Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 50

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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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#050

“You mean Wang Wi-ju? The one who’s been counterfeiting spirits for the shipments to Hwangseong?”
In truth, Wang Wi-ju wasn’t his real name at all.
No one knew his true name—only his surname, Wang, had become known, so they simply called him Wang Wi-ju.
“That’s right. We can’t keep doing this insane business, paying out twenty Silver Coins at a time just to receive counterfeit spirits. Is Ye-hyang ready?”
Baek No-pal’s face twisted into an expression of discomfort.
“Well… Ye-hyang is a courtesan apprentice, not an actual courtesan. So forcing her into this feels a bit…”
Crack!
The slap sent Baek No-pal’s face spinning to the side.
“Do you want to do your job properly or not? Do you have any idea how important the gentleman arriving today is? We should seat the daughter of a provincial governor beside him, never mind a courtesan apprentice!”
“W-wait, who is this gentleman? You’re talking about Jo Gil, aren’t you? He’s just a friend.”
“You fool. He was only a friend back when you two ran around together in Beijing. Is the gentleman still playing around with us now?”
“No?”
“Then who’s the one paying you?”
“J-Jo… Jo Gil. No, wait—the gentleman.”
“Exactly. The man who feeds you, houses you, and lets you have your way with women—you don’t get to call his name so casually.”
“I’ll be careful. Either way, I’ll figure out how to manage Ye-hyang…”
Yeo Dong-sul didn’t give Baek No-pal a chance to finish.
“Enough! Go fetch that girl!”
By the time Yeo Dong-sul climbed to the second floor of the pavilion, not even a quarter of an hour had passed before he encountered Ye-hyang.
Ye-hyang was every bit as beautiful as the rumors claimed, and yet she possessed a purity entirely unbecoming of a courtesan.
“She certainly knows how to make herself valuable.”
“W-who are you?”
When Yeo Dong-sul arranged his features to intimidate, his target invariably felt the full weight of that fear.
“They say you refuse to entertain guests.”
“Yes.”
Ye-hyang answered with unwavering firmness.
“I am not a courtesan.”
“I know. Still, today you’ll have to make an exception.”
Even through her fear, Ye-hyang spoke with resolve.
“I will not.”
“I don’t dislike stubborn ones.”
Yeo Dong-sul rose from his seat.
“I find breaking that stubbornness entertaining.”
As his foot cut through the air, Ye-hyang doubled over, clutching her lower belly.
“Ah!”
She cried out as she fell, her breathing ragged as she fought against the pain.
Another kick came down on her prostrate form.
Ye-hyang tumbled across the floor, landing on her back to stare up at the ceiling.
Her mouth hung open, but no scream came. Yeo Dong-sul grabbed her by the hair and dragged her upright into a chair.
“How much money do you owe this pavilion?”
When she couldn’t answer through the pain, Yeo Dong-sul supplied the answer himself.
“One hundred and eighty Silver Coins.”
Courtesans might appear lavish on the surface, but most of them lived by borrowing from their future—and Ye-hyang was no exception.
Of course, roughly one hundred of those one hundred and eighty coins represented debt that had swelled with interest upon interest.
“You can pay it back here at the Wolha Pavilion, or you can disappear into the mountains to pick tea leaves. If you work it off here with real determination, six months should do it—but if you go to the mountains, you’ll slave away your whole life and still never pay it back. And in those mountains, with starving men crawling all over the place, you’ll end up a courtesan anyway. A courtesan who doesn’t even get paid.”
Yeo Dong-sul leaned close to Ye-hyang’s ear, just as her breathing had begun to steady.
“You decide. Will you keep working here, or will you go to the mountains?”
He offered a choice, but the reality allowed for none.
“I… I’ll keep working here.”
“As what?”
Ye-hyang’s voice trembled with tears, and she couldn’t bring herself to say the word. Yeo Dong-sul asked once more.
“What will you work as?”
Only then did Ye-hyang, tears welling in her eyes, finally speak.
“A… courtesan.”
“No, not quite. But you only need to come over when I need you. So don’t make that sad face.”
Yeo Dong-sul added as he stepped outside.
“Besides, that’s how things will be for everyone soon enough.”

