Who's the Branch Master?
Every gaze inside the building snapped toward Jegal Mun-Hyeon as he asked the question with a crooked grin.
The people already inside were startled, but none more so than Mujin at his side.
He had expected a Jegal to approach with strategy, or at least talk things through. Instead Mun-Hyeon had walked straight in, slammed a waiter who was clearly one of the Black Cat Branch thugs into the floor, and drawn every eye in the place.
This was no different from charging in and declaring a fight.
"M-Mun-Hyeon, Young Master."
"Let go."
"But doing it like this is asking for—"
Forget that this was unorthodox territory; barging into another sect's house and attacking on sight was pure recklessness. Mujin tried to stop him, but Mun-Hyeon shook off the hand clutching his sleeve.
"Trouble? Who even knows us here?"
"…"
"We already changed clothes."
"Th-that is true, but still—"
"Relax. Nothing's going to happen. More importantly, we don't have time to measure every angle. We need the water fortress's location as fast as possible."
"Ah…"
Mujin could not grab the sleeve again.
This was a righteous act.
Even now, Mun-Hyeon was worrying about the people dragged off to that water fortress.
You idiot… What exactly was I fretting over? Mujin, Mujin, you've still got a long way to go. How could you fail to grasp Young Master Mun-Hyeon's greater purpose…
Reminding himself that saving the common folk mattered more than friction between factions, Mujin clenched his teeth and steeled his resolve.
In that same breath the Black Cat Branch men inside the pleasure house came storming over with fire in their eyes.
"You little bastards—do you even know where you are?!"
The man who swaggered forward with his eyes blazing took a single short, clean punch and flipped clean over backward in place.
His face smashed into the floor.
Thud!
He was already out cold, yet Mun-Hyeon drew the Eunhangon from his waist and cracked it across the man's back.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Three times in a row.
At that force the spine could not possibly be intact.
Even Mujin beside him winced and looked sick; the onlookers were worse.
Mun-Hyeon merely regarded the ones who had frozen in fear and asked again, perfectly calm.
"All right. Anyone else want to talk?"
"…"
"No one?"
His eyes were chilling. The way he stretched both corners of his mouth into a smile was almost grotesque.
But pride was everything to martial artists, and no matter how strong the opponent, the thought that numbers would carry the day always rose unbidden.
"You son of a bitch! What are you waiting for—hit him!"
One man's shout, and the Black Cat Branch men ripped free their weapons and charged.
There were enough of them that Mujin immediately drew his sword to help.
And then—
"Heh heh heh… They sort themselves out so nicely for me."
Mun-Hyeon laughed with a slyness that made the skin crawl, and moved before Mujin could take a single step.
Only then did Mujin understand.
"Ah!"
The people inside the pleasure house were clearly divided: customers, and Black Cat Branch men.
And among those Black Cat Branch men, which one held the highest rank.
Mun-Hyeon slid forward like water, knifing through the charging thugs. Every swing of the Eunhangon shattered the clusters of bodies.
Crack!
They smashed into the floor hard enough to break the boards, or flew into walls and folded in half before collapsing.
His merciless economy of motion looked almost cruel, yet Mujin could only marvel.
Clean. Not a single wasted movement.
He had fought Mun-Hyeon before, but he had been lost in demonic frenzy then and remembered nothing of it.
Now, watching him thrash the Black Cat Branch men who had attacked him, the skill was truly astonishing.
They say you see as much as you know.
To some it would look like nothing more than crude clubbing with a metal staff. To Mujin's eyes the subtle trajectories woven through every motion were plain.
Only the necessary movement, and the concentration of force exactly at the point of impact.
Even among Wudang's first-generation disciples he had never seen such control. If he had to compare it to anyone, only a few of the elders could manage it.
And then—
"R-run!"
Only after more than a dozen men had gone down did the rest realize something was wrong; a few tried to flee in terror.
But they were already inside the whirlwind.
The arcs of the Eunhangon dragged them in and swallowed them whole.
It was like a ferocious dragon trapped in a small space, venting its rage.
So that's… why they call him the Violent Dragon.
Realizing he was not needed, Mujin quietly sheathed his sword.
In that interval—
"Urghk! S-stay back! Stay away!"
Having turned every Black Cat Branch man inside the pleasure house into bloody pulp, Mun-Hyeon walked toward one particular figure.
The man who had given the order and thereby revealed himself as the highest ranking among them.
"I already told you. Where's the branch master? Something tells me you know."
"Th-that's…"
"It's fine. You don't have to answer right away. I'm surprisingly good at getting people to open their mouths. Let's start by breaking the finger joints."
Mun-Hyeon folded his open hands until the knuckles cracked. The man thrashing on the floor went deathly pale.
What the hell was this kid?
This was the outskirts, yes, but still Hukgangmun territory. Knowing full well this was a Black Cat Branch outpost, the boy had walked in like he owned the place and made this mess.
From the way he spoke he was clearly from the unorthodox path—so why would an unorthodox man do this to his own side… Ah. Because he was unorthodox, maybe?
"Which hand do you eat with?"
"Huh?"
"You've still got to eat to live."
Mun-Hyeon crouched in front of him and asked kindly. The man screamed before a single finger was even seized.
"Th-the rear courtyard! He's in the rear courtyard!"
"Rear courtyard?"
"Yes! He's teaching a lesson to the ones who tried to rebel."
"Rebel?"
"Yes!"
The man nodded so hard it looked like his neck might snap and volunteered information no one had asked for.
A wet stain was spreading where he sat.
Not that Mujin blamed him for being terrified.
"They were followers of the previous branch master. They secretly gathered strength and rose up. A few of them got caught, so the branch master is… interrogating them. Questioning them."
"Mm. I see. You should've just said so from the start. All that stubbornness wrecked the pleasure house and wrecked the people too. Right?"
