Return of the Sword Emperor - Chapter 9

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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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Chapter 4: The Prisoner Escort (1)

“Are the preparations coming along well?”

Hyeok Ryeon-su, who had tossed a few coins on the Marketplace street and procured tea leaves, brewed them with the reverent care one might accord to a tribute fit for an emperor, then handed a cup to Jong-gak as he spoke.

“Yes, we’ve finished preparing for departure. But is this truly safe to drink?”

Jong-gak frowned, studying the tea liquor that shifted from a deep brown to an almost black hue.

“Don’t worry yourself. Even that famous Pu-erh tea looks like this when it’s brewed this way.”
“Though it does differ quite a bit from the subtle brown of authentic Pu-erh.”

Jong-gak hesitated but ventured a tentative sip.
The taste was certainly bitter, yet as Hyeok Ryeon-su had said, it was rich and full-bodied.

“It’s… not bad.”

At Jong-gak’s cautiously favorable response, Hyeok Ryeon-su burst into laughter.

“I told you so. In the end, tea is tea. You needn’t spend a fortune on it.”
“Yet the Longjing tea I had before was decidedly different.”
“Well, that’s such a renowned premium that aside from a few truly authentic varieties like Longjing, it’s all throwing money away.”

Hyeok Ryeon-su went on at length, boasting about his eye for discovering treasure on the Marketplace street, before at last returning to the matter at hand.

“It will not be an easy journey. The Bok Ma Dan will likely obstruct us considerably.”
“I am prepared for it.”
“It’s unfortunate that such a thing came to pass and troubled so many people.”
“Still, it was a matter that elevated the honor of the Mil Geom Dan.”
“Hah! And the Bok Ma Dan lost all dignity.”

Jong-gak and Hyeok Ryeon-su exchanged grins.
The repercussions of the clash between Lee Cheon-hu of the Bok Ma Dan and Dok-go Jin at the restaurant had proven far greater than anticipated.
Skirmishes between members of different organizations were common enough, but the problem was that a deputy commander of the Bok Ma Dan—the elite force of the Zhengwu Sect—had been bested by a Newcomer who had only just been assigned.
Word reached the Bok Ma Dan, and chaos erupted. Yet there was precious little they could do about it.
To begin with, it was Lee Cheon-hu himself who had committed the error of belittling the Mil Geom Dan, and many witnesses at the restaurant had seen it and were willing to testify.
Ultimately, the Master of the Bok Ma Dan’s response was to place the prisoner escort under the command of an assistant master.
The dispatch of the assistant master was made with consideration of the fact that the squad leader sent from the Mil Geom Dan was none other than the celebrated Noodle Master, Yu Seol-ran. Though the structure leader of the Bok Ma Dan was hardly inferior in skill to Yu Seol-ran, her forceful nature would have seized control of the escort entirely.
Upon learning that the Bok Ma Dan would dispatch an assistant master, Hyeok Ryeon-su in turn decided to send Jong-gak, fearing that the Mil Geom Dan might otherwise fall into a subordinate position.

“The departure is tomorrow morning, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then let us make our way. If we’re to depart at first light, we’ll need to be stirring from before dawn. Let us at least offer encouragement to those embarking on so long a journey.”

As Hyeok Ryeon-su rose from his seat, Jong-gak quietly refilled his cup and drained it in one draft before following.

* * *

“By the way, where is Dok-go Jin, the Newcomer?”

Upon arriving at the barracks to encourage the squad that would accompany Hyeok Ryeon-su on the prisoner escort, Jong-gak inquired.

“He’s likely at the Soo-sim-gak.”

At Yu Seol-ran’s reply, Jong-gak’s brow furrowed.

‘The Soo-sim-gak again? I seem to recall hearing that he sought it out several days ago as well.’

Soo-sim-gak was a place for cultivating internal energy through meditation or breathing circulation practice.
As a newcomer, diligent training wasn’t in itself a bad thing, but with the prisoner escort departure just a day away, there was concern that he might be neglecting the preparations and becoming absorbed solely in cultivation.

“Ho! The newcomer’s in Soo-sim-gak.”

Unlike the worried Jong-gak, Hyeok Ryeon-su displayed keen curiosity.

“Why don’t we go have a look at how earnestly our newcomer’s been training?”

As Hyeok Ryeon-su rose with an expression mixing curiosity and mischief, Jong-gak and Yu Seol-ran, along with the squad leaders of each unit, quietly followed suit.