***

What stopped Geom U-bin in his tracks was a desolate building standing before him.
Once Wolha Pavilion had monopolized the counterfeit spirits trade, most of Hangju’s premium courtesans’ establishments had either closed their doors or faced imminent collapse.
The building Geom U-bin now regarded was the Hangho Pavilion, in which Se-hwa held a stake.
Though the shuttered Hangho Pavilion was searching for new ownership, finding someone willing to operate a high-class establishment in Hangju had become nearly impossible.
Three establishments had already failed entirely.
And there were just as many others on the verge of closing.
He had inevitably become the sole supplier to Wolha Pavilion, and though the consequences were plain to see, it weighed on his conscience.
The Labor Market was always teeming with people.
All of them gazed with desperate eyes at those seeking workers, or bent their efforts toward impressing the market administrator.
When he’d first decided to hire staff, he’d thought it simple enough to find decent people here, but his perspective had shifted during the journey.
“Are there any who worked at the failed establishments?”
The market administrator, evidently well-acquainted with people’s circumstances, called forward thirteen individuals. Most were men, and two were women in their forties who had worked in the kitchens.
Though more than he’d originally planned, Geom U-bin resolved to hire them all.
Having instructed them to report for work the next day, he returned to the Estate, his mind turning over possibilities.
‘I need to reconsider the exclusive supply of counterfeit spirits to Wolha Pavilion.’

***

They stared at one another with hollow eyes.
Like trying to decide who should bell the cat, they’d engaged in a silent standoff, but before anyone could even attempt it, the four of them seemed ready to collapse from exhaustion.
“If one of us gets struck by lightning, the rest of us will be burned to death by the sparks anyway. So let’s just say we all four get struck at once.”
At O Tong-su’s words, the other three nodded with grim determination.
They scraped together every shred of courage they had and set out to find the Bloodwind Four Lions.
But they scoured the entire Oseong Jang-won estate without finding them—even though, as the saying goes, even dog dung has a use if needed.
Only four dogs with their tails wagging had gathered round.
“When we need the Masters, they’re never around.”
Soon enough they’d appear without warning and set their heads on fire for laziness.
“Should we at least practice what we’re going to say when we see the Masters?”
Before them stood four dogs, each no larger than a calf, their tongues lolling and tails wagging.
“Let’s pretend they’re the Masters and rehearse.”
Once they actually faced the Bloodwind Four Lions, fear might seal their lips shut. A rehearsal first would make the actual words flow far more easily.
O Tong-su cleared his throat in front of the four dogs and spoke.
“Masters.”
Woof!
“Don’t answer!”
Yelp.
“Masters.”
Woof!
“I said don’t answer!”
“Just go ahead!”
“Because Jangsu keeps responding, it feels like we’ve all become the dog’s disciples!”
“Then don’t call them Masters—just speak!”
Se-hwa, watching O Tong-su and Go Seo-bang, muttered under her breath.
“How did I end up becoming sworn siblings with such fools? Sigh.”
O Tong-su omitted the title and spoke plainly.
“If we continue cultivation like this, we’re going to die. No martial sect practices training that stakes one’s life this way. This isn’t cultivation—it’s murder.”
Gal Ma-pyeong spoke up.
“The murder part seems a bit harsh, doesn’t it? It makes the Masters sound like killers.”
“Would the Masters take offense at being called killers? If we count only the number of Murim martial artists they’ve killed, it probably exceeds the rice we’ve eaten.”
“Even so, let’s try to avoid such inflammatory language.”
“Right, no point needlessly provoking the Masters.”
“Let’s make our most pitiful expression, and tremble our lips a bit… yes. And tilt our bodies slightly to the left. As if the cultivation has left us physically broken.”
Se-hwa muttered.
“We look like beggars sitting in the marketplace.”
“If you command it, we would leap into fire carrying brushwood. But if we continue this cultivation practice, we’ll die before we ever have the chance to serve you in any meaningful way. At this point, one of us needs to speak up.”
Go Seo-bang stepped forward.
“Please give us the opportunity to repay your kindness while we still live.”
“If you reduced the training intensity even slightly, we could actually grow much stronger much faster.”
“There’s a saying: excess is as bad as deficiency, isn’t there? I doubt there’s a single Murim martial artist in the world training this brutally.”
Yelp!
“I told you to stay still!”
Yet the four dogs continued barking at each other and wagging their tails frantically.
Their eyes were fixed on something behind Hang Ju-sa-byeon.
He felt no warning sign, but an ominous dread slid down his spine like ice.
“I think we’re in trouble.”
As they turned around, their faces grew progressively paler, and when their eyes met the Bloodwind Four Lions, they went absolutely white.
“M-master.”
Do Pyeong-su’s expression turned bewildered.
“Master? Who? Us? Aren’t your masters those four dogs standing right there?”
“Or perhaps you see us as nothing but mongrels.”
At Seo Seok-san’s words, Hang Ju-sa-byeon waved his hands frantically.
“T-that can’t be! We were merely practicing!”
“There’s a pillar right there, and trees everywhere—why on earth would we target dogs?”
“W-we just happened to be here and acted without thinking…….”
Yeon Geum-hong stepped forward.
“We’ll overlook the fact that you treated us like dogs for now. Though naturally, we won’t forget.”
This would leave a bitter aftertaste that lingered long.
“The training is too hard?”
Though the situation had turned awkward, Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s underlying message had been conveyed clearly.
“Somewhat, yes.”
The Bloodwind Four Lions exchanged looks of incomprehension.
“Too hard, when we’ve been taking it easy? Your willpower is pathetic.”
“There’s even a woman among them.”
Following Do Pyeong-su’s interjection, Go Seo-bang’s protest tumbled out.
“Easy? Look at our faces! We look like walking corpses three days in the grave!”
Do Pyeong-su turned to the other three members of the Bloodwind Four Lions.
“How would training weaker than this even work?”
“Right. We did at least twice what they’re doing—if we’d trained like them, we’d have fallen asleep mid-practice.”
At Seo Seok-san’s response, Yeon Geum-hong nodded in agreement.
“If they quit altogether, fine, but weaker than this? I honestly can’t think of any suitable comparison.”
The cultivation practice felt lethal, yet they had no intention of stopping.
The chance to learn Martial Arts from the Bloodwind Four Lions was an opportunity so rare that even being reborn three times wouldn’t guarantee it.
“How can there be no comparison? What about the senior disciple?”
At O Tong-su’s words, the other three nodded vigorously.
“We’d be happy if we could train like he does.”
In their eyes, Geom U-bin delivered spirits, took occasional outings, and didn’t seem to train nearly as intensely as they did.
It seemed impossible for anyone cultivating as hard as Hang Ju-sa-byeon to maintain such vitality and vigor.
That was Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s belief.
“You want to train like your senior?”
Seo Seok-san asked in surprise, and Hang Ju-sa-byeon nodded emphatically.
“Yes! We can endure even slightly, just slightly harder than that!”
As they spoke with such confidence, a strange smile played at the corners of the Bloodwind Four Lions’ mouths.
“Is that so? Fine then. Let’s make it exactly as hard as your senior’s training. I’ll allow it to be slightly, just slightly, less intense.”
Though Hang Ju-sa-byeon had spoken confidently, the Bloodwind Four Lions’ reaction made them uneasy.
‘Could it be that he maintains such vitality precisely because he trains as hard as we do?’