"Absolutely! Absolutely! Your words are wise. We failed to recognize a great man and—"
"But you're too late."
"What? What do you meeeeeaaaaargh!"
Smiling, Mun-Hyeon laced his fingers through the man's hand and simply snapped it.
"You son of a—"
Wham!
The curse of pure agony was cut short by a fist.
The man crumpled. Mun-Hyeon wiped the blood from his knuckles, stood, and looked at Mujin.
"See? Fast."
"It is."
"Let's go. He's in the rear courtyard, apparently."
"…Yes."
How could anyone create this kind of chaos and still smile so brightly…
Truly a strange man.
When he fought he was more vicious than a demon, yet his face was full of smiles… If good and evil could coexist in one person, it would look exactly like that.
"By the way, that was impressive."
"What was? You can do this much too."
"True, but I was in awe watching you control your inner energy so precisely—using only as much as needed so you wouldn't harm anyone uninvolved."
"Huh?"
"Even angry, you still worried about the bystanders inside the pleasure house. How could I not be moved? Muryangsubul."
"…"
Had he?
He simply hadn't felt the need to waste inner energy on trash like that…
But if Mujin wanted to call it awe, fine. Let it be awe.
The spacious rear courtyard attached to the back of Sosangru.
In the yard enclosed by three pavilions shaped like the symbol [, brutal torture was in full swing.
More than a dozen beggars knelt bound by rope, and in front of them sat several men in chairs.
"Brand them."
At Branch Master Hwa Ja-cho's lazy voice from the shade of the eaves, red-hot irons pressed down onto the bodies of the seated men.
"Nngh…"
Their faces twisted in agony, but cloth stuffed deep into their mouths kept the screams from fully escaping; only their bodies writhed.
The creaking of the chairs under that thrashing was louder than any cry.
A necessary precaution in a pleasure house.
No point in spoiling the customers' drinks.
"Enough!"
After a long while the irons were lifted. Hwa Ja-cho walked up to one of the branded men and asked,
"Jeok-ju. Where is Ya-cho?"
"Ghhh… Don't know, you son of a bitch."
The moment the cloth was yanked free, Jeok-ju refused to talk even through the pain.
"Don't know? Stubborn little shit… But if the man who is Ya-cho's right hand doesn't know, who the hell does?"
The cloth was crammed back into Jeok-ju's mouth.
Hwa Ja-cho chuckled and personally lifted a glowing iron from the brazier.
"I'll just make you a eunuch."
With a cold smile he angled the iron toward Jeok-ju's groin—
"Branch Master! Branch Master!"
"…?"
A subordinate came sprinting from the main building, shouting.
"What?"
"Enemies! Enemies have attacked the pleasure house!"
"Enemies?"
Hwa Ja-cho's face twisted.
Enemies, all of a sudden?
Could it be that bastard Ya-cho trying to rescue his men?
A smile touched Hwa Ja-cho's lips as the thought took shape.
But—
"Two young men turned the pleasure house into a slaughterhouse. Every branch man inside is bloody pulp."
"Young men?"
"Yes!"
"How were they dressed?"
"Huh?"
"Their clothes. Beggar Clan rags?"
"…No?"
"No?"
"Yes. Their clothes were perfectly normal."
"Hmm…"
Then they weren't sent by Ya-cho.
Those worthless bastards treasured the Beggar Clan rags like their own lives.
So who the hell were they?
There was a signboard hanging right outside, and still some gutsy fools decided to raise hell in Hukgangmun territory…
"Seom-pae."
"Yes, Branch Master."
"Go take a look. Find out which idiots are bold enough to make this much noise."
"Understood."
Seom-pae smirked, took a few men, and swaggered toward the main building.
And then—
Thud! Crack! Crash!
A rapid string of blows and bodies hitting the ground.
While Hwa Ja-cho was still tilting his head in confusion, a young man appeared dragging Seom-pae by the hair, surveyed the rear courtyard, and said,
"Who's the branch master?"
Hwa Ja-cho, Branch Master of the Black Cat Branch, could only stare in disbelief.
Just two of them.
And green, wet-behind-the-ears kids at that, strolling in and asking who the branch master was?
"Well, well. I've seen everything now. A Black Cat Branch outpost isn't some neighborhood doghouse."
Hwa Ja-cho scowled and addressed the youth still gripping the unconscious Seom-pae's hair.
"What are you little bloodsacks? Looking at those clothes, you're not Ya-cho's men."
At those words Mun-Hyeon understood at once.
He had no idea who Ya-cho was, but this man was definitely the branch master.
Yet the scene spread before him made his brow furrow on its own.
"Tsk. Even if you switched sides… Do you people have no loyalty at all?"
"What?"
"The ones you've tied up—looking at those rags they're from the Beggar Clan… Is it really fine to grab former comrades and torture them like that? And that's a branding iron. Why are you ironing people with something meant for clothes?"
Faced with the scolding tone, Hwa Ja-cho was about to sneer that it was none of their business.
But before he could open his mouth Mun-Hyeon waved a dismissive hand as if the whole topic bored him.
"Whatever. We can think about that later. You're the branch master, right?"
"'You'? I've met every kind of madman, but this is new. Yes. I'm Branch Master Hwa Ja-cho."
"So it is you. I thought you looked the part."
"What?"
"I've got questions, but you're not going to answer them just because I ask, are you?"
"You crazy little—!"
"Figured as much. Then first… let's fight. I don't have time to explain everything piece by piece."
"What the hell are you—ugh!"
The moment Hwa Ja-cho saw that almost sunny smile, he saw Mun-Hyeon's eyes right in front of his nose.
And the fist that followed.
Wham!
Struck square in the face, Hwa Ja-cho's body lurched, then toppled hard to the ground.