The Strategist's Suffering and a Filial Son's Head Pat
Bang Jeom-myeong, the strategist, belonged to Nanggo Pavilion of the Sadoryeon—the shortened name for the Unorthodox Faction Joint Alliance. The Nanggo Pavilion, where the brilliant minds of the Sadoryeon gathered, took its name from “Nanggo,” the physiognomy of traitors, so one could say the naming itself was vicious from the start.
Officially, it was a name befitting a strategist who walked the unorthodox path, satisfying both cunning strategies unbound by benevolence and the unorthodox spirit of devouring one’s superiors to make a name for oneself. But considering how unorthodox martial artists particularly despised intellectuals, it was easy to guess why such a name had been chosen. Those with pathetic martial arts who couldn’t even take a single punch would strut around just because they had a decent brain.
Anyway. Bang Jeom-myeong thought, Fuck, I really can’t do this job.
After thinking it, he felt a renewed wave of sorrow. He couldn’t even voice his lament, because if he let it slip out, he would get nitpicked later, tripped up, shoved by the shoulder, or harassed in some other way. That was how strategists were treated by the warriors of the Sadoryeon.
“Why no answer? I said let’s do fireworks.”
“If you mean fireworks…”
“It’s the Murim Competition, so we need to shoot them in a cool way. That way people will say the Sadoryeon is hot-blooded. Don’t think of shooting just one or two. Make the night sky as bright as midday. You understand what I mean, right?”
“To shoot fireworks, we first need permission from the authorities.”
“What? Why do we need those bastards’ permission just to shoot fireworks?”
“Because it’s gunpowder…”
“What? Fireworks are gunpowder? No wonder it smelled like that. But why does that matter?”
Gunpowder was an extremely sensitive matter. To shoot fireworks in the private sector, one had to first bribe the officials with a hefty sum of gold and silver, commission a proxy request to the fireworks workshop in Beijing to divert supplies, and when setting them off, borrow an official’s name—which meant inviting someone of appropriate rank depending on the scale.
For one or two shots, a local magistrate would suffice, but to light up the sky, one would need to borrow the name of at least a provincial governor to make it acceptable. Thus it required enormous sums in bribes on top of bribes, the cost of the gunpowder, and still more bribes.
All that just to make the sky look pretty for one night.
“Aish, why is it so expensive? Still, that means it can raise the Sadoryeon’s prestige, doesn’t it? Go ahead and suggest it. Make sure to write that I said so. What should we call it? A proposal? An initiative?”
“The budget is…”
“That’s for Nanggo Pavilion to figure out. Isn’t that why you strategists exist?”
“Yes…”
The Southern Murim Great Conference, shortened to the Murim Competition. It was the will of the Sadoryeon that since the orthodox Murim had held one, they must do the same. They had no choice. If the orthodox side united, the unorthodox side had to unite as well.
Of course, all the preparation fell entirely on the practical staff. It would have been fine to simply let them handle it, but there were more than a few who spouted nonsense that would never work as if they were brilliant ideas.
It was obvious brown-nosing. They wanted to look good in front of the Alliance Leader. Later, when the leader was pleased, they could say from the side, “Ah, that was my suggestion. Haha, don’t you feel the bold spirit of the Sadoryeon in those fireworks?”
The peerless martial genius who led the Sadoryeon was not only the best in his own martial arts but the best in the world at guiding others. A single glance and a casual remark from him would lead straight to enlightenment.
The fact that his close aides had made great strides in just a few years proved it. Therefore everyone had no choice but to desperately try to look good before the Sadoryeon leader.
“If you leave my name out, I will really kill you.”
With a threat that even a child might make, the Sadoryeon elder patted Bang Jeom-myeong’s shoulder a couple of times—though to the frail strategist it felt like he was being pounded—and left.
Bang Jeom-myeong, unable to even sigh, was internally swallowing his complaints of Fuck, what the hell are fireworks? What do you want me to do? when the door to Nanggo Pavilion burst open and another elder appeared.
“Oh, Strategist Bang. You’ve worked hard. The thing is, I had a good idea.”
“Ah, yes.”
“I heard the orthodox bastards built a water fighting stage on the canal?”
