Chapter 143
Chapter 143
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 143
Chapter Title: Chills Down the Spine
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Tang Chukyung chewed on his pipe, letting out a sinister chuckle while dodging the billowing smoke.
“Eheheh...! Look at all this money.”
On his desk stood a tower of order forms stacked high, alongside chests brimming with advance payments.
All of these had poured into the Nobanya Workshop in just a single day.
Even now, the requests kept flooding in.
The screams—more like wails—of the order handlers had rung through the night, clear enough to reach Tang Chukyung’s ears.
“Those stubborn mules from Jeongpung Pavilion who wouldn’t listen no matter how hard we pushed them are turning out to be such a huge help! You really do see all kinds of things if you live long enough! Hahaha!”
In the war against the Demon Horse North Sea Sect, Jeongpung Pavilion’s performance had been dazzling, to put it mildly.
Their movements were impeccably precise, like clockwork, but what truly won over the martial masters was the heavy armament that bolstered their forces.
Dark Fire Bullets that erupted in flames on impact, Illusion Arrow Launchers firing steel arrows too fast for the naked eye to track, Thunderbolt Orbs that reduced everything within ten paces to ash in a single blast, Ghost Iron Masks that neutralized poisons, Divine Mechanism Spears designed for anti-personnel combat, and the Dark Fire Poison Smoke that trailed them like a tail...
The list went on—Jeongpung Pavilion agents pulled out all sorts of gunpowder weapons as needed, each boasting versatile uses and remarkable safety.
That’s why the masters grabbed the agents and asked:
Could they buy those weapons too?
Even if the gunpowder armaments were Tang Clan secrets and unavailable, agents with that level of skill could forge a simple sword of superior quality.
And so, the masters naturally learned of the Nobanya Workshop’s existence.
Rumors hadn’t yet spread that its owner was the Mad Bombing Demon or kin to the Tang Clan head, but the workshop’s reputation had skyrocketed overnight.
And what Tang Chukyung loved most in the world was ‘money.’
He often got scolded for being so materialistic despite being a master craftsman, but he couldn’t care less.
More money! More gold! More treasure!
Those glittering things that made his heart sparkle every time he touched them—weren’t they the one unchanging truth of this world?
“Eahahahaha!”
His subordinates shook their heads at the laughter booming from the director’s office.
‘We’re stuck with overtime for at least a month...’
‘Some laugh, some cry... I’ve got my second daughter’s talent show to see, but no, life’s so cruel...’
‘At least they promised fat bonuses this month, so maybe hang on to that...?’
It was then, as the artisans hammered away in gloom, that—
Boom!
The director’s office door flew open with a mighty shove.
“What?”
Tang Chukyung’s good mood soured, his face twisting in a scowl.
The eyes behind the mask were crinkled in a grin.
Kui Jegal sauntered in, fanning himself lightly with his scholar’s fan.
“All the forges running nonstop must be why—it’s awfully hot in here.”
“What do you want, you punk.”
Tang Chukyung slyly picked up a hammer from the floor.
Just in case he needed to smash it into Kui Jegal’s skull.
If not for their old workplace camaraderie(?) and the fact that the Nine Dragons Branch Family was the workshop’s biggest client, he’d have pummeled the guy a dozen times by now.
Kui Jegal’s visits always stirred up trouble.
Mostly returns or exchanges over defects in delivered goods.
But the complaints were always bizarre.
Scratches on the Ghost Iron Masks from the latest shipment, acupuncture needles for the infirmary slightly bent so replace them all, the new gunpowder doesn’t look pretty so revert to the old formula...
Things he could ignore, but the guy had such a silver tongue that he’d flip Tang Chukyung’s stomach until he caved.
A reliable ally back in the day, now a headache of a client.
And here he was again.
No wonder Tang Chukyung was on guard.
“Wahuhu! Old timer, why so prickly? Your laughter was echoing outside just moments ago. I’m hurt.”
“Spit it out before I smash your pottery head, punk.”
“Heard you got a ton of orders this time—is this it?”
Ignoring Tang Chukyung’s question, Kui Jegal strolled to the stack of papers and examined them slowly.
“Qingcheng Sect here, Five Poison Sect there, Giyeon Mountain Sect... Whew! Just fulfilling these would make you filthy rich, huh?”
“You really want this pottery head smashed to come to your senses, don’t you? Fine. Let’s make next year today your death anni—”
Tang Chukyung’s words cut short.
Kui Jegal had shoved the entire stack of papers toward the forge.
Whoosh!
“You mad bastard!”
“Wow! Burns real nice, doesn’t it?”
Tang Chukyung bolted to the forge.
Desperate to salvage any papers.
But the forge’s fierce heat had devoured them in seconds—barely anything left intact.
“Argh! My money! My mooooney!”
These were orders from just one day, not yet properly logged.
Without recovering them, confirming orders would be impossible.
And with advance payments already collected, cancellations meant refunds several times over.
The Nobanya Workshop would go bankrupt. Bankrupt.
Tears of blood streamed from Tang Chukyung’s eyes.
From paradise to hell in a heartbeat—like a bungee jump straight down.
“Eh, why fuss over scraps of paper?”
“You bastard! Do you know how much money these represeeeent!”
“How much?”
“I don’t know, punk!! But one thing’s sure! I’m done for!!”
Tang Chukyung gripped the hammer tight and rose.
