The Sichuan Tang Clan's Request (3)
Dang Jo Jeong watched the first carriage depart, lost in thought.
His aunt Dang Hong's words echoed in his mind, repeated over and over.
"Remember this. The success or failure of this mission hinges on spacing out the carriages as much as possible."
Dang Jo Jeong agreed completely. His aunt's strategy was the epitome of high returns for minimal investment.
Ten carriages. If even half made it to Shu Dao Pass, the objective would be achieved.
Dang Jo Jeong carried out his aunt's orders to the letter. He had sent the ten carriages off at staggered intervals.
"Hold the next carriage for a moment."
Once one carriage had left the manor and vanished completely into the darkness, Dang Jo Jeong waited a good while longer before signaling the second to depart.
"Now, go."
The martial artists paid little heed to Dang Jo Jeong's commands.
This was a journey to Shu Dao Pass where everyone fended for themselves.
With orders not to help one another, the greater the distance between them, the better. If someone fell into danger, they could simply pretend not to notice and keep moving.
They departed in the order of those nearest the main gate.
As a result, Seo Baek and Wang Yi Sam—who had arrived at the manor first at the hour of the rat—ended up leaving last, at the opposite end.
The order didn't matter, but it meant they had to wait quite a while.
Finally, it was Seo Baek and Wang Yi Sam's turn.
As they exited the manor, Seo Baek felt a sharp gaze piercing his back.
'Dang Jo Jeong.'
Why would someone from the Sichuan Tang Clan, a figure not yet thirty, take an interest in a boy not even in his twenties?
'He was the one watching the non-combatants from the third-floor room.'
Seo Baek reasoned.
'His aunt was probably there with him.'
Soon, their carriage rolled out of the manor, and the great gates closed behind them.
Kiiieek. Thud.
The road ahead was too dark even for torches.
Fortunately, a bright moon hung in the sky. Seo Baek and Wang Yi Sam guided the carriage by its light.
Wang Yi Sam eyed the black cloth covering the carriage and muttered.
"What the hell's in there, anyway?"
"Something dangerous, I imagine."
"How dangerous does it have to be for them to say not even to look? Poison in those crates or something?"
"Unlikely."
"Why not? The Sichuan Tang Clan's infamous for their poison arts, ain't they? Makes sense they'd haul poison."
Wang Yi Sam pushed back, unconvinced.
But Seo Baek's next words flipped his thinking.
"Poison's dangerous no matter who carries it. If you can slip it into food, even a child could kill a master."
"True enough. So?"
"The reward for this job is two silver taels per carriage. If those crates were full of poison, stealing them would be worth far more than the pay."
"You saying one of these twenty martial artists is gonna turn thief?"
"No."
Seo Baek shook his head.
"The Sichuan Tang Clan wouldn't overlook that possibility."
"Then what?"
"What's in the carriage is surely valuable, but useless to martial artists even if stolen. That's why they entrusted it to us so readily."
"Ah, got it."
Wang Yi Sam clicked his tongue in admiration at Seo Baek's reasoning.
"How old are you, anyway? You know so damn much."
"I just reasoned it out logically."
"Heh, you make it hard to argue. Fine, I'm just an ignorant sword-for-hire who don't know logic!"
Wang Yi Sam grumbled as he trudged ahead to lead the carriage.
Seo Baek smiled faintly at his back, but his eyes soon turned icy cold.
'The real danger in this job isn't the cargo.'
The items in the carriage were undoubtedly hazardous.
But with the Sichuan Tang Clan's strict rules, they couldn't look anyway. Worrying was pointless.
Seo Baek's concerns lay elsewhere.
'Two silver taels per carriage? Not per person?'
Dang Jo Jeong's words were fraught with peril.
If someone died, it meant whoever took their carriage would still get paid in full?
And Dang Jo Jeong had essentially said to ignore the dead and just deliver the carriages.
As if tempting them: kill off the others, and the strong could claim a carriage for themselves.
His master had called the Sichuan Tang Clan venomous snakes.
'Thinking we could tame a snake might've been too ambitious.'
Seo Baek thought, as if confessing to his master.
What if one of the twenty martial artists grew greedy, unsatisfied with a single carriage?
The journey to Shu Dao Pass would turn into a bloodbath!
'This job won't be as easy as it seems.'
Twenty martial artists.
Ten carriages.
One destination: Shu Dao Pass.
A silent procession stretched out into the night, spaced far enough apart that none could see the others, marching wordlessly toward their goal.
Nearly half a watch had passed since leaving the Sichuan Tang Clan manor.
Walking through the darkness without light was stifling. At least the full moon in the sky eased the oppressive mood.
Wang Yi Sam suggested they take turns keeping watch.
"Catch some shut-eye in the carriage. I'll wake you in a watch, then we switch."
No reason to refuse.
"Gladly. But is it alright if I rest first, instead of you, senior?"
"You don't get it. Best to stand watch first, then sleep till dawn. I'm the senior, so you rest later."
"You've got me there."
Seo Baek climbed into the back of the carriage, leaned against the cloth-covered crate, and closed his eyes.
Meanwhile, eyes watched the martial artists' procession to Shu Dao Pass.
Those who had failed the qualification test and harbored grudges.
