Framed (2)
‘No choice.’
He didn’t want to take the risk, but sending his son or a steward wouldn’t solve the problem. He had personally handled the secret deal with the Bokho Merchant Group. With transaction ledgers in existence, they wouldn’t act rashly.
As midnight approached, shadows that looked like people moved cautiously through a sparsely populated alley. They checked meticulously for any signs of life around them.
Sasasak!
The leader of the group slipped through the darkness toward their destination.
‘It’s like fire on my feet.’
Even for him, this was a chain of unforeseen crises. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have come himself. But he had boldly promised to take responsibility and see it through.
Repeated failures and unexpected developments could erode trust.
‘We couldn’t even uncover the culprit, and now we’re the ones exposed.’
It had turned ridiculous. They had been completely played by a rival merchant group’s scheme. And this kind of atmosphere was no good. To force a reversal, some sacrifices were inevitable.
‘Sorry, but no helping it.’
They seemed to trust the ledgers, but as a father, he hadn’t educated his children properly. Stabbing each other in the back just to survive—what a laughable sight.
That was why he had come in person. After finishing the job, he needed to head straight to the Hwajeong Merchant Group to confirm.
Zzzt!
Hm? A strange sensation, a sense of wrongness. The moment he detected the need to dodge, space itself compressed around him.
Kugh!
The man instinctively resisted the sudden pressure. Damn it all—the scene of destruction unfolded faster than he could react, right before his eyes.
Puuaaaang!
The thrusting speed, the terrifying inner force, the blade-like vortex coalesced into a fist realm in a single breath. It manifested horrifying destructive power.
Parrr!
The ambient qi trembled, compressing the darkness before exploding outward in an instant. The shadows caught in the fist wind’s aftershock—ten men—were dragged in helplessly and shredded into chunks of flesh they couldn’t withstand.
Thud! Jurrr!
It was over in a flash. There was no mercy in the ambush. It aimed for total annihilation, permitting no survivors.
The man, flung back by the impact, couldn’t regain his senses. His internal injuries were too severe. Despite his considerable inner force, he was overwhelmed by helplessness, unable even to resist.
Shwaaa!
After the explosive destruction came a hush of silence. His subordinates had long since become corpses.
“……What the hell?”
The perpetrator hadn’t revealed himself. For a moment, Tak Jung-il came to mind, but the scene defied common sense. Tearing apart first-rate warriors with mere fist wind was nearly impossible.
“Not bad.”
A figure emerged leisurely from the veil of darkness. It was Gu Cheon-woo. He made no effort to hide his identity.
“Do you know who I am, to unleash such brutality?”
“The steward of the Bokho Merchant Group, aren’t you?”
“You knew, and still pulled this shit? What grudge do we have against you?”
“They call me the Righteous Dragon in the world.”
Naeng Sang-cheon’s pupils dilated sharply at the revealed identity. It made sense if it was the Righteous Dragon, yet the sheer cruelty left him aghast. The world had been fooled. This man was no Righteous Dragon.
His composure went beyond familiarity with killing—it was pathological serenity. Look at him. As calm as swatting a bug. Devoid of even a shred of pity, utterly heartless and emotionless.
“……And you call yourself the Righteous Dragon after this?!”
“In the old days, I might’ve dug deeper, but you’re in luck.”
There was no rule saying merchants couldn’t practice martial arts, but the techniques Naeng Sang-cheon had cultivated were problematic. In a previous round, he would’ve traced it to the source and eradicated it, but under the banner of familial harmony, he focused on resolving the current issue.
‘Erased him too early last time too.’
If he’d known there were hidden depths, he would’ve investigated. But wiping them out from the start left no need for it. From the victim’s perspective, only the question ‘why?’ remained. They hadn’t even begun, just unilaterally crushed—naturally, they’d feel wronged. It was merely a foundation stone for the grand undertaking of the Mireok Paedo. No wonder they didn’t remember.
“Your inten—!”
“Enough.”
He unleashed fist wind once more. Impressive for a merchant, but luck runs out after one go.
Puaaaang! Wooong!
