Stepping into the Central Plains (3)
Cheon Ri Hyeong, the acting leader of the Iron Palm Gang.
As a Murim warrior, he had just one guiding principle.
In the Murim world, strength comes first!
When the Iron Palm Gang swordsmen spotted the uninvited guests—Seo Baek and his companions—Cheon Ri Hyeong sized them up with a cold, piercing gaze hidden behind his mild eyes.
The group's appearances were so varied that gauging their skills was no easy task.
'I'll assess them one by one, starting with the oldest.'
First up: the bushy-bearded middle-aged man.
With his worn broad dao at his side, he was clearly a seasoned swordsman hardened by years in the Murim world.
But his internal energy didn't seem particularly impressive.
'Plenty of real-world experience, but not a first-rate expert.'
Second: the tall young man.
His face was as pale and feminine as a woman's, with an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. At a glance, he seemed like some bookish scholar who'd spent his life buried in scrolls... but something was off.
'His stance is unusual. An archer?'
Archers naturally adopt a sideways posture from drawing their bows. That's exactly how the young man stood.
Murim warriors preferred sword arts over bows. Using a bow often got you labeled an assassin or bandit by the orthodox sects.
Yet this man had chosen the bow over the blade.
His identity was undeniably suspicious.
And the last one, the boy, was an utter enigma.
Third: a boy who didn't even look twenty.
Strapped to his back was a greatsword larger than his own body—a sight that couldn't help but draw a chuckle from any onlooker.
Some prestigious clans trained their heirs with oversized weapons to prepare them for adulthood.
Even so, this boy's blade was ridiculously huge.
Then there were the leather wrappings around his neck, the leggings, and the gaiters—clearly visible gear for revenant defense.
'Protection against revenants? Good preparation, kid.'
But to Cheon Ri Hyeong's eyes, it looked like overkill.
Revenant hordes were best avoided, not fought head-on.
Heavy armor like that would only slow you down.
'They must've teamed up on the road while fleeing revenants.'
Yet the boy casually mentioned the Ami Faction and Shaolin Temple?
And his eyes and voice showed no tremor as he spoke of Murim's two great orthodox sects.
On the surface, they looked like third-rate nobodies.
But Cheon Ri Hyeong didn't underestimate them based on appearances alone.
'A skilled kid, huh? Makes sense if he survived the revenant chaos.'
He concluded the boy was a decently capable youth.
However, even the cautious Cheon Ri Hyeong missed one crucial fact.
He never dreamed that Seo Baek had carved his way through a revenant horde to reach the Central Plains.
Cheon Ri Hyeong gave a subtle nod to one of his swordsmen.
This man hailed from Sichuan and had once worked as an escort for the Ami Faction.
After inspecting the seal, the swordsman nodded back to Cheon Ri Hyeong.
"It's genuine—the Ami Faction's seal."
He'd whispered it, but his tension made his voice carry. Every Iron Palm Gang swordsman heard it clearly.
Their eyes turned deadly serious.
Now there were just two possibilities.
Seo Baek's group were truly important figures... or the world's greatest con artists!
But the con artist angle seemed unlikely.
Three people scamming the Ami Faction? They'd need ten lives to pull that off.
The Iron Palm swordsmen, who'd been looking down on them with disdain,
now wondered if they might be key players from the Murim Alliance.
"So, will the Iron Palm Gang lend us a hand?"
"......"
Seo Baek's clear voice snapped the Iron Palm swordsmen out of it, their bodies tensing.
"We've come a long way from Sichuan and are worn out. If you could share some food, we'd be deeply grateful."
In the Murim world, beggars in rags got treated like trash—at best, wandering beggars from the Beggars' Sect.
But now, no one dared look down on Seo Baek's group.
At Cheon Ri Hyeong's order, a swordsman brought food: rice balls preserved with vinegar to prevent spoilage.
"Thank you."
Seo Baek's group sat on tree stumps and dug in.
"Tch! Orthodox sects serving nothing but rice balls."
"Better than chewing on those rock-hard emergency rations by a hundredfold."
As Wang Yi Sam said, the rice balls were meager fare for a gang like Iron Palm.
But hunger was the best sauce.
After three days without a proper meal, they devoured the fist-sized balls like lightning.
There were seven in total—one left after two each.
"Want the last one, junior?"
"You finish it, senior."
"You sure? Then I won't hold back!"
"Not even offering me a taste."
"Obviously. You ain't on the same level as Junior Seo Baek."
Fearing Yu So Un might snatch it, Wang Yi Sam shoved the last rice ball into his mouth.
As he swallowed, Seo Baek eyed the Iron Palm swordsmen.
They'd gathered at a distance, whispering among themselves.
Once finished, Seo Baek stood and approached them.
Wang Yi Sam blinked in confusion.
"Where to, junior?"
"We ate their food. Time to earn our keep."
The swordsmen glanced sharply as he neared—clearly mid-deliberation on gang matters.
