Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 92

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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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#Episode 92

Yeon Geum-hong and Do Pyeong-su hurried toward the Underground Cultivation Chamber. Seo Seok-san greeted them first.
“Did you get it?”
Do Pyeong-su held up the box, and Yeon Geum-hong tapped the frost-lined pouch at her side.
Seo Seok-san pointed toward a furnace in the corner of the cultivation chamber. A metal pottery jar fitted with an iron mesh was in the process of having Internal Elixir Toxicity extracted through steam.
“Everyone completed their task, then.”
Yeon Geum-hong spoke with satisfaction, but Seo Seok-san, who approached her, let out a long sigh.
“I feel like I’m being left out here.”
“What do you mean?”
Seo Seok-san glanced at Geom U-bin and Jang Man-dok, who sat across from each other.
“Look—they’re just talking to each other.”
Though “talking” ordinarily meant conversation, no sound passed between Geom U-bin and Jang Man-dok.
Instead, the two were communicating through facial expressions alone, their features twitching and flexing.
Then they’d burst into laughter or nod as if in agreement, creating exactly the sort of scene that would make any onlooker wonder if they’d lost their minds.
“Do Pyeong-su, can you figure out what those two are saying?”
“They’re saying your martial arts have improved greatly and that Man-dok deserves credit for it, while also saying your talent is so exceptional that of course it would be so. Man-dok is really fawning over you.”
Seo Seok-san grumbled.
“I’m just a sack of barley left in the corner.”
Unable to read their expressions, Seo Seok-san couldn’t join in their exchange.
“Geom U-bin and Man-dok have become so close. We must have been away too long.”
Geom U-bin’s gaze turned toward the three of them. Do Pyeong-su, reading Geom U-bin’s expression, then spoke.
“They’re saying they’re grateful for our trouble and thank us.”
Yeon Geum-hong wished she could hear Geom U-bin’s voice, however faltering, but Geom U-bin seemed unwilling to let out those stammering, clumsy-sounding words.
“Of course—we were only doing what needed to be done.”
When Yeon Geum-hong spoke, Geom U-bin turned back toward Jang Man-dok.
“They want to spar again?”
At Do Pyeong-su’s translation, Seo Seok-san protested.
“We did nothing but spar the whole time I was here. Again?”
“Man-dok says to leave what he brought behind and go.”
“What gives him the right to tell anyone to go or stay?”
With little reason to remain in the cultivation chamber, the three of them departed.
“I hope your side effects clear up soon.”
Yeon Geum-hong, who had returned with such joy in her heart, quickly grew dispirited. The Geom U-bin she’d longed to see so much was only sparring with Jang Man-dok, and she hadn’t even had a chance to touch his closely cropped hair, which had grown endearingly sparse.
Yet Geom U-bin was still Geom U-bin. Before long, having emerged from the Underground Cultivation Chamber, he sought her out.
“I… I… w-wanted to… s-see… you.”
His voice, now far more halting than before, pierced through her like a knife.
“I wanted to see you too.”
On the verge of tears, Yeon Geum-hong embraced Geom U-bin.
“Let’s take a walk for a bit.”
Yeon Geum-hong took Geom U-bin’s hand and walked once around the Estate, recounting her encounter with Eun Bi-yeon and the story of when Do Pyeong-su had shattered the ice on the lake to retrieve an Ice Crystal.
Though she spoke on and on, it was enough simply to hold Geom U-bin’s hand.
Geom U-bin wore only a faint smile, occasionally nodding along with her words.
“You do believe you’ll get better, don’t you?”
As she stroked his bristly hair, Go Seo-bang’s voice reached them from the Main Gate.
“Thank you for your understanding. We’ve been so overwhelmed that we haven’t had a chance to visit the Seo-yang Pyoguk.”