Soo-sim-gak stood just beside the Training grounds, nestled within a bamboo grove.
The entrance, a heavy iron gate, was firmly closed, with two Mil Geom Dan members standing guard before it.
During internal energy cultivation, particularly breathing circulation practice, practitioners were defenseless against external attack, so the principle was that each squad would take turns standing as Dharma Protector when someone was training.

“We greet the unit leader.”

Seok Ryu-sang, guarding Soo-sim-gak with the newcomer Jo Su-hwang, bowed respectfully to Hyeok Ryeon-su.

“Is it the first squad’s turn today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You must all be working hard because of the newcomer.”
“Not at all.”

Even as he spoke those words, discontent simmered beneath Seok Ryu-sang’s surface. Of course, he wasn’t foolish enough to let it show.

“Still training?”
“So it seems.”
“Commendable dedication.”

Hyeok Ryeon-su nodded with a satisfied smile and carefully stepped inside.
Even the faintest sound could prove fatal, so he moved with extreme caution.
In the center of the dimly lit Soo-sim-gak, Dok-go Jin sat in lotus position, performing breathing circulation practice, illuminated faintly by light filtering through a palm-sized window.

“Mm.”

At the sight of Dok-go Jin, Hyeok Ryeon-su’s body went rigid.
A thick bead of sweat trickled down past his lips.

“Gasp!”

Startled by the sudden movement, Jong-gak’s expression of bewilderment transformed into shock.

“Th-that’s……”

Yu Seol-ran, her voice trembling, clamped her hand over Gwak Ryeong’s opening mouth in fright. Yet her own face, turned toward Dok-go Jin, was equally hollow with terror, as though she’d glimpsed a ghost.

“What…am I looking at right now?”
“What…is that?”
“Be…quiet!”

Gwak Ryeong and Beon-hu, who’d followed, fell silent at once, intimidated by the savage glare in Yu Seol-ran’s eyes and her final warning.
The momentary chaos subsided quickly, and Soo-sim-gak regained its former stillness.
Yet the faces of the Mil Geom Dan leadership watching Dok-go Jin approach the pinnacle of his breathing circulation practice could not possibly remain calm.
Where their gaze converged, above Dok-go Jin’s crown, three flowers bloomed like a mirage.
Hazy and indistinct, transparent and lacking perfect form, they nonetheless represented a milestone on the path to Three-flower-gathering-at-crown—something no one among them was ignorant of.
Jong-gak had reached roughly that level, and Yu Seol-ran was only just beginning to grasp its initial threads.
Yet here, a newcomer who’d barely entered Mil Geom Dan—and one who’d never possessed proper internal strength to begin with—had arrived at such a state.
How much time had passed? As the Mil Geom Dan leaders could barely manage a breath, Dok-go Jin opened his eyes, finishing his breathing circulation practice, his expression tinged with profound regret.

“Phew! Still difficult.”

He had broken through the Conception and Governing vessels four days prior. Since then, he’d pursued the next level of mastery, but it was beyond his current reach. The shortfall wasn’t in understanding—it was time. Time, always time.

‘Still, at this level I should be able to execute several techniques properly.’

Dok-go Jin turned toward the entrance, satisfied with the progress he’d wrung from such a narrow window. He offered a smile to the dignitaries who stood awkwardly waiting.

“The security here at Soo-sim-gak seems rather lax, doesn’t it?”

* * *

The Zhengwu Sect’s Gangnam Chong-ta transferred inmates from the Brain Prison to the Repentance Prison twice yearly, on a fixed schedule.
However, when the Brain Prison reached capacity or a particularly important prisoner required transfer, the leadership would convene before ordering an escort—and that was precisely the situation now.
In the early morning, Son Gwan, the Chief Dharma Protector, arrived at the Brain Prison with his robes billowing, their creases sharp enough to draw blood at a touch.

“We pay respects to the Chief Dharma Protector.”

Hwang On, the outer branch leader responsible for external security and the Brain Prison, and his deputy Jwa Jong-je bowed hastily.
Son Gwan acknowledged them with a curt nod, then fixed his sharp gaze upon the prisoners kneeling before the Prison entrance.
There were exactly twenty-seven of them.
Both hands were bound in blackened handcuffs, and heavy leg shackles locked each ankle—thick iron chains connecting prisoner to prisoner in an unbroken line.

“Are the preparations proceeding smoothly?”
“Yes. We plan to depart the moment the Bok Ma Dan and Mil Geom Dan arrive.”
“We sent an escort two months ago, so the numbers are fewer than expected. The count is smaller than usual, but we must remain vigilant all the same.”

