Chapter 6: The Returning Prodigal (5)
Clunk!
The one who shot to his feet, slamming the table, was unexpectedly Yeon Jipyeong.
“From what I've heard, don't you think that's going too far?”
“What?!”
“Even if she's from the Namgung family, there are things one should say and things one shouldn't!” Yeon Jipyeong bellowed like a thunderclap.
“Apologize to Yang U!”
Namgung Sanghwa, who had been about to unleash a torrent of abuse, tilted her head in momentary confusion. She thought he was demanding she apologize. But no—he was telling her to apologize to the worm groveling on the floor.
What nonsense was this?
“Slapping an innocent person's face like that—is that the way of a prestigious family? Are the Namgung family's manners toward inferiors that rude?”
“...What?”
“Language that defies etiquette, followed by unprovoked violence! It's clearly the height of rudeness! Apologize to Yang U right now!”
He stood tall, spine straight as a rod, his voice ringing out. A bit clumsy, perhaps, but he evoked the image of a single, unyielding bamboo stalk.
Yang U gazed at Yeon Jipyeong with trembling eyes. I Jeonghak's gaze on him was strange, too.
Namgung Sanghwa muttered in disbelief.
“What the hell is that idiot kid babbling about?”
To her, Yang U was no different from the common rabble swarming the jianghu. Even a pet dog at least wagged its tail. But this one? Not only did it refuse to wag, it had the gall to yap out of turn. She'd shown mercy just by not breaking its legs.
“If you don't apologize, you'll face humiliation. This is my last warning. Apologize.”
“Humiliation?”
Namgung Sanghwa burst into shrill, mocking laughter—high and piercing, dripping with scorn. Of course, her rage hadn't cooled one bit.
“People puff you up as one of the Seven Great Families, and now your guts are spilling out?”
“Even a kid from a crumbling martial hall, if properly taught, would act just like me. Because that's what 'right' means.”
Yeon Jipyeong's eyes didn't waver.
“Looks like you weren't taught right.”
Namgung Sanghwa's laughter cut off.
Hummmm!
“You clueless bastard!”
Killing intent flickered in her eyes. The atmosphere on the fourth floor of the inn grew twice as frigid as before.
A heated argument could be brushed off somehow, but killing intent changed everything.
Yeon Jipyeong's face hardened.
“Pathetic.”
“Shut your mouth!”
More words would just build frustration. Breathing heavily, Namgung Sanghwa barked at I Jeonghak.
“Make that punk kneel before me right now!”
“M-Me, you say?”
I Jeonghak's eyes bulged.
Namgung Sanghwa's cheek twitched.
“Want me to make sure your family can't set foot in Anhui soil?”
I Jeonghak panicked for real. He'd shoved the anger onto the Yeon family to dodge it himself, but he never imagined it'd spiral like this.
“What are you waiting for? Move!”
“M-Miss! Even so, fighting the Yeon family's heir is a problem...!”
Slap!
Blood trickled from I Jeonghak's mouth.
This slap was far fiercer than the one he'd given Yang U.
“Touch my nerves one more time, and you and your whole family will taste hell.”
“...”
“Make him kneel.”
Yang U's face filled with shock. I Jeonghak might be a bit low-class, but who could've guessed he'd end up like this under Namgung Sanghwa? The Yi family of Anhui might not match the Namgung prestige, but they were still a notable name in the region. And yet, taking a slap without a peep?
I Jeonghak turned. His eyes, fixed on Yeon Jipyeong, twisted with humiliation and fury.
Thud. Thud.
He advanced slowly toward Yeon Jipyeong.
Yeon Jipyeong sighed. He had plenty to say, but he clamped his mouth shut.
Namgung Sanghwa shouted again.
“Quit dawdling and drag that punk here!”
That was when it happened.
“Ruins the taste of the booze.”
Yeon Hojeong rose from his seat.
Namgung Sanghwa snarled.
“Fine, you too—!”
Thud!
Everyone's eyes went wide.
“Guhk!”
I Jeonghak staggered back. A bare fist to the gut, no guard up. His insides churned, legs went limp.
Yeon Hojeong's left hand shot to I Jeonghak's head.
Grip!
“Krrk!”
He seized a fistful of hair. The kind of move street thugs pulled in back alleys—not something a White Path martial artist should do.
Panicked, I Jeonghak twisted Yeon Hojeong's wrist.
“L-Let go!”
Yeon Hojeong twisted his own wrist. I Jeonghak's body spun through the air, slamming back-first into the floor.
Whoosh! Bam!
“Gack!”
Yeon Hojeong calmly raised his foot. Pain twisted I Jeonghak's face, now mixed with disbelief.
Crunch!
“Kaaaaagh!”
I Jeonghak screamed, rolling on the floor. Nose bone shattered, front teeth gone.
Yeon Hojeong brushed blood from his pant leg.
“Don't try shoving your responsibilities onto us.”
“Cough! Guhek!”
“Consider your sins paid with this.”
