The Price of Help
"Please, help this worthless son fulfill his filial duty to his father!"
Andongshin bowed to Geom Mujin as if he were begging the one-legged cook who had owed him money for years.
"Snrrk..! Just thinking that those shameless bastards are still making him suffer right this very second makes my guts feel like they’re being torn apart!"
"......"
I stood there with my arms folded, looking down at him.
What the hell is this guy doing?
Andongshin—whether his name was Andongshin or AndongshinApartment or whatever—had been hammering on about filial piety this whole time.
You might think it was some weird ass-kissing stunt, but given the times, it wasn’t actually all that strange.
This was the Ming Dynasty.
In a dynasty where people’s brains had been thoroughly eaten away by Confucianism, filial piety was serious business.
Hell, there was even a crime called unfilial conduct, and it could get you executed. That told you everything you needed to know.
And this wasn’t just a thing in the present; it had been a whole tradition since ancient times.
If you wanted an example of how absurd that tradition was, take Jin Soo, some Central Plains barbarian.
Jin Soo was the historian who wrote Records of the Three Kingdoms—not Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the version written by the greatest output of aspiring authors, Luo Guanzhong.
Yes, the one with the big-eared guy, the milf hunter, and the rat bastard we all know and love.
Back when he was alive, Jin Soo got flamed nonstop as an unfilial son and was treated like absolute garbage.
That garbage fire started when his mother died.
Before she passed, considering the family’s poverty, she told her son Jin Soo to keep her funeral simple.
The dutiful Jin Soo obeyed his mother’s last wish and held a modest funeral, but to the people of the time, that was pure, uncut MAX Unfilial behavior.
- Look at him! A cheap funeral for his own parents!?
- What a bastard!
- Kieeek! This can’t be real!
The people—not his relatives—frothing at the mouth tore into him for it.
That was the era’s madness, where it was considered normal to bankrupt yourself burying your parents.
But even that wasn’t the end of his misery.
While in mourning, one day Jin Soo caught a cold and had herbal medicine prepared for himself.
He couldn’t afford to neglect the body his parents had given him.
The people—complete strangers—went berserk again.
- His mother’s probably drinking from the River Lethe, and he’s gulping down medicine!? Huh!?
- What a filthy bastard!
- Arrrghhh!!
Even though he had faithfully followed his mother’s final wishes and diligently observed the rule that the body, hair, and skin are all gifts from one’s parents and must not be harmed, Jin Soo was still kicked out of office for having held a modest funeral and taken a little medicine.
That was how important filial piety was.
So Andongshin acting like this wasn’t all that surprising.
On the surface, anyway.
In an era where filial piety was a major issue, appeals built on filial devotion had a pretty high success rate.
The guy was clearly milking that for all it was worth, begging me while shamelessly using his own father as a prop.
Now that was truly a demonic sort of bastard.
"Hmm..."
Whether the act had actually worked or not, Heo Injun cleared his throat and turned his head away.
Looks like he’d been moved by the filial devotion, thick with resentment, that the son was pouring out.
"......"
"......"
On the other hand, Geom Mujin—former and current orphan, respectively—was only vaguely interested, and the kid beside him was just as indifferent.
"Ah! Father! My long-lost father! I miss you so much-"
"Enough."
Geom Mujin cut off Andongshin’s appeal without hesitation.
"I get your situation, but I don’t have any intention of getting mixed up in your sect’s internal mess."
He’d originally planned to just leave the guy there and walk away, but since he was the vice sect leader’s son, Geom Mujin had stepped in.
He’d felt a little bad about the whole thing—especially since he’d basically got the man trapped and harmed in a very Shanks-like manner.
So yeah, save the kid, call it even.
The person involved might have a different opinion, but if he felt wronged, he could get up and say so himself.
"I don’t know how you recognized me, even though I’m a complete stranger and we’ve never met, but be satisfied that I pulled you out from under the pursuers."
Andongshin had tried to lean on the rumor that Geom Mujin had turned his father into a cripple, but he’d chosen the wrong opponent.
Geom Mujin’s face didn’t change by even a hair as he pretended he had no connection whatsoever to the Taeho Sect.
Fake employment? Resume fraud? Geom Mujin knew nothing about such things.
"If you’re alive, a chance will come. Gather your followers, build your strength, and plan for the future."
You know what they say—the noble man’s revenge isn’t too late even after ten years.
"...I don’t have any followers."
