Longevity - Chapter 23

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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 23: Ransacking the Station
The moment Jin Ipchu finished speaking, Baturou, who had been hauling the cart from the front, shouted without even turning his head.

“Not just a moment—I could pull it for hours if need be!”

The cart alone weighed three to four hundred pounds empty. With Na Yangja, two wooden trunks, and the Iron Staff weighing over three hundred pounds packed inside, it easily surpassed a thousand pounds.
Yet Baturou’s pace never slowed. Only the wheel left deep marks in the dust of Gwandou.
Jangaeng followed behind, limping slightly on his left leg. His legs, hardened by farm work, held firm, but his palms still bore the sensation of firing the crossbow moments before.
Before they’d traveled half a li, a low stone wall and sprawling stables came into view. It was a large station built near Juseong, with several courtyards, and horses lined up along the western side.
Jin Ipchu called out to Jangaeng as he ran.

“Youngest, do you know how to ride a horse?”
“Not properly. I’ve only ever sat on an ox before.”

Yi Jungyong, running from the opposite flank, spoke up immediately.

“We can’t just take the horses. Master can’t ride because of his wounds, so we need to take a carriage as well.”

He gauged the distance remaining to the station and raised his voice.

“Senior Jin, you choose the horses—you know their condition best. Third and Fourth, you come with me to hold off the station guards. Jangaeng, go inside and gather food. We won’t stay long.”
“Understood.”
“Yes, Senior Yi.”
“Got it.”

Jangaeng answered as well, catching his breath.

“Yes.”

Yi Jungyong confirmed each person’s task with a single word and offered no further explanation. The shaft of the cart that Baturou held turned toward the western stables.
Jin Ipchu and Jeon Jingung split left and right. Jangaeng also checked the crossbow in his breast once more.
The watchman on the high gate was looking out at Gwandou. This was a place where messengers carrying urgent dispatches could change horses without dismounting, prepared for riders passing on the road.
But what came racing down Gwandou today was no official.
Before the watchman could even cry out, Baturou brought the cart to a halt before the wall.
Yi Jungyong and Jin Ipchu burst through the main gate with blades drawn. Baturou secured the cart shaft and headed straight for the stables.
Jeon Jingung grabbed Jangaeng’s arm.

“You stay here and guard Master.”

Jangaeng looked back and forth between the cart and the station. Even holding the crossbow, he couldn’t fight properly—there was no assurance he could protect Na Yangja by remaining.

“Even if I stay, I can’t protect Master. Let Sajeo stay instead. I’ll find the food.”

Jeon Jingung’s brow moved slightly. But instead of objecting, he took up position behind the cart.

“If you’re hurt, come straight back.”
“Yes.”

Jangaeng dashed into the station.
Few dared to raid a Gwannga station. The guards froze at the sudden intrusion.
When Yi Jungyong and Jin Ipchu unsheathed their blades, the guards scattered behind doors and walls.
Jangaeng also raised the crossbow before his chest. Looking at his thin frame and loose clothes, he seemed almost a child, but those who saw the blood-stained crossbow stepped aside.
The kitchen held stacks of Hua Su and Jeonbyeong piled in baskets. Jangaeng found no cloth wrapper and instead held the largest basket against his right arm and chest.
The moment he returned to the cart and lifted the curtain, Jangaeng’s feet stopped.
Na Yangja had opened his collar and was examining the wound on his chest.
The area around where the Feather Needle had pierced had turned black. An ink-dark stain had spread across half his chest.
The edges of the small hole where the needle had entered were already rotting and crumbling.
The basket tilted in Jangaeng’s hands.

“Master…….”

Na Yangja quickly fastened his collar.

“It’s fine. You be careful.”

Jeon Jingung, standing beside the carriage, turned at the sound of his voice.

“What’s wrong?”

Jangaeng lowered the curtain to hide the wound. If he told Jeon Jingung what had happened, the man would rush inside at once. Yi Jungyong and Jin Ipchu might abandon their work as well.

“Nothing at all. The basket caught on something.”

He set the food down and ran back toward the station. He meant to gather more provisions—wine and pickled vegetables, at least.
As he cut along the wall, a low voice reached his ears.

“Hurry. Release the pigeons and alert the nearby prefectural offices.”

A minor official was urging the station workers onward, racing toward the East Courtyard.
Jangaeng changed direction at once. Food could be found again, but if a carrier pigeon flew, soldiers would be waiting at every station ahead. A single alarm could shut down all the relay posts.

