The Bandit Alliance: Day of Destruction -1
The volunteer army that had set all of Sichuan abuzz finally set out.
Those who watched the subjugation force depart were already preparing a triumphal ceremony under the direction of Sama Yeom and the provincial office. You could accuse them of counting their chickens before they hatched — of gulping down the broth before the kimchi was even ready — but if they meant to kick off the victory parade the moment the army returned, starting the preparations now was barely enough time.
Riding the momentum and pairing the triumphal ceremony with a festival will help the people of Sichuan recover their spirits.
Sama Yeom and I had differed on the festival preparations. I hadn't expected the people of Sichuan — who had suffered under the bandits for no small stretch of time — to be particularly cooperative about throwing a parade and a party. Still, Sama Yeom was the administrative expert, and he had pushed the plan with absolute conviction, so I deferred to his judgment on that point.
Watching the people of Sichuan throw themselves into the preparations with genuine excitement, it seemed Sama Yeom had been right after all. I had expected them to nurse their grudges a little longer, but the people of Sichuan appeared content simply to have their peaceful daily lives returning.
"Hmm."
I may have been measuring everything against the standards of martial artists. Every figure I had known and experienced in Murim Cheonha had been a martial artist, after all. Not arguing with an expert had been the right call. If I had dug in my heels and proven myself clueless about the public mood, I would have written myself a brand-new black mark in the history books.
I adjusted the black hat I was wearing for the first time in a while and put a question to Heukmyo.
"You blocked the Golden Family's messengers properly?"
"Don't worry. We're watching every last carrier pigeon. Not a single one gets through."
Reassuring as always.
Truthfully, the master of Seongrak Pavilion fleeing like that had never been part of my plan. I had assumed he would throw himself on the mercy of Hwanggeum-seon or Gae Myeong-bu. Apparently the bond between those three ran shallower than I expected. Fifteen years of friendship, and still they couldn't trust each other — rotten characters, the lot of them.
At any rate, Yu Ji-gyeong's capture meant I no longer needed to visit Seongrak Pavilion last night. On the second day, after raking in a fortune in gold, I had thoroughly provoked them by promising to come back the next day — and then, entirely against my will, I had turned out to be a liar. Not that it mattered. Going there now wouldn't earn me a single coin. The special clientele would have mobilized every connection they had and brought martial artists with them. Those so-called special clients were rotten bastards who threw money around for sordid services in the first place. Having lost at gambling, they wouldn't be thinking of settling the score with more gambling — they would just want me dead.
If I had gone to Seongrak Pavilion, it would have been nothing but a brawl. I had actually planned to raise hell and gnaw away at the pavilion's foundations — but there was no need anymore. What was the point of shaking a place when I already had its master in custody?
"After tonight, we won't need the surveillance anymore, right?"
"That's right. If they don't slip out by tonight, they won't make the deadline."
Seongrak Pavilion was now a body without a head. I could deliver the finishing blow whenever I pleased. Time to focus on everything else.
"So the Jambong Sect ended up splitting in two."
"Gae Myeong-bu decided to stay, then?"
"Some of the martial artists who follow him remained. About twenty or thirty?"
Just the right number.
Hwanggeum-seon and Yu Ji-gyeong were unknowns to me. But Gae Myeong-bu I knew well — he was a character who appeared in Murim Cheonha's scenario. That was why I had predicted he would remain in Sichuan even if a subjugation force drawing every martial artist in the province was formed.
When Hwanggeum-seon's operation went into effect, Gae Myeong-bu, as a member of the Jambong Sect, would take a heavy hit. So why had he agreed to the plan and moved with it? Because he intended to transfer his allegiance to whichever sect was going to establish a branch here — now confirmed as the Hwangbo Clan. That was why he stayed behind in Sichuan even after the subjugation force was assembled: to demonstrate, with perfect clarity, that he was pro-Hwangbo.
No matter how hard the Jambong Sect's master tried to persuade him, Gae Myeong-bu and his faction had been immovable. The master would have had no choice but to leave them behind and lead the remaining forces into the campaign.
A platinum-tier sect was out of the question for them now. Not that it mattered — whatever tier they were, they would have to take down their signboard within a few days anyway.
"Good work today. See you tomorrow."
"Yes. You should rest for a day too, Senior."
Heukmyo left to conduct the final surveillance of the Golden Family and the Jambong Sect.
"Behold, I have arrived!"
I returned to the Wanderer Inn for the first time in several days.
"Been a few days, hasn't it."
"Stop making a racket and get inside already!"
I walked into the Wanderer Inn to the usual round of scolding and found Yu Sa-yeon smoking tobacco from a long pipe. The two nangin who had been injured during the last performance seemed fully recovered; they were sitting around drinking tea as if nothing had happened.
"You're back."