"What?"
At Geom Mujin’s brutally practical advice, Andongshin’s face darkened.
"Most of my men were killed or captured by those bastards during the rebellion."
All that was left of him now was the pair between his legs.
"Hold on, did you maybe not have many friends—no, followers to begin with?"
How weak did a so-called young sect lord’s faction have to be to collapse so easily?
"That’s not true!"
Andongshin, suddenly offended by Geom Mujin’s pitiful look, snapped back.
He’d only been planning to dispose of his father’s crippled shell through a mysterious accident and then purge his other brothers, when the vice sect leader and his faction had stormed in.
"At that point, our numbers were still about even."
Because he had legitimate succession rights, he’d had the support of a fair number of sect disciples.
"...But once the fighting actually started, the vice sect leader and his people were far stronger than anyone expected."
The vice sect leader and his followers beat down Andongshin’s faction as if they were one man against a hundred.
Their strength far exceeded the martial prowess they’d normally shown.
"They were all suddenly crazy strong, like some hidden power had exploded, and we had no choice but to get pushed back."
"...Hidden power?"
At the troubling word, Geom Mujin and Heo Injun exchanged a glance.
"Hey, did the vice sect leader’s men have red skin?"
"Ah! Yes..! That’s right. It was dark at night, but I remember clearly. Later on, even their eyes were so bloodshot they looked ready to burst."
"Huh."
The world really was small.
That squinty-eyed bastard, the vice sect leader.
There was another buyer of Jamsungdan here too.
* * *
Looks like the time had come for the protagonist to finally start making major moves.
Just like last time with Baekmun Escort Agency, Jamsungdan was popping up everywhere.
"There’s no doubt they used sorcery to produce that much power all at once. What cowards."
Andongshin—being a demonic bastard himself—was quick to condemn their sorcery.
Now I understood why the city had stayed quiet even after a rebellion broke out in the strongest sect in town.
They’d wrapped it up so fast there hadn’t even been time for information to leak.
Using the power of Jamsungdan, the vice sect leader’s faction had wiped out the young sect lord’s camp in one sweep.
The guy had only barely escaped on his own, so of course no rumors were spreading.
"Hero of the demonic path, Great Swordmaster! Please help us!"
"Why am I the hero of the demonic path again?"
For the record, I’m more of a gray area guy.
"Didn’t Great Swordmaster-nim already crush the pretentious swords of those orthodox hypocrites with Flying Sword Walk?"
When the demonic path heard that news back then, they went wild like guys seeing the automatic doors at a taxi company for the first time.
"And with accomplishments like humiliating the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly and killing those Mount Hua bastards, how could you not be of the demonic path?"
Each of those was an achievement that would be beyond the imagination of most black-path martial artists.
"That is true..."
"......"
Heo Injun nodded, half-convinced, while the child stared up at him in silence.
I’m not demonic path, you know.
"Besides, I’ve also beaten the hell out of plenty of demonic-path bastards."
"In our demonic path, fratricide is basically a daily routine and a way of life."
Come to think of it, that was true not just for the demonic path but for the whole martial world.
"Hmph, enough of that useless nonsense. Let’s talk about something productive."
Geum Mujin snorted and changed the subject.
Thump-
He sat down in a chair, crossed his legs, and rested his chin on his hand.
"You said you needed my help, right? Then what can you give me?"
That was the trickiest part of all—the 'what’s your offer?' question.
Andongshin swallowed hard and started working his brain.
Right. Nothing in this world came free.
He’d been licking the man’s ass as hard as he could, but if Geom Mujin had offered to help without wanting anything in return, that would’ve made him even more suspicious.
So what did Great Swordmaster like?
Hell if he knew.
There was almost no information available on the guy, so it was hard to even guess.
Liquor, women, drugs, money—those were the things black-path bastards loved more than water, light, and salt.
But someone who stood among the Seven Martial Stars probably wouldn’t be interested in stuff like that.
Money might be the best move.
After all, whether righteous, demonic, or anything in between, experts considered buying and selling their martial arts for cash an insult.
The only thing he knew for certain was that Geom Mujin was a top-tier martial man, so he had to aim in that direction.
Martial arts. Elixirs. Weapons.
Those were the kinds of bait that could make a martial artist sit up and sniff the air like a pervert.
Martial arts were out, first of all.
The sect’s techniques were their capital, and they wouldn’t satisfy someone of the Seven Martial Stars’ caliber anyway.
