Karmic Retribution (1)
Sunwoon Inn sat at the edge of Sacheon Province, in the county of Gwangwon. The caravan had unloaded its goods for the journey. Not every day, but for the sake of the young master, they'd added extra nights of lodging instead of camping outdoors. No one complained openly, but the strain had doubled on their bodies.
As they entered the inn, exhaustion crashed over the merchants like a wave. Resting in bed came before food. Even seasoned travelers felt the toll, and age only made fatigue harder to shake.
While the caravan members shook off their weariness, Cheon-woo sat at a table on the inn's second floor, waiting for his ordered meal. Unlike the weary merchants, his strength grew day by day. His complexion glowed with vitality, as if the grueling schedule had been a mere stroll.
Scraaaape!
As Cheon-woo soothed his palate with mild tea, new guests entered the inn. A young man dressed in ornate finery led the way, followed by ten warriors.
Sweep!
The man scanned the inn's interior, his gaze locking onto Cheon-woo sipping tea upstairs. Even with a few other diners inside, he moved as if he'd targeted his mark from the start.
Smirk.
Flashing a smile that carried an oddly familiar warmth, the man strode straight up to the second floor. He pulled out a chair at Cheon-woo's table without invitation and sat, greeting him like an old acquaintance.
"Well, if it isn't my little brother Cheon-woo."
"Hm."
Cheon-woo showed no reaction to the man's presumptuous familiarity. He turned to Ga-bok.
"Who is he?"
"Tak So-pyeong, young master of the Hwajeong Merchant Group."
Ga-bok wore a look of disbelief himself. It was impossible not to know the man.
The Hwajeong Merchant Group was one of Sacheon's Ten Great Merchant Groups, locked in fierce rivalry with their own. It might seem trivial to larger caravans, but for Jeokgeum and Hwajeong, pride was on the line. They'd strained every nerve to outdo each other.
Tak So-pyeong, two years older than Gu Cheon-woo, was known for his bold and boisterous nature. But as a rival—and an uncomfortable one, given Cheon-woo's youth—he was someone to avoid. For instance, whenever merchant leaders met at the livestock market, Cheon-woo had dodged him.
"Where's the Hwajeong Merchant Group again?"
"One of Sacheon's Ten Greats."
Ga-bok wasn't sure if the young master truly didn't know or was just asking, but he didn't press. Even now, prodding Tak So-pyeong's ego was risky enough. The man put on a bold front in public but hid a slimy, petty side.
Ga-bok prayed nothing would come of it.
But tremble, tremble! Tak So-pyeong's eyebrows twitched first, then spasms rippled across his mouth. His face twisted as he fought to control it.
'Did he only practice provoking people from his room?'
Look at that expression. The utter nonchalance, as if he were blameless. It was peak mastery at needling someone's nerves. Learned or innate, it was either impressive or a curse.
"I see."
Cheon-woo waited for his food. A pathetic insect. Overlooking the uninvited seat was mercy enough. In past rounds, a mere merchant whelp couldn't have approached him.
Shudder!
Suddenly thrust into this awkward in-between of acquaintance and stranger, Tak So-pyeong smoothed his furrowed brow into a smile. But the vibe was utterly different now—murderous intent chilled the air around the table.
"Little brother's grown quite the silver tongue while I wasn't looking. Teasing your big brother like this. You've earned my respect."
"First I've heard of it."
"Anyway, it's been ages, but you're awfully curt compared to before. I didn't teach you to be rude like that. If you've forgotten, I could refresh your memory."
"If you can, then do it."
It was a novel experience for Cheon-woo. The shift in hostility felt familiar from past bets, but this man was a stranger. If he didn't linger in memory across rounds, he wasn't worth remembering.
—Clear out the threats around the main house.
Every time he became the Paewang, Cheon-woo started by purging his clan's surroundings. Enemies who couldn't face him directly always targeted the family. Hostage games were inevitable.
Could vermin even scratch the Paewang's dignity? It was their best shot. He wasn't fool enough to let obvious ploys slide.
Anyway, this nobody claiming to have taught him sparked curiosity. What gave him the gall? And that nagging unease since earlier.
"Hahaha!"
Tak So-pyeong faced an absurd reality for once. As kids, he'd kindly schooled the brat on respecting elders. Yet now, after years of fleeing his gaze, the punk was mouthing off.
'What the hell did this idiot eat?'
Rumored as a lazy good-for-nothing. No tiger's liver in sight, yet here he was, brazen as brass. Laughable.
'This fool brother will teach you proper little brother etiquette.'
High on his first big caravan trip, he'd forgotten his place. Time for big brother to school him on the world.
Then Tak So-pyeong noticed.
Huh?
