The River Pirate Camps
“You son of a bitch!”
At the sudden turn of events, Hwa Ja-cho’s men all drew their swords as one.
Idiots.
Were they truly this thoughtless?
Mun-Hyeon and Mujin had cut straight through the main compound. Not a single man inside had managed to pursue them. What did that mean? That the two of them were strong enough to drop dozens of fighters and still arrive at the rear garden without a scratch. Still, there was no need for Jegal Mun-Hyeon to go out of his way and personally teach that lesson to every last fool standing there.
A single breath of wind hissed between them.
“Ugh!”
“Aaagh!”
Their wrists were sliced as if by some razor-thin edge; weapons clattered uselessly to the ground. And standing before them, sword already drawn, was Mujin.
“Stay where you are. Unless you want your heads cut off.”
“…….”
A calm voice. Indifferent eyes. The martial artists swallowed hard, not daring to pick up their fallen blades.
Speed was one thing—but he had severed the wrists of more than ten men with perfect precision. And in those eyes, a faint red gleam. The threat that movement meant death sounded utterly sincere, and none of them had a spare life to test it with.
So. That left the rest.
Jegal Mun-Hyeon cracked his laced fingers with a series of sharp pops and turned his gaze on Hwa Ja-cho.
I don’t have time for this. So answer what I ask—immediately.
Feeling the killing intent rolling off the approaching young man, Hwa Ja-cho flinched and swallowed. His subordinates had been subdued in an instant. Just who the hell were these people…?
But he was still a branch master. He could not afford to look cowed. A frightened dog always barked the loudest.
“You bastard! Do you even know who I am?!”
Hwa Ja-cho roared and glared—but all he got back was a snort of open mockery.
“You’re the branch master, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“I’ve got something I need to ask right now, and I’m in a hurry. So answer properly. I’m already exhausted, and I might suddenly lose my temper.”
“…….”
Sprawled on the floor, barely managing to push his upper body upright, Hwa Ja-cho found himself staring up into Mun-Hyeon’s eyes—and the breath locked in his throat. Not a sound came out.
“You. You know where the local river pirate dens are, don’t you?”
“What did you say?”
“I need their locations, urgently. Tell me without a fuss and I’ll only break a few things before I let you live.”
“You damned—!”
The moment Hwa Ja-cho tried to prop up his pride, Jegal Mun-Hyeon plucked a branding iron from the nearby brazier. And stabbed.
Thuk.
A simple motion. For Hwa Ja-cho, it was the start of hell.
Your turn.
“AAAAAAGH!”
The instant the white-hot iron met flesh, the air filled with a thick, nauseating stench—the reek of a whole hank of hair burning at once, layered over the smell of seared meat. The combination turned the stomach.
Jegal Mun-Hyeon, however, didn’t so much as wrinkle his nose. He only smiled and asked again.
“The pirate dens. You know them, don’t you?”
“Ghhhk….”
There was no answering that. Very few people could endure the pain of living flesh melting. And Hwa Ja-cho—grown soft and fat on comfort—had long since forgotten how to bear pain at all. That he hadn’t blacked out already was almost impressive.
“Not going to answer?”
As if he meant to leave no gap for the agony to fade, Mun-Hyeon took another iron from the brazier.
“W-wait! Wait a moment!”
Even through the pain, Hwa Ja-cho panicked, thrashing his legs and waving his hands from where he sat crumpled on the ground.
“Why? Feeling talkative now?”
“Th-that’s….”
“This bastard’s not even joking—he’s just stalling….”
Sizzle!
Again, the motion was clean. Mun-Hyeon gave him not a heartbeat of mercy and seared him once more.
“GAAAAH!”
Known pain was always worse than the unknown. Having already been burned once, Hwa Ja-cho screamed even louder than before, his whole body convulsing as if he had been struck by some sudden curse.
Even the men who had just been under torture, and the ones who had been torturing them, shuddered at the cruelty and squeezed their eyes shut.
