23. Headwind (5)
It was said that beggars affiliated with the Gangbang could be identified by their knots, but that wasn't the reality.
Beggars who openly displayed their knots were around the level of branch leaders with three knots, while sect leaders avoided revealing their identities as much as possible. The reason stemmed from the Gangbang's inherent nature. As an organization that dealt in information, the higher one's rank, the more they concealed their personal details.
Even the beggar who had come to the branch didn't show his knot. His unkempt, filthy hair hung over his face, making it impossible to tell who he was. But the aura he exuded was unexpectedly youthful.
"I'm Song Ji-myeong, the outer manager."
"I'm Jo Cheol-san."
Even without a clear declaration of status, the outer manager treated him with utmost courtesy. Crossing the Gangbang meant you had no intention of doing business anymore. Even aside from them, putting up walls with communal beggars made trade difficult. Beggars with nothing to lose were unpredictable in what they might do.
The man who identified himself as Jo Cheol-san stated his business bluntly.
"I know it's rude, but I'd like to meet the young master right away."
"Please follow me. I'll guide you."
"I'm imposing on you, Outer Manager. I apologize for taking your time."
"Apologize? No, it's an honor to host a hero of the Gangbang."
The outer manager observed proper etiquette while feeling puzzled. His voice sounded younger than expected, but he was clearly a martial artist from the Gangbang. His polite demeanor toward superiors set him apart from the arrogant warriors who looked down on others despite their minor fame.
Truly the Gangbang.
He harbored no doubts. No one could impersonate the Gangbang, and the timing and purpose were clear. His nephew had warned him not to mistreat beggars, as someone from the Gangbang would be coming.
It was about time for the Gangbang to show up.
There was a saying that where there was trouble, the Gangbang was never far behind. With all the uproar over the deaths of the Red-White Twin Heroes, it was more surprising they hadn't appeared sooner. On the other hand, he couldn't shake the feeling that things had escalated beyond expectations. It felt ominous that the young master remained so quiet.
Has he abandoned my nephew?
No, that couldn't be. Though his nephew's standing had wobbled slightly, the outer manager upheld his loyalty. His nephew had said he was biding his time until the flow reached its extreme. Without a decisive blow, it was hard to be so confident. Surely he wasn't without a plan.
On that note, he'd trusted too easily. It was hard to refuse when his nephew spoke—it carried an undeniable sense of righteousness.
They arrived at the inner quarters. It was the same as every time warriors had visited before. Cheon-woo was overseeing the training of his younger brother and servant. Humans were creatures of adaptation, and Cheon-su and Ga-bok were keeping up well enough.
"Someone from the Gangbang has arrived, so stop for—"
A chill ran down his spine just as a terrifying aura erupted explosively. The outer manager spun around but couldn't spot the Gangbang beggar. Only a foul stench lingered in his place. He hadn't even turned his head fully back.
Wooong!
A vast inner energy exploded in an instant, unleashing destructive force that shattered the space itself.
Kwaaaang!
The ground quaked in a spectacle that made the phrase "shaking the earth" feel literal. The aura swirled wildly before spewing sharp bursts of energy in all directions. If it had struck true, it would have torn any physical form to shreds.
Whiric!
Jo Cheol-san's assault didn't end there. After unleashing the Gangbang's signature Pa-ok Shin-jang, he steadied his wavering stance and unleashed Kwon-ki Kwon-yeong.
Shushu shushung!
Fist projections split into six directions, blocking all evasion paths. The viciously swirling fist power shook the surroundings, denying any approach.
Peng! Peureng! Peupeurpeng!
Each impact of the fist projections boomed thunderously, shredding eardrums and rattling souls. It was fist energy and tensile strength beyond mid-Peak Expert level. That young beggar was at least a Peak Expert master.
He was leagues above the previous visiting warriors. His execution of the Gangbang's ultimate techniques showed no flaws. As if to prove it, his fluid chain attacks were too fast for the eye to follow. Based on the Gangbang's Seonpung Steps, his lightning-quick movements unleashed dragon-roar-like destructive fist and palm strikes that spat fire.
Huaaaang!
Cheon-su, Ga-bok, and the outer manager, pushed back and forced to create distance, couldn't tear their eyes from the sudden chaos. But seeing wasn't comprehending. He appeared and vanished in repetition. The transition from solid form to afterimage was skipped entirely.
Cheon-su, halting his training, glared at the outer manager and demanded answers. Even as his brother's right-hand man, he couldn't overlook this.
"Outer Manager, are you trying to kill my brother?"
"No, what nonsense is that? Why would I kill my nephew!"
"Anyone can see that guy's not a Gangbang disciple—he's a madman!"
"I'm just as baffled! If I'd known he was crazy, I wouldn't have brought him!"
To Ga-bok, the young master's true right hand, their argument was pointless. The intruder had attacked the young master with lethal intent right off the bat. No way such a man would heed the outer manager's words. Besides, he didn't sense any real danger.
Has he lost his mind?
His insight couldn't grasp the unfolding scene, but his trust in the young master was unshakable. That's why it felt off. Since when had he trusted the young master so completely?
Have I always believed in him?
The squabble between the young master's left pinky toe—the outer manager—and his right big toe's second knuckle didn't last long. The endlessly rising wave of energy shook the inner quarters, shooting up like a dragon twister before crashing down. It mirrored lava erupting from a volcano.
