Abolition of the Wicked - Chapter 95

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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 95

“We didn’t come here to talk.”
“Right. What’s there to discuss with small fry?”
With Yeon Geum-hong’s words, the Hyeolpung Faction Leader had become exactly that.
“We’ve limbered up after so long—we’ll take our leave. Is there anything else you need from us?”
At Do Pyeong-su’s subtle question, Gal Ma-pyeong waved his hands frantically.
“Nothing at all.”
Seo Seok-san turned and spoke.
“Feels like we’ve been cast aside, doesn’t it? Never thought we’d be the ones discarded. The world really is falling apart.”
With nothing left to say, the three departed from Hyeolpung Faction without hesitation.
“Phew! Lucky thing. Those masters moved, but thank goodness there was no major catastrophe.”
At the words “no major catastrophe,” Go Dae-bang surveyed two collapsed buildings and subordinates still trembling where they stood.
Then Gal Ma-pyeong laughed loudly and spoke.
“Leader, I’d call that showing restraint.”
“What did I do wrong?”
Gal Ma-pyeong took the lead ahead.
“We must bury the past and think of the future. Let’s go and discuss this matter.”
“What matter are you referring to? I heard word that a cherished subordinate was dead, and then suddenly these people came attacking…….”
Gal Ma-pyeong’s face turned cold at once. His refusal to tolerate disrespect toward his masters was unmistakably clear.
“No, the masters demolished the buildings—I’ve done nothing but eat, sleep, and live my daily life.”
“Did you perhaps hear that the Hangju Branch Leader had died?”
“I received word. But how do you know of it?”
News of Jeong Pyeon-ho’s death reached the Hyeolpung faction by carrier pigeon before even a double hour had passed since his demise.
The fact that it arrived nearly simultaneously with the pigeon from Oseong Jang-won meant the message had been sent before his death was even known.
By common sense, it should have been that way, but Gal Ma-pyeong shattered that logic.
“We set out immediately upon hearing of the Branch Leader’s death.”
“So quickly?”
“We could have come faster, but our masters slowed their pace since we were struggling.”
They came slowly but still matched the speed of a carrier pigeon?
“In any case, as you must suspect, the Branch Leader’s death was the work of the Jo Hwang Clan.”
“Do you have evidence?”
He couldn’t speak like the Hyeolpung Saja and say ‘Evidence can be fabricated.’
“We’ve captured the two assassins who killed the Branch Leader.”
“Already?”
“That’s the capability of Oseong Jang-won.”
Since they had been watching the person they knew would die, capturing the assassins was not difficult.
“What I don’t understand is, if Oseong Jang-won has such power, why not simply crush the Jo Hwang Clan instead of complicating matters like this?”
“Our Master prefers not to settle things through force.”
“Who is this Master……?”
“You haven’t met them yet, and you likely never will. It’s better for you that you don’t.”
An image of a hulking figure eight feet tall with crimson hair streaming skyward—one who disliked violence—came to mind unbidden.
“Then I should explain the reason for our visit. You’ll need to stay in Hangju for the time being.”
“Me?”
“The Branch Leader’s murder must be resolved.”
“But you said you captured the criminal.”
“Officially, they remain uncaught.”
“Then what exactly am I supposed to do? If I establish myself in Hangju, Dongsi Doga won’t sit idle.”
Of course, if ordered to go, he had to obey. A bloody conflict in Hangju with Dongsi Doga was preferable to falling out of Oseong Jang-won’s favor.
“Then you must visit Dongsi Doga and reach an understanding with their Patriarch.”
“Me?”
Like a fool, he asked the same question again, and Gal Ma-pyeong smiled and nodded.
‘Should I go back to Haenam Province?’
He found himself missing the Shaolin monks.

