Hwabangbu Appears!
"We're not heading straight to Suzhou?"
"Well, you see, administration has its procedures."
"I heard the situation was serious?"
"That was just a figure of speech. We wanted you to come as quickly as possible—a bit of urging, you might say? Haha, sorry about that."
Was this guy for real? No matter how I thought about it, it sounded like total bullshit.
Maybe I just didn't like him. But my suspicions had some solid basis.
This talk of rigid procedures from that dimwitted fool...
Suzhou, being right on the coast, was much closer to the crisis than Nanjing, tucked away inland.
Yet the guide, Muyul, was leading us first to the cannon commander's mansion in Nanjing.
The reason? Jo Unhyeon was the kind of corrupt old bureaucrat who obsessed over pomp and ceremony.
So, reporting to him came before any real action.
Fucking annoying.
If the general were here, she'd probably unleash a torrent of curses. Then I could've backed her up with some choice words of my own. Kinda disappointing she's not.
Hm?
I was grimacing inwardly when suddenly, some odd sound caught my ear from somewhere.
What the hell? Thinking I'd misheard, I strained my ears again—and there it was, a sharp zing like metal scraping metal.
The sound was faint, from a distance. Most folks unfamiliar with it might've ignored it, but my street-honed instincts from scraping by in the martial world kicked in immediately.
"You hear that weird noise?"
"What noise, sir?"
"Sounds like swords clashing from somewhere."
"Swords? I don't hear anything. Maybe you misheard?"
Outright calling it a hallucination—rude as hell, but I was too pissed to care.
Since meeting Muyul, I'd been wary. I'd signaled the coachman earlier to hang back, then said,
"We'll know when we check it out."
Just as my external martial arts training, once mocked, had become my greatest asset, I trusted the instincts from my Pang Clan days wouldn't fail me now.
We whipped the carriage toward the sound. Muyul's group, stunned for a beat, followed belatedly.
"Are you sure it's okay to skip the government office and head straight to the scene?"
Even as he obeyed, the coachman voiced his concern.
Sure, we were from different units, but Yujin was still in the military. Temporary or not, once you'd dipped your toe in, you followed the hierarchy.
Ignoring the guide and acting on my own would piss off Jo Unhyeon big time if he found out.
So what?
"I'm not even under your command, and you said I could move freely. So it's my call."
I'd bowed and scraped enough back in the Pang Clan. From now on, I went where my gut led.
And as if proving my choice right, the metallic zing sharpened into the clear clash of steel on something solid. I was certain now.
"...This is."
The village nearby was a nightmare: wokou pirates looting, thatched roofs ablaze, and villagers wailing in despair.
*
The situation in Jiangsu Province was way worse than I'd imagined.
I scowled openly, shooting a glare at Muyul, who was sweating bullets as he caught up. Not serious, my ass. Then what the hell is this?
He averted his eyes, saying nothing.
Haa.
No wonder the Ming Dynasty fell around this time.
Guys like him emboldened the wokou. The pirates rampaged through the village, committing atrocities without a shred of restraint.
I wasn't driven by justice or humanitarian bullshit. But even I couldn't help muttering, this is too much.
Noticing my foul mood, Muyul rolled his eyes around until something caught his attention. He rushed to my side, rubbing his hands obsequiously to spin the situation.
"Well now, as expected of the young master! Your senses are sharp. We nearly just stood by while these poor villagers got ravaged by the wokou scum. Lucky we made it—the garrison just arrived too, by the looks of it."
"... "
Following his pointing finger, yeah, soldiers had shown up. But...
Hmm?
How to put it? They looked off. Filthy, ragged gear, weapons so notched they seemed ready to shatter.
Were those really soldiers? I had to double-check.
Regardless of my doubts, as they charged in, battle erupted.
"Hyaap!"
"Graaak!"
Clang, clash!
But watching them fight, their forms and ferocity were no joke. They looked rough, but their formations and tactics screamed elite.
If I hadn't seen this, I'd have dismissed them as militia.
But appearances weren't wrong either. Already exhausted, they fought hard against the wokou but were slowly being pushed back.
"Hold the line! If we break, it'll get worse!"
Defying death's terror, they refused to retreat, battling to the end. And at the center, a lone figure barked orders while charging ahead solo against the wokou.
"...Oh ho."
I'd suspected, but contact came quicker than expected.
Bijong: not a prodigy, but a promising young man who'd risen fast to vice-commander through diligence and precision.
Game-tagged as doomed, another victim of Namgung Yeona's clutches.
The illustration of him weeping over his stolen lover, realizing his own powerlessness, flashed vividly in my mind even now.
It synced with my betrayal by Namgung Yeona, boiling my blood.
No, little pistol. Not time to cry yet.
My chest-holstered handgun, the Sage Hand Cannon, seemed to tremble too.
"Hoo, ha. Hoo, ha."
Deep breaths. Calming down, I focused on the scene.
Leading the charge against the wokou, he looked precarious. Skilled, sure, but trying to overcome the rout single-handedly.
Brave? Or reckless? Either way, even masters could die to a stray blade or bullet.
"Better to help first, think later."
I headed to the carriage rear, rummaging for gear.
Hon Yeon—wanted to test it in real combat, but in this chaos, friendly fire was a risk, and I lacked meng huo oil anyway.
Pass for now.
Turning to paper-wrapped gunpowder and iron balls, and...
The Sage Cannon revealed its eternal dignity.
This era—post-Imjin War by about a century? Their DNA hadn't adapted yet?
Time to etch laser precision with Joseon's fire.
"Bijong! I'm here!"
I'll save you from that bad end, no matter what. With that vow, my eyes hunted prime targets.
Kirrik, kirrik—twisting the scope, gauging distance: about 600 paces. Wokou specialized in fast maneuvers; one or two shots wouldn't dent them much.
But I had my ace. Positioning conspicuously, I lit the fuse.
Sizzle—fiber burning, then BOOM! The cannon shuddered violently.
KABOOM! Massive blast, iron ball flying true to a mundane spot.
Just dropped it where a few wokou closed on the rampaging Bijong.
Thud, crunch!
"Gyaak!" "Uwaaa!"
The wokou overreacted, panicking wildly.
Black powder smoke mingled with sea mist nearby, spreading.
Through it strode a towering, muscular man clutching a massive cannon—terror incarnate to them.
"Ho, the Hwabangbu has appeared!"
"Everyone, run!"
Zhejiang has a 'Hwabangbu'. Beware him.
Hwabangbu Cannon Firing Man, simply put. But the term carried weight; among the pirates, it had become my moniker.
Rumors breed tales, tales illusions. Illusions birth massive, unexpected ripples.
Unlike Zhejiang, Jiangsu lacked my military backup—but they couldn't know that.
Before rational thought, Jiangsu wokou—wary from Zhejiang tales—succumbed to crowd panic, abandoning loot and fleeing.
Things unfolded as planned. To ensure no stragglers got ideas, I fired a few more rounds until they fully retreated.
Bijong, glancing my way, responded to my support fire, picking off wokou rearguards as best he could. Clang, crunch. Slash!
With the wokou fleeing, soon only two men remained amid the chaos.
"Hwabangbu Yujin, the great hero—it's an honor to meet the legend in person."
A sturdy, handsome young man approached with grateful thanks.
"I'm Bijong, vice-commander in Jiangsu Province."
We clasped hands naturally with his greeting.
"Nice to meet you."
Couldn't quite say 'pleased to meet you.' That would have to do.
The incompetent Yujin and Jiangsu's vice-commander Bijong—the first meeting of two victims from the game Hongsim Yeonhwa.