The East Courtyard held the Pigeon House. More than twenty compartments lined its north and south walls.
On a table in the center sat official document paper, ink, and red ink paste. A station worker who had arrived first was bent over, composing a message.
The moment he saw Jangaeng’s crossbow, he dropped his brush. His face drained pale, and he bolted through the rear door.
Jangaeng rested his finger on the trigger but did not fire. There was no need to shoot a fleeing man.
The pigeons were the urgent thing.
He reached for the compartment door, then stopped. Even if he released them empty, a pigeon’s return alone would raise the alarm.
Jangaeng pulled over the stack of bamboo cages beside him. He thrust his hand into each compartment one by one, capturing the birds.
Fluttering wings beat against his face and arms. Holding the door with one hand while cramming them into the cage with the other, he nearly lost his grip several times.
Still, he managed to confine all twenty-some carrier pigeons.
At that moment, Jin Ipchu’s cry rang out from beyond the wall.

“Change! Everyone change clothes!”

Jangaeng’s hands froze.
A moment later, Jin Ipchu shouted again.

“Not the old woman! What I need is military uniforms—military uniforms!”

Now understanding, Jangaeng grabbed the cage and bolted outside. A few strides on, the official document paper on the table caught his eye. He turned back, stuffed a small bundle of papers into his breast, and clamped the brush thick with red ink between his teeth.

Outside, Baturou was transferring the wooden trunk to a new carriage. It was a large official government carriage drawn by four horses—twice the size of the one they’d been riding in, with axles and wheels both considerably thicker.

Baturou’s eyes widened at the sight of the pigeon cage.

“I sent you for food, and you bring back birds?”

Jangaeng spat out the brush and caught his breath.

“Carrier pigeons. The station workers were trying to alert the prefectural office.”

Baturou glanced down at the cage once, then nodded. He asked nothing further and hoisted the next wooden trunk into place.
Jeon Jingung, scanning the direction of Gwandou, spoke up.

“Jangaeng, hurry. The Gaebang people are following again.”

Jangaeng set the cage on the carriage and dashed toward the Kitchen. Just then, Jin Ipchu came running from the opposite side, cradling an armful of soldiers’ uniforms and black boots.

“Where else do we need to go?”

“I’ll bring more wine and side dishes.”

Jin Ipchu tossed the pile of clothes to Jeon Jingung without breaking stride.

“Come on, let’s get the horses out of here.”

Baturou’s voice rang out from the west.

“The black horses have good stamina! Pick those ones for the long ride!”

When Jangaeng returned to the kitchen, everyone had already fled. He swept pickled vegetables and boiled meat into a basket, then heaped two wine jugs from the corner on top.
He carried the heavy basket outside. Na Yangja and the wooden trunk had already been moved to the official government carriage.
Yi Jungyong, Jin Ipchu, and Jeon Jingung emerged leading military horses. The station workers had scattered, and no one remained nearby.
They all changed hurriedly into military uniforms below the gate of Yeokcham.
Baturou held a uniform against his body and groaned.

“I can’t even get one arm through this.”

Yi Jungyong snatched the garment away and threw it to Jangaeng.

“This one was never meant for the elder brother anyway. Jangaeng, put it on.”

Jangaeng set down the basket and pulled on the military uniform. His frame was so lean that even a common soldier’s garments hung loose at the sleeves and waist.
While Jangaeng wrapped the belt around himself twice, Baturou continued to mutter.

“I need one too, or this won’t fool anyone.”

Jin Ipchu looked around inside the station.

“The station master was quite stout. Though he’s short, the elder brother could force his way into his uniform if necessary. Wait here.”

He darted back inside.
Jangaeng caught sight of the far end of Gwandou. In the distance, figures in tattered clothes emerged into view.
It was the Gaebang gang, retreated from Bukmun. Though still some distance away, they could catch up while they changed into their uniforms.
He crouched beside the Pigeon House and unfolded a sheet of official document paper. The paper was smaller than his palm. He couldn’t write much.
Jangaeng checked the red ink remaining on his brush tip. He wrote only a single line on the paper.
Gaebang raises an army and commits treason.
He rolled the paper and inserted it into the tube attached to the pigeon’s leg.
He didn’t know which magistrate’s office it would reach. But if word of Gaebang’s rebellion spread before the station raid was known, the authorities’ attention would be diverted to Gaebang for a while.
The first pigeon soared skyward. Jangaeng wrote the same message again and released another.
As the Gaebang gang drew closer, Baturou picked up the Iron Staff.

