Retribution (2)
His thoughts trailed off no further. He sensed the unease of needing to dodge the incoming fist, but he'd already tumbled to the ground long ago.
Brrrr!
Like a frog splayed on the roadside, the squad member convulsed briefly before losing consciousness and going limp.
Whoosh!
Even after dispatching eleven men with eleven blows, it hadn't even been enough for Gu Cheon-woo to work up a proper sweat. And why would it? They were nothing more than a lowly escort squad with pitiful discernment.
"It's been a while."
Back in his Paewang days, he'd mainly wielded Intent-Infused Formless Sword Qi. In truth, he'd reached the pinnacle of the heart-mind, making it hard to even approach him. It had been ages since he'd last used bare-handed martial arts.
He wanted to savor the thrill of bare-handed combat a bit more, but even unleashing his Mireok Cheonri-an—without a trace of spirit or inner energy—was overkill for these rabble who couldn't overcome it.
"Cold food is no feast."
The sole indulgence of the Paewang, seeker of the Mireok Paedo, had been fine cuisine. Wasting time on evils too trivial to remember was pointless.
Ga-bok stared blankly at his young master.
Unlike a loyal servant, he'd disobeyed the order to wait on the second floor and strode out boldly alongside the merchants unpacking their goods.
By all rights, the young master shouldn't even make it to dinner—let alone avoid collapsing in agony in his room. With Tak So-pyeong's vicious temperament, that much was child's play.
Of course, with all the eyes around, outright murder was off the table.
But no—even this one-sided beatdown was bizarre. Only because the ones getting pummeled were Tak So-pyeong and his escorts.
The young master had taken down eleven men single-handedly.
If Ga-bok had seen it alone, he'd have dismissed it as a hallucination and called himself mad. But the senior merchants had witnessed it too. The way they kept stealing glances at the young master said it all.
Still, no one was quite convinced. It was one-sided, sure, but Tak So-pyeong and the Hocheon Corps' responses were off. It was like they wanted to get hit, pressing their faces right into the young master's feather-light punches.
Anyone could see something was wrong, yet it was hard to deny—the punches hit harder than expected. No normal person crumples like a wooden statue after one strike without blacking out.
"How'd you do that just now?"
"You wanted to see Mu-chosik, so I showed you."
"Don't tell me Mu-chosik means transcending form to reach a realm beyond the need for food—an absolute state?"
"Not bad."
Ah, so our young master really is an absolute master.
If Tak So-pyeong had been overwhelmed by sheer presence and couldn't even resist, that'd make sense... like hell it would!
If that were the case, the young master would've had to abandon all conscience. To gain that kind of fortune, he'd at least need to sneak out of his room first.
Ga-bok checked on him at home every day—how could he become an absolute master?
The merchants, who'd been eavesdropping, gulped nervously and buried themselves in their meals, avoiding eye contact at all costs.
I'd better shut up.
Ga-bok decided to just eat. Asking wouldn't make it any clearer anyway.
Eh? The table was sparse. Just rice and greens. No meat in sight, even if he scoured it.
"I'm not a cow—order more!"
"Buy your own if you want."
Gu Cheon-woo showed no mercy for Ga-bok's plight. He should be grateful for the shared table as it was.
Besides, cultivating at the dinner table violated proper etiquette.
"Where am I supposed to get money?"
"You hid it well in that pathetic spot."
"...How'd you know?"
"If it harms the business, I'll dock your pay."
You heartless bastard of a master!
Gu Cheon-woo unleashed a barrage of thunderbolts on Ga-bok.
"Starting tomorrow, double the training."
"...I can just eat, can't I?!"
As the young master finished eating and returned to the inn, the deputy manager cautiously asked the deputy escort leader.
"Did the young master really train in martial arts?"
"Hard to judge without seeing it myself, but considering the Hocheon Corps' skill, I'd say yes."
"Then those eccentricities were genuine martial training."
"Y...yes... probably."
No Ja-cheong felt queasy.
Excuses aside, he was responsible for the escort's safety in this caravan. Dismissing the young master's antics as mere fitness despite witnessing them firsthand was admitting his own blindness.
"So, what's the young master's level?"
It was a crude question, but curiosity burned. People were all the same—merchants included. To respond properly from here on, they needed a measure of his strength. How strong was he, exactly?
"Well, I don't really..."
"I see."
The deputy manager accepted the non-answer so readily that No Ja-cheong scowled.
This made him look like a true novice blind to martial arts.
This spineless prick!
From the start, the focused attention felt like payback for past slights. But the real issue was he genuinely didn't know the young master's prowess.
One loss could be bad luck or an off day, but all ten Hocheon Corps members? No mere fluke.
Yet admitting ignorance as Jeokgeum Escort's deputy leader wounded his pride.
"At least first-rate!"
