The Legend of Red Cloud - Chapter 5

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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 5. A Pair of Worn-Out Socks
Contrary to what one might expect—being stationed at the vanguard of the front—the headquarters of Jeok Myeol Dae was positioned at the innermost, rearmost region of the Maeng Ui Dan garrison.
Like all the buildings of Maeng Ui Dan, those of Jeok Myeol Dae were shabby beyond measure.
Before a long, narrow structure set deepest among these decrepit buildings, five men who had left the main hall came to a stop.
“According to the rough map the main hall provided, this should be the place, but…….”
Gwak Giryang, standing close beside the young man who had first requested to be sent to Jeok Myeol Dae, spoke with uncertainty—a hesitation born from the complete absence of a nameplate on the building.
“Then we’ll just have to confirm it first.”
At the young man’s words, the other men present exchanged glances.
His tone of command came too naturally, and Gwak Giryang’s response bore an ease that seemed perfectly ordinary.
A master-servant relationship!
Whether or not the young man noticed their silent realization, Gwak Giryang bowed lightly and, the moment the young man finished speaking, carefully opened the door.
At once, a stench poured from within, and the men recoiled without thinking.
The miasma of filth and sweat mingled with the sour reek of stale alcohol—a reek so overwhelming that “stench” alone could scarcely capture it.
As they hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, someone emerged from within.
“Say…….”
Gwak Giryang, seizing the moment to speak, was cut off as the young man who had emerged grasped the door handle and slipped back inside.
Thud.
Facing Gwak Giryang, who stood gaping at the door now shut again, a man in a black sleeveless robe stepped forward with a mocking smile.
Yet despite his bold advance, he froze, hand still gripping the door handle, unable to move further.
A massive blade intercepted Gwak Giryang’s hand as he reached to steady the man’s shoulder.
“Best not to touch him.”
“What do you mean?”
To Gwak Giryang’s question, Ho An—wielding a blade of startling brevity and extreme width—answered with an odd economy of words.
“An Imuggi dwells in the sewers, so to speak.”
“An Imuggi?”
“A master of such extraordinary skill that he alone could concentrate a murderous intent dense enough to render even Sozhou’s tiger immobile. That’s who resides in there.”
The revelation itself was astonishing, but Gwak Giryang was struck even harder by the realization that the man frozen at the door handle was the one known as Sozhou’s tiger.
“Cheol Jayong of the Cham Hun Bu!”
One of the nine pillars supporting the Cheol Hyeol Maeng—a troublemaker of the Sozhou Cheol Bang.
He bore the same name as Zhao Zilong, the tiger of Changshan from the Records of the Three Kingdoms, which is why he earned the epithet Sozhou’s tiger far more readily than any formal title.
Moreover, he possessed a strength that forced even Gwak Giryang—a man who prided himself on his considerable skill—to look up to him.
Now that Gwak Giryang thought of it, he had indeed heard of the peculiarly fashioned blade wielded by the Ho An man who had just stopped him.
“Could it be… the Dan Gwang Ma Do?”
At Gwak Giryang’s astonished question, Peng Gyeong of Ho An lifted his shoulders in acknowledgment.
“Not a title I particularly favor, but that’s what they call it. In any case, are you planning to leave them as they are?”
Though his answer was directed at Gwak Giryang, his latter question turned toward a man in a yellow hero’s crown who stood with folded arms, observing the situation.
“Why ask me?”
“Then who else would I ask?”
With those words, Peng Gyeong cast a brief glance over Gwak Giryang and the young man before continuing.
“Looking at you two, there’s clearly nothing to hope for. My own skill amounts to little more than comparing acorns with a man who grips a door handle and goes rigid—Sozhou’s tiger and I hardly differ. In the end, the strongest among us, our Hwangbo, has no choice but to step forward.”
“I told you not to call me that!”
“You won’t allow ‘Great Swordmaster,’ you forbid ‘Flame’s Fury,’ and now you object to my form of address too—then what in heaven’s name am I supposed to call you?”
“I have not earned the title of Great Swordmaster through any act of chivalry. Nor am I close enough to you to warrant such familiarity. And if you call me by that name one more time…….”
The man’s threat was interrupted by a voice not his own.
“Flame’s Fury! So you’re Hwangbo Jangseong, master of the Gwang Yeom Sin Gwon!”
The man who uttered this cry of astonishment in wide-eyed wonder was none other than Gwak Giryang.