He hadn't figured what gave the punk his nerve, but the kid had slid his chair back. Horse stance? It looked the part, but not at a dinner table.
Suddenly, he recalled the Formless Sword Emperor—a wild man, not from any famed sect, who ascended to emperor rank a century ago.
—Daily life is martial arts.
Eat with it, sleep with it—always cultivate. His school had trended briefly. But who could match the Formless Sword Emperor? Talents and arts varied; you had to tailor training. Countless ruined themselves mimicking him. It faded into obscurity.
Yet this swordless nobody was imitating him. Absurdity drew a dry laugh. Tak So-pyeong, who'd been mildly wary of some backing, sneered openly.
Perfect timing. He'd play along.
"Got the Formless Sword Emperor's step manual, eh? Care to let big brother appraise it?"
"Nothing special, but way above your league."
"Hahaha! Little bro's guts sure ballooned. Or is your head so swollen you've lost perspective?"
"The back yard sounds good."
Ignoring Tak So-pyeong's predatory glare, Cheon-woo rose calmly and told Ga-bok,
"I'll be back before the pork ribs are out."
"...What the hell?!"
Does he think he's invincible? Why not just say skip eating and wait? Ga-bok started to stand but froze. His legs had gone numb against his will. Poor circulation—he needed time. Definitely not because he didn't want to go.
Ha!
Tak So-pyeong, a lay disciple of the Cheongseong Sect, wielded the Pine Wind Sword. He'd unleashed his aura to evoke old fears and cow the kid. Expecting him to crumble like before, he watched in shock as Cheon-woo calmly descended to the first floor.
Then Cheon-woo glanced back.
"Didn't you want to teach me?"
"Fine. I'll kill you."
Cheon-woo's face stayed blank at the threat. He'd chosen the yard to avoid disturbing the inn. The Paewang eradicated evil but spared the innocent unless necessary.
Swish.
They stepped into the back yard. Hwajeong's warriors fanned out, Tak So-pyeong striding forward with smug confidence. The situation deviated from expectations, but the goal remained. Now the kid knew how serious this was.
Or so he thought.
"An essence beyond your grasp."
"You little shit! Fine—I'll make you a memory you'll never forget!"
Tak So-pyeong didn't even draw his sword. Facing an unarmed foe with one would invite mockery. And if the kid flinched at the blade, it'd ruin the humiliation he craved. He planned to make him piss himself at sight henceforth.
No thought of defeat—he stared the punk down.
Huh?
Unease made him blink. The kid was right in his face. Fist hairs expanding in his vision.
"...Wait!"
Thwack!
Thud!
Tak So-pyeong toppled like a log slamming a wall. Conscious, he'd have braced with hands; Cheon-woo's punch induced pure unconsciousness.
"Hm. As expected."
Having demonstrated the formless stance, Cheon-woo turned away.
What?!
His guards snapped to finally. No bets on the outcome—it was obvious their young master would win. They'd investigated Jeokgeum's heir: shut-in slacker, family reject. Tak might be a merchant heir, but Cheongseong vetted harshly. He had the basics and outshone his age in skill.
'What the...?'
Yuk Woo-pyeong, Hocheon Corps deputy leader in charge of protection, couldn't process it. If the kid was fast, maybe—but he'd strolled up slowly. Yet Tak let him close without reacting.
'Sorcery?'
Nothing else fit, but impossible. No chants, no odd moves—just walked up and punched.
A peak sorcerer might manage it, but no magic flowed.
Step, step.
Snapping from reverie, Yuk Woo-pyeong barked,
"You bastard, where do you think you're going?!"
Cheon-woo halted, turning to face him. Who he was didn't matter. Another novel thrill—fearless words he'd never heard before.
Stare.
Twitch!
Just silent eye contact, yet Yuk Woo-pyeong felt chills, gripped by eerie wrongness. Maybe that's what ensnared Tak.
"Insolent fool—pay for your sorcery!"
"Pitiful eyesight."
Like a rabbit blind to the predator, Cheon-woo advanced steadily. Explaining to bugs was wasteful. He awaited the obvious.
Thwack!
Crash!
Yuk Woo-pyeong convulsed like lightning-struck, collapsing bonelessly.
Expecting the deputy to change things, his men rushed in frenzy.
Thwack!
Shudder, crash!
Weapons drawn, results unchanged. Blades sliced air; bodies offered no resistance. One by one, they fell—until one Hocheon man remained.
"What... is this?!"
Feeling possessed, he couldn't grasp the hollow defeat.
"...Die!"
His sword cleaved empty air. Too much for an afterimage. It'd swung frontward, hit nothing, scraped ground.
But he hadn't swung frontward. The kid was still dead ahead.
"...Impossible!!"