What about elixirs?
If I had something like that, I’d have eaten it already and gone off to get my revenge.
There was obviously some stockpiled somewhere, but the father who knew where it was had now become a pooping machine with administrative issues, so even he didn’t know where it was kept.
That left only one thing by elimination.
Crap... this was the one I really saved...
Something he’d secretly stolen away, fully prepared to be beaten to death by his father for it.
This would definitely interest the man in front of him.
To think he’d have to use something he’d been saving for the day he became sect lord.
Still, remembering that his own life was now a candle flame in the wind, he swallowed the bitterness and opened his mouth to Geom Mujin, who looked perfectly relaxed.
"If you help me...."
* * *
"I’ll prepare a separate room for you, so wait here quietly."
"Yes, sir."
After Andongshin left under Geom Mujin’s dismissal, Heo Injun—the homeowner—spoke.
"Great Swordmaster, your foresight was correct."
"Foresight?"
I tilted my head. What was he on about all of a sudden?
"Didn’t you tell me before? That the Taeho Sect’s vice sect leader would make a move."
"Ah."
Come to think of it, I had said something like that.
It had just been a throwaway comment, though.
Honestly, I hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, but now that Geom Mujin’s words had become reality, Heo Injun’s respect for him had shot up.
"This Heo is once again awed by Great Swordmaster’s abilities."
What the hell? Why did that make me feel annoyed instead of pleased?
"By the way, Great Swordmaster, do you truly intend to help the young sect lord?"
"Why, is there a problem?"
"Not exactly a problem, but..."
Heo Injun trailed off.
"What kind of people are the Taeho Sect?"
"Pardon?"
Heo Injun asked the question, then answered it himself a moment later.
"They may be called Gangneung’s strongest sect, or whatever, but in the end they’re still a demonic sect."
They had the title of Gangneung’s strongest, but as a demonic sect should, the Taeho Sect was ultimately just a bloodsucker draining the city dry.
For someone like Heo Injun, whose benefactor was helping the young sect lord of such a place, it was not a welcome thing.
"That’s exactly why I said I’d help."
"Pardon?"
"The Taeho Sect’s going to shut its doors before long."
So I might as well get what I can and run.
Geom Mujin smiled meaningfully—
Squish, squish—
—but then something tugged at his sleeve from below.
"Huh?"
"...Food."
"Ah."
I’ll have it ready soon.
That night, I was the blood-soaked soup cook.
* * *
Two days later.
In front of the tightly shut main gate of the Taeho Sect.
Someone approached the guards standing watch there.
"Hey."
He called out to them.
"This bastard crazy? 'Hey' is rude as hell—huh!?"
"Y-young sect lord!?"
The guards turned, their voices rising in shock.
The one who had barely escaped the vice sect leader during the last rebellion had come back to the tiger’s den of his own free will.
Since no body had ever been found, they’d thought he must have fled somewhere far away, but that wasn’t it at all.
Was he planning to die fighting proudly rather than run and live?
...Though that seemed unlikely, because the way he kept glancing at the man standing beside him made him look pretty damn timid.
Beside Andongshin stood a tall man in a black bamboo hat and a black cape, and his appearance was strange.
The man’s back bulged outward.
Wriggle, wriggle—
Something was squirming beneath the cape, making the whole thing even more unsettling.
"Umm... sir. You really mean to do this? Really?"
"Of course."
Andongshin had asked the same question for what felt like the fourth time on the way here, his voice increasingly uneasy, but the answer remained the same.
"You bastards! What are the two of you whispering about?"
"You dare show your face here? So you want to die, is that it!"
"Shut up and open the gate."
When the man gave the order with a tilt of his chin, the guards lunged at him.
"Shut your mouth, you bastard!"
"I’ll kill you along with that other punk!"
They didn’t seem interested in opening the gate, but that didn’t matter.
He’d brought the trusty all-purpose key he’d been carrying for twenty years.
BOOOOM-!!
"Gaaah!"
"Aaaaagh..!"
The sword at his waist flashed out, and both the guards and the gate were smashed to pieces in perfect harmony.
"No time. Let’s finish this fast."
The man—Geom Mujin’s sword—spat out red light.
* * *
"W-what is this?"
Meanwhile, inside the sect, the vice sect leader—Jo Pyeongho—rubbed his forearm as he sensed the vibration.
For some reason, a chill had just run through him.