“Uh, Dongting Lake is too far north…”
“No, listen to the end. If we set up a water stage now, people will only say we copied them. So we’ll build an aerial fighting stage! We’ll stack a tall tower and fight in the sky!”
“Then what about the spectator seats…?”
“We can just stack them even higher!”
“How would we even…?”
“Why are you asking me? That’s what you need to figure out from now on.”
Bang Jeom-myeong’s shoulders slumped. Fuck, this is so disgusting I really can’t do this job.
It was then.
“Ah. Right. This.”
The elder suddenly held out a well-crafted box. When Bang Jeom-myeong opened it, a writing brush made of weasel hair rested on silk. It was a truly welcome treasure for a scholar.
“Uh, are you giving this to me?”
“It’s not from me. You have connections in Gwangju? The leader of Salwolmun sent it to be given to your son.”
Bang Jeom-myeong could only blink.
“I’ve never even visited Gwangju in my life. Are you sure it’s for me? I only know the name of Salwolmun and have no connection to them at all.”
“I don’t know. Seems they want to build ties with Nanggo Pavilion. Wow, Strategist Bang, you have people lining up. You’re about to soar, huh?”
Then he pounded the shoulder again. Why did everyone pound his shoulder? At this rate the strategist’s shoulder was going to break.
Bang Jeom-myeong looked down at the precious writing brush. Salwolmun, was it? Why would they send something like this to a mere low-ranking member like him? He didn’t understand the reason, but it was a precious brush so he was grateful, and since it was a gift for his child he was even more so. He had no particular way to repay the favor, but he thought he should secure them a good seat at the Murim Competition.
----
Just as the Gwangju Seonbang was a coalition of related merchant groups, the Geumjeokbang was also a group formed by loan sharks and gangsters. And when the loan sharks of Gwangju were being swept away, everyone had been distracted watching the hammer dance—no, the sword dance—of the Tomok Seonnyeo.
So when they saw the funeral biers lining up one after another, they could only be dumbfounded. What, who are those guys? Did they all just die on their own?
It was dumbfoundedness heavily laced with regret. If they were going to die, they should have died with some time between. Wasn’t this the perfect time to be busy congratulating the fact that the Gwangju Seonbang bastards had died well?
If they had died three days later, the current festive atmosphere could have continued, with the dead serving as snacks to chew on, tear apart, and enjoy.
So there were so many things to say that the tongues and lips of the Gwangju people were all swollen. But why did the moneylenders die? It had to be a curse, a curse. The Divine Lady truly was formidable. She personally dealt with the Seonbang bastards and swept away the Geumjeok ones with a curse.
And that curse had returned to the shrine. In a very casual manner, as if coming and going from her own house.
“As expected, Mother is hot-blooded. Can you really kill them so openly like that?”
“What? Weren’t you supposed to have gone home? You disappeared without a trace and now you suddenly appear again.”
“Aigoo, you told me to live nicely, didn’t you? So this good son went around doing good deeds. But as expected of Mother, you have such big hands. I was careful, thoroughly investigating and confirming everything so I wouldn’t kill any innocent people before taking their lives, but Mother just went no questions asked and slaughtered them all?”
“Well, when cleaning up trash, there’s no need to leave any behind…”
Suddenly Cheong trailed off. It had been strangely unsettling, something nagging at the back of her mind. Now she felt like she understood it more clearly.
It was strange. Why were they all people who deserved to die? Why were the ones she killed always bad guys?
Even when dealing with those Green Forest bandit groups, hadn’t there been some less evil ones with double-digit evil deeds who received leniency?
But why? No matter how vicious the Gwangju Seonbang’s evil deeds were, they were all bad guys? She had even heard they conducted large-scale operations, scattering elixirs to interfere with the Jin Family’s disciple recruitment.
Then the prospective third-generation—or to put it bluntly, fourth-generation—youngest chicks shouldn’t be that bad yet, right? Did they have some kind of initiation ritual where they had to kill innocent people like those foreign-looking bandit groups to be accepted into the organization?
Well, how different could the way evil sects recruited new evil sect members be anyway.
Or was it the number that appeared in my eyes.
No. Bad thought. Wicked thought. Let’s only see good things and think only good thoughts. Good things, the face of my pretty adopted sister, her breasts, those huge breasts, and the fact that I can knead those breasts as much as I want. Wow, exciting.
