Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 52

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

#052

He spoke of the man as though anyone would know his name on hearing it, yet So Gi-cheon had never heard of him before.
“Don’t you know the Murim taboo—that you can’t peer into another person’s cultivation practice?”
“Nope.”
The casualness of the answer left him momentarily speechless.
Hook-shaped eyes, a bulbous nose, thick lips—the combination was rough and forbidding, yet his expression held the pure innocence of a child.
“Why were you peering at me?”
“I was just looking.”
“Then why were you just looking?”
“I wanted to take you as my disciple.”
“What?”
“For now, you’re a candidate to become my disciple. Consider it an honor.”
“There’s nothing honorable about it. And don’t you see this?”
So Gi-cheon showed him the six knots tied at his waist.
“They’re quite dirty. I should have them washed.”
“You don’t know what these are? They’re Gaebang ranks. Gaebang!”
Gong Seong-tak merely stared at So Gi-cheon blankly. So Gi-cheon had never seen a Murim martial artist who didn’t know about Gaebang.
Anyone who didn’t know about Gaebang wasn’t truly a Murim martial artist—wasn’t truly a person at all.
“That’s enough. Just go.”
“To the eye you look fine, but I should feel your frame a bit.”
So Gi-cheon bounded back, dodging Gong Seong-tak’s hand.
“What are you doing!”
He deployed the Chu Shin Gongbeop, the secret divine technique of the Gaebang sect, but failed to evade Gong Seong-tak’s hand. The distance had vanished in a heartbeat, and Gong Seong-tak was already feeling his arm, chest, shoulder, and thigh with practiced familiarity.
Startled, So Gi-cheon tried to mount a counterattack, but Gong Seong-tak—deft as a seasoned pickpocket—withdrew far enough to escape.
“Not bad at all. What comes next is character. No matter how gifted, we can’t pass on our sect’s martial arts to someone with a rotten core.”
He’d thought Gong Seong-tak might be a master of external martial arts, but the way he’d matched the Chu Shin Gongbeop so effortlessly suggested he’d reached considerable depth in internal power as well.
“Listen, I already have a master! Can’t you see I’m in cultivation practice?”
“A master can always be replaced.”
“A master and sect aren’t spare parts for a wagon!”
“Learning stronger martial arts is always better, isn’t it? More the merrier.”
“That’s not what that saying is for!”
“Is that so? What about ‘All things lead to prosperity’?”
“That’s even further off the mark!”
Talking with Gong Seong-tak made So Gi-cheon feel like he’d have a stroke at twelve years old.
“Anyway, I have no interest in learning your martial arts, so please just leave.”
“Hmm. Loyal too. Your character looks serviceable. The second test is practically passing already.”
It was like talking to a wall.
Still, the beggar’s persistence—standing all day before an empty bowl, waiting for alms—was remarkable.
“I have no intention of replacing my master, and no reason to learn your martial arts. So stop wasting time here and go find your disciples elsewhere.”
“You’d change your mind if you saw my martial arts once.”
“Then show me this wonderful martial arts of yours.”
“If you really want to see, I’ll show you.”
‘I don’t want to see!’
So Gi-cheon bit back the words he wanted to shout.
In truth, there was a small part of him curious to see just how skilled Gong Seong-tak truly was.
Gong Seong-tak stood facing the stream, which stretched five zhang across beneath the bridge. Garbage and filth flowed through it, making the water as dark as ink.
He spread his legs to shoulder width and drew in a long breath. Then, lifting his leg high, he brought his foot down in a heavy stomp.
Boom!
Stone and earth within one zhang of Gong Seong-tak erupted to shoulder height.
The power was enough to astonish on its own.
But the shock of the strike rippled far beyond.
The filthy water leaped three zhang into the air, and beyond it, the earth exploded.
A fountain of soil scattered in all directions, raising a thick cloud of dust. The strike had torn open the earth eight zhang across the stream, two feet deep—and So Gi-cheon’s mouth fell open involuntarily.
“That was just a taste. The true marvel of my martial arts isn’t a cheap trick like this.”
So Gi-cheon couldn’t deny that Gong Seong-tak’s martial arts were remarkably rare in the Murim.
“Are you thinking of changing your master?”
So Gi-cheon shook his head, and his heart wasn’t at ease either as he faced that eager expression.
“Once you’re a Gaebang disciple, you’re a Gaebang disciple until you die.”
Gong Seong-tak’s face fell with disappointment, and just then a chattering sound grew closer—the little beggar children who lived with So Gi-cheon returning from their noon rounds of begging.
“Ah! There might be some decent material among those six after all.”
