Righteous Dragon (1)
The journey back to Sacheon differed from the trip to Chang'an—they now stopped at inns. There was no longer any need for outdoor sleeping or camping to temper the young master. Moreover, they traveled with his mother. Unless absolutely necessary, they couldn't very well sleep on the ground.
Cheon-woo savored his meal with his mother. It had taken forty thousand years to face her again, thanks to the Mireok Paedo. For the mother he cherished so deeply, he should have made time regardless.
"Bro, can't you at least eat comfortably during meals?"
"Training is a daily routine."
Cheon-gi whined about why he was the only one without a chair, but no one chimed in to back him up.
Ga-bok snorted in disdain—what was so hard about it?—and Cheon-gi's frustration boiled over.
"It's the training even the young master does. Nothing builds a foundation like it."
"Just you wait—once I become a master, you'll never sit for a meal your whole life!"
"If the third young master becomes a master, I'd gladly stand forever."
"...You scheming bastard!!"
Cheon-gi trembled at Ga-bok's noble devotion, willing to sacrifice for his lord. Martial arts and sharp tongue alike, Ga-bok outmatched him. If he'd known the servant had such promise, he should have nipped it in the bud long ago. Letting the tiger cub grow unchecked had come at a painful cost.
"Quiet."
This was a meal with his mother. Cheon-woo silenced his brother and Ga-bok with a glare, then enjoyed his food.
The stars of the meal were Dongpo pork and a rich seafood hotpot. It wasn't cheap. Even dried seafood was rare inland. Poorly dried, it would taste fishy, but this had none of that—the chef's skill was remarkable. No wonder the inn had a reputation as a hidden gem in the area.
He ordered baekju to accompany it. He'd hesitated with his mother there, but she proved surprisingly liberal on such matters. A man needed to know his liquor to be popular, or so the saying went. She must have known about the secret drinks with Cheon-su. Perhaps she'd even tacitly approved.
"Son, aren't you pushing too hard?"
"No need to worry about money. Spare funds will roll in soon."
"You have to know when to save, too, for when you really need it."
"I'll keep that in mind."
A thrifty overlord—advice only a mother could give. Money overflowed for him anyway. For instance, the rear escort was bringing funds. Plenty was better than too little, but even for a beggar, it was an intimidating sum.
I need to find a few more.
To avert and exploit upcoming disasters, ample capital was ideal. As the guardian of the Mireok Paedo, the Paewang never ignored the people's calamities. He also banned "protection fees" extracted like outright robbery under the guise of group maintenance.
That said, he didn't forbid them entirely. Groups needed a reasonable level to sustain themselves. Blindly blocking it would invite backlash.
It also made for good justification.
Yet few martial artists were content merely scraping by. It was human nature, transcending righteous or demonic paths. They couldn't endure it, exploded, and vanished like morning dew under the blade of the Mireok Paedo.
Contentment should suffice.
If restraint failed, earn money legitimately. Fees beyond measure were theft—naturally annihilated by the Mireok Paedo.
"Mother, have a drink."
"It tastes better when my son pours."
Their exchanging cups didn't exactly bloom into lively talk. Jeok I-ryeong handled most of it.
"Mom, pour for me too."
"Train your legs first."
"Discrimination is wrong!"
"For the clan to thrive, the eldest must excel."
Unfair for Cheon-gi, but this world favored the firstborn. Denying it was like cursing the emperor. Otherwise, why crown the eldest prince? Of course, favoring the heir alone often shattered clans. Even imperial succession rarely went smoothly for the firstborn. The closer to power's core, the stronger the trend.
That was when it happened.
"So noisy I can't even eat. They didn't buy the inn!"
"Yapping loud at a shared table—what's wrong with you?!"
"Kids these days have no manners when elders speak."
The inn was two stories. A man's gravelly voice rose from the first floor. Guests themselves, yet they bellowed like owners.
Cheon-woo and his group ate on the second, unable to see below. Even glancing around, blind spots blocked the view.
"What kind of bastards... Ah!"
Cheon-gi, pent-up with rage, shut his mouth upon spotting the men ascending. Their faces and builds exceeded tolerable limits. Bald heads without hair or brows, heads a full size larger than average. Their bodies, scarred beyond count—not from tattoos—screamed butcher.
No name tags, but obvious at a glance.
"Young master Cheon-gi, why stop mid-sentence?"
"...Shut it!"
Ga-bok's pointed jab terrified Cheon-gi. True to form, he chose his bed wisely. Gu clan's spoiled brat or not, he wasn't that foolish. Unknown who they were, but the trio's aura was unnatural. Murderous intent leaked instinctively from killers.