Jang Wu Myeong of the Jang family and his swordsmen.
Spotting Seo Baek at the inn, Jang Wu Myeong hatched a scheme.
The martial artists were headed to Shu Dao Pass.
There was only one road from the Sichuan Tang Clan to Shu Dao Pass. So they would set out first, lie in ambush midway, and strike the boy's carriage!
Jang Wu Myeong and his swordsmen had departed before the hour of the rat. They arrived at a midpoint on the road ahead of the martial artists and hid.
How long had they lurked in the dark woods?
Nine carriages had already passed them by.
"That brat hasn't come yet?"
"No, haven't seen him."
"Twenty martial artists, paired up in twos. Nine carriages gone means the kid's last."
"Perfect."
But one swordsman voiced concern.
"Is it wise to mess with folks on Sichuan Tang Clan business?"
"Don't worry. I got it all figured."
Jang Wu Myeong explained with puffed-up bravado.
"We kill the brat, take his carriage, and deliver it to Shu Dao Pass ourselves. That counts as fulfilling the Tang Clan's request, right?"
"Ahh..."
"The carriages are spaced out, so no one's coming to help."
"As expected of Young Master—brilliant scheme."
No flattery; Jang Wu Myeong was a wastrel who excelled at petty schemes.
With a big age gap from his brothers, he'd monopolized his parents' love growing up.
He hated losing more than death itself.
Coming to the Sichuan Tang Clan uninvited was vainglory—to make a name in the martial world.
But failing because of a boy not yet twenty... His frustrated pride turned to hatred, aimed at Seo Baek, whom he deemed inferior.
'Just wait. You'll regret picking that brat over me.'
Jang Wu Myeong vowed to make the Tang Clan pay.
Moments later, a bushy-bearded middle-aged man approached, driving a carriage toward their hiding spot.
"That's the guy from earlier. The bearded one's with the kid."
"Good. Everyone, get ready."
Shing. Jang Wu Myeong drew his sword.
The three swordsmen exchanged glances, reluctantly drawing theirs.
Meddling in a martial artist's business—Sichuan Tang Clan's no less.
An ominous feeling gripped them.
But retreat was impossible now. Jang Wu Myeong never let go once decided.
They signaled: rush in and end it quick.
Wang Yi Sam glanced at the moon and thought.
'About a watch now.'
Still pitch black, but his eyes had adjusted enough to make out the path.
Then, three shadows burst from the roadside.
Wang Yi Sam reached for his broad dao. Coming from the woods meant ambush.
'What the hell? Bandits?'
Recognizing the leader's face, he tsked.
'The wastrel who caused a ruckus in the hall?'
Everyone in the hall knew Jang Wu Myeong was sore about the test results.
But to interfere in Tang Clan business?
'Ballsy bastard.'
Jang Wu Myeong raised his sword and shouted.
"Halt! Leave the carriage, and I'll spare your life."
Wang Yi Sam didn't buy it.
'Yeah, right. Who you foolin'?'
Even a wastrel knew disrupting Tang Clan work spelled doom. Word gets back, and the Jang family gets wiped out.
They planned to silence them—murder to seal lips!
"Junior, wake up."
Wang Yi Sam whispered toward the carriage rear.
No response.
"Junior, time to switch..."
He glanced back and jolted.
Seo Baek, who moments ago leaned asleep against the crate, had vanished.
'What? Where'd he go?'
As Wang Yi Sam stood baffled, Jang Wu Myeong's gang closed in.
"Deaf? Abandon the carriage and surrender!"
Wang Yi Sam snapped to, sizing up the foes.
The Jang wastrel was no threat.
Experience told him: obscure family young masters talked big but fought like crap.
The problem: the two swordsmen flanking Jang Wu Myeong.
Their sharp eyes scanning him weren't those of mere retainers.
'Sword-for-hires like me.'
Unless peak sect elites, Wang Yi Sam wouldn't back down. Two sword-for-hires? He couldn't win, but could hold his own.
With Seo Baek, victory was likely...
'Where the hell is that kid?'
"This is the Tang Clan's carriage. Step aside while I'm asking nice."
Wang Yi Sam warned, just in case. But Jang Wu Myeong wasn't one to listen.
"I know! Can't let scum like you handle the Tang Clan's goods."
Unyielding.
A brawl was inevitable.
Best to seize initiative with a preemptive strike!
Wang Yi Sam gripped his broad dao hilt, waiting for an opening.
Take out one sword-for-hire first. Down to one sword, the wastrel might rethink.
'Left? Right?'
As he weighed them, a shadow leaped from the bushes behind.
'Damn it.'
Now he remembered: three swordsmen total.
Jang Wu Myeong had sent one to flank the rear. Rotten fighters, sharp schemers...
Shieeeek.
The swordsman thrust at Wang Yi Sam's back.
'This how I go?'
In despair, Wang Yi Sam yelled instinctively.
"Kid! Where the hell are you?!"
"Right here."
The voice came from the dark sky.
Whoosh. Whiiing.
A gale sliced the night. Seo Baek dropped from on high, decapitating the swordsman mid-thrust.
The head hit the ground.
The body froze headless, then toppled like a felled log.
Thud. Thump.
Seo Baek landed, expressionless.
"You called, senior?"