Son Gwan offered these words of caution to Jwa Jong-je, who bore responsibility for the escort, then his gaze shifted to one prisoner who held his head unusually high—chin thrust forward with stubborn pride.
Deung Bi, the Dharma Protector of the Ma Do Ryeon and the reason behind this very escort, had suffered acupuncture strikes to both shoulder meridians that had crippled his martial prowess. Yet his eyes remained as fierce and burning as ever.

“I will bear it in mind.”

Jwa Jong-je, who had been observing Deung Bi alongside Son Gwan, bowed with a tenseness that tugged at his features.

“Above all, you must maintain balance between the Bok Ma Dan and the Mil Geom Dan.”
“I will do my utmost.”

The memory of the unfortunate incident at the restaurant weighed upon him, and with both the deputy leaders of the Bok Ma Dan and Mil Geom Dan now participating in the prisoner escort, Jwa Jong-je’s expression was decidedly grim.

“The rivalry between them was already fierce, and now unforeseen personnel have joined as well. You’ll have your hands full, Deputy Leader. Hold steady.”

As Son Gwan patted Jwa Jong-je’s shoulder in encouragement, the Bok Ma Dan arrived first at the Brain Prison.

“Were you here, sir?”

Jeok Mu-hwa, deputy leader of the Bok Ma Dan, bowed respectfully to Son Gwan, and those following him lowered their heads in unison.

“I didn’t expect to find you in this place.”

Son Gwan’s words carried weight, tinged with disapproval. Jeok Mu-hwa let out an embarrassed laugh at the sight of his disapproving expression.

“That’s how it came to pass.”
“I’ve heard the rough account. How did you lose control of your subordinates……?”

Son Gwan turned to look for the person responsible for the restaurant incident.
The moment the restaurant matter was mentioned, Lee Cheon-hu shrank back, caught red-handed.

‘I’ve felt it for some time now—there’s something I don’t trust about that face.’

Jeok Mu-hwa noticed Son Gwan’s displeasure and was just about to offer an excuse.

“The Mil Geom Dan has arrived.”

At Jwa Jong-je’s words, Son Gwan turned his head.
Led by Jong-gak, the Mil Geom Dan squad was approaching the Brain Prison with confident strides.
Though fewer in number than the Bok Ma Dan, they yielded nothing in presence and momentum.

“Sigh.”

A long breath escaped Son Gwan’s lips.
The way the Bok Ma Dan members’ eyes fixed on the Mil Geom Dan told him this prisoner escort would not proceed smoothly.
Jwa Jong-je pressed his fingers between his brows, the headache already settling in.

“We greet the Head of the Execution Hall.”

At Jong-gak’s salute, Son Gwan managed a wry smile.

“It’s good to see a familiar face after so long, though the circumstances could be better.”
“It has been some time, Deputy Leader.”

Jeok Mu-hwa offered his greeting with a stern expression, and Jong-gak tilted his head slightly, responding with measured calm.

“Indeed. We last met during the Haksan operation nearly a year ago, it seems.”
“A year already? Time passes quickly. In any case, I trust you’ll handle this well. Nothing major should happen, but one can never be too careful.”

The tone in Jeok Mu-hwa’s words—as if taking charge of the escort—made Jwa Jong-je’s eyebrow twitch.

“Have no concerns. The Mil Geom Dan will do our part in any circumstance.”

Jong-gak’s subtle rebuttal—a quiet insistence that they required no meddling—etched a thin line across Jeok Mu-hwa’s face as he pressed his lips tight.
The exchange of barbs drew a sigh from Son Gwan, whose eyes hardened as he issued a warning.

“I care nothing for whatever disputes have arisen between the Bok Ma Dan and the Mil Geom Dan. But understand this clearly: should unnecessary tension or discord jeopardize this escort in any way, there will be no mercy.”
“We understand.”

Both Jeok Mu-hwa and Jong-gak answered in unison.

“Good. Now then, Deputy Leader.”

At Son Gwan’s call, Jwa Jong-je straightened and responded.

“Yes, Head of the Execution Hall.”
“The road is long. Let us depart at once.”
“Understood.”

Having received his orders, Jwa Jong-je spoke to Jeok Mu-hwa.

“The Bok Ma Dan will lead the way. My men will handle the route.”
“Agreed.”

Jeok Mu-hwa answered briefly, bowed to Son Gwan, and immediately led his subordinates forward.

“We ask the Mil Geom Dan to guard the rear of the escort.”
“Very well.”

At Jong-gak’s gesture, the squad moved to the back of the formation, and all preparations were complete.
Jwa Jong-je, having paid his respects to Son Gwan and Hwang On, the Head of the Outer Court, called out in a ringing voice.

“Forward!”

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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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