***

“Even if you lose all your hair and end up scarred, I wouldn’t care. You understand what I feel, don’t you?”
Jegal Jong-ryeo, whose shoulders had dampened the fabric of Geom U-bin’s robe, spoke these words before turning to leave.
If Geom U-bin truly did lose all his hair and bear scars, would Jegal Jong-ryeo really continue to love him like this?
He finished seeing her off with a bitter smile, and just then So Gi-cheon arrived.
“Brother!”
So Gi-cheon was the outsider who visited Oseong Jang-won most frequently. Yet he could not always find Geom U-bin when he came.
He would visit every few days, meeting Geom U-bin when fortune allowed, and simply departing again when it did not—and far more often, he departed without seeing him at all.
“Today I’m lucky enough to see your face.”
Geom U-bin greeted So Gi-cheon with a smile. Still, he was the guest Geom U-bin felt most at ease receiving.
There was nothing urgent to discuss. All he did was occasionally bring news from Hangju for Geom U-bin, who rarely ventured out.
“The Wol-ha Giroo is nearly finished. The counterfeit Saegiuju revealed its true colors, and the serious drinkers won’t touch it. The courtesans who came from Beijing have barely any patrons left, so most of them have already returned, I hear.”
Geom U-bin wrote something and asked a question.
—How do you know so much about a place you don’t even visit?
“I’m a disciple of the Sect, aren’t I? Information like that is my bread and butter. Hehe.”
It was good news to hear that the Oseong Pavilion, operated by Se-hwa, was doing well.
After sharing various stories, So Gi-cheon promised to visit again next time and took his leave.
Though he had not often ventured into the city due to his martial arts cultivation, there was a vast difference between choosing not to go and being unable to go.
With his body unwell, things invisible before now came into view, and sensations he could not have felt now touched his skin like reality itself.
‘So this is what they mean by growing wiser through suffering.’
After a brief rest, Geom U-bin made his way to the Underground Cultivation Chamber. From the moment he opened the iron door, fear washed over him.
Even when learning the Hyeolpung Art, fear of pain existed. But that was a fear that should naturally be overcome, which is why he had entered the Great Hall Chamber without hesitation.
Yet cultivation using ice was incomparable to the Great Hall Chamber’s torment.
So when he grasped the second door handle, Geom U-bin hesitated.
‘Should I just run away like this?’ The thought flickered through his mind, but with all his strength, he pulled the door open.
He wanted to cry out, ‘Master Jang! I’m starting cultivation again!’ but instead, Geom U-bin showed his determination through expression alone.

***

For Dong Seong-bang, this was an unexpected turn of events. He had heard that the Cheolhyeol Faction’s branch leader in Hangju was dead, but he had never imagined the faction leader himself would come to Hangju because of it.
No, even if the faction leader did come, no one could have foreseen him visiting Dongsi Doga in this manner.
After exchanging the usual pleasantries—something about being honored to meet someone of such renown in the Murim—an awkward silence stretched between them.
When two leaders, one from the Orthodox Faction and one from the Evil Faction, occupied the same space in an unexpected encounter, there could be no joy in it.
“To what business does the faction leader owe this difficult visit to our Dongsi Doga?”
Dong Seong-bang asked directly. Go Dae-bang, who had not even tasted the tea his host had brought, spoke.
“When a beloved subordinate dies under mysterious circumstances, how can the leader of a faction simply remain confined at home?”
“Heheheh! You could have sent subordinates to investigate, yet the faction leader comes in person. Frankly, it is surprising.”
“I apologize for startling the clan leader, but I wish to resolve this matter personally.”
“Of course you would. So, how long do you intend to stay in Hangju?”
“Until I catch the criminal.”
“And when might that be? It’s not as if we know when that will happen.”
In the Murim, dozens die under mysterious circumstances every single day, and in only perhaps three in ten cases is the criminal ever caught.
“I’m prepared to stay for up to six months.”
A faction leader of the Cheolhyeol Faction lodging and eating in the courtyard of Dongsi Doga for six months was simply intolerable.
“Are you truly doing this only to catch your subordinate’s killer?”
Those sinister dark-path villains always hide a knife behind their backs. The reason sounds plausible enough, but there is certainly some hidden agenda at work.
“I understand the clan leader’s suspicion well. However, I swear on the honor of this Go that the moment I catch the criminal who killed my subordinate, I shall return to my faction. Of course, our branch in Hangju shall also be withdrawn.”
Honor? What nonsense from a dark-path fool!
“Our Dongsi Doga cannot accept such terms. If the faction leader remains in Hangju for such a reason, we must regard it as nothing less than a declaration of war against Dongsi Doga.”
Dong Seong-bang pressed hard. If he did not firmly block this now, it could drag on endlessly, with the Cheolhyeol Faction gradually consuming Hangju itself.
As if he had expected this, there was no change in Go Dae-bang’s expression.
“If I truly harbored ambitions to seize Hangju, I would not be facing the clan leader like this. If you cannot recognize my sincerity, then there is nothing I can do.”
Go Dae-bang suddenly rose to his feet as though he had nothing more to discuss.
‘Look at this fellow.’
Go Dae-bang, who had fled the Shaolin Temple and come from Haenam Province to Zhejiang Province, was cautious for a dark-path practitioner—or in harsher terms, a coward like a frightened rabbit.
Yet he would risk a clash with Dongsi Doga and remain in Hangju? There was definitely something Dong Seong-bang did not know.
As Go Dae-bang turned to leave, something seemed to occur to him and he spoke.
“Ah, that’s right! Thanks to us, the Jo Hwang Clan received a most generous gift.”
This was not something the Cheolhyeol Faction should boast about.
“Why do you think the Jo Hwang Clan gave such a generous gift? And whose hand brought death to my subordinate?”