***

“Pardon? My disciples want to cultivate together with me?”
Eight of them had gathered, and Geom U-bin was curious about their business, but what they had to say was unexpected.
Geom U-bin looked at Hang Ju-sa-byeon with concern.
“Are the disciples really all right? They looked exhausted.”
“N-no, of course we’re fine.”
They couldn’t understand why Geom U-bin wore such a worried expression.
‘They don’t understand how grueling our training is, that’s why they say such things.’
Seo Seok-san said this to Geom U-bin.
“The cultivation practice might be disrupted. Would it be better to use a separate location?”
“No, it’s fine. If there are more people, I’m happy about it. Shall we begin?”
They made their way to the Martial Training Ground that had been specially prepared for Geom U-bin.
The floor was laid with iron stone, said to be nearly as hard as steel, though it bore visible cracks here and there.
“The floor will need repairs.”
Do Pyeong-su said this and stepped into the building. Seo Seok-san then turned to Hang Ju-sa-byeon.
“All of you—take off every one of those iron shackles you’re wearing now. You need to train under the exact same conditions as your senior.”
Hang Ju-sa-byeon, beaming with joy, quickly stripped away the shackles from his wrists and ankles. As thirty pounds fell away, his entire body felt suddenly, impossibly light—as if he might take flight.
“I’m learning the Daofa today!”
“Me too!”
Go Seo-bang and Gal Ma-pyeong spoke up, while O Tong-su called out Quanfa and Se-hwa shouted Divine Technique.
“Yes. I know.”
Do Pyeong-su, who had stepped into the building, emerged carrying a large burlap sack.

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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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