Since none of the beggars had formally become Gaebang disciples, if the conditions were right, one of them could become Gong Seong-tak’s student.
“Really? Then let’s have a look.”
Somehow, So Gi-cheon had become the leader among the little beggars. He called to the ones heading toward the hut.
“Kids! Come here!”
The children, who couldn’t see So Gi-cheon from where the hut blocked their view, came running in a rush.
“Brother! We got lots of good food today! There was a feast at the estate of some official!”
The children came bounding over, proudly holding out their wooden bowls with food jumbled together in a mess.
“Line up in a row here.”
“Why?”
“It’s nothing bad, so just do as I say.”
Six beggars lined up in a row.
“Let’s see.”
They were all grubby and thin, ranging from about six to ten years old. Gong Seong-tak scanned them without much hope, but his gaze stopped on the child standing furthest to the left.
This one was a head taller than the others and had a fairly robust build for his age.
“How old are you?”
So Gi-cheon nodded as the child’s eyes met his.
“Eleven, sir.”
The cultivation practice of the Jincheonilin Sect is famous for the pain it brings.
That’s why, unlike other sects, they choose disciples old enough to endure suffering.
“A bit young. Can you bear pain well?”
“Pain passes quickly.”
“A fine spirit. What’s your name?”
“Ma Jeong-gil, sir.”
Gong Seong-tak felt around various parts of Ma Jeong-gil’s body.
“Your frame isn’t as good as his, but the bones aren’t bad. What is three plus four?”
No matter how good the bone structure, if the boy was dull-witted, his cultivation would inevitably progress slowly. But three plus four was about the limit of what Gong Seong-tak could test.
‘I passed that much myself, after all.’
But Ma Jeong-gil was slow to answer.
Even counting on his fingers, it took him a long while to come up with anything.
Unable to watch any longer, So Gi-cheon spoke up.
“If you eat three meals today and four meals tomorrow, what happens?”
Ma Jeong-gil answered right away.
“That’d be great! I ate three meals today, so if I eat four tomorrow, wouldn’t that be amazing?”
“Right! Eating like that, you’d have no wishes left unfulfilled!”
“I wish every rich house had a feast every day!”
The little beggars chattered away noisily. So the answer to three plus four never did come.
Gong Seong-tak sighed, and So Gi-cheon felt the weight of disappointment.
Becoming the disciple of a rare master in the Murim was no easy matter.
“It seems there’s no one here fit to become my disciple after all.”
Gong Seong-tak turned away, thoroughly disheartened, when So Gi-cheon called out to him.
“Wait!”
“Have you changed your mind?”
“No! There’s someone more talented than me—a hundred times smarter!”
“Oh? Such a person exists? How old?”
“One year older than me. The problem is, that person might already have a master.”
The person So Gi-cheon had in mind was naturally Geom U-bin.
Noh Dae-sul had never revealed the true identity of the Hangju group, and it wasn’t even certain whether Geom U-bin was their disciple.
If there were no obstacles, learning Gong Seong-tak’s martial arts wouldn’t be a bad thing for Geom U-bin.
“Masters can be changed.”
It was almost tiresome to keep saying that a master wasn’t like a cart wheel.
“That person’s character is truly excellent. How else would he have become one of the Hangju Five Virtues at just thirteen?”
“Hmm. Given the character he bears, he must be quite virtuous.”
“It’s the character for ‘divine’!”
“Well, any virtue is a good virtue.”
Though there was also the character for ringworm or mange, not all virtues were equal, so he didn’t bother saying so.
“Where is that child?”
“It happens to be the day we receive the wine delivery. Want to go take a look?”
It wasn’t always Geom U-bin who came, as it used to be—sometimes it was one of Oseong Jang-won’s workers making the delivery—but either way, they headed toward Wol-ha Giroo.
Thanks to their hurried pace, they spotted Geom U-bin just as he was leaving Wol-ha Giroo.
So Gi-cheon was about to rush forward eagerly when Gong Seong-tak grabbed him.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
“I want to observe a bit longer.”
“Observe what?”
“He looks frail. The martial arts of Jincheonilin Sect demand tremendous suffering during cultivation practice. But look at that boy. He appears to be some spoiled courtesan’s youngest brother—someone who’s never known hardship a day in his life.”
So Gi-cheon was certain of Geom U-bin’s character, but he had no idea how the boy had lived his life until now.
“If I’ve just met him and tell him he can’t become my disciple, won’t he be devastated?”
From what So Gi-cheon could see, the boy didn’t seem like he’d be that disappointed. Gong Seong-tak waved his hand dismissively.
“You should go back.”
For some reason, the phrase “using someone and then casting them aside” came to mind.