But Mujin…
Jing’ak yangseon—punish the wicked and exalt the good.
To chastise evil and thereby reveal what was right was also a form of guidance. Even as he frowned, Mujin found himself… admiring the sheer force of Jegal Mun-Hyeon’s nature.
The benefactor who had saved his life. The master who, in a single moment, had granted him something like a fated breakthrough. For all that Mujin had been raised as a Taoist disciple in mercy, forbearance, and consideration, he had reached the point where whatever Mun-Hyeon did simply looked justified.
“Ugh… you damned bastard… a fellow unorthodox martial artist, attacking a Black Cat Branch—do you think the Branch Lord will let you walk away? And this is Hukgangmun’s territory—!”
“…….”
Lips gone pale, Hwa Ja-cho still tried to cling to his backers for survival.
Who are you calling unorthodox?
Currently of the Jegal Family. Formerly of the Demonic Cult. And if he had turned from the orthodox path, so what? If Hwa Ja-cho thought of himself as unorthodox, then an unorthodox martial artist attacking an unorthodox faction was the most natural thing in the world.
Besides.
“Are you an idiot?”
“What?”
“You don’t know much about the unorthodox path, do you?”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“There are only two of us. You think Hukgangmun is going to mobilize over a branch that got wrecked by a pair of nobodies? And not even the main hall—just an intelligence-gathering Black Cat Branch. Do you really think you matter that much to Hukgangmun?”
Hwa Ja-cho clamped his mouth shut. He had nothing to say. Exactly as the young man claimed—Hukgangmun had no reason to move. Attacked by unknown masters with no names and no faces, in a matter that was not even a formal power struggle… why would they waste their strength?
“And if I just kill every last one of you here… who’s going to report it?”
“S-someone will still….”
“Mm. Possible. There’s no law saying a single rat can’t slip away. But so what if word gets out?”
“…….”
“Black Cat Branch? Hukgangmun? Do I look like someone who’s afraid of trash like that?”
A third iron. Having already felt that heat burrow into his organs and ring through his bones twice over, Hwa Ja-cho finally met Jegal Mun-Hyeon’s eyes properly.
Flickering pupils. And within them, a reddish madness.
In that moment, he understood.
He had once been of the Beggar Sect. Soft living might have dulled the old habits, but he had always prided himself on reading people. And under this much pain, that old skill snapped back into place.
This man… was a lunatic.
His eyes were gone. And to a man already overflowing with confidence, rattling off powerful backers had only made things worse.
So then…?
“Please spare me, Young Master!”
“…….”
Biting down on the pain, Hwa Ja-cho lunged and seized Mun-Hyeon’s pant leg.
“I’ll tell you everything. The pirate dens? I know them! Of course I do! Black Dragon Camp, Silver Scale Camp, Bloodwater Camp… which ones do you need? I’ll dig up even the ones I don’t know and report them to you.”
There was nothing to gain from prodding this madman’s temper further. When nothing else worked, active cooperation was the only strategy left. Survival meant giving him what he wanted. And since this was about river pirates, not Hukgangmun itself, there was no real harm in talking.
“Young Master, I beg you. Please….”
Having finally grasped the situation, Hwa Ja-cho pleaded again with desperate sincerity. Jegal Mun-Hyeon snorted and set the iron aside.
Should’ve done that from the start. The smell was about to make me gag.
“Then talk.”
“Th-that is… would it be all right if I prepared the documents and explained from those? Words alone might leave you wandering, so it seems only proper that I give you the precise locations.”
“You want to do that?”
“Of course!”
“Fine. You there—go find those ‘documents.’”
Mun-Hyeon nodded and pointed not at one of the Black Cat Branch men, but at one of the kneeling subordinates of that Ya-cho fellow who had been brought in as captives.
The enemy of my enemy is my ally. With their own comrades’ lives possibly hanging on this, there was no chance the man would run.
“But why are those ones still standing around like that?”
