Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 61

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

#061

The Mantong Association was not the Yongdam Lake Cave, but as befitted a place that dealt in information, their security was thorough.
“Who are you people—!”
Wang Jik, the aide who had been shouting, crumpled to the floor with a dull thud. Baek Dong-pal swallowed hard and turned his head slowly.
He’d prayed they weren’t who he thought they were, but bad premonitions had never lied to him.
“The… the Bloodwind Four Lions.”
Not one or two, but all four appeared at once—a revelation that drained the color from Baek Dong-pal’s face as thoroughly as if some prophet had announced the world’s end.
“Looks like your business is thriving these days, hasn’t it? Your face has gotten fatter since eight years ago.”
Do Pyeong-su approached and tapped his head twice, while Yeon Geum-hong, who had opened the window, drew a long breath.
“The view here is always lovely, they say.”
Beyond the Five-Story Pavilion’s window, gulls wheeled peacefully above the sea.
‘Though I’ve only seen it once.’
Baek Dong-pal had chosen a seaside location not for the scenery.
In the business of buying and selling information, secrets followed like shadows.
Yet one couldn’t hide such work forever.
Still, by hiring first-class masters and keeping a swift ship nearby for quick escape if needed, he’d built this pavilion by the sea.
But none of that mattered before the Bloodwind Four Lions.
Seo Seok-san settled into a chair as if it were his own home and spoke.
“We have guests. Shouldn’t you serve tea?”
“What? Didn’t you kill all my subordinates?”
“Are we murderers?”
He answered ‘yes’ only in his thoughts.
A subordinate who had been waiting outside entered the room, confusion written across his face.
“What? I haven’t moved for a double hour—when did the guests arrive…?”
Though he was supposed to be a first-class master, there was no blaming him when the intruders were the Bloodwind Four Lions.
“Fetch tea. The finest we have. Take care of this one.”
The subordinate dragged Wang Jik out of the room.
“Seems you’ve made more money since eight years back too.”
If he treated the Bloodwind Four Lions as coldly as he did his subordinates, he’d end up just as cold—and as dead.
“Hehehehe! Have you come because you need funds?”
He’d gladly spend any sum to be rid of them.
“You fool, would we come all this way to do something so petty?”
“Then what brings you here?”
Do Pyeong-su spoke.
“Give us some money.”
“I said I’d give it to you freely.”
“No, you ass! We’re not taking charity—we want payment for a job. If you have any commission worth ten thousand silver among the ones you’ve received, bring one of those.”
Ten thousand silver, he said.
In twenty-two years as an information broker, Baek Dong-pal had never seen a commission for ten thousand silver—not even half that.
“There are no commissions worth ten thousand silver.”
“What? Isn’t the Mantong Association the largest information broker in the Murim? And you’re telling me you don’t have a single commission worth ten thousand?”
“The largest commission we’ve received is twelve hundred silver.”
The Bloodwind Four Lions regarded him with sudden pity.
“So you’re scraping by on small change.”
Twelve hundred silver was a fortune most ordinary people would never see in their lives.
But facing the Bloodwind Four Lions, he could only nod in acknowledgment.
“Yes, I’m a miserable wretch. Please stop tormenting this miserable wretch. You seem to need ten thousand silver—where would someone like me get such a fortune?”
He did have it, but giving it up so readily felt reckless with such an enormous sum.
Still, he could at least put up some resistance, and if it came to death, he could hand it over then.
‘Those monsters never die!’
Rumors had circulated for years that the Bloodwind Four Lions had withdrawn into seclusion or achieved Immortal Ascension. But no one had ever heard they were dead.
Because no one would believe such an absurd notion.
“If you handled nine commissions worth twelve hundred each, you’d have that much, wouldn’t you? Damn! A waste of time.”
“But there’s no other way to raise ten thousand silver, is there?”
Do Pyeong-su, who had once hunted bounties for mere silver coins, quickly accepted reality.
Seo Seok-san asked Baek Dong-pal.
“So what’s this twelve-hundred-silver-coin request?”