“These are the ones who stabbed the horses’ bellies and cut their legs. They’re still following us?”

As he charged forward, the Gaebang men couldn’t stand against him and wheeled away—men who had witnessed their leader’s death at Bukmun’s gate.
Baturou chased them a few strides, then turned back at Yi Jungyong’s call.
Just then, Jin Ipchu emerged carrying a large military coat. When Baturou put it on, the fit was barely acceptable, but the sleeves and pant legs fell several inches short.
His feet wouldn’t even fit into the boots.
Jin Ipchu crouched beside Jangaeng.

“Youngest, what are you writing?”
“I’m releasing pigeons.”
“I can see that. What’s the message?”

Jin Ipchu glanced over the paper, his eyes widening.

“Gaebang raises an army and commits treason? Excellent. Very good. Write more.”

Jangaeng pressed the brush tip down. No more red stain emerged.

“The red ink has dried completely.”
“Good. We’ll take the rest with us. It’s better than letting them send another message.”

Jin Ipchu did not challenge Jangaeng’s decision. Instead, he shoved the remaining pigeons toward the inner carriage and secured the door.

“Everyone, mount up!”

Yi Jungyong’s shout rang out.
Baturou grabbed Jangaeng by the collar and hoisted him into the carriage as if tossing a sack. He then settled onto the driver’s bench at an angle, gathering the reins of four horses into a single hand.

“Go!”

The whip cracked through the air. As the four military horses lunged forward in unison, the carriage catapulted ahead.
Jangaeng, caught off-guard, was flung backward. He was barely a breath away from toppling over the rail.
Na Yangja’s hand seized his arm.

“Steady.”

Yi Jungyong raised his hand to signal the departure.
Jin Ipchu and Jeon Jingung unwound the cloths that had covered their faces and mounted their horses. The three of them rode flanking the official government carriage on both sides.
The military horses moved differently from the ordinary mounts. Though four of them hauled the heavy carriage, the wheels skimmed across Gwandou as if weightless, and their speed nearly doubled the pace of before.
The walls of Yeokcham and the pursuing Gaebang riders dissolved into dust behind them.
Jangaeng selected the tenderest meat and flatbread from the basket and offered them to Na Yangja.

“Master, please eat something.”

Na Yangja accepted the food and studied Jangaeng’s forehead. Sweat-dampened strands of hair clung to his face.
He lifted a hand and wiped the perspiration from Jangaeng’s brow.

“You’ve worked hard.”

Jangaeng recalled the blackened rot spreading through his chest. His throat constricted, and for a moment no words would come.

“Compared to the debt I owe you, Master…….”

Baturou’s voice cut in from the driver’s bench.

“I’m starving to death! Hand me some of those flatbreads!”

Rather than answer, Jangaeng gathered several flatbreads and passed them up to the driver’s seat.
The pigeons cooed softly within the carriage. Wary of disturbing Na Yangja’s rest, he shifted the cage to the auxiliary seat beside Baturou.
Baturou took a large bite of flatbread while keeping the reins firmly in hand.

“Food from the Gwannga tastes different. Crisp on the outside, rich on the inside.”

Jin Ipchu, riding alongside, laughed.

“The Gwannga’s prison food must be something special too. Since we’ve just ransacked a station, we’ll be sampling it soon enough.”

Yi Jungyong replied with dry bluntness.

“The punishment for attacking a station is death. You won’t be eating that prison food for long.”
“Who are you trying to scare? Desecrating a grave was a capital crime, and it didn’t stop us then. Why start worrying now?”

Jin Ipchu laughed, but Jangaeng could not. The faces of the station workers as they fled, the red message carrier spinning skyward—both images haunted him.
Now they were hunted not only by Gaebang, but by the Gwannga as well.
Yet there was no turning back.
Jangaeng glanced toward the interior of the carriage. Na Yangja was chewing a morsel of food slowly and deliberately.
Beneath his collar, a dark scar lay hidden. Only five pills of medicine remained.
Five days, counting today.
Ongju lay more than three thousand li away.
But now four military horses pulled the official government carriage. Yi Jungyong, Jin Ipchu, and Jeon Jingung rode on horseback as well.
If they changed horses at the next station, they could ride without rest day or night. There was a chance they might reach Ongju within five days.
Jangaeng gazed ahead at the reins shaking roughly and the road stretching into the dust before them.
Five days was not merely insufficient time. Not if they never stopped.

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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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