Blind spot before, he might've missed them—but Ga-bok forced the dilemma. Wrong bed chosen, yet silence would shatter his dignity irreparably. To salvage pride, he had to speak. But facing those browless monstrous baldies, words stuck.
Damn it—time to defend a man's pride! Mom's watching!
A blink felt eternal. He had to stand tall and shout: You massive bald bastards!!
"Step on those stairs, and die. Bald Head Three Ghosts."
Cheon-woo's low warning blocked the stairs as they ascended. Cheon-gi, rising then freezing, naturally took his empty chair.
"...Bald Head Three Ghosts?!!"
The inn fell deathly silent at the moniker. Looks weren't everything, but the Bald Head Three Ghosts matched their fiendish faces as infamous butchers.
Sapa legends for ruthless brutality. None who'd called them "bald" before them survived intact.
"You know us elders and still don't grovel? Arrogance pierces the heavens, as rumored!"
"Riding petty fame, eh? We'll teach you the world's terror ourselves!"
"Fine education for your mother too, kekekeke!"
Threats crossed lines, pure mockery. Motives didn't matter. Hard to spew without knowing identities. They'd approached solely to pick a fight.
"You stepped."
Cheon-woo barred the youngest ghost's stair. He surged forward, denying passage to their front.
"This punk!"
They'd planned to intimidate upstairs. But his preemptive strike stunned them. Recent local fame or not, just a fledgling. Merchant group lackey, no warrior. Drunk on hype, charging fearlessly.
No panic, though. Perfect for the ghosts—easy prey.
Noise alone wasn't quarrel-worthy. Yielding to this provocation minimized issues. Infamous, yes, but indiscriminate killing spelled trouble. Mild hassle and threats for coin was the play.
"I'll sever an arm first!"
Massive frames wielded equally huge daedo. Heavy, but their divine-strength Slaughter Knives famed for speed.
Slaughter Blade: One Blade Sever Kill.
Narrow stairwell. Honest descent met a downward chop.
Hummm!
Blade fused killing intent and inner force, birthing pressure. Red-White Twin Heroes? Mere rumor. Fledgling overrated himself. Jianghu showed no mercy to the arrogant.
Shwick!
Not flesh parting—air slicing.
The ghost sensed doom instantly but couldn't follow through.
Crack, crunch!
Neck snapped like bamboo. Cheon-woo hurled the corpse.
Splat!
...No!! Arm severed warranted screams, yet.
Unforeseen in a blink. Dead before reaction, blocking the second ghost's view.
Shlick!
Sensing peril, second ghost drew to cleave his brother. Blood kin or not, sapa warriors prized self above all. Kill the brat using sibling as shield first.
"To the side!!"
Cheon-woo ignored the shield. He flanked instantly, imprinting a fist mark on the second ghost's heart mid-slice.
Thud, splurch!
Fist realm force pulverized internals.
Peak Star's Internal Weight Subduing Fist.
Force concentration and destruction astounding. Trained warriors auto-deployed body shields; ruining organs outright wasn't easy. Hearts, especially, defended instinctively.
Cough!Splat!
One punch shattered the heart. Lingering life? A fleeting moment. Blood geyser from mouth, then death.
Splat!
Cheon-woo ignored it. As breath ceased, he charged the eldest.
One breath: concise, clean kill path.
"You dare!"
"Too chatty."
Foolish to crave bloodlust after underestimating. Cheon-woo gave evil no hesitation or quarter.
Advancing, he nullified the Slaughter Blade's forms.
"...Impossible!"
No gap for Heaven Cleaving Myriad Paths. Form shattered pre-completion. As if he'd known the blade's conclusions from the start. Seemed he'd pried space open himself—utterly futile.
"...No!"
Thud!
Cheon-woo's fist smashed the eldest's philtrum. Face caved, teeth shards tore flesh.
His cry? Final death rattle.
Thump!Splat!
Lifeless body slumped, then toppled. Face-down, blood pooled around, staining the floor.
Shhh...
Brief uproar vanished like a lie; suffocating silence descended. Inn swallowed in stunned quiet. None dared speak.
Gulp!
They swallowed dryly under Cheon-woo's impassive gaze on the corpses. Too detached for fresh murder. Jarring from his youthful, handsome face.
Huh!
Cheon-gi and Ga-bok clutched each other. Calming racing hearts alone? Impossible. For Cheon-gi, ample to shrink his chest. Moment crystallized how much his big brother had indulged him.