Righteous Dragon (3)
“I’ll let you know once it’s certain.”
“I don’t care for my son’s tone, but as your mother, I’ll understand.”
If the plan went awry, more mistakes would pile up—and Bong-pal could exploit those gaps to uncover the real culprit. For now, Bong-pal was busy excavating Emperor Pa-hwang’s tomb. The sheer volume of treasures and spirit elixirs exceeded expectations, dragging out the process. He could use more hands, but word getting out would spell trouble, so he had to handle it alone.
A martial artist’s life was always a razor’s edge walk between life and death. Some died forgotten in obscurity; others lingered in tales for generations. Warriors were human, too—they craved glory in life, but above all, immortality through legend after death. Among the countless grains of sand in the jianghu, far more vanished unknown than those who etched their epithets and names into history.
In that light, the Bald Head Three Ghosts might have been infamous, but their title carried weight. Not Absolute Realm masters, yet their deaths rippled through the ronin circles within days.
But it wasn’t just their demise fueling the rumors. Who slew them mattered. An Absolute Realm expert could crush the Three Ghosts without breaking a sweat, and it wouldn’t stir such talk.
The slayer was a fledgling warrior new to the jianghu.
The Bald Head Three Ghosts were the gatekeepers blocking paths in the martial world. Many novices fell to them, while others fled with broken spirits. To the young, they were a nightmare to avoid—yet conquer them, and you earned respect as a true jianghu denizen. A rite of passage.
Righteous Dragon. Too early for a true dragon’s emergence, perhaps, but he’d exposed the Red-White Twin Heroes’ hypocrisy and punished the notorious Three Ghosts. The title fit.
To claim Dragon-Phoenix status, one needed youth—just past twenty—and at least Peak Expert realm. Hitting Peak after thirty? No phoenix wings for you. Even with innate talent, supreme arts, and backing, reaching Peak in one’s twenties was no sure bet. And it didn’t end there: feats worthy of the rank, plus sect or clan support. The current Dragon-Phoenixes hailed mostly from prestigious sects and families—a telling fact.
Harsh reality: even with the skill, no backing meant no title. So a Righteous Dragon from nowhere? Eyes turned.
And not just any nowhere—a merchant house. A dragon from traders, not sects or clans? A Peak Expert from merchants? Shockwaves.
But positive? Doubtful. Righteous deeds earned the name, yet few warriors would bow to it. They’d accept a peer’s claim, but an unknown merchant spawn as “dragon”? Unlikely.
“Failed again?”
“Yes.”
“Why make such a mess of it?”
“…My apologies.”
He’d pressured moderately, probing for backers. Instead of unearthing them, every agent vanished without trace. No news was good news? Not for assassins. Silence meant corpses.
He’d once tasked Nangcheon through a proxy: eliminate Jeokgeum’s young master. Money talked, identities stayed hidden. The snag? The Three Ghosts’ flop.
Notorious killers—they should’ve handled a merchant whelp easily. Even the Twin Heroes wouldn’t faze them. The kid’s unexpected strength played a part, but the real blunder? One-on-one duels. Had they unleashed mutual destruction arts from the start, no such humiliation.
Let it fester, and it’d bite back. So he deployed assassins for a clean kill. Fledgling or not, even a “Righteous Dragon” lacked the savvy to dodge shadows.
Job done, squeeze Jeokgeum. Simple.
Wrong. Three waves, three silences.
Now the assassin guild hinted: bad intel on the client? Risky. Chasing fleas could burn the thatch roof. Three failures meant at least first-rate killers next—and he still didn’t know the kid’s depths or backers.
“Unbelievable.”
He ached to dismember the brat, but even now, it weighed heavy. Overkill bred backlash. Cut at the right line.
If merchants hiring assassins leaked? Fatal. Probe too hard, get caught.
“What now?”
“Hold back for now.”
Assassins would seal it, but the Beggars’ Sect’s involvement nagged. If they sniffed and tracked? Unbearable fallout.
Lucky bastard.
Hope worst didn’t come, but merchants planned for it. Clinging to losses muddied control. Draw lines: discard or defend.
