Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 49

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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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#049

Seo Seok-san leveled a reproach at Do Pyeong-su.
“Is there any harm in making someone who walks crawl instead? One wrong mix and he might spend the rest of his life bedridden. Like all crude martial arts, there’s bound to be some weakness. We just need to shore that up. Add a little refinement to his strengths and he could be three or four times stronger than he is now. From what I hear, he wasn’t just some bloodstained thug. Seems he had quite the name once.”
“I’m for it.”
Do Pyeong-su turned to Yeon Geum-hong. “Is this something we decide by majority vote?”
“Then don’t teach him if you don’t want to.”
“That won’t do. I’ll be damned if my second disciple ends up weaker than yours.”
And so Do Pyeong-su, who’d started this whole argument, found himself reluctantly roped into the arrangement.
Either way, the Bloodwind Four Lions had made their decision: they would teach martial arts to Hang Ju-sa-byeon. Until now it had been more a case of learn if you like, ignore if you don’t, but with competition on the table, the days of half-hearted training were over.
Was this fortune or calamity for Hang Ju-sa-byeon?
“Really, Master? Is that truly so?”
“You’re going to teach us martial arts?”
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
Hang Ju-sa-byeon cried out in unison.
Even Se-hwa had rejoiced. They’d assumed she had no interest in martial arts, having never encountered them in her life, but Se-hwa had proved surprisingly apt at the Inner Energy Cultivation Method and Hidden Projectile Technique that Yeon Geum-hong casually tossed her way.
Now she could catch mice with her hidden projectiles—no small feat. If she could catch mice, surely pinning down a much larger target would be far easier.
“Master! I’ll work my hardest!”
“Good, good. Train hard.”
Hang Ju-sa-byeon beamed as though he’d already become a master, but their joy proved short-lived.
Starting that very night, cries of anguish began to echo through the halls.
“M-Master… please, just a moment to rest…”
Go Seo-bang’s plea was cut short by Seo Seok-san’s glacial voice.
“Rest? We’ve barely started!”
Go Seo-bang had been wielding a Heavy Halberd weighing sixty catties for a full double hour without break.
Had he simply swung it, he might have lasted longer.
But he was executing the opening forms of the Hoepung Sword Technique he’d learned—at one-twentieth normal speed.
The horizontal cuts moved so slowly a slug could have outpaced them.
Whenever his trembling arms slipped and the blade dipped, or whenever he tensed up and lifted it even an inch too high, Seo Seok-san’s stone came flying without mercy.
Crack!
He couldn’t even clutch his head and collapse.
That would add another quarter-hour to his time.
Not that he could fathom how much difference an extra quarter-hour truly made. Go Seo-bang simply yearned—desperately, madly—to hear Seo Seok-san say the word: “Stop.”
“Stop.”
The moment those words reached his ears, Go Seo-bang collapsed where he stood.
His heart hammered so violently he thought it might burst through his ribs, gasping for air. Then Seo Seok-san’s voice cut through again.
“Fifteen minutes rest!”
‘Damn it!’
That night, Hang Ju-sa-byeon never made it back to his quarters.
The moment training finished, he’d exhausted himself so utterly that he simply collapsed where he was and fell asleep.
The servants who came to clean at dawn discovered them and nearly screamed.
“S-sir! We thought you were dead!”
Dead might have been preferable.
Even after waking, his bones ached and his joints moved stiffly, like a wooden puppet’s, each part working independently.
‘The others can’t have suffered this badly, surely?’
Go Seo-bang thought as he creaked to his feet.
‘My cultivation practice must have been the hardest on me.’
Hang Ju-sa-byeon glanced at each other’s faces and let out a long sigh.
“We look like ghosts.”
The Gangseо Samak saw Se-hwa’s face without makeup for the first time that day.
Her hair was matted into a nest, and her sweat-soaked clothes clung to her filthily. Yet she seemed wholly unconcerned.
“Will you let us rest today, at least?”
“If today’s like yesterday, you’re signing up for death!”
Gal Ma-pyeong cried out, clutching his chest. The mere act of shouting sent muscle soreness shooting through him. Muscle soreness in the chest, no less! Curse it!