***

Four months had passed. In that time, Geom U-bin had grown another year older, and a thousand times as much spirit medicine had gone down his throat.
Yet his hair still hadn’t grown back, and his forgetfulness remained exactly where it was, like a belly button. Since he no longer opened his mouth, the smell of mildew vibrated from inside it.
The agony of cultivation practice was wasting Geom U-bin away with each passing day, though it wasn’t entirely without progress.
Even by Hyeolpung Saja’s reckoning, his martial arts seemed poised to break through to the next realm, yet he remained stuck at that threshold.
“I’m dying of frustration.”
Do Pyeong-su set down his cup and let out an involuntary exclamation.
“This Oseong Wine—you could drink it a hundred times and still find cause for amazement.”
The Oseong Wine that Hyeolpung Saja had made together was spoken of as the work of gods themselves, and its makers saw no exaggeration in it.
“The only thing that’s turned out as intended is the Oseong Wine.”
Sitting in the Pavilion by the pond under moonlight, drinking the finest wine in the world, yet his mouth tasted bitter.
“Man-dok. When you practice the Chugung-gwahyeol, what does it feel like? My hands sense something strange about it. Did you feel that too?”
Seo Seok-san spoke.
“You too? I felt like something was off balance.”
“Considering all the spirit medicine our senior has taken, isn’t that only natural? If all that medicine flowed and was absorbed as smoothly as water following a channel, that would be the strange thing.”
There was sense in Yeon Geum-hong’s counterargument.
“If all that medicine were absorbed completely at once, our senior could break through that threshold before him in a single stroke.”
As Seo Seok-san was lamenting this, Jang Man-dok suddenly struck the table.
“What? There’s something that can absorb all the medicine’s potency at once? What is it?”
Do Pyeong-su, reading Jang Man-dok’s expression, began stammering.
“Bi… what? Bihua… poison? No? Bihua… peak? Bihua… faction?”
An exasperated Jang Man-dok threw the wine cup in front of him at Do Pyeong-su.
“I… don’t… know… is… fine……!”
Do Pyeong-su quickly dodged the cup and this time read the expression correctly.
“So you can read it perfectly well when it says ‘I don’t know’—why can’t you read it when it matters?”
This time the wine cups of Yeon Geum-hong and Seo Seok-san went flying.
“That’s it, you old fool!”
“Even I have trouble pinpointing every last detail! Ah—Bihua Valley!”
Jang Man-dok nodded vigorously and blew forcefully to clear the blockage in his chest.
Seo Seok-san tilted his head.
“Bihua Valley? I feel like I’ve heard of it somewhere…”
Yeon Geum-hong drew the memory from Seo Seok-san’s mind.
“It’s one of the Three Great Mystery Sects of Murim. Their poisons surpass even the Sichuan Dang Sect, and they hold physicians in contempt.”
“Ah, now I remember. Those who love inventing names call them the Three Great Mystery Sects, but they’re really just hidden away, wallowing in their own excellence, aren’t they?”
“Exactly. They hide so well I couldn’t find them even when we were searching for our master back then. But why Bihua Valley…?”
Do Pyeong-su spoke, having read Jang Man-dok’s expression.
“Among Bihua Valley’s secret arts is something called the Bihua Needle, and it seems it allows one to absorb all the medicine our senior has taken in a single breath.”
“A needle?”

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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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