through his cultivation practice.”
“So only O Tong-su sweated during his practice? All the rest reeked of liquor.”
At Seo Seok-san’s words, Do Pyeong-su took a drink of his own wine and spoke.
“We only teach because we’re told to. We amuse ourselves playing the teacher while avoiding work, and frankly, watching them suffer is entertaining enough. Ah! There’s nothing like my wine, I tell you.”
“But have the disciples’ martial arts improved much?”
No one answered Yeon Geum-hong’s question because none of them had ever bothered to check.
“After all that hardship, they must have improved. If they hadn’t, would they even be human?”
“Those brats have been under us for over three years now, haven’t they?”
“Has it really been that long already? Time flies.”
Yeon Geum-hong let out a long sigh.
“We’ve been rather callous toward the children.”
Hwajeoksan had never granted the Bloodwind Four Lions the Nine-Bow Ceremony, but she had taught her martial arts with genuine sincerity.
“Shall we teach them properly from now on? Teaching martial arts is being kind to them, isn’t it? Don’t you think?”
At Seo Seok-san’s words, Do Pyeong-su—who had actually been the one teaching earnestly—raised an objection.
“Those dullards? Besides, they’re already well past fifty. How much can their martial arts possibly improve?”
“Have you forgotten what the master said—that effort defeats talent?”
“Talent depends on the person, and effort depends on the person too. If those fools are to put in effort worthy of our notice, they’ll be dead in three days.”
Yeon Geum-hong spoke.
“Lower your standards a little. To be honest, I didn’t expect much from Se-hwa, but she throws her strikes rather well.”
“So what? Are we really going to pass our Core Martial Arts on to them?”

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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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