“I should soak in some warm water.”
Se-hwa turned and froze at the sight of Yeon Geum-hong.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Master.”
“Why do you look like that? Did you sleep rough last night?”
“Well, yes. I wonder why myself?”
“Tsk, tsk! I had a feeling something like this might happen, so I had the bathhouse water heated. Your training yesterday must have been grueling—go soak yourself in that warm water.”
At Yeon Geum-hong’s kindness, tears welled in Se-hwa’s eyes, while the Gangseо Samak watched her with envy. The other three masters would never show such meticulous care.
But they knew the remaining three of them only in snatches.
“What are you all doing standing around? Get into the warm water and relax those muscles! Rest is just as important as training!”
‘After all, our masters truly have warmth in their hearts!’
The four of them, tears of gratitude streaming down their faces, stepped into the warm water the Bloodwind Four Lions had prepared.
Then they had to scream—their insides felt as though they might burst from the pain. The warm water was no mere warm water; it was a specially prepared medicinal bath concocted by Jang Man-dok.
“Two double hours. If you come out before then, it becomes four.”
Soaking in that medicinal bath seemed preferable to training—that was how unbearable the pain was. The four of them barely managed to endure the full two double hours before emerging. But the moment they resumed their training, they could no longer tell which was worse: the bath or the practice itself.
Both seemed equally lethal.
After four days had passed, the half-decimated Hang Ju-sa-byeon gathered in one place.
What binds people most tightly is shared suffering.
“If we keep up with this training, we’re going to die.”
No one objected. Whether from exhaustion, agony, or some other cause—they all felt death creeping near.
“Should we tell the masters we want to stop training? Honestly, what good is getting stronger here in Murim anyway?”
The Gangseо Samak no longer harbored ambitions of fame in Murim.
Over the past three years, they had gradually transformed from Murim martial artists into workers at a distillery. By now, even the prospect of spending the rest of their lives this way, aging and dying in this place, held no particular sorrow.
And they were no ordinary workers—when they went into town, people called them masters.
“Why invite suffering upon ourselves?”
“What would the masters say if we asked to stop training?”
There was no way to know without asking.
The Bloodwind Four Lions were still enigmatic even after three years of observation.
“Surely they wouldn’t kill us.”
But that much confidence had taken root.
In truth, it seemed the Bloodwind Four Lions would no longer pursue them even if they fled.
Of course, they had no intention of fleeing.
They were more satisfied with life at Oseong Jang-won than they would be living as the Gangseо Samak or Se-hwa in the wider Murim.
“Shouldn’t we at least bring it up?”
And they looked at one another.
Someone would have to speak first and gauge the reaction. Their eyes darted fiercely as each sized up the other three.
“Right, I knew this would happen.”
As the silence stretched, Se-hwa was the first to let out a long sigh.
“How do you hang a bell around a cat’s neck?”
“Come on! You’re the one Master Yeon favors most among us, aren’t you?”
At Go Seo-bang’s words, Se-hwa’s voice erupted.
“Favor? My hide’s peeling off—look at my face! This isn’t the face of someone being favored, it’s tree bark!”
Gal Ma-pyeong snapped his fingers.
“I’ve got an idea! We drive out all the workers!”
“What? How is that a good idea?”
“If there are no workers, what happens? The estate falls apart, right? Then we’d have to do the estate work ourselves, and naturally our cultivation time vanishes!”
It sounded almost plausible—but there was something reckless about it.
“What if they tell us to do both the estate work and cultivation?”
“Is that possible? No matter how harsh the masters are, they wouldn’t assign something entirely impossible.”
Go Seo-bang nodded.
“That’s right! It might actually work.”
“How do we get the workers to quit?”
At Se-hwa’s question, O Tong-su spoke up.
“Even a third of what we endure would make them quit on the spot. We start work earlier and eliminate the quitting time. Work them properly and none of them last more than four days.”
“You lot! What are you doing here?”
Their scheming was cut short by Geom U-bin’s sudden appearance.
“M-Master! We’re resting a bit after lunch.”
“I hear you’ve all been working hard at your martial arts training lately. The other masters are quite pleased about it.”
“Yes, yes. It’s a disciple’s duty to bring joy to their masters. Haha!”
“We’re doing our best not to bring disgrace to our masters’ names.”
Geom U-bin nodded with satisfaction.
“When your martial arts progress, the masters will be pleased too. That’s why I’ve made some preparations. From now on, you won’t have to worry about household chores—you can dedicate yourselves entirely to your training.”
“Pardon? What do you mean, sir?”
“I’m planning to hire more servants for the housework. If you’re all to focus on martial cultivation, we’ll need more hands.”
Hire new servants? Here they were plotting to drive out the existing ones!
“N-no, sir! That’s not necessary! Please don’t waste money like that—”
Geom U-bin turned and left before O Tong-su could finish.
“It’s fine. You’re more important than money. I’ll pick up new workers after I finish the alcohol delivery!”
They could only watch as Geom U-bin’s figure receded into the distance.
“We’re finished!”
Their ingenious scheme had collapsed before it could even begin, undone by Geom U-bin’s own hand.
“You fools! Are you just going to stand there breathing all day!”
At Do Pyeong-su’s shout, they exhaled long, weary sighs.
‘Maybe I’ll get used to it eventually.’
Surrender brings its own comfort.