Someone from the Seo-yang Pyoguk had come to deliver payment for goods sent from Wuhan regarding the Saegiuju.
“That’s quite all right. But what’s happening at the Oseong Jang-won? We haven’t seen young Jeong So-bang around lately, and Hang Ju-sa-ung hasn’t… oh?”
The Seo-yang Pyoguk man, belatedly noticing Geom U-bin and Yeon Geum-hong, bowed politely. Geom U-bin returned the gesture with a nod but offered no verbal greeting.
With his closely shorn hair, Geom U-bin must have looked rather strange to the Seo-yang Pyoguk man.
‘So the rumors about him being gravely ill are true after all.’
Word of Geom U-bin’s illness spread across Hangju in a flash. From then on, gifts began pouring into the Oseong Jang-won from every corner of the city.
Most were medicinal herbs and fruits reputed to be good for health—ginseng, O-ji Herb, and Baek-gwa Fruit.
“We sincerely wish for young Geom U-bin’s swift recovery.”
They presented their gifts to Hang Ju-sa-ung and conveyed their heartfelt wishes, and some even left Buddha Statues propped against the Estate’s wall and offered prayers.
It spoke to how many people in Hangju had been graced by or admired Geom U-bin, whether greatly or in small measure.
Of course, none of the gifts that arrived would directly help Geom U-bin, but their goodwill alone became his strength.
Word of Geom U-bin’s illness did not remain confined to Hangju.
Through the Seo-yang Pyoguk, news of Geom U-bin reached the Namgung Clan in the neighboring Anhui Province.
Everyone at the Namgung estate dismissed it readily enough, but Namgung Hye-yeon could not let it pass through her ears unheeded.
Though she and Geom U-bin had clashed for various reasons, his shadow still lingered in her heart.
“Where is he ill? How exactly?”
The escort who had brought goods from the Seo-yang Pyoguk spoke with a face full of concern.
“I don’t know the details, but from what I’ve gathered bit by bit through the workers at Oseong Jang-won, he’s been losing his hair, stammering when he speaks, and his memory has grown remarkably poor. Various ailments have been guessed at, but it seems no one knows what his actual condition is.”
Even hearing only the symptoms, it was clear no ordinary illness. She longed to rush to him at once, but her going alone would accomplish nothing.
She needed to bring something of value—only then would she have an excuse to go.
‘There’s something in the estate that could help!’
The Seon-yu Dan would certainly aid in treating whatever afflicted Geom U-bin. The problem was that the family head, Namgung Cheol-un, would never part with such a precious elixir.
‘There’s no other way.’
As the precious jewel of the Namgung house, Namgung Hye-yeon could access anywhere in the estate. That meant, if she set her mind to it, she could spirit away anything.
And so Namgung Hye-yeon stole for the first time in her life. Here she was, stealing Seon-yu Dan, when what she truly needed to steal was Geom U-bin’s heart.
News that Namgung Hye-yeon had stolen the Seon-yu Dan and fled to Hangju reached Namgung Cheol-un’s ears only when night fell.
“Did Hye-yeon really steal the Seon-yu Dan and run off to Hangju?”
Namgung Seong-won, Namgung Cheol-un’s youngest brother, answered with a face barely suppressing laughter.
“So it seems. Well, they do say a docile cat climbs onto the chimney first.”
“You find this amusing?”
“Isn’t it charming?”
She’s gone mad over a man and stolen the family treasure to run away, and you call that charming?”
“Now that I think about it, it is rather audacious. To steal something I barely eat once every three years and give it to Geom U-bin? This is why raising daughters is pointless. Should I chase her down and bring her back?”
Namgung Cheol-un paused in thought, then shook his head.
“Leave it be. Since it’s come to this, let’s consider it a gift to Oseong Jang-won. Maintaining good relations does no harm. These days, the promising heirs of great families visit constantly or send letters—who knows what that brewery boy has that makes them so interested. Tch, tch, tch…….”