“Kyahaha, it tickles. Adopted Mother. You really like breasts, don’t you?”
“There’s no one who dislikes breasts, you know?”
At that, Yeom Hwi-yeong’s eyebrows twitched.
“Hmm. Should I call you aunt or mother? I like the affectionate expression, but how about restraining yourself a bit in front of your son?”
“Whatever. I think it’s excellent that you are being cautious when carrying out the slaying of evil. Continue to investigate thoroughly before killing in the future.”
At that, Yeom Hwi-yeong’s face bloomed into a wide smile. It wasn’t exactly a sight a man would want to see, but anyway.
Then he knelt on one knee before Cheong and sat down respectfully.
“What are you doing?”
“Are you just going to praise me with words? With just empty compliments, it’s not a very profitable business, is it? At this rate your son might go astray, Mother?”
“What if it’s not just with words?”
Instead of answering, Yeom Hwi-yeong presented the top of his head. Cheong’s expression soured.
“Aish, you really do all sorts of things.”
She didn’t really feel like it, but it seemed better to do as he wanted. It was also admirable that he said he carefully investigated to avoid harming innocent people before killing villains. After all, unlike Cheong who could see evil deeds, if a Profound Realm martial artist went astray, what a huge disaster it would bring.
So, for the peace of the Murim, she had no choice but to sacrifice this one body.
Thus, with a reluctant expression, Cheong gently stroked the head of her son, the appellant.
Fortunately, her left hand was filled with a fluffy, heavy yet elastic softness that offset the sensation from her right hand, making it a perfect zero sum.
“I’m telling you clearly, it’s not that I’m praising you for killing bad guys. That’s just the natural thing to do. It’s that effort to distinguish between truly bad people and those who aren’t that I find commendable.”
“Yes. Mom.”
Suddenly he grabbed her hand and rubbed it against his cheek, causing Cheong to jump up in fright like a cat thrown into water.
In response, Yeom Hwi-yeong let out a giggle.
“I’ll continue to be a good son, so how about Mother gets used to it already?”
“You’re driving me crazy, really…”
Cheong looked closely at her son the appellant who spoke like that.
Was this the idle family play of a Profound Realm expert? While thinking he shouldn’t, he reacted due to physiological reasons and then, with a wicked mind, tried to tease his junior as a pastime.
Or was it sincere? She couldn’t tell. The former would be better. As for the latter… well.
Of course, she had seen the distorted mother of Jijon the appellant inside that formation.
Since he was born without ever seeing his mother smile even once, only seeing eyes sharpened solely with hatred, even in the illusion the expression of an ideal mother who loved him.
Ugh, just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.
No matter what, could he follow a complete stranger, and a much younger girl at that, as his mother? It didn’t make sense by common standards.
But those eyes overflowing with affection, and that awkward smile that was clearly smiling but couldn’t shake off some shadow of fear.
Please love me. Please don’t abandon me.
When she first came, it seemed like a dangerous glint was sparkling in those eyes, but suddenly he was acting like a docile large dog.
Was it after she gave him a name? Though he was a large dog with quite bad behavior.
So even the soft-hearted Cheong couldn’t be harsh.
“Enough. Put away the ‘mother’ talk for a while. Since the Tomok Seonnyeo is leaving and only the Cheonhwa-geom remains.”
“Ah. You’re disappearing in that way? Then, it’s a shame but it can’t be helped. Have a safe trip. This good son still has some good deeds left to do.”
Cheong tilted her head. What? He’s backing off more obediently than expected? She thought he would throw a tantrum.
Things like “Who are you to stop me from calling you mother?” or childishly demanding “How long do I have to endure? Until what month, day, and hour?”
Cheong was underestimating a martial artist who had reached the Profound Realm too much. Moreover, he was one who had reached it long ago and had been delaying the completion of his realm in order to receive the Heavenly Demon Soul.
Just because his speech was light and his attitude casual didn’t mean he was truly a light person.
Telling her to put away the “mother” talk for a while meant to do it later, which was ultimately a leak of permission that she would indeed act as his mother.
Therefore, Yeom Hwi-yeong simply formed a satisfied smirk.