The aftermath sent dust flying like ash. Kwaaang!
Cracks spiderwebbed from the descending figure, and the rough shockwaves made the building sway. Soon, as the scattered dust settled, the true form emerged.
Haa, haa!
Paste-like dough and wild flying hair. His revealed eyes brimmed with bewilderment.
"What in the world?"
Jo Cheol-san hadn't intended this from the start. He'd planned to explain everything clearly from the beginning. But upon seeing Jeokgeum Merchant Group's young master, strange emotions overwhelmed him.
Awe? Why? It was an absurd, bewildering confusion.
He'd never met the young master before today. It defied reason, a tremor he'd never felt even toward his master.
He couldn't shake the thought that the young master used sa-gong, just like the rumors. Even so, the preemptive strike hadn't been intentional. The question of how he'd known came first.
Once one's rank in the head branch reached a certain level, they could create a personal unique mark. It was shared only with sect leader ranks for identification. Recently, a letter had arrived in the Gangbang's secret code, accompanied by that mark.
The moment Jo Cheol-san saw it, he had to visit Jeokgeum. The letter contained details only he knew.
- Three moles below the right waist, burn scar on the left ankle.
The brief, inscrutable sentence stirred uncontainable passion in Jo Cheol-san. They were unique traits of the younger brother he'd parted from long ago. The reason for their separation wasn't dramatic. They were dirt poor, and an unlucky opportunity struck during hard times. Even with a new emperor ascending amid regime change, the people's suffering persisted.
After years without a trace, he'd acted rashly upon this clue, unleashing the Gangbang's ultimate arts from the outset. It was a declaration of mortal combat, not dialogue.
Why?
Even he struggled to understand his reaction. Like a crisis sense that now-or-never demanded full exertion of inner energy. His suspicion of sa-gong was a fleeting moment. The young master of Jeokgeum didn't use sa-gong. If he had, Jo Cheol-san's anti-demonic Huncheon Gangryong Singong would have reacted.
More importantly, the forms showed clear structural tells unfit for sa-gong. Every martial artist had their unique rhythm, every technique its inherent structure. Just as people had distinct traits, so did warriors. For Peak Experts, whose tells shifted moment to moment, reading them was nearly impossible.
How?
The groundless fear and the technique of dismantling his arts like grains of sand were incomprehensible. He varied his forms each time a tell emerged, yet even that was seen through. It meant the young master knew his every move and style—or had attained a wholly superior realm.
The former was barely plausible; the latter, near impossible.
His inner energy is below mine.
The gap wasn't in raw power but in martial comprehension. The young master was at most eighteen. Had he reached the absolute pinnacle at that age?
He understood why rival warriors dismissed him as sa-gong. It was beyond their insight. And they recoiled from admitting a mere merchant surpassed them—a base human instinct. Thus, all previous opponents were petty small-minded fools.
The brief exchange of the first assault revealed the young master's nature.
Sweep!Twitch!
Unconsciously, Jo Cheol-san avoided the young master's eyes. Less suspicion of sa-gong than an intuition that meeting them would crush any will to fight. Locking gazes sapped his strength entirely. The awe transcended into suffocating pressure, sapping his resolve. It explained his desperate preemptive all-out assault.
The even more baffling emotions were familiarity and intimacy.
"My turn now."
Cheon-woo took a step forward. Jo Cheol-san, still rattled, gathered himself and retreated—but Cheon-woo's fist struck first. Fist projections chaining head, chest, abdomen left him defenseless. Each reaction prompted shifts in the fist paths, crumbling his rhythm.
He activated his protective aura, but the projections nullified even that.
Peupeupeupeok!
It was a one-sided counterattack that made his initial barrage look laughable. With offense and defense a beat off, his guards seemed comical—powerless responses after the strikes landed.
For Cheol-san, it was baffling and unjust. His counters were clear, yet far from full effort. An instinctive pressure screamed he couldn't—shouldn't—fight back fully.
"...What is this!!"
The excruciating pain piercing his lungs was one thing, but why the familiarity? It felt like dozens, hundreds of beatings—not once or twice. Each hit made it routine, like daily drudgery. The embodiment of an eternal punching bag from past lives.
Questions piled up. Being pummeled should breed resentment, yet nostalgia came first. A loyal urge to serve welled up.
...Do I like getting hit?
As familiarity grew with each blow, Cheol-san felt he'd lose his mind. His unconsciously smiling lips didn't help. It hurt, yet it was welcome. Why feel this toward a stranger met today? He was too old to be his brother. Why? He'd taken unguarded blows for a moment. Yet no grudge formed—only loyalty took root. What had he done to those fists? Frustration choked him. He'd even forgotten his desperate search for his brother's trace.
"It's been a while—got me excited."
First meeting for Cheol-san, but for Cheon-woo, Jo Cheol-san of the Iron Cane Heroes had been a constant thread through all 101 regressions. A righteous man who bent for no intimidation in service of justice, later hailed as the Gangbang's supreme master. His pivotal encounter with Cheon-woo had propelled him from dead-end desperation to Gangbang's pinnacle. Cheon-woo admired his uncompromising zeal for righteousness, fire be damned.