***

Gong Seong-tak’s jaw dropped as he watched Geom U-bin unfold the Mangajincheongak.
He’d known the boy was a genius.
But knowing it and being bowled over by the reality were two different things.
‘He’s only seen it three times, and already his form and technique are nearly perfect!’
It had taken Gong Seong-tak a full month to master the Mangajincheongak’s form and technique—and that was after training eight double hours a day without rest.
As Geom U-bin drew to a halt with a long exhale, Gong Seong-tak threw both arms up.
“Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent! Our brilliant U-bin! What a remarkable boy!”
Gong Seong-tak squeezed Geom U-bin to his chest. For him it was a firm grip; for the boy, it was suffocating.
“Can’t… breathe…”
“Ah, right! We can’t have our precious sect leader dying on us.”
“How could I be sect leader?”
“You will be, soon enough.”
“I’ve already said I have no intention of becoming the sole transmitter of the Jincheong Ilamin Sect.”
“Oh! I think I left a fire burning in the blacksmith’s workshop.”
Straightforward as ever, Gong Seong-tak made his excuses and vanished. Finding a proper sect leader was clearly going to fall to Geom U-bin.
‘With the elders gone, the estate feels so empty.’
Hyeolpung Saja had left four days ago on some pressing business.
The pressing business, Geom U-bin could guess, was money. Scrape together enough silver, and you could rebuild whatever came crashing down.
But Geom U-bin hadn’t tried to stop him from leaving.
Hyeolpung Saja needed to learn the value of a silver coin, and it was time he understood that mistakes carried consequences.
“I’m only thirteen and I know better than that,” the boy muttered.
Yet the moment the old master was gone, Geom U-bin found himself wondering if he’d been too hasty.
The original residence was in ruins, so he was heading toward the new quarters when he caught a sound from beyond the building. When Geom U-bin rounded the corner, he found himself at Hang Ju-sa-byeon’s training ground.
It was late—the moon hung high in the sky—yet someone was still training. Se-hwa.
She was practicing her fist art, sweat streaming down her face, and hadn’t noticed Geom U-bin’s arrival.
Trained under Yeon Geum-hong, Se-hwa’s fist art was swift and fluid, brimming with grace and variety.
For someone who had never learned martial arts before, her progress was remarkable.
“Oh! Master!”
“Training so late?”
“I started late, so I have to work twice as hard. Ha ha!”
“You’ve improved tremendously.”
“I still have so much further to go.”
“What you’ve achieved is impressive. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Master, would you spar with me just once?”
“Sparring?”
“Yes. I’m so lacking in real combat experience.”
No one understood better than Geom U-bin how desperately a sparring match was needed during cultivation practice. So he readily accepted her request.
Since Geom U-bin had also trained under Yeon Geum-hong, he knew every technique Se-hwa was performing.
Yet he often sensed something unfamiliar, which was simply because she was still rough around the edges.
Geom U-bin fielded her attacks with ease, occasionally striking back to keep her sharp.
After a single round of sparring, Se-hwa collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily. A true match between two people was infinitely more demanding than solo practice.
Geom U-bin handed her water and spoke.
“I’m impressed by Se-hwa’s progress. You really have been training hard.”
“Really? Well, yes, I’ve been working at it. I don’t think I’ve ever devoted myself so completely to anything in my entire life.”
“Does martial arts fascinate you?”
“Yes. More than the thrill of painting a single orchid leaf perfectly, mastering a technique completely gives me a different kind of joy. I wish I’d begun martial arts earlier.”
“You have such exceptional teachers. It’s not too late even now.”
“I have an exceptional teacher in you as well.”
“Then shall I live up to that role?”
Geom U-bin took a horse stance and placed both hands before his lower dantian.
“I’ll teach you just one technique.”
Geom U-bin stepped forward with one foot and extended his right arm.
Boom!
The true strike crashed against the floor with a heavy thud, and the sound of his hand tearing through the air was so sharp it seemed it could slice skin.
“How is it? Notice how it’s different from everything you’ve learned so far?”
Se-hwa snapped out of her daze, blinking hard. The fist art Yeon Geum-hong had just displayed was undoubtedly more powerful than what Geom U-bin had shown moments ago.
But that power was something Se-hwa could never hope to grasp, whereas the single technique Geom U-bin had demonstrated felt almost within reach—something she could almost touch.
“You’ll probably only be able to use this one move. But if you execute it properly, it’ll be so devastating you won’t need a second strike.”
Geom U-bin was a natural at learning and possessed an extraordinary gift for teaching.
“Shift your center of gravity forward as if someone’s pushing you from behind. You don’t need to spread your legs too wide. Imagine stamping down on someone you hate—put all your force into the roll.”
After repeating it about twenty times, proper form emerged.
The power wasn’t quite at Geom U-bin’s level, but with continued training, it seemed she’d be able to generate a force far stronger than any technique she’d learned so far.
“Thank you, sir.”
“If you run into anything you don’t understand while you practice, ask me. When the disciples aren’t around, I’ll watch over you.”
“Yes. I’ll train a bit more before I leave.”

