Do I Have to Spell It Out for You? (3)
"Should we even call this a test?"
"Who knows? They claim it is, but..."
"Honestly, shouldn't it be written as 'test' but read as 'unpaid labor'?"
Tang Jin sighed at Han Cheong-un's grumbling.
In truth, he agreed.
Jinju Pavilion had deployed the martial artists who passed the first test to various sites under the guise of a practical exam.
But the sites they were sent to were...
"Guard this supply warehouse."
"Precious ingredients are coming up from Guangdong. Go and escort them safely."
"Escort the merchant caravan coming from Sichuan."
It was mostly things like that.
They were assigned to guard places far removed from the actual pavilion or to escort goods to be used by Jinju Pavilion.
Whatever the case, they were kept far away from Jinju Pavilion's core facilities.
Naturally, those who had expected to guard Jinju Pavilion's luxurious pleasure boats began to grow disgruntled.
"Damn it, what is the meaning of this?"
"Who do they think we are..."
"Do they know who I am, making me do this kind of chore?"
Some actually went to Jinju Pavilion to protest. Having survived the fierce competition of the first round, they were highly confident in their skills.
And for martial artists, pride almost always scaled with skill. However...
"If you have a complaint, you are free to leave."
"What?"
"This test is also meant to gauge whether you possess the patience and self-control required to guard our pavilion master. If you cannot endure this, you may pack up and leave."
"Patience and self-control? Why does a bodyguard need those?"
"Isn't it obvious? A kisaeng house is a place of constant incidents and accidents. A bodyguard in such a place must be capable of making cool-headed, calm judgments. Thus, patience is required."
"..."
"Furthermore, the self-control to avoid being seduced by beautiful kisaengs and intoxicated by fragrant, fine wine while working is also an absolute necessity."
"That's just an excuse—"
"Above all, we are conducting this test to select the people we need. If you do not meet our criteria, you may simply leave."
"..."
"Is that not so?"
Argument won.
It was never a fair fight to begin with.
The examiner and the examinee.
The one offering ten thousand gold taels, and the one trying to claim it.
The power dynamic was overwhelmingly in the pavilion's favor.
"Tsk, I'm quitting this garbage!"
"I will remember today!"
"You'd better watch your back. Ptu!"
Just like that, several people spat on the ground and walked away.
Yet, many still remained.
Were they moved and convinced by the logic?
No.
Damn money is the enemy.
Once I get that down payment, I'll spit in their faces and leave.
Just you wait. You bastards...
Ten thousand gold taels was indeed a massive sum. But just as their patience was reaching its absolute limit...
An incident occurred.
"Pavilion Master of Jinju, come out!"
Several figures appeared in front of Jinju Pavilion's pleasure boat and shouted at the top of their lungs.
Dressed in black martial robes adorned with red, tiger-like stripes, they arrived alongside an elderly man.
They were clearly not ordinary citizens.
Anyone could tell they were martial artists.
However, the receptionist guarding the pleasure boat merely smirked.
Another bunch of stray troublemakers.
He was well-accustomed to dealing with such people.
"Who are you, and where do you come from?"
At the receptionist's question, one of them replied:
"We have nothing to say to a mere errand boy. Bring out the Pavilion Master of Jinju immediately."
"The Pavilion Master is busy. You can speak to me—ugh!"
Thud!
The opponent suddenly lunged and threw a punch.
It was a swift, heavy blow.
The receptionist was also a trained martial artist.
Instinctively, he crossed his arms to block the fist. However...
"Cough!"
Despite blocking with both arms, the terrifying impact sent him flying backward.
The receptionist crashed to the ground, coughing up blood.
The attacker sneered down at him.
"Who do you think you are showing such insolence to?"
"Cough... Ugh... Do you really think you'll get away with this?"
The receptionist spat out blood as he wheezed.
He reached into his robe, pulled out a small whistle, and blew it with all his might.
Wheeeeeeet!
Instantly, the guards stationed around Jinju Pavilion rushed to the scene.
They glared fiercely at the intruders.
One of the guards yelled:
"Intruders, state your affiliation and purpose!"
The attacker smirked.
"State our affiliation? You won't be able to handle it once you hear it."
"Arrogant bastards. Do you think you belong to the Sado-palmun or something?"
"We do."
"...What?"
"We are from the Wugeuk Sect."
Everyone's eyes widened in shock.