But one line from Seo Baek changed their gazes instantly.
"Looking for someone?"
"......!"
The swordsmen whipped around to stare at Cheon Ri Hyeong.
He'd hit the mark.
"How'd you know we're searching for someone?"
Cheon Ri Hyeong asked, his mild eyes unchanged but his voice sharp as thorns.
"Saw traces of someone caught in a trap."
"A trap?"
"Yeah. One with interlocking teeth."
"So it was empty?"
"Exactly."
The middle-aged swordsman who'd verified the seal chimed in.
"Come on! You saw an empty trap and figured a person got caught? Wild boars roam these woods. Probably one got snared but yanked free and bolted."
The others exchanged smirks.
A warning glare: Don't think you're orthodox sects just 'cause you name-drop Shaolin and Ami!
Seo Baek pressed on indifferently.
"Not a boar—proof it was human."
"Proof? From an empty trap?"
"A shred of torn cloth caught in the teeth."
"......!"
The smirking swordsmen jolted in surprise.
Cheon Ri Hyeong narrowed his eyes.
"Where?"
"About the time it'd take to sip a cup of tea from here."
Seo Baek pointed back the way they'd come.
The middle-aged man checked the direction.
"That's the suspected escape route."
"I see."
"They can't have gone far after the trap. We pursue now, we catch 'em in an hour!"
Seo Baek countered.
"No. It's been at least a day since they freed themselves and fled."
"What? How do you know?"
"The cloth was damp."
"Damp? From rain?"
"No rain last night around here. It was morning dew."
"......"
The middle-aged man fell silent. Cheon Ri Hyeong spoke.
"So they fled at least half a day ago."
"Yes."
Seo Baek nodded, thinking,
'As expected of the next gang leader—quick on the uptake.'
But even the composed Cheon Ri Hyeong recoiled at the next revelation.
"At least two or three fugitives, minimum."
"How do you figure?"
"Just deduction. The one snared in the trap isn't used to forest paths. But whoever dismantled it and planned the escape knows the woods well and is cautious."
"Go on."
"The cloth was expensive silk. Not a typical Murim warrior—someone of high status. They'd have retainers. The cautious one, the careless one, and a servant. So, about three in total."
"......"
Cheon Ri Hyeong clamped his lips shut.
The swordsmen behind gaped in shock.
Proof Seo Baek had pierced their gang's secrets!
His reasoning didn't stop there.
Seo Baek laid it out step by step.
"The rice balls were still warm. You rushed to prepare them."
"For a famed gang like Iron Palm, that's a small pursuit team."
"Tents pitched for quick breakdown, no campfire. You're resting briefly before moving out, right?"
"Meaning Iron Palm assembled this pursuit squad in haste."
As his long deduction wrapped up, the swordsmen's jaws stayed dropped.
The boy with the oversized greatsword.
They'd pegged him as out-of-touch, but he was sharper than anyone—a master schemer!
Like Zhuge Liang reborn!
Cheon Ri Hyeong eyed him narrowly, thinking,
'More formidable than he looks.'
After a hum, he spoke.
"My father, the previous gang leader, fell to a revenant horde. The deputy leader died fighting beside him."
With Seo Baek deducing their plight, Cheon Ri Hyeong decided to reveal the truth.
Wang Yi Sam jumped in.
"What'd I tell ya? Knew the deputy—didn't see him, so figured something happened..."
But sensing their icy glares, he clammed up, realizing his blunder.
"That deputy leader's son stole our sacred relic and secret manual amid the chaos."
"......"
Wang Yi Sam paled further.
He'd bragged about ties to the deputy, whose son had betrayed them—talk about bad luck!
He turned away, dodging their glares, no gain from his chatter.
"He's heading to another sect for aid, likely Shaolin or Ami."
"I see."
"We found the trap trace thanks to you. Our thanks."
"No trouble. Great food—much appreciated."
Seo Baek subtly noted settling the score.
As he turned to leave, Cheon Ri Hyeong called out.
"You're heading to Shaolin?"
"Yes."
"The traitors' path leads there too."
"And?"
"We left Iron Palm Mountain in haste—only twelve in the pursuit squad."
"I see."
By now, anyone would've caught the hint, but Seo Baek remained impassive.
Thanks to his master's advice:
In deals, make 'em sweat as much as possible.
Desperate foes offer bigger rewards.
"The Central Plains are vast. Finding traitors in these gorges is like needling a haystack."
"The more, the better. Numbers help in a chase."
Finally, Seo Baek played along. Cheon Ri Hyeong got to the point.
"I ask your help, all three of you. Aid us in capturing Iron Palm's traitors?"
Not content with polite speech, he even offered a clasped-hands bow to the unaffiliated wanderers.
A rare sight, even among orthodox sects.
An acting gang leader showing such respect!
Seo Baek paused deliberately before replying coolly.
"Fellow Murim folk—how could we refuse?"