"Preparations going well?"
"Am I the one preparing? The nangin are."
The nangin had clearly been honed to a sharp edge. The atmosphere that had loosened a little when I walked in tightened again almost immediately.
"Feels just like the day I first came to the Wanderer Inn."
"That's because you drained the life out of everyone. This is how nangin are supposed to be."
People in the same line of work living under one roof, and she was defending a state of affairs where sword fights broke out at the drop of a hat and everyone walked around with permanent frowns. You were supposed to relax at home. Being more tense at home than anywhere else — was that even a thing?
I was about to deliver a light jab when I noticed Yu Sa-yeon's leg trembling and swallowed the words. She had a habit of bouncing her leg when she was nervous.
"Ease up on the tobacco, will you? You're already an old maid — if your face shrivels up on top of that, who do you think is going to take you?"
"...Want to die, Ho Cheon-an?"
Confirming that the trembling in her leg had stopped, I laughed and bolted. Yu Sa-yeon stared for a long moment at me hiding behind a table, then sighed and went up to her room on the fourth floor.
The nangin who had watched the whole exchange snorted and tossed out a few remarks.
"When it comes to handling the innkeeper, Ho Cheon-an really is the best."
"Stop teasing her and go find the woman a man already."
Only then did the atmosphere start to loosen.
Most people in this Murim Cheonha treated martial artists like some kind of tireless iron golem — never let your guard down for a single second, think of nothing but martial arts for all twelve hours of the day, and so on. Martial artists were tougher than ordinary people, sure, but at the end of the day they were still human. With a full day left before the operation, ramping the tension up this early would leave no mental stamina to spare.
The injured nangin had all recovered and declared their intent to participate. As I checked on the others one by one, two faces caught my eye.
Yeong Ji-hu-yeol and Ja So-gyeong.
"Preparations coming along all right?"
"Not much to prepare, really."
Yeong Ji-hu-yeol answered in an even tone. Ja So-gyeong nodded as if to say he was fine as well.
"About tomorrow's operation. You going to be all right?"
"Well..."
Yeong Ji-hu-yeol let the sentence trail off and drew his sword halfway from its scabbard. There was a joint in the blade — a seam. The first time Yeo Il-ye had come looking for me at the Wanderer Inn, Yeong Ji-hu-yeol had barred her path, and her Sword Gang had snapped his blade clean in half. That he had never bought a new sword and instead used this spliced-together one meant he had not forgotten the grudge he held against her.
"My grievance with Yeo Il-ye is a personal matter. I won't claim my heart is at ease, but I will not bring private feelings into an operation involving every nangin in Sichuan. Don't worry about that."
Yeong Ji-hu-yeol was a man of bamboo-straight integrity — for better and for worse. What would you call him? A scholar of the pure stream? The kind of person Confucianism would call a true gentleman. He never forgot a grudge, drew a clean line between public and private, and was strict with others and himself alike. He was not the type to go back on his word, so he wouldn't cause any trouble.
Ja So-gyeong had also taken a thorough beating from Yeo Il-ye once. He looked at me and laughed heartily.
"I don't hold any grudge! That was years ago already! Sure, I got thrashed, but I crossed blades with a martial artist from the Jeomchang Sect — that's a profitable trade any way you cut it!"
"Fair enough."
"More than that, the Jambong Sect has a debt to settle with us. Every nangin here feels the same."
These two were the first and second strongest fighters after Heukmyo, and the most senior figures at the Wanderer Inn. The operation would revolve around them — if either of them had been nursing the wrong kind of thoughts, it would have been a real problem. Thankfully, there was no sign of that.
"Good."
Preparations were complete.
Heukmyo and twenty-seven Sichuan nangin.
Tomorrow, together with Yeo Il-ye, we would strike the Jambong Sect.
"Heh heh heh..."
Wang Maeng-ho, chief of the Tiger King Stronghold, laughed as he gazed at the heaps of treasure piled in a corner of the mountain fortress. He had lived his whole life as a bandit, but the sight of wealth stacked like a mountain was something he had never witnessed in all his years. It was a vista that never grew old, no matter how long he stared.
Wang Maeng-ho unhooked the porcelain flask from his belt and set his lips to its mouth. The moment he did, the fragrance of fine wine bloomed upward. Sweetness and a sharp bite followed, teasing his tongue and throat.
"Enjoy it while you can."
Wang Maeng-ho pictured his collaborator in Sichuan. There was no hard evidence, but he had a fair idea who it was. He could have found out exactly if he wanted to — but some relationships were better left unknown.
Recalling the secret report on Sichuan's situation that had arrived a few days earlier, Wang Maeng-ho sneered at the great sects of the province. What good was a lofty reputation if you were this sluggish? Raid fast, flee fast, scatter — and there was nothing they could do about it.