"Wanna bet your fortune?"
Typical merchant—turning it into a wager already? Fine for the traders, but you escorts too?!
As the Jeokgeum members jumped in, No Ja-cheong realized he'd fallen for the deputy manager's trap. One coin in, one guan out.
Under the heavy scrutiny, sweat soaked his back. His dignity as deputy hung in the balance.
"...One nyang."
Pride didn't trump money. That's why he guarded caravans for a living.
This month's pay barely covered expenses—one nyang was luxury. His wife would hound him through the kids if she found out; his vision darkened at the thought.
"Ho? A born merchant."
"Time for some poetic flair."
Jong Yeo-myeong stopped there. Merchant's revenge achieved—but push further, and the deputy's face might explode from redness.
Truly baffling.
Peak reversal experts blended so seamlessly with commoners they were hard to spot, but the young master as an absolute master? Absurd.
Conversely, untrained, how could Tak So-pyeong and Hocheon fall so easily?
Can't just ask for a demo.
Requesting martial display from a warrior was taboo, yet he was the caravan heir. Awkward as a lowly merchant, risky as a warrior.
Escorts staked their lives on trips. Can't shove the heir forward just because he trained.
What now?
For now, the young master was a perfect dilemma. If only he'd learned merchant arts—no such luck.
Gasp!
Tak So-pyeong bolted upright on the bed, yelling "Wait!"
The halted agony crashed in like waves, nearly drawing a scream.
What happened?
He retraced events. At the edge of his severed memory: Gu Cheon-woo.
One strike, lights out—waking only at night.
"That worm dares strike me?!"
Beaten senseless by the scum he'd dismissed—rage surged, heart-demons hard to contain.
Yet doubt lingered over the ordeal. Gu Cheon-woo showed no grand technique. Replaying it, he couldn't fathom why he'd blacked out.
Unacceptable. Tak So-pyeong raised his voice.
Midnight racket unwise, but composure shattered.
"Anyone out there?!"
The squad leader from next door rushed in, still groggy—situation check took time.
Tak So-pyeong glared at Yuk Woo-pyeong, demanding details. At minimum, Gu Cheon-woo should've suffered equally.
Instead: utterly unexpected.
"Say that again. Possible? All of you downed by one man?!"
"We don't know why. The moment we looked at him, time froze—and we blacked out."
"He used sorcery?!"
"Not sure, exactly."
"You watched and still don't know? What's the point of eyes?!"
"...My apologies!"
Despite the insult, Yuk Woo-pyeong bowed. Answering would only irk the young master more.
Still, it stung.
"His martial level?"
"Excluding sorcery, at least transcendent-first-rate, I'd guess."
"Transcendent-first? That trash?!"
Even secret training lacked time. Transcendent-first in under two years? Absurd—unless a sect poured resources into an heir.
Genius outliers existed, casually leaping impossibilities—but not Gu Cheon-woo.
Yet reality couldn't be ignored or dismissed. Denial would worsen things.
"Young master, we didn't seek trouble with him originally."
"Spit it out—why the long wind-up?!"
"He seemed... different from his usual self. You'd never bite at bait from scum like that."
"True... hm."
Tak So-pyeong paused, rage cooling. Separate from underrating Gu Cheon-woo, escalating publicly wasn't like him.
Irritation boiled strangely.
Provocation or not, purpose recalled—he should've brushed it off.
Yet seeing him stirred uncontrollable killing intent.
Pondering deepened suspicion.
As if that trash suddenly hit transcendent-first! Must've been sorcery or some trick!
Jeokgeum seemed clueless too. Hiding training from family, transcendent-first in two years? Impossible.
Sorcery, definitely.
Recalling Gu Cheon-woo felt like facing a blood-sworn foe.
"That bug cursed me with sorcery!"
Yuk Woo-pyeong sighed in relief—yet uneasy. Sorcery pinned blame on Gu Cheon-woo, but unconfirmed.
"Actually, perfect."
"Pardon?"
"As a Daecheongseongpa disciple, I can't ignore injustice, right?"
"Ah! I'll send word at once."
Humiliation, yes—but potential silver lining. Could end swiftly.
I'll make you regret shaming me. Heh heh heh!
Originally, no such escalation planned. Father hated deviations. No paternal leniency.
Aware of his ruthlessness, yet fury consumed Tak So-pyeong.
"Must you go this far?"
"No better training for upper and lower body."
Ga-bok felt like dying.
Post-inn fiasco, intensity skyrocketed. Basic walk now included ten push-ups and leaps every ten paces.
Sounded like mere strolling—but post-workout, nothing didn't ache.
Nights brought feverish heat surges.
Damn it!!
Mornings, fine as ever—others assumed faking. Now, no one dismissed young master's acts as quirks.
Tacitly accepted: martial training.