After killing Naeng Sang-cheon, Gu Cheon-woo left the body untouched. In this deserted area, such a commotion would carry the sound of splitting air far. For the one he hoped would come running, it’d be quite the shock.
Hm? The unfolding differed from Gu Cheon-woo’s expectations. Instead of rushing over at the noise as anticipated, no awaited target appeared—and figures fled hastily in the opposite direction.
“Playing it safe, eh.”
The roar prompted Tak Jung-il to bolt from the cabin, fleeing at top speed.
Dadadada!
He valued self-preservation over the pact with the Bokho Merchant Group. Investigating the situation out of curiosity was the worst of bad moves since ancient times. Why? The more curious, the shorter the lifespan.
Some might say he shouldn’t have shown up alone then, but who could you trust in this world? He trusted no one but himself. To maintain secrecy, only he could know the location.
‘What the hell’s happening in the dead of night?’
Curious, sure, but best to put maximum distance now. There might be pursuers. He’d set traps along escape routes, but nowhere was safe yet.
Shwoong! Kwaaaang!
Tak Jung-il halted mid-stride. An explosion erupted right in front of him. One more step, and the deep crater would’ve been his grave.
Gulp!
He swallowed dryly. Cold sweat poured down his temples like a waterfall. His guts had sunk.
Swish!
Tak Jung-il slowly turned his head right. A man stood where the fist wind had come from. Cloaked in shadows like a curtain, his form was hard to discern.
Who the hell?
“Come to check?”
“……No!”
“No?”
“……No, sir!”
He hadn’t confirmed the identity, but submission came instinctively. It was the aura of a grandmaster subduing all creation.
Kugh!
For Tak Jung-il, the pressure made even glancing at the figure unthinkable.
“Fleeing after receiving grace ill befits etiquette.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
He’d nearly died just now. Flinging fist wind at a living person and talking of favors and grudges?
Overwhelmed by the pressure yet feeling indignant was only human.
Whish! Degurur!
Something flew at him. It rolled across the ground and stopped before Tak Jung-il. Meeting the pale, dead eyes of the severed head made him recoil in horror.
“……Steward Naeng?!”
It barely qualified as a head. Flesh and bone torn ragged, only the head remained. In the night, it was scarier than any ghost.
Flinch! Shiver!
Grasping the situation late, Tak Jung-il’s hackles rose. If that fist wind had hit him, he’d be in the same state as Steward Naeng.
He didn’t want to die like that, even in death.
“He attacked the moment he saw me.”
“Attacked, sir?”
“He’s a martial artist. And unlucky, I said.”
“……You mean?”
It was a deserted spot. People nearby would be trouble. But starting with murder meant aiming to erase evidence.
Ah! The curt explanation dragged Tak Jung-il’s imagination darkly. Humans fill the unseen with negativity.
“Why?”
“No need for reasons. Having received the saving grace, you ought to repay it.”
True enough. But had he arranged it? Demanding payment outright. Suspicion was natural—had he orchestrated the kill to maneuver the situation?
“To repay the grace, I must grasp the full—”
“Want to die?”
“……No, sir! I’ll pay!”
“100 nyang in gold.”
“In gold coins?”
“Want to die?”
“……I’ll pay in gold coins! But not on hand right now!”
No small sum—few carried 100 gold nyang. Even in silver, it was substantial. Gold nyang equated to 2,000 silver, too risky even with notes.
Pop!
A contract flew into Tak Jung-il’s hand.
I, having received the grace of salvation from death, agree to deliver 100 gold nyang upon presenting this document.
If the contract is breached, pay tenfold penalty.
If even that is ignored, forfeit my life.
Insane! It wasn’t conjured on the spot. No name was written. Still, carrying this marked one as deranged. A madman. And one versed in martial arts at that—terrifying.
To top it off, a brush was tossed his way.
“……No ink!”
“Right in front of you.”
Blood oozed from Steward Naeng’s head. Coagulating, but usable.
“If you want fresh, I can oblige.”
“Hurk! I’ll do it!”
Fist wind aplenty remained. One thrust, and fresh blood would spray to serve. Not someone else’s—Tak Jung-il nodded frantically and signed his name in blood.
The crimson name felt ominous. Was this a death sentence?