“Pardon?”
“Their leader’s on his knees, and the underlings are still on their feet? That’s no way to behave.”
“Ah!”
Struck by this profound revelation, Hwa Ja-cho rounded on his men.
“You dogs! The Young Master has spoken words of pure gold! Kneel! Now!”
“What?”
“Get over here and get on your knees!”
“…Yes, sir!”
At his furious bellow, the men—blood still dripping from their wrists—scrambled over and lined up on their knees.
A short while later:
“Here, please look. This is the nearby stretch of the Yangtze.”
“Hmm. Detailed.”
“Of course. This sort of thing is our specialty.”
“Skip the noise and just explain.”
“Yes, sir!”
“As you can see, everything marked in red is an outpost. Blue marks the main camps. We’ve carefully revised it down to the newest nests the pirates have taken, so you can trust it completely. See the dates next to them? That’s when an outpost became a main camp.”
“Oh? Impressive. You update fast.”
“That’s the work we do. This is material reported to the main branch, so you can treat the margin of error as nearly zero.”
“Very good. Mind if I take this?”
“Of course. Naturally you should. You can’t go without a map, can you?”
Hwa Ja-cho was wagging his tail in earnest now.
“Well done. This helps a great deal.”
“Not at all… I will regard the grace of sparing my life as deep as the sea.”
“I’d appreciate that. However….”
“Yes?”
“I still don’t think we can let word get out. Things getting complicated is a pain I can do without.”
“Wh-what do you mean….”
“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you.”
“Won’t kill…? Y-you don’t mean—?”
In that instant, Hwa Ja-cho’s blinking eyes flew wide as understanding hit him.
Crrrack!
There was no time for curses. Jegal Mun-Hyeon had already snapped his arms and legs, and Hwa Ja-cho could only scream.
“Ghh—!”
Even that scream never fully left him.
Thud!
He went limp and collapsed, unconscious. Mun-Hyeon grinned and looked back at Mujin.
“Mujin.”
“Yes?”
“Handle the rest of them.”
“…What?!”
“Should I do it myself?”
“N-no. I’ll take care of it.”
Lips pressed tight, Mujin moved among the Black Cat Branch martial artists one by one, sealing their pressure points until each of them blacked out.
Hmm. I figured he’d at least cut the meridians in their limbs. The kid’s soft heart is his problem.
And then—
“Thank you for saving us.”
The captive leader who had been bound to a chair for interrogation dipped his head in gratitude. He was said to be a subordinate of the man called Ya-cho, who had raised a banner against the Black Cat Branch.
Jegal Mun-Hyeon regarded him for a moment, then asked,
“You people… you’re Ja-gwi’s men, aren’t you?”
“Y-you know Branch Master Ja-gwi?”
“Still calling him Branch Master. So you really were his subordinates.”
Mun-Hyeon snorted. The captive leader sighed and shook his head.
“No. We are traitors.”
“…?”
“We betrayed Branch Master Ja-gwi. And only now have we realized that betrayal was never for the good of our brothers.”
“Hmm.”
At the regret in the man’s voice, Mun-Hyeon’s eyes narrowed slightly. They seemed determined to correct their own mistakes. Whatever that meant, it was their business to handle.
“Think of it as Ja-gwi who saved you.”
“B-Branch Master…?”
“Well then, good luck. I’ve cut you free—getting somewhere safe is up to you.”
With that, Jegal Mun-Hyeon and Mujin turned and left like a sudden wind.
And afterward—
“Who in the world was that man…?”
Unable to grasp the stranger’s identity, the captive leader stared blankly after them—then snapped back to himself.
A benefactor. A man of terrifying martial power, yes—but there was no need to leave traces of him behind.
“Erase every mark! Make it look as if we attacked the Black Cat Branch ourselves!”
“Yes!”
They had been rescued; repaying that grace was only natural. After all, they still believed themselves to be Beggar Sect men who upheld chivalry and righteousness.