A Snake in the Tiger's Den
Jinan, Shandong Province.
With the death of its clan head, time itself had come to a halt for the Hwangbo Clan.
Even the young master had been taken hostage, and with him the clan's entire chain of command had vanished. The Council of Elders, meant precisely for moments like this, had lost two of its members as well, plunging the clan into utter chaos.
It was a death no one had foreseen, and simply restoring order took time.
This was not merely a matter of choosing the next clan head. It was the Hwangbo Clan's passage into the next generation.
If there was any fortune to be found, it was that the one who would sit at the eye of the storm had already been decided. In the early days, a few men had cast greedy eyes on the vacant seat under the pretense of seniority, but the Council of Elders moved swiftly to elevate the next head.
Hwangbo Taejin, second son of Hwangbo Baek.
Conveniently, the two elders who had backed the eldest son, Hwangbo Taesan, were among the dead, so there was no real opposition. The Council persuaded Hwangbo Taejin, who had been in closed-door training, and at last, before an assembly of the direct-line principals, he was proclaimed temporary clan head.
"I will accept this seat only until my father's revenge is complete."
He drew a clear line so that none would rebel. Everyone present knew, of course, that it was not the truth.
Once the eldest, Hwangbo Taesan, is dead, that seat becomes Hwangbo Taejin's by natural right. If he succeeds in avenging the clan head as well, he will have no rivals left at all.
He would almost certainly try to step down—and just as certainly the Council and the senior figures would go to him and persuade him to stay. Once he became the new clan head in that gracefully arranged fashion, the Hwangbo Clan would keep everything it had always enjoyed.
"It is about time we began to move."
Having finished putting the house in order with brisk efficiency, Hwangbo Taejin was in council with three elders and ten retainers. Of all the principal figures gathered there, the youngest was the temporary head himself.
Then, as the meeting neared its end, a report arrived that shattered their composure.
"My lord. The main compound of the Shandong Escort Agency has been attacked."
"You mean Deungmyeong Manor struck first?"
"The lord of Deungmyeong Manor appeared together with Ak Pungjin."
"Ak Pungjin?"
The men in the hall reacted more sharply to that name than to Ja Gangcheon's.
"Not only Ak Pungjin. Seok Ochil of the Eight Star Iron Workshop and Jin Hyeon-pil of the Jin-geuk Martial Hall were there as well."
Hwangbo Taejin stroked his chin. Beneath thin brows, his slanted eyes moved quickly. He understood perfectly well who had to take the center in a situation like this. It was work the temporary head absolutely needed if he meant to become the true head.
"We must hasten the plan. Once we move, they will not be free to keep launching raids. By order of the head of the great Hwangbo Clan, I command the formation of the Hundred-Man Unit."
One hundred masters chosen from within the Hwangbo Clan. Their sole target was Deungmyeong Manor.
The Hwangbo Clan had strength enough that there was no need for elaborate schemes. They would simply bring overwhelming force—enough men that no variable could survive.
"Before this affair grows too loud, we will settle it with our own hands."
He did not bother to steel his resolve. He laid it out calmly, as if he were merely handling something obvious.
A snake born in a tiger's den.
Someone had once said that of him. It was the reason he had never become clan head, even though his martial skill had surpassed the eldest's.
At last I am where I belong.
Even now, he believed he had been denied the succession because of his appearance. Compared to his brother, he had judged himself better suited to the seat not only in martial arts but in temperament as well. He had resented his father and cursed his own blood brother. Unwilling to share anything with them, he had volunteered for closed-door training—and then this unexpected chance had fallen into his hands.
I will show them why I am the one who should be clan head.
His slanted eyes went on with their work.
"What you must keep foremost in mind is the Poisonous Loving Mother, Song Jain. Forget face and pride. Overwhelm her at once with a concerted assault. This is not a duel—it is revenge. Think of nothing except killing the enemy. What matters is that our own people do not die."
Having shown both practicality and consideration, Hwangbo Taejin looked each man in the room in the eye. The retainers who met his gaze lowered theirs a fraction, fulfilling the duty of subordinates. That pleased him.
This was always the place meant for me. I alone am suited to this seat.
When the council ended, the retainers hurried out to carry the orders. Only the three elders remained. They were the men Hwangbo Taejin trusted most—the ones who had backed him since the succession struggle.
"I owe a great deal to the three of you. You know I am the sort who always repays what he receives several times over."
Of the Council of Elders, four remained after the two deaths. One of them lived virtually in seclusion, so securing these three was as good as securing the Council's support. And Hwangbo Taejin knew exactly what they wanted.
"If I become clan head, there is something I would ask of the three of you for the sake of the clan's swift stability."
"And that is?"
"The Thunderclap Divine Fist, which only the clan head may learn, should originally have been transmitted to me by my father. Sadly, things have turned out as they have, so I must study it alone—and I fear a mistaken interpretation of the fist art might fail to pass properly to later generations. What would you say to studying it together with me?"
"But it is permitted only to the clan head. Even looking upon the secret formulas would violate clan law."
"These are extraordinary circumstances. If the clan head specially authorizes it for the preservation of the Thunderclap Divine Fist, who would dare object?"
The three elders looked at one another and nodded. They had never been men hungry for wealth. Power's final destination was already the Council of Elders; the only thing left was martial skill. In a situation like this, the Thunderclap Divine Fist was the finest gift they could receive. They had access to every martial art of the Hwangbo Clan—yet this was the one technique whose secret formulas they had never so much as heard.
"For the clan head to change yet again would not be right for the clan. We will serve you well."
Hwangbo Taejin finished the negotiation with practiced ease. Inwardly, he thought:
Deungmyeong Manor has laid the board out beautifully for me.