For good reason—Hwangbo Jangseong, called Flame’s Fury, was a true master whose name appeared among the Yeong Ha Baek Wi, otherwise known as the Hundred Masters of the Spiritual Realm.
Yet even that astonishment scattered as a creaking sound drew everyone’s attention to the door, which was opening slightly.
The young man who had stepped out briefly before, shut the door, and disappeared inside was now poking his face through the narrow gap.
But his gaze passed over Cheol Jayong, still gripping the door handle, and fixed itself upon Hwangbo Jangseong.
At last, Hwangbo Jangseong spoke in response to that stare.
“Do you have something to say to me?”
At Hwangbo Jangseong’s question, the young man peering through the door gap nodded.
“I’m not sure what you mean, but speak.”
“Didn’t you see what was written on the door?”
“On the door?”
At those words, Hwangbo Jangseong examined the door and made out two characters, barely legible, their outlines faded.
“Initiation… Ceremony?”
“Yes. You know what it means, don’t you?”
“Well…….”
“If you speak another word about this, he says he’ll tear out your tongues. And…….”
The man shifted his gaze to Cheol Jayong, who still hadn’t released his grip on the door handle, and continued.
“…Let go of the door handle.”
Like an obedient child, Cheol Jayong removed his hand from the handle at the command, but a moment later he realized his own blunder and his face twisted in frustration.
The young man spoke to Cheol Jayong in a measured, almost gentle tone.
“Embarrassment is better than death. And if you touch that handle again… well, I’m sure you can imagine what will happen.”
With those words left hanging, the man withdrew his head and shut the door once more.
Click.
A moment of silence fell.
Then Hwangbo Jangseong, known as Yeong Ha Baek Wi for his volcanic rage, erupted.
“How dare they!”
Crack!
Hwangbo Jangseong’s roar, which had been pouring out like a volcano, was cut short by something that came flying through the door panel.
“Agh!”
With a strange cry, Hwangbo Jangseong sprawled backward, and a single sock—its surface blackened with age and grime—rolled across the ground beside him.
The four others, staring in turn at the sock, the punctured door panel, and Hwangbo Jangseong lying unconscious on the floor, had to force their gaping mouths shut.
The young man appeared again through the gap in the door, placing a single finger to his lips.
“Shh!”
***
Only when the sun had sunk toward the western hills and dusk had crept across the land did the damaged door finally open.
And again, it was the same young man who poked his head through.
“Um… I’m curious about something. Why are you still standing here?”
Hwangbo Jangseong, who had regained consciousness moments earlier, was about to flare up again when Gwak Giryang stepped forward to stop him.
“We’re here…….”
The man, thinking it would be faster to show than explain, produced an assignment order from inside his robe and gazed down at it toward the open door.
“You’re the new recruits?”
***
Inside the building known as Nae Mu Ban, the dormitory used by lower-ranking martial artists, five men stood rigidly alert.
They were completely overwhelmed by the fierce aura emanating from the man who stared at them with a savage expression.
Jwa Ryang, the stern-faced man, turned to look back at his companion.
“What do you think we should do?”
“What else? They’ve been nagging for recruits all year. Now we take them when they’re offered.”
“But that’s the problem—they wouldn’t give them when we asked, and now suddenly they dump five on us. Don’t you find that suspicious?”
“Suspicious about what?”
“Setting numbers aside, there are clearly some capable fighters mixed in with them. Doesn’t it seem like they’re trying to get us killed by pushing these dangerous ones on us?”
“When have we ever been sent anywhere that wasn’t dangerous?”
“Well… never.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Yi Song, dressed in white martial robes, posed the counterquestion, and Jwa Ryang finally shrugged and yielded.
“There’s not much to it when you think about it that way. Ah, forget it. The youngest—put them through initiation.”
The five men tensed at those words.
In any place, any group, initiation ceremonies were rough and brutal affairs.
But…….
“We’ll conduct your initiation now, group leader.”
The one called the youngest—the young man they’d encountered outside—Hee Jun spoke, and a figure rose from a cot in the corner of the room. It was…….
‘Handsome!’
Like Gwak Giryang, everyone’s thoughts immediately arrived at the same conclusion: the youth was strikingly handsome.
Hee Jun gestured toward him and spoke.
“This is our group leader of the Red Warriors, Jang Min Su, a master martial artist.”