***

The guqin music grated on his ears, and the dancing courtesans made him frown.
In the glimpses of exposed collarbone and inner thigh, there was no art—only seduction.
Jeong So-bang poured himself O-gi Liquor, drinking it of his own accord, then found himself shaking his head at the taste.
At first he was surprised by how similar it was to Saegiuju, but after drinking more, he could taste the definite drop in quality.
Though he came out of habit as a long-time regular, it seemed the time had come to stop visiting the Wol-ha Giroo.
The courtesans’ playing and dancing had declined in skill compared to before, and with the liquor degraded as well, there was no reason to return.
“Master Jeong. Why that expression? Has something unpleasant happened?”
Hui-yeon, having finished her dance, pressed close to Jeong So-bang. She had come from Beijing and possessed a sensual face and curvaceous body, yet the qualities of a true courtesan extended far beyond that.
“The Wol-ha Giroo is not the Wol-ha Giroo it once was.”
“Yes? Oh! Of course it’s not! We’ve come from Beijing, after all.”
For various reasons, most of the original courtesans had left, replaced by new girls or courtesans brought from Beijing.
“Aren’t we transforming this provincial Hangju pleasure house culture?”
“This is sophisticated pleasure house culture? Ignoring dance, song, and music, selling only with the body—is that what Beijing calls refinement?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Jeong So-bang rose abruptly and threw five silver coins onto the table.
“I don’t think I’ll be returning to the Wol-ha Giroo.”
Had there been no alternatives, he might have stayed, but Hangju now had the Oseong Pavilion—a fine establishment.
The first-rank courtesans who had worked at the Wol-ha Giroo had transferred there, and it was where genuine Saegiuju was served.
The manager of the Oseong Pavilion was Ha Seok-mun, who had once served as manager of the old Wol-ha Giroo.
Though newly opened, the establishment carried the familiarity of old times, and the wealthy merchants of Hangju had one by one transferred their custom. Jeong So-bang decided to join their ranks.
‘It’s only a matter of time before the Wol-ha Giroo closes.’
But it was not Jeong So-bang who felt this first.
Bang!
Hwang Seo-min’s fist came down on the table, and the teacup upon it toppled, spilling pale green liquid across the surface.
“What’s the problem?! What is it?!”
The courtesans at the Wol-ha Giroo were prettier, and there was O-gi Liquor with a taste similar to Saegiuju. Yet the regulars had begun drifting to the Oseong Pavilion one by one, until now only the dregs remained.
In Beijing, extravagantly indulgent courtesans were the highest fashion, and dance and music were merely tools to set the mood.
“These provincial fools don’t know how to enjoy themselves!”
Hwang Seo-min didn’t even understand the basic principle that a farmer shouldn’t blame the fields.
What fueled his anger wasn’t solely the business troubles. The Cheolhyeol Faction, whom he’d paid a fortune to hire for sweeping away Oseong Jang-won, showed no sign of earning their keep.
The Cheolhyeol Faction had satisfied the Jo-hwang Clan for merely three days. In that time, they seized control of Hangju’s nights from the Oseong Society and took their place.
But that was all. There were no attempts to strike Oseong Jang-won, no actions to destroy the Oseong Pavilion—only time wasted doing nothing.
Setting aside the mining rights to the iron ore mine he’d handed over to the Dong Clan, he’d already spent five thousand silver taels merely acquiring a building for the branch and feeding the fifty operatives he’d dispatched there.
Hwang Seo-min strode toward the Cheolhyeol Faction branch with purpose. He’d resolved to have it out today with branch commander Jeong Pyeon-ho, but his subordinates informed him the man wasn’t there.
“Where could he have gone at this hour?”
“Probably to a pleasure house.”
“He’s not at Wol-ha Giroo?”
“Not that one.”
Something inside his skull felt like a blood vessel rupturing.
“He went to Oseong Pavilion! That mad bastard!”
With fury climbing to his scalp, Hwang Seo-min bolted toward Oseong Pavilion.
At that very moment, Jeong Pyeon-ho—the man who’d sent Hwang Seo-min’s blood pressure soaring dangerously high—was enjoying himself in the company of courtesans.
Sweet music tickled his ears; soft skin brushed his hands. This place was paradise itself.
When he’d first received his posting to the Hangju branch, he’d felt as though he were being exiled.
Yet the life in Hangju that had actually unfolded was nothing but luxury he’d never before enjoyed.
The richest man in Zhejiang Province handed over money without being asked, and there was scarcely any work to do. Those first few days of pretending to root out the Triads were all the effort required.
Even now, Kang Chan-sik managed the Triads of Hangju while Jeong Pyeon-ho’s sole occupation was indulgence.
“If I could live like this in Hangju for the rest of my life, I’d want for nothing. Tell me, your name is Jin-ha, is it not?”
The dancing girl Jin-ha bowed at the waist.
“It is, sir.”
“You have a lovely face. Come sit beside me here.”
“Forgive me, but I am an entertainer, not a courtesan who attends to guests in that manner.”
Another refusal. His mood soured slightly.
“Now, now! You know I’m on friendly terms with the proprietress of Oseong Pavilion, don’t you?”
“Which is precisely why propriety matters all the more.”
Her voice arrived first; the door opened. Se-hwa entered, and she was still beautiful to behold.
“Ah! The proprietress herself! Now that you’re here, do sit beside me and pour us a cup.”
The emperorlike existence he’d been living all this time had swelled Jeong Pyeon-ho’s pride far beyond its proper measure.

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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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