With this much wealth, I could wallow in wine and women for at least ten years.
Wang Maeng-ho imagined that rosy future, drank himself into a stupor, and passed out cold.
"Chief! Chief! We're in trouble!"
"Uuuuugh... What."
Wang Maeng-ho scowled at the subordinate making a fuss. From the look of things it was barely past dawn — what kind of racket was this at such an hour?
"Martial artists! Martial artists are pouring in!"
"Haaaawn... What are the other chiefs doing that you're waking me? Tell those bastards to handle it themselves!"
"For heaven's sake, Chief, this is not the time!"
"You miserable little—! What are a few Sichuan grunts supposed to—"
Wang Maeng-ho scratched his belly and stepped out of his quarters. Something was wrong. The entire stronghold had frozen solid.
Only then did he grasp that the situation was far from ordinary. He launched himself with light-foot technique and landed atop the highest building in the fortress.
"...What."
And then he saw them.
The martial artists surrounding the stronghold.
"What is this."
Fighting spirit. Murderous intent. Desperation. Thousands of martial artists pouring those things out like an erupting volcano!
Tang Do-gyeong looked around and felt a surge of admiration.
As expected of Brother Ho.
"Our Gyeongsang Gate will claim a silver plaque no matter what! This is war! Capture them alive — no exceptions! Throw the binding ropes first and ask questions later!"
"Hey, you there! Dead men don't count toward merit! If you want to swing a sword, sheath it first and then swing!"
"Today our Sugyeong Gate is reborn as a platinum sect!"
"A golden plaque or death!"
"Death!"
He had wondered what a plaque could possibly be worth that they would risk their lives for it — but the martial artists' morale was literally on fire. Every single pair of eyes was fixed on Tang Do-gyeong with burning intensity.
Every martial artist in Sichuan, save for Elder Gae Myeong-bu's faction of the Jambong Sect and a bare handful who had unavoidable reasons to remain in the city — more than five thousand martial artists in total — waited for Tang Do-gyeong's signal.
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!
"Kill them! No — capture them!"
"Don't let a single one escape!"
Five thousand martial artists surged forward with the force of a tidal wave that could erase a mountain. The faces of the bandits in the stronghold went deathly pale.
"Where is the chief?! I, Muk Gang-tan of the Violent Cloud Fist, am here! Let us Super-Peak experts keep each other company!"
"Chief, come out and receive the blade of Dan Myeon-do, Master of the Black Bean Gate!"
Super-Peak experts charged at the very front alongside Dang Do-yeon and Tang Do-gyeong, crying out desperately for the fifty-point chiefs.
"Don't forget the facial disfigurement! Seize the deputy chiefs!"
"Surround them and crush them!"
Tang Do-gyeong felt a slight chill at the near-mad fighting spirit of the martial artists, and yet it filled him with confidence all the same. Fist Gang formed around his knuckles—
KRAAAAAANG!!
A massive hole punched clean through the wooden palisade in a single blow.
"Whew~"
Dang Do-yeon's whip, which could not match Tang Do-gyeong's raw destructive power, coiled around a section of the palisade, tightened, and pulled. The wood bound by the whip was sawed through as if by a wire blade and toppled over.
"The path is open!!"
The Super-Peak experts smashed through the palisade and poured in. Peak Realm experts vaulted over it with light-foot technique. First-rate experts and the remaining warriors filed through the gaps the Super-Peak masters had torn open in perfect order.
"That one! That's the deputy chief of the Eight Treasures Stronghold!"
"Kill him! No — capture him!"
THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!!
"Ugh-ack-ack!"
The deputy chief of the Eight Treasures Stronghold was a Peak Realm expert, but seven Peak Realm masters had exploded every ounce of their power and charged him at once. Overwhelmed by sheer momentum, he was subdued by their combined assault before he could even process what was happening.
"Gyeongsu Gate! Gyeongsu Gate has captured the deputy chief of the Eight Treasures Stronghold!!"
"What are you standing around for?! Pressure his vital points and bind him!"
It was a slaughter. Watching ropes coil around the bodies of bandits flattened in an instant by the sheer violence of numbers, Tang Do-gyeong shook his head once and went looking for the chiefs.
"Over there — that one running away looks like Seafood Wave, chief of the Delicacy Stronghold. I'll chase him down."
"Go."
Dang Do-yeon's form shot toward the elaborately dressed chief of the Seafood Wave as he fled.
That one is Chinese Restaurant, chief of the Eight Treasures Stronghold. And that one is Green Vegetable, chief of the Bok Choy Stronghold.
Sichuan's top experts, eyes bloodshot from hunting chiefs, were already locked in combat with them.
Whoosh!
Tang Do-gyeong's body shot naturally toward Wang Maeng-ho, who stood frozen and awkward atop the building.