The Wugeuk Sect, a member of the Sado-palmun and the absolute ruler of Hunan, had shown its face. What was worse...
"And the esteemed elder standing here is none other than Elder Cha Mu-seong, the Red Flowing Fist of the Wugeuk Sect!"
At that introduction, several guards gasped in terror, dropping their weapons and instinctively taking a step back.
Their gazes naturally fell upon the sharp-featured elderly man standing behind the group.
He had a deeply wrinkled face and short, cropped hair.
They knew he was no ordinary old man, but they never imagined he would be such a legendary figure.
"The Red Flowing Fist?"
"He's the second-in-command of the Wugeuk Sect!"
"Why is a giant like him here..."
The man known as the Red Flowing Fist—a title earned because blood was said to never dry from his knuckles—was a current elder of the Wugeuk Sect and the younger brother of its sect leader.
As the Wugeuk Sect earned its reputation as the most aggressive faction within the Sado-palmun, he had fought at the vanguard since his youth.
The Wugeuk Sect was notoriously violent, even by the standards of the Sado-palmun.
And even within that sect, this man was considered exceptionally brutal.
That was the man known as the Red Flowing Fist, Cha Mu-seong.
He spoke quietly.
"Bring out the pavilion master."
It was the same demand as before.
But the weight behind those words was entirely different now. Who would dare refuse him?
Unless they had a death wish, anyone would obey. And yet...
"The Pavilion Master... cannot see you."
Surprisingly, the guards of Jinju Pavilion resisted.
Of course, these were not the newly hired recruits. They were the veteran martial artists who had guarded Jinju Pavilion for a long time.
Even while trembling with tension, they stood their ground before the Wugeuk Sect.
"The Pavilion Master only meets with those who have an appointment."
"Oh...?"
"We will pass along your message, so please return another day."
"You certainly have spine."
Cha Mu-seong nodded as he looked at the guards.
It was as if he felt proud of the young martial artists who, despite being intimidated by his reputation, summoned the courage to speak their minds...
"Foolish, fearless brats."
But there was no such warmth.
To an unorthodox martial artist, any youngster who dared oppose him was simply a corpse waiting to happen.
And Cha Mu-seong possessed more than enough power to make it happen.
"Very well. I shall slaughter every last one of you, board that ship myself, and drag your master out by the throat."
Just as Cha Mu-seong resolved to take a step forward...
"Hmm..."
Cha Mu-seong flinched and scanned his surroundings.
Who is it?
Someone was directing raw killing intent toward him.
Who dared to openly direct such malice at the second-in-command of the Wugeuk Sect, a giant of the unorthodox faction?
Was there actually someone here with that kind of audacity?
He casually swept his gaze over the crowd, but...
I don't sense anyone of note.
It was astonishing.
That one of these small-time extras could project such killing intent...
And that they were currently concealing their presence perfectly from him.
"Fine. I don't know who you are, but let's see—"
It was then.
Just as Cha Mu-seong was about to unleash his wrath and draw blood.
A man leapt down from the deck of Jinju Pavilion's pleasure boat.
"Please, calm yourself, Great Hero Cha!"
He was a burly, middle-aged man with a massive frame and bulging muscles.
Thud!
Though he had merely jumped from the deck, his landing was heavy enough to make the ground tremble. He politely clasped his hands toward Cha Mu-seong.
"I am Zhang, the Pavilion Master of Jinju. Please, stay your hand and tell me what brings you here."
"Hmm, so you're the one?"
Cha Mu-seong stared intently at the crown of the pavilion master's head.
He was curious about the insolent bastard who had directed killing intent at him. However...
"Fine. Let's go up."
Handling the business that brought him here took priority.
"Right this way."
The pavilion master politely escorted Cha Mu-seong onto the pleasure boat. As they walked, Cha Mu-seong cast a backward glance and muttered:
"Consider yourself lucky."
Whoever it was, they had escaped death today.
They should consider it a stroke of absolute fortune.
Or so Cha Mu-seong thought as he boarded the vessel.
And as he went up, a young man holding a spear muttered coldly from behind:
"Look who's talking..."
"What... did you just say?"
"Are you deaf?"
Cha Mu-seong stared at the pavilion master and repeated his words.
"I said I will take all of you under my wing."
"..."
We will guarantee your safety, so pay us a protection fee in return.
This was a standard demand among the unorthodox sects.
Well, standard by their standards, at least.
But the conditions Cha Mu-seong demanded from Jinju Pavilion were far worse.