Regrettable, but no choice.
How the hell was he supposed to take this? Damn it!
Once wife and son returned from the branch office, his schedule cleared—for now.
-Exterminated Bald Head Three Ghosts.
Rumors outpaced galloping horses, but trivia didn’t spread this fast.
“What the hell has that kid been up to?”
The Twin Heroes? Fair game, suicidal fools. But why drag in the Three Ghosts?
Coincidences stack to fate, they say. Tavern brawls were commonplace, but the Ghosts appearing? Odd. And killing them?
Gu Seo-jin’s nape cramped.
-Righteous Dragon Gu Cheon-woo.
A dizzying vertigo hit. Absurd. As father, joy should surge—but the world hammered square pegs.
He’d told the boy to quit idling and learn the business. Now? Escalating chaos. Should’ve let him lounge carefree.
Too late for regrets. Assess coldly.
“Someone’s targeting him…”
Incidents piling? Intentional. Suspects narrowed. Rights didn’t matter. Failed plans bred grudges: Hwajeong Merchant Group.
“Cornered or not, Tak Jung-il’s no fool for rash moves.”
Hwajeong lacked means now. Hiring Ghosts wouldn’t help. Stirring trouble amid silence? Tak wasn’t reckless—unless?
“Someone’s backing Hwajeong.”
Looking back, their sabotage felt off. Contracts that fragile without official ties? Mid-sabotage needed bribes or bonds beyond norm. Sacheon influence like that? Only the Three Great Merchant Groups.
Bokho. Cheongpung. Seongdo.
Linked to Ami Sect, Qingcheng, Sacheon Tang. Only they swayed officials, salted done deals.
Out-province meddlers possible, but feud with these three weighed heaviest.
“Quiet for a while, yeah.”
Three Groups’ rivalry was old, stalemated. Natural: one surged, the other two allied. Their feuds balanced Sacheon trade.
So they’d schemed in shadows, building power undetected.
“Fox caught in tigers’ brawl.”
Not just son-related; primed to burst anytime. Powerless invited it. Learning via son? A boon. Forewarned beat blindsided.
“That much should suffice!”
Unjust gripe. Gu Seo-jin knew: more you have, more you crave. Content merchants? Rare. He toiled expanding Jeokgeum.
As father, son threatened? Had the boy skipped secret training, he’d have shoved him off the cliff himself.
And the boy earned a warrior’s epithet. Pride-bound martialists wouldn’t sit idle.
Merchant meddling, warrior son—tangled mess. Solutions? If easy, no headache.
“Middle path,” they say. Reality? No cakewalk. Half-measures birthed bat’s fate—neither side.
Damn headache!
Creak!
Startled, Gu Seo-jin scowled at Jang Ju-ak flinging the door open.
“Even as leader, knock or signal—basic courtesy?”
“What’re you doing alone to jump like that? Hiding new erotica? Devoured ‘em young; senile now?”
“What do you take me for, slandering like that? Classics only!”
“Stake your fortune on it, brother.”
“…Ahem! What brings you?”
Dodging confirmed hidden study. Jang smirked inwardly—man’s code: play dumb.
“Sister-in-law and nephew returned.”
“Say that first, idiot!”
“Tried—you jumped first. Wind-shaken ghost?”
“Who jumped? Sudden doors startle anyone.”
“Long excuses mean guilt. I trust you.”
Loosen a bit, and he’d tease from the heavens.
“Watch your tongue.”
“Aging together—nitpick later.”
“I’ll cut it someday.”
“Time to retire, then.”
Tempting, but Jang’s followers abounded. Purge? No better replacement. Guts from that.
“Lingering this long—fine?”
“Your fault!”
Greet the lady. Gu Seo-jin bolted.
Thud, thud!
Straight-backed, hands free—leader’s poise shone. Swift as a duck on pond.
Thump!
Wife and son before greetings. Thoughts swirled, words queued—but son’s safety? Pure relief.
“Business concluded. Returned.”
“Good work.”
Family whole. Enough.