Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Something More Important Than Money (3)
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Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Even under the brutal clubbing, Ga Hang could only groan, unable to spit out a single word.
"Huff huff! You damn bastard!"
Ga Hang's body was drenched in blood from the savage beating. Many of his bones were shattered, and if left untreated, his life hung in the balance.
Black Tiger Gang Leader Choi Ho bellowed through ragged breaths.
"I've been easy on you because you handled the sites so well, and now you pull this shit behind my back?!"
"Urgh..."
"Shut your trap, you pig!"
Thwack!
One kick sent Ga Hang's front teeth shattering out in a spray.
His jawbone cracked, his jaw meridian ruptured—he couldn't speak even if he wanted to—and now his teeth were gone too. Even if he survived by some miracle, he'd be stuck on porridge for the rest of his life.
Choi Ho turned away from Ga Hang, whom he glared at with killing intent.
"Ga Suk."
"Yes, Gang Leader."
The slender man, now showing hints of middle age, looked utterly composed.
"What do you make of this mess?"
"He deserves death."
He drew a cold, clear line.
Even in his delirium, Ga Hang must have heard it—his eyes bulged wide.
Ga Suk's expression didn't flicker as he continued.
"Embezzling the gang's funds is a crime unforgivable except by death. Behead him swiftly and restore the Black Tiger Gang's discipline."
Blood brothers, yet he urged execution without a trace of anguish.
Choi Ho's cheek twitched.
"Why? You want me to bury the fact that you're involved too?"
"I had no idea Ga Hang was doing this."
"He's your brother."
"Yes."
"You think it makes sense that you, in charge of the accounts, knew nothing about your brother's graft?"
No one could avoid suspecting him in this situation.
Ga Suk bowed his head.
"I've confirmed it—the gold and sculptures he skimmed weren't listed in any reports. I swear I knew nothing."
"You two coordinated it midway."
"If I may be bold, Gang Leader—if I'd set out to embezzle, I wouldn't have been dumb enough to bury this much cash in the ground."
Utterly self-assured.
And Choi Ho conceded the point. Ga Suk was sharp, after all. If he weren't, Choi Ho never would've made him second-in-command.
Still, he suspected Ga Suk.
Ga Hang pulled this off alone?
Ga Hang was a feral dog that lost its mind over scraps of rotten meat.
Perfect temperament for a site manager. Despite his bulk, he read the room well and never stuck his neck out needlessly.
A guy like that embezzling from the Black Tiger Gang? Like a fat stray eyeing a tiger's house-sized meal.
He's definitely in on it.
Sure, Ga Hang might've acted solo, but it made far more sense as Ga Suk's accomplice.
Even if Ga Suk was clean, Choi Ho had to frame him as guilty.
I've milked him plenty already.
Ga Suk had become a liability.
Choi Ho could lop his head off in a heartbeat if he chose, but Ga Suk's contributions had built the gang's current reputation.
Out of sight, maybe—but too many eyes were on them. Come to think of it, commanding so many underlings was thanks to Ga Suk. Now, though, more men followed Ga Suk than him.
He'd wanted him gone, and Ga Hang handed him the perfect excuse.
Anger was anger; opportunity was opportunity.
"Cheong Pae!"
"Yes, Gang Leader!"
The gang's third-in-command, Cheong Pae, bowed his head.
"Toss Ga Hang in the barn and drag in Physician Pyeon—patch him up somehow! Tell him if the pig dies, he dies!"
"Yes!"
"And round up every last one of the thugs he ran with!"
"Your orders!"
He hadn't said it outright, but the intent was clear: torture confessions out of them pinning Ga Suk as accomplice.
Cheong Pae shot Ga Suk a sleazy grin. For a man who'd long eyed the number-two spot, this purge was a dream come true.
Even as events spun wildly out of control, Ga Suk never batted an eye.
If anything, he doubled down.
"With Ga Hang's spot empty, collections will lag. You should appoint someone interim at least."
Choi Ho scoffed.
"Shouldn't you be apologizing right now?"
"Gang Leader."
"Even if you're not the accomplice, embezzlement blew up on your watch. How light do you think your failure to manage the underlings is?"
Pure logic. In any other outfit, he'd be on his knees begging forgiveness first.
Yet Ga Suk held his ground to the bitter end.
"Checking every site detail one by one is..."
"So you're innocent?"
"Gang Leader."
"This is why guys with brains are a pain. Won't admit fault even on their deathbed."
Insulted in front of the men, Ga Suk's face stayed blank.
Choi Ho waved him off like he couldn't stomach the sight.
"I'll handle accounts for the time being. Stay in your quarters and reflect."
"Understood."
With that, Choi Ho stormed into his office. Cheong Pae dispatched underlings to dump Ga Hang in the barn and haul in his crew.
Left alone, Ga Suk returned to his quarters.
The moment the door shut, his face contorted.