***

The three Yang brothers crouched behind a pile of materials, studying the skeletal remains of the wooden building standing before them.
“This’ll burn nicely.”
At the second brother Yang Tae-wang’s loud voice, Yang Tae-jeong pressed a finger to his lips.
“Quiet! Since there’s already been one fire, someone’s probably watching the place.”
The youngest, Yang Tae-gong, spoke while caressing the short club in his hand.
“Better not run into any guards.”
The moment they emerged from behind the materials, they had to freeze.
A low growl rumbled through the air.
A dog stepped forward, its throat issuing a deep, threatening growl.
Normally they would have cracked such a creature’s skull without hesitation, but this dog was no ordinary beast.
There’s a common saying that something is “the size of a calf,” but this dog wasn’t just proverbially massive—it actually was.
“What kind of monster dog is that?”
Yang Tae-gong drew himself up, tensing his abdomen for courage.
“So what if it’s just a mutt!”
His fragile bravado crumbled as a second dog appeared, and by the time four stood before him, he was backing away in full retreat.
The truly terrifying thing about these dogs was that they didn’t bark. An ancient truth holds that a silent dog is far more frightening.
They edged backward slowly, then bolted outright, but mercifully the dogs showed no interest in pursuing them.
While the capable dogs were driving off the would-be arsonists, Gwak Bong was scratching her belly, lost in deep sleep.
“Mm, Se-hwa….”
And one figure gave chase to the fleeing Yang brothers, as if their very life depended on it.

***

Now she understood the phrase “a house fit for a palace.”
Oseong Jang-won was spacious and magnificent, or so she’d thought—but the estate into which Jang Man-dok and Do Pyeong-su had stepped made even that grand manor feel like a humble cottage.
The steward O Jang-baek, who was guiding the two visitors, stopped before a beautifully maintained garden and posed a question.
“Are you truly physicians?”
Suspicion colored his every glance, and for good reason.
The commission that had arrived at the Mantong Association was worth twelve hundred silver coins—to treat someone.
With Jang Man-dok among their ranks, accepting the job was a foregone conclusion, and here they were in Haenam Province after a full day’s hard ride.
“I guarantee you, if this friend here can’t cure it, no one in the world can.”
“But Physicians, you’re not carrying any medical instruments.”
They were people too lazy to carry weapons, let alone bother with tools of the trade.
“Of course the patient’s house will have needles and a medicine decoction pot! Why would I lug them around?”
“Well, that may be true, but….”
“They’re right here. Why would I carry them everywhere like an idiot? Just take us to the patient already.”
O Jang-baek’s expression was reluctant, but since this commission had come from the Mantong Association, he couldn’t very well refuse to show them the patient.
—In Murim, there is nothing the Mantong Association cannot resolve.
This saying had become almost a proverb.
—I guarantee you, if this friend here can’t cure it, no one in the world can.
The words describing the Mantong Association rang with truth. And yet now, even the Mantong Association itself seemed suspect.
They passed through two gates after crossing a garden with a pond before finally entering the main building.
Upon stepping into what looked to be a structure with at least a dozen rooms, two servants immediately fell into step behind them.
Do Pyeong-su sent a telepathic message to Jang Man-dok.
—A place this grand? We could probably squeeze ten thousand silver coins out of it.

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