Jang Min Su, noting the visible relief on the five men’s faces as they realized the initiation was merely a formal welcoming ceremony, turned his gaze toward a cot deeper in the room.
Following his gaze, the five new recruits could make out that someone was lying on that cot.
But that was all.
Jang Min Su, turning his eyes from the motionless cot, now looked toward Yi Song.
“Are you truly certain about this?”
“In this district, if they say do it, you do it. There’s no choice.”
“It really could turn out as Jwa Ryang suggested.”
“We’ll know soon enough if we wait.”
Did Yi Song’s ambiguous response give Jang Min Su strength from his conflicted expression?
Jwa Ryang spoke again.
“That’s why I’m saying you might get stabbed in the back.”
Despite Jwa Ryang’s repeated warnings, Yi Song merely smiled.
Whether that smile counted as a decision, Jang Min Su received the deployment order that Hee Jun had been holding.
After staring at it for a long moment, Jang Min Su turned to Yi Song with a darkened expression.
“I think you might be right about this one, Jwa Ryang.”
Taking the deployment order Jang Min Su offered, Yi Song’s face hardened.
It couldn’t be otherwise—all the personal information that should have been recorded on the deployment order had been blacked out entirely.
“The head instructor isn’t the type to joke around…”
Hearing that murmur, Jwa Ryang quietly approached and peered over Yi Song’s shoulder at the deployment order, his brow furrowing sharply.
“See? I told you there was something fishy about this!”
At Jwa Ryang’s renewed grumbling, Yi Song said nothing.
Even he had begun to doubt.
Perhaps that’s why.
Yi Song rose from his seat and approached the bunk that Jang Min Su had been watching.
“Ryu, you need to wake up.”
The man who sat up with a rustling sound looked thoroughly annoyed.
Yi Song quietly handed the deployment order to him.
After glancing at it briefly, Ryu turned his gaze to the five recruits.
“Names?”
“Gwak Giryang.”
“Cheol Jayong.”
“Peng Gyeong.”
“Hwangbo Jangseong.”
“Call me Yun.”
After hearing all five recruits’ names, Ryu returned the deployment order to Yi Song and asked a question.
“Need anything else?”
Yi Song, caught off guard by the question, finally let out a short laugh.
He wasn’t wrong, either.
Among those who had passed through this place or remained, there wasn’t a single person without some unspeakable past.
As Yi Song turned to leave, Jwa Ryang stepped beside him.
“Maybe you don’t need it, but I do.”
Yi Song tried to dissuade him.
“Ryu’s right. There’s no need to know anything beyond their names.”
“But if we really do get stabbed in the back, it’ll be too late by then.”
Whether those words had offended them, a protest erupted from among the five recruits.
“We didn’t come here to stab anyone in the back!”
“Then what did you come for?”
Cheol Jayong, who had stepped forward to object to Jwa Ryang’s question, couldn’t immediately produce an answer.
Seeing that, Jwa Ryang’s eyes narrowed at once.
“See? They can’t say a word. I’m telling you, those guys came here to betray us!”
While Yi Song and Jang Min Su didn’t entirely agree, they cast suspicious glances at the recruits.
Yet Hee Jun was watching the young man who had asked to be called Yun with a slightly different kind of gaze.
Ryu seemed to notice Hee Jun’s attention.
“Hee Jun.”
“Yes? Ah! Yes, sir.”
“Do you know that face?”
“That is… Ah, no. No, sir.”
Hee Jun’s answer, given while shaking his head, seemed somehow unconvincing. Yet Ryu pressed no further.
Instead, he brought up something else.
“Where’s Dong Pil?”
At that question, Hee Jun glanced around before scratching his head.
“He’s not here.”
“That bastard left at dawn.”
Withdrawing his gaze from the recruits, Jwa Ryang interjected bluntly, and Yi Song clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. The sickness is acting up again.”
“He did hold out well for two weeks. But who is it this time?”
At Hee Jun’s question, Jwa Ryang answered flatly.
“I don’t know who exactly, but he was sniffing around near Hwang San Dae recently, so it’s probably someone from there.”
At that, Yi Song shook his head slowly.
“We should probably go fetch him. Before he causes real trouble.”
“Understood…”
Hee Jun nodded in agreement and began to move, but his voice cut off mid-word.
A dark shadow had burst through the door, slammed it shut behind him, and stood there drawing ragged breaths.

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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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