Then there was only one thing left to do.
"We will erase Deungmyeong Manor completely from this land."
A thin, cold smile curved Hwangbo Taejin's lips.
"The Hwangbo Clan has ordered the formation of a Hundred-Man Unit. Their destination is Jeseong, west of Gyounam."
A hundred men of the Hwangbo Clan were gathering at a rally point only a day's distance from Gyounam—the hundred strongest among five thousand martial artists. One could fairly call them the true military power of the Hwangbo Clan.
"The expected time of assembly is ten days from now."
Ja Gangcheon nodded at Miho's intelligence.
"Just as I expected."
"How do you intend to respond?"
"We fight."
"That is reckless. Against a handful of enemies it might be different, but a hundred masters are a force of an entirely different order."
Miho's assessment was the most ordinary opinion. The larger the numbers on either side of a fight, the fewer the variables that could turn it—that much was obvious.
"Ten days is enough."
Ja Gangcheon summoned Ak Pungjin.
"From now on, stop the raids and concentrate on gathering our strength. A proper battle has begun, so we will also make certain of our defenses against their attacks."
"And what of you, Benefactor?"
"I have a plan. Don't worry."
The easy answer inspired trust. No one who spoke and looked like that seemed likely to send word of his own death.
"I will lend my strength as well."
"No. That won't do."
Ja Gangcheon's voice was firm.
"From here on, this is my time."
Having finished his farewells, Ja Gangcheon left.
Jeongheung, a village east of Mount Tai.
In Jeongheung stood an iron workshop that supplied the Hwangbo Clan with weapons and the ironware needed for its buildings. In a vast forge where dozens of blacksmiths worked side by side, outstanding martial artists had naturally taken up residence. They were there to protect the craftsmen, yes—but the place was also full of rough men by nature, which made it an excellent environment for training. There were so many warriors living there that the workshop even maintained its own martial academy, the Iron Teaching Court, and the Court boasted many fine instructors. Among them, three instructors in their fifties were skilled enough to be called the Three Tigers of the Iron Workshop.
Their inclusion in the selection for the Hundred-Man Unit was a matter of course. The moment the order arrived, they set out for the rally point with five others chosen alongside them.
The eight men received their orders around noon and traveled east without rest, stopping only when evening fell.
"We camp along the road the whole way. The fewer eyes that see us, the better."
"Instructor. Won't we arrive far too early? The men stationed at the western end will take quite some time."
"Getting there first to set a watch and reconnoiter Deungmyeong Manor will do no harm. We aim to arrive within three days."
The bald instructor was delivering the order with his usual severity when—
"Danger!"
The other two instructors beside him spun to one side and drew up their inner energy.
In that instant, something shot out of the darkened forest like a ghost.
Bang!
"Ghk—!"
The massive instructor who had stepped to the front was blasted backward, vomiting blood. The arm he had raised to shield his face was completely shattered, bone punched clean through flesh.
Witnessing their comrade's ruin, the instructors chose to counterattack. Seeing that the attacker was younger than they had expected, they believed they could subdue him. Yet the gauntlet on his fist stirred a strange sense of familiarity.
Bang!
The slender instructor's driving fist collided with the attacker's. At a glance it looked like an even exchange; the result was anything but.
"Kh—!"
The instructor's fist turned black, and a moment later he collapsed, spewing blood. From the blood pouring from his eyes, nose, and ears spread a sharp, acrid scent of poison.
"All of you, fall back!"
The bald instructor laid a finger across his nose to block it and shoved his disciples away.
"You bastard! State your name!"
"I heard you were coming to kill me, so I came to you first."
At those words the bald man recalled the description he had been given.
"Ja Gangcheon…"
"People I never invited decided to drop by. I don't care for uninvited guests."
"You—!"
The bald instructor's roar shook the forest. It was not a cry of pure rage.
"Ah. No need for that. I already dealt with the three who were nearby."
Just as Ja Gangcheon said, the shout had been meant to summon comrades traveling at roughly the same time. A gambit that relied on luck—but luck was what they needed now.
"Scatter in different directions! Even if only one of you survives, report that Ja Gangcheon ambushed us!"
"Instructor…"
"And do not forget that he has the Bihwang-gwon-gap."
The bald instructor had recognized the Flying Phoenix Gauntlet.
In that same breath, Ja Gangcheon lunged toward the martial artists who had not yet managed to flee. The bald instructor moved to cut him off—
Pat!
Ja Gangcheon stamped the ground and bent his charge at a right angle.
How—
He had never experienced a body, already racing on pure momentum, turning like that.
A trap.
The rush toward the disciples had been bait to draw the bald man out.
Bang!
In the end the bald instructor could not avoid Ja Gangcheon's fist and crossed both arms to block.
The reason fist fighters called it the touch of a yaksha was suddenly perfectly clear. A reek of blood rose from his breath in an instant, and before he could even think of countering, every muscle in his body went into spasms.
Worse still was that he had to watch, helpless in that state, as his disciples died. They tried belatedly to scatter, but Ja Gangcheon's movement technique was the very stride of a ghost.
"Ugh…"
Thud.
At last the bald man toppled forward and glared up at Ja Gangcheon with nothing but his eyes. In the meantime Ja Gangcheon finished the last of the disciples and turned his gaze on the instructor.
It was a gaze without feeling. He was looking only to confirm an enemy's death. Even that seemed to bore him; after a few unhurried steps he seized the bald man's neck and twisted.
Crack.
The forest, briefly loud with violence, fell silent.
Pat!
And as suddenly as he had appeared, Ja Gangcheon vanished.