***

“The new steward is Baek No-pal.”
He was a thin man in his late twenties with a nervous, irritable expression.
“I heard that Ha Steward resigned.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know why he left so suddenly?”
“I’ve no idea. If a monk dislikes the temple, it’s natural he’d leave—isn’t it?”
It was hard to believe that Ha Seok-mun had abandoned Wol-ha Giru out of dislike. Over more than ten years of service, Geom U-bin knew well how deeply attached Ha had been to this place.
Still, to keep bringing up someone who had already left was hardly courteous to his successor.
Geom U-bin observed the proprieties, but Baek No-pal did not.
Though Ha Seok-mun had held the same position, he had shown respect toward Geom U-bin. Baek No-pal, by contrast, treated him like a child on the street—with nothing more.
“Leave the alcohol there. The banknote’s here. Since when is liquor this expensive?”
He dropped the draft before Geom U-bin could even take it, and it fell to the floor.
As Geom U-bin bent to pick it up, a new voice sounded.
“Are you perhaps the liquor merchant?”
Straightening, Geom U-bin felt a jolt of surprise.
Though his years on earth had not been many, even if he lived a hundred more, he doubted he would meet anyone thinner than the man before him.
The thin man’s height was so striking that he resembled a long broom with clothes draped over it.
“Yeo Dong-sul, this is not your concern. Dealing with liquor merchants is my—”
Baek No-pal’s words died as Yeo Dong-sul’s hand flew out and caught him across the cheek, sending him sprawling.
“Oof!”
After flinging Baek No-pal aside, Yeo Dong-sul bowed apologetically.
“I sincerely apologize. That fool has no manners and frequently makes mistakes. Please allow me to make amends.”
Rudeness was troublesome, but excessive politeness could make others uncomfortable just the same.
Worse, Geom U-bin sensed no genuine feeling in Yeo Dong-sul’s words.
“It’s all right. I should be going.”
This was not a place where he wished to linger.
Something told him that Wol-ha Giru would only feel more uncomfortable to him from now on.
After Geom U-bin left, Yeo Dong-sul’s eyes narrowed in anger as he glared at Baek No-pal.
Just as his fury was about to boil over, those thin, cruel slits frightened the rage away, replacing it with dread.
“Why… why are you looking at me like that?”
“Are you brainless? Don’t you know we still need Sagi Liquor for the establishment?”
“But I already bought it.”
“If the Oseong Jang-won cuts off its supply because of your arrogance, what then?”
“S-surely they wouldn’t do that…”
“Sagi Liquor is worthless if we can’t sell it! Don’t you understand that Oseong Jang-won holds the keys? Why provoke the one holding them?”
“You’re telling me to grovel before a child?”
Yeo Dong-sul tapped Baek No-pal’s cheek as if to soothe it, but even that touch caused pain.
“Wait a little longer. A master of spirits is coming from Beijing soon—someone who can make any kind of liquor identically.”

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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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