***

A sharp crack and a yelp sounded in unison.
“You blockhead! How many times must I tell you—your foot should extend another half-step to the left!”
“Ugh! Master, just half a step’s difference—aaaagh!”
“That half-step can save your life and kill your enemy! Again!”
In the Training Ground newly built for the Hangju upheaval, practice was in full swing. Now that Hyeolpung Saja had resolved to teach martial arts, he tolerated no shortcuts.
All three of Gang Seo Samak were learning the Bobeop technique, moving about clumsily like infants learning to walk.
The martial arts they had already spent over thirty years cultivating had been reinterpreted under Hyeolpung Saja’s hands, transforming into something entirely different.
“You fool! When you turn left from there, your center of gravity shifts! Divine Technique should flow as smoothly as water—how many times have I told you this!”
Those like Do Pyeong-su and Seo Seok-san were at least explained things in words. But O Tong-su, learning from Jang Man-dok, was suffering a living death.
O Tong-su would make a mistake, take a blow, and only then see Jang Man-dok shake his head. He’d hear later from Do Pyeong-su what went wrong—and even then, he rarely caught the full explanation.
O Tong-su had to learn to read Jang Man-dok’s expression before he could learn martial arts at all.
The sight was so pitiful that Geom U-bin couldn’t help but step in.
“Masters, may I offer some assistance?”
Regardless of his status as Hyeolpung Saja’s senior brother, it was delicate to intrude upon cultivation practice.
“Of course! Everyone, take a brief rest!”
At Seo Seok-san’s words, all three of Gang Seo Samak collapsed to the ground where they stood.
“It seems you’re having difficulty with the Bobeop technique, yes?”
“These dullards make us age a decade with every passing day, I swear.”
“Would you be willing to demonstrate it for me?”
“Simple enough. That worthless technique they learned—I can grasp it completely just watching five times. These fools have mastered it in their own minds.”
Seo Seok-san unfolded the Hyeonhyeon Samsibyuk Bo that Gang Seo Samak had learned.
“This is what those blockheads originally learned. What do you think?”
“It’s rather unstable.”
“Precisely. What I grasp in a single glance, they’ve believed perfect their entire lives. The fact that they’re still alive using such a technique is miraculous—clearly these men have tough destinies. So I reformed it like this.”
The Bobeop technique Seo Seok-san demonstrated again looked identical to the first at first glance. Yet the twelve foot placements were subtly different, and the shift in center of gravity was minutely altered.
And so Hyeolpung Saja’s reinterpreted Hyeonhyeon Samsibyuk Bo had become an absolute method that could maintain perfect center of gravity in any attack or defensive situation.
“These blockheads don’t grasp such a massive difference.”
For Hyeolpung Saja it was simple, but changing technique one’s body has known for a lifetime is not as easy as words make it sound.
“Senior Brother Seo, would you show me once more?”
Seo Seok-san demonstrated the reinterpreted Hyeonhyeon Samsibyuk Bo again. Since it wasn’t particularly abstruse martial arts, if one grasped the flow correctly, executing it was not difficult.
“Is this how you unfold it?”
Geom U-bin unfolded the Hyeonhyeon Samsibyuk Bo.
Once you remembered the placement and sequence of the feet, the rest could be entrusted to the most natural flow.
As Geom U-bin set down his final step, Hyeolpung Saja nodded vigorously.
“There it is—our senior brother!”
Gang Seo Samak spilled the water they’d been drinking all over themselves.
They had heard themselves called dullards by Hyeolpung Saja more than a hundred times, yet they’d never truly believed it themselves.
They had always believed it was simply that Hyeolpung Saja’s standards were impossibly high—but watching Geom U-bin, they wanted to crawl into the earth.
‘We really were dullards.’

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————