"Stupid fuck!"
A curse aimed straight at Ga Hang.
"Told you to hide it good, and you bury it?!"
The money didn't sting. He'd only given Ga Hang thirty percent anyway—pocket change he could recoup.
What burned was his brother double-crossing him.
What? No side deals? You lying sack of shit!
Those fancy sculptures from the pit? He'd never laid eyes on them.
Meaning Ga Hang pocketed extras on the sly. The bastard had played his own brother.
Guts growing by the day, huh. Never dreamed he'd screw me too.
Dumbass through and through, but this proved they were cut from the same cloth.
No helping it.
He'd planned to flip the Black Tiger Gang before the New Year—less than three months out. But with things this botched, no choice.
He stuffed pockets with essentials from the room, packed a bindle, then frowned at a sudden thought.
Wonder who got the drop on him.
Ga Hang had no brains, but his knife work had a rep in the back alleys. Yet fingers lopped off, jaw pulverized—a thorough thrashing.
Dumb shit! Who'd you blab to about the cash?!
Someone had planned meticulously to hit Ga Hang.
Leaving only the damning stuff behind while vanishing clean? Someone who knew the money trail inside out.
Gotta look into it...
Ga Suk glanced out the window.
Gang members hustled by. Headquarters buzzed—feet flying, over half inner art cultivators.
Can't ask around myself. Be nice if he croaked quietly, but surveillance is too tight.
Astonishingly, he regretted being unable to off his brother himself.
Embezzlement's out; they'll sniff me in a day or two. Flee to Hong Sword Clan first.
He shoved the bookshelf aside.
Rumble.
One hand effortlessly slid the hefty shelf. Stronger than burly, inner-trained Ga Hang.
A small side door hid behind.
He stepped out and strode toward the central gate. Unlike the chaos at the leader's quarters, the path was eerily deserted.
He slipped through wall shadows and building gaps. A few gang members passed close, but oddly, none sensed his presence.
Moments later.
"The v-vice leader's gone!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ He hadn't expected much, so there was no real disappointment—but the sheer absurdity was hard to shake.
"...Call this clean?"
Martial clans and sects always had a Martial Scripture Pavilion for storing technique manuals.
The Murong family was no different, but from the entrance, Murong Bi had already steeled himself. It felt less like a manual vault and more like a general storeroom.
Given the sparse books, it even felt roomy. "Sparsely stocked" wouldn't be an overstatement.
Still, looks like about fifty volumes at least.
Murong Bi examined a few pulled from a small shelf and let out a deep sigh.
"This is straight-up third-rate."
Stuff unavailable to ordinary folk but easy pickings for anyone with murim ties.
Basic-of-basics like Three Talents Sword Method, Three Talents Steps, Six Harmonies Fist, Seven Stars Steps—over a dozen arts mid-to-small sects taught newbies for less than a year.
And external arts: Iron Robe Garment, Golden Bell Cover. Even Three Emperors Cannon Hammer, bundling basic fists and hardening. The Murongs never dealt in such things.
"Why bother collecting this crap?"
Nearly thirty of the fifty-odd books were common murim manuals. Too low-tier and widespread to call clan secrets.
"Hmm?"
Troubled, he pulled another—his eyes lit up.
"One Yang Heart Method."
Middling rep, but it was a Murong art. The inner method Murong Sujing practiced.
Flipping through with nostalgic glee, his face gradually soured.
"What the hell is this?!"
The title matched: One Yang Heart Method. Formulas mostly resembled what he knew.
That was the problem. Mostly.
"Why do the formulas change midway?"
One Yang was an inner heart method rooted in yang nourishment arts, tracing to Taoism.
Built vital energy robustly while accumulating inner power—solid for non-secret arts, but "middling" to true first-raters.
But these formulas neglected vital energy for raw inner power buildup. High risk of impure qi accumulation, with no standout gains in capacity.
"Already iffy, now totally unbalanced. What the actual fuck?!"
Without deep martial insight, it'd wreck you outright—and no such novice would touch it anyway.
Thinking Sujing had trained in this made his blood boil. One slip, and her body could've been ruined.
...Though it already was, pretty thoroughly.
Murong Bi sighed and checked another manual.
"Huh? Living Soul Inner Classic's still here?!"
His brightened face soured in half a heartbeat.
Thud!
He flung the book and fumed for a good while.
"What Living Soul bullshit! It's just archery, archery!"
He rapidly scanned the rest.
"Hold on. This one? Th-this too...?!"
No clan secret arts, but solid livelihood earners if mastered well.
Over half differed from the originals he recalled. Not subtle tweaks—blatant from midsection, or early-middle in bad cases.
"Good lord."
Weeding the fakes left seven legit manuals.
All One Yang caliber or Murong basics.
Murong Bi's stunned expression hardened into grave concern.
"Weird they haven't gone under yet."