“……Void Grasping Hand!!”
The finished contract flew through the air into Gu Cheon-woo’s hand unaided. Tak Jung-il didn’t consider fleeing upon seeing the Void Grasping Hand. At least Peak Expert, possibly Transcendent—a futile notion against such a master.
“One month. Bring it to this cabin.”
“Understood!”
In case of trouble, contact via the Gangbang. The code linked straight to the rear steward. Mentioning the Gangbang marked him as a righteous warrior. A daylight robber claiming orthodoxy? To merchants, righteous, evil, demonic—all the same scum.
“Go. Time is money.”
“……Wise words, sir!”
Tak Jung-il fled without hesitation. He’d verify en route. Saving grace or not, he wouldn’t buy it wholesale.
Swish!
Gu Cheon-woo gazed impassively in the direction Tak Jung-il fled. Intentions were obvious—still, he was in the palm of his hand.
“That’s the way.”
The contract mattered little. Even if Tak Jung-il didn’t show, no issue.
The family gathered. Gu Cheon-woo hid nothing of the situation. Others needn’t know, but under the familial harmony banner, family must.
Gu Cheon-ye, though set on the warrior’s path, was too young for meetings. Participation set for two years later, at fifteen.
Gu Cheon-gi, freshly fifteen and beyond age limit, was half-forced into the meeting, hearing the details.
Brrr!
A litany he wished unknown. Gu Cheon-gi wanted to plug his ears. No skimming—even skippable parts detailed raw, chills-inducing.
‘Mom! Dad! Big bro’s a butcher now—why’s everyone unfazed?!’
Warriors needn’t kill. Certainly not indiscriminately—proper justification required. Even then, questioning first. Why detail shredding ten in ambush? Big bro killed unquestioned, post-facto.
If that unknown victim were him? Gu Cheon-gi shuddered. Was murim always thus? He’d heard it brutal, but not this. Big bro terrified more. And he was just fifteen. Resolve aside, this’d drive him mad.
Parents’ nonchalance weirder. Dad struggled expressionless; Mom seemed proud. Her new discovery.
‘What have I been doing?’
Mouthing off to a clan butcher proud of kin? Big bro felt alien. Mom’s affectionate gaze odd. Providing the spark to Hwagyeong merit?
Why Dad too? Poor poker face, yet listening intently.
‘Bokho Merchant Group?’
Unforeseen powerhouse. A group that could snack on their merchant group. One of Sacheon’s ruling three—who’d guess? Their survival miraculous.
‘Killed their steward!’
Big bro’s guts defunct. Revelation day? Doom. Unspeakable reality.
‘Why only me!!’
Cheon-ye ignorant fine; second bro needed knowing. Wanted to letter him. But leaks en route forced silence. Human-carried letters undependable. Daytalk birds hear, nighttalk rats, letters men check—not for nothing.
Curiosity struck; Gu Seo-jin asked his son.
“He didn’t suspect?”
“Even if wary, no alternatives now. Bokho targeting Tak Jung-il was real.”
“Cautious sort—wouldn’t come unprepared.”
“He’d have ledgers, but coming alone limits knowers.”
“Heh! Ruthless ploy.”
Exploiting family rift—obvious. Tak Jung-il would discard even son for self. He’d done so; no qualms as scapegoat. But would the framed son obey blindly? Extend hand amid steward peril? Outcome clear.
Bokho wouldn’t assume Tak unprepared either. Proceeding meant confidence in neutralizing. Whoa! Gu Seo-jin admired sincerely. No premeditation, yet far-sighted handling. Sowing discord in Tak duo, reaping—astounding. Foresight extraordinary.
‘What’d he do in that room?’
Room education vital, sure—but such transformation?
“Keep spreading rumors?”
“More so now, avoids suspicion.”
“Tak Jung-il’s gutted.”
Self-inflicted by deeds, yet Gu Seo-jin pitied his son’s foe. Meanwhile, Gu Cheon-woo thought:
‘Lucky.’
Mireok Paedo would’ve razed Hwajeong foundations. Grateful for this harmony round.
‘Enjoy what time remains.’
Merely prolonging the inevitable.