Shock painted everyone's faces—including Yeon Jipyeong's. He'd watched from behind, clear as day, yet couldn't grasp what technique Yeon Hojeong had used. First time he'd failed to comprehend a martial art he'd seen up close. Hence the fluster, the shock at his brother's ruthless strike.
“B-Brother!”
“Jipyeong-ah.”
“Yes?”
“Next time something like this happens, unless it's absolutely necessary, don't waste time on pointless talk.”
“...?”
“You think people who act like that in public can be reasoned with? They're already rotten.”
Yeon Hojeong's eyes gleamed.
“If you really want to correct them or lecture, knock 'em down first. It's not too late then.”
Harsh words, through and through.
Yeon Hojeong walked toward Namgung Sanghwa. His eyes met Yang U's midway, but the indifference proved he couldn't care less.
Namgung Sanghwa's face warped.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?”
Yeon Hojeong said nothing. He approached at the same steady pace, same stride—as if just stepping out for a drink. Utter dismissal.
Namgung Sanghwa's eyes rolled back in rage.
“You damn bastard! Ignoring me?!”
Hiss!
An ominous energy spread from Namgung Sanghwa's body. Worlds apart from I Jeonghak's power—qualitatively superior.
Yeon Hojeong's eyes sharpened.
Cangqiong Qi.
One of the Namgung family's prized inner arts: the Cangqiong Heart Method. High-grade, versatile enough to underpin all their martial techniques—a top-tier method.
She's got real talent.
Eighteen, maybe? Impressive true energy for her age. Easily first-rate.
But Namgung Sanghwa had a fatal flaw.
“Kneel right now! If you do, I might overlook this disgrace out of respect for—”
Whoosh!
“Gasp!”
Namgung Sanghwa flinched. Yeon Hojeong, walking at constant speed, had suddenly accelerated.
Without prior warning, such a shift sows confusion.
Instinctively, her right hand whipped out.
Rip!
The air tore viciously. Arrogant temperament aside, her martial arts were solidly trained.
Yeon Hojeong's hand countered.
Triumph flashed across Namgung Sanghwa's face.
Idiot!
Daring to meet her Heavenly Wind Palm barehanded? Foolish. At full power, she could snap logs like twigs. Trying to block it with flesh? His hand to shoulder would shatter.
She poured more Cangqiong Qi into her palm.
That was when—
Swish!
What?!
Yeon Hojeong's hand coiled like a serpent up her arm. Joints seemingly nonexistent. Slower than her palm, but perfectly timed—no escaping it.
His fingers dug into her elbow, the Quchi acupoint.
Crunch!
“Aaaagh!”
Namgung Sanghwa screamed, stumbling back. The Cangqiong Qi flowing to her hand snapped. Her entire right arm went numb.
“W-What sorcery is this...!”
Crack!
“...Huh?”
Namgung Sanghwa blankly looked down. Her left leg was bent inward—impossible for human joints.
Only then did she realize it was broken.
“Kaaaaagh!”
Clunk! She collapsed, unable to stay upright.
This wasn't carelessness. She could've dodged, but didn't—assuming he'd wait if she retreated. That's how all her spars had gone.
But Yeon Hojeong's fights weren't soft like that. Once engaged, he pressed until one yielded or died.
That was the Black Path way.
“Krrgh! You bastard! Broke my leg?! You and your whole family are dead!”
Snap!
“Kaaagh!”
Her left arm snapped too.
As she opened her mouth for more curses, her body froze. Cold eyes stared down—no emotion, no humanity. Like appraising an object.
That's exactly how Yeon Hojeong saw Namgung Sanghwa: an object.
“What now?”
“Ugh! W-What?”
“How exactly do you plan to kill me and my family?”
Yeon Hojeong smiled. Namgung Sanghwa and Yang U both felt chills.
“Fun kid. Gonna haunt me as a ghost?”
More chilling than the smile. Become a ghost? That meant he'd kill her.
Only then did Namgung Sanghwa realize: she'd poked something she couldn't handle.
Stammering, she said, “I-If word gets out you did this to me, my family won't forgive you!”
“Oh?”
“Yes! So let me go right—!”
Bam!
Yeon Hojeong stomped a chair to splinters and picked up a leg.
“Then I really have to kill and bury you. That way, the Namgung won't know.”
Namgung Sanghwa paled.
“You...!”
Thud!
No scream this time. The blow to her head sent her crumpling sideways. Consciousness should've fled, but her mind sharpened instead—amplifying the agony.
Terror etched her face. This madman might actually kill her.
Shhh.
Behind that terror-inducing visage, the killing intent of the grandmaster who forged the legend of the Black Dark Emperor crept forth.
Smile first, and he'd smile back twice. But strike first? He'd smash you so you'd never strike again. Push with hands or stab with blades—he didn't care. Once harmed, he'd charge and tear you apart.
That was the Black Dark Emperor, lord of Heukje-seong, the reason all Black Path warriors bowed.
“No more of what you want to say. Tell me what I want to hear.”
Yeon Hojeong smiled, raising the club. Then swung mercilessly.
Thwack-thwack-thwack!