“And you’re done for here too!!”
Killing intent poured off him fiercely.
Yet Kui Jegal smiled leisurely.
“Before you end my life, care to glance at this?”
“No way, you punk! You’re just trying to rope me into another money-losing sche—”
Thud!!
Kui Jegal slapped down his own document before Tang Chukyung could finish.
“Listen to me! You jerk!”
Tang Chukyung itched to grab the guy by the collar.
Kui Jegal grinned.
“Fine, just look once. Then kill me if you want, deal?”
“You damned bastard!!”
Cursing up a storm, Tang Chukyung snatched the document and scanned it rapidly.
Kui Jegal smirked faintly at him.
As expected—grumpy on the outside, but a softie at heart.
“What is this?”
Tang Chukyung read it cover to cover, then demanded irritably.
His furrowed brow burned with a different rage now.
“That’s what you’re holding.”
“What the hell is it!”
He slammed it on the desk.
Thud!
“The South Palace Clan tangled with the Demonic Cult! What nonsense is this!!”
“Shh! The whole place can hear.”
“Let ’em hear! It’ll be public soon anyway! Now talk straight—is this real?”
“Yes. It is.”
“Damn it all!!”
Tang Chukyung had tried steering clear of Nine Dragons Branch Family internal affairs, but rumors reached him now and then.
Among them, whispers that the South Palace Clan’s recent moves were highly suspicious, with Kui Jegal and Pung Hwajung secretly investigating.
Knowing how Namgung Sanyeong’s scheme had begun, he’d opted to watch and wait.
But it seemed that was a mistake.
“Proof?”
“We have it. Not publicizing yet, though.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Tang Chukyung’s heaving breaths steadied, his eyes calming.
He puffed his pipe and sank into thought.
If Kui Jegal was telling the truth, war between the Tang Clan and South Palace was inevitable soon.
Even if not all-out, clashes were certain.
This battle had spiked Sichuan’s martial world hatred for the Demonic Cult to the heavens, and the Cult—pride wounded—would strike back to salvage their failed expedition.
A conflict with South Palace amid that would force the Tang Clan into a two-front war right from the Alliance’s infancy.
No way the Nobanya Workshop could handle other sects’ orders then.
Alliance war supplies came first.
More precisely, resupplying Jeongpung Pavilion and the new Wild Wind Corps.
‘See? Grumbles aside, the old man’s heart beats for the Wild Wind Corps. Heh heh heh!’
Kui Jegal was always grateful to Tang Chukyung.
The man had lost limbs to prosthetics because of the Wild Wind Corps, yet never complained—always jumping in like it was his own fight.
He could coast as a clan elder, respected, mentoring the young.
But no—he always charged the front lines.
All for the Wild Wind Corps.
Tang Chukyung set down his pipe briefly, eyes narrowing.
“You lot swore loyalty to Un Hwi last night, right? This connected?”
A hiss escaped the mask.
“You heard already?”
“With that many eyes on you, it’d be weirder if rumors didn’t spread.”
“Fair point.”
“That ceremony—it was a warning to the South Palace bastards, wasn’t it?”
“Haha! Can’t fool your eyes, elder.”
Kui Jegal nodded, pleased.
“Yes. Partly to show our sincerity to the branch leader and refocus ourselves, but mostly to spread word across the jianghu of our intentions.”
“They must be chilled to the bone.”
The Dark Lord had declared the new Wild Wind Corps’ birth.
That alone was earth-shattering, but reviving the old Wild Wind Corps carried equal weight.
It proved their power hadn’t waned with time.
No—it had grown stronger.
And all of them pledged loyalty not to Dangho Mountain, but to Un Hwi.
Raising cups of purified wine.
Before a crowd of thousands.
That alone elevated Un Hwi beyond mere Nine Dragons Branch heir to ‘commander of the old Wild Wind Corps’—a colossal title.
One who could wield the old Wild Wind Corps that terrorized the Demonic Cult at will.
Doesn’t it make your flesh crawl just hearing it?
And Un Hwi had bad blood with the South Palace Clan.
Thus, so did the old Wild Wind Corps.
Kui Jegal’s silent warning to South Palace was this:
—Forget not that our blades, guns, banners aim at your hearts.
“The Alliance is just now on the cusp of formation. Its core, the new Wild Wind Corps, hasn’t even been tested. South Palace is different, though?”
“Yeah. They’ve been eastern overlords for ages.”
Unlike the Tang Clan, locked in rivalry with Qingcheng, Emei, Jongnam, Jeomchang, South Palace had dominated the east unchallenged for years.
Their alliance network was ironclad—war meant the entire east piling on.
“They slunk into our turf in Gansu, got caught red-handed. Plus our warning—they’ll hit the brakes. But it’s just a stopgap—”
“You need my help?”
“Yes.”
“Damn it. Gotta wipe your asses till I’m in the coffin?”
“Not us. Precisely, the new favorite branch leader you dote on. Can’t we roll out the red carpet?”
“Ugh! Damn iiiit!”
Tang Chukyung scratched his head furiously.
Kui Jegal smiled silently. He knew exactly what was coming.
“So? What? What do you want first?”
As expected.
Not a syllable off from his prediction.
That’s why he liked Tang Chukyung so much.
“Don’t smirk, punk! I mean it!”
“Eheheh!”
“I said no laughing!”