"I am taking you in. Therefore, from this day forth, you will swear loyalty to me and follow my commands."
"Does that mean..."
"Nothing much changes. You will continue your business as usual, but you will hand over your monthly revenue to me."
"...What is the tribute ratio?"
"All of it, of course."
"..."
"Hand over everything except for the basic operating costs. Of course, if you perform well, I will grant you a small bonus."
In other words...
He was walking into a perfectly fine business and demanding every single coin they earned, promising to throw them a few crumbs as a salary if they behaved.
It was an outrageous demand.
Indeed, not just anyone could belong to the unorthodox faction.
The sheer, unadulterated gall of this man was astounding.
Unorthodox trash.
The pavilion master bit his lip hard and spoke.
"That is far too unreasonable... Ugh..."
Wham!
Before he could finish, the pavilion master groaned under a crushing pressure that weighed down on his entire body.
"Hmm, did this old man mishear you?"
"Ugh... Ah..."
"Why don't you say that again?"
"Argh... Ugh..."
Suffocating under the immense pressure of Cha Mu-seong's internal energy, the pavilion master struggled to breathe. However...
No. If I back down here, everything is over.
This business wasn't just about making money.
It carried the hopes and dreams of everyone involved, something far more precious than mere wealth.
Steeling himself for death, the pavilion master forced the words out.
"I... cannot accept."
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Just... kill me instead."
"Hmm, I see."
"..."
"I have heard your final words."
If someone asked to be killed, they obliged.
That was how the unorthodox faction operated.
Just as Cha Mu-seong reached out to crush the pavilion master's skull...
"Please, stay your hand."
A beautiful, melodic voice rang out, freezing Cha Mu-seong's hand in midair.
"Who dares... Oh?"
Cha Mu-seong's voice, which had started with anger at the interruption, trailed off into a gasp of admiration.
Standing before him was a woman so breathtakingly beautiful she could have been Chang'e descending from the Moon Palace.
He felt himself instantly captivated.
As the second-in-command of the Wugeuk Sect, Cha Mu-seong had possessed countless beautiful women.
After all, it would be ridiculous for an unorthodox leader to practice celibacy.
But perhaps because of that...
He had grown numb to beauty over time.
I'm tired of women. No matter how pretty they are, they're all the same.
That was how he had lived. But now...
"Ho... This is quite a treasure."
That belief shattered instantly.
For the first time in ages, his heart fluttered like a young boy's.
Could a woman really be this beautiful?
She was so gorgeous she could pass for a heavenly fairy.
A fierce desire for possession surged within him.
He wanted to grab her hand and pull her into his embrace this very second.
Was there any reason to hesitate?
A woman in a kisaeng house was ultimately just a kisaeng, wasn't she? The moment he resolved to take her...
"S-stop... She is my daughter."
The pavilion master forced his body up from behind and wheezed.
"Your daughter?"
"Yes. She is not a kisaeng. Do not touch her."
"Oh, is that so? That means she hasn't been touched by anyone else yet."
Did they really think such logic would work on a giant of the unorthodox faction?
Cha Mu-seong smirked and reached out without hesitation.
He lifted her chin, caressing her cheek as he marveled.
"Truly exquisite."
"..."
The woman's face showed no emotion, but her body trembled slightly, shivering with fear and humiliation.
Cha Mu-seong stroked her cheek and said casually:
"In addition to my previous offer, I will take this girl as well. I shall employ her as my personal maid."
"Cha Mu-seong!"
"Hahaha. Do not worry. I won't treat her too harshly."
"Do you think I would ever accept that?"
"And if you don't?"
Thud!
"Argh..."
Once again, the pavilion master groaned in agony under the crushing weight of internal energy.
Cha Mu-seong looked down at him and said:
"I said I want it. Therefore..."
"Ugh... Argh..."
"You have no choice but to offer it up. Do you understand, boy?"
There was no sense of justice, nor a shred of logic.
He was simply using his position of power to force his tyranny upon them.
Normally, this would be absurd, but the unorthodox faction excelled at making the absurd a reality through sheer force.
Watching this unfold, the woman grit her teeth.
Even if she resisted with force, nothing would change. But did that mean she was completely powerless?
Not at all.
"I am afraid..."
"..."
"I cannot serve you, Elder."
She spoke calmly.
In this world, power took many different forms.
Martial prowess is by no means the only kind of strength.