Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: I Spent the Night with the Murim Alliance Leader's Youngest Daughter
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Taebaek Mountain was just ahead on the road.
This time, it truly felt like a journey.
When heading to the Moyong Family, it had been more like official business—something to rush through. And I'd had to drag Moyong Cheon along like a tumor.
Whether there were appealing shops nearby or scenic spots worth seeing, the goal had been to take the shortest route possible.
'It's been a while since I've reminisced like this. Nice.'
As I'd mentioned before, travel is enjoyable precisely because it's occasional. Back when I wandered year-round, I never imagined I'd come to appreciate this. It might mean I'd grown accustomed to settling down in one place.
'Let's take it slow.'
If it were urgent, they would've ordered me to hurry. Strictly speaking, this was overtime work. They'd acted like they'd grant any wish if I just returned safely from the Moyong Family. But the moment success seemed assured, Namgoong Hyeok shipped me off elsewhere. His scheming nature grated on me.
'So quiet~.'
Mountain paths rarely traveled by people had their own charm. A rough trail, barely qualifying as a path. Dodging the pebbles underfoot turned out to be surprisingly fun. The one drawback was the typical issue in such remote spots.
"Halt!"
"Hands up!"
"D-don't move!"
Specialists in toll collection from secluded areas.
In the common parlance across the martial world, bandits had appeared.
'Same old lines everywhere.'
Three bearded men blocked my path.
They could've at least trimmed those beards.
Unkempt facial hair wasn't intimidating.
"Hands up, quick!"
"Won't listen? We'll kill you!"
"B-brother! We can't kill him!"
They seemed too green for the business. A trio of amateurs.
Two scrawny runts looking half-starved. The bulkier one was still skin and bones.
A sickle, a spear, and a short dagger.
They didn't even look capable of wielding their shabby weapons properly.
"What makes you think you can demand money out of nowhere?"
"This is our turf!"
"Yeah, get lost!"
"What if he goes and tells?"
"Oh, right. Our turf, so pay the toll to pass!"
If you're going to bandit, at least get your story straight.
Classic case of diving in without a plan.
"Looks like we need to talk."
"Talk? Hand over the money!"
"Money!"
"N-no, hands up!"
In cases like this, the most effective communication was with fists.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Hey, you idiots. You think yelling for money out of the blue makes anyone cough it up? Don't you ever think?"
"S-sorry."
After a brief exchange via physical dialogue.
The bandits knelt with hands raised high, listening intently to my lecture. They apologized in chorus.
'These guys are trash!'
Bandits have ranks.
Not talking about those romanticized righteous outlaws from folktales. Those don't exist.
Does a noble goal justify the means?
Not at all.
Righteous bandits? Just highway robbers with a fancy name.
Stealing from corrupt officials exploiting the people and redistributing to the masses?
Bullshit.
How would anyone know if they pocketed most of it and tossed scraps to the poor?
Still, there was a reason I spoke of bandit ranks. Surprisingly, "proper bandits" do exist in the world.
Simply put, it came down to sincerity.
Whether they put effort into collecting tolls or not.
In that sense, this trio blocking my way was sorely lacking. No basic manners.
"When you eat at a restaurant, why do you pay?"
"We don't pay!"
"We just run away. Why pay?"
Damn.
Even explaining at their level, they weren't helping.
"You provide something needed, so they pay, right?"
"If the great hero says so!"
"I agree!"
Good. A bit more patience. Think of it as building character.
"So what are you doing now? Calling it a toll booth when the path looks like this? Pure thief mentality! If you'd at least leveled the ground properly and extended a hand, wouldn't people toss you a coin out of charity?"
"Thief... Yeah, that's us?"
"Shut it, little bro!"
"Th-the great hero is right!"
If they'd even marked off the path from the grass and dirt, I'd have opened my pouch willingly. But this? Disappointing.
"First, pick a day and tidy it up to look like a road. Then, every day at quiet hours when few people pass, pack the earth bit by bit, gradually widening it. Got it?"
"Yes, great hero!"
At least their responses were loud and clear.
I didn't expect them to follow through starting tomorrow.
But with repeated attempts, experience might accumulate, and they'd figure it out. That level of hope.
'It's all for your survival.'
This was a "proper bandit."
The current world was fairly stable. Yet, the poor who couldn't find decent work or settle anywhere kept emerging.
Desperate, they fled to the mountains and turned to banditry.
But would it work?
A cornered rat bites the cat, but dies after.
Skinny bandits like these could only manage tolls.
'Most people let it slide nicely.'
It was an unwritten rule of the martial world.
Ever seen anyone curse a beggar for begging?
Anyone pointing fingers at a monk alms-begging?
Likewise, when ragged bandits demanded tolls, pretending to comply was the mark of a true martial artist.
'Few do it this systematically, though.'
I gave the best advice from my knowledge. The rest was up to them. A well-maintained road would spare them sudden swordplay.
Why do I know so much about banditry?
Think about it.
My childhood, fleeing the Wudang Sect like an exile.
Mountains everywhere.
Clashing with bandits was daily life from a young age.
Later, curiosity arose: how'd they end up like this?
That's how I learned.
"Last thing—listen well. Most important."
"Yes, great hero."
"No more than five coins per person. Ideally three. Two for the handsome ones. One for the ugly-tempered or argumentative types."
"Why just one for the mean-looking?"
"That's how you live long. Remember it."
That was all the advice I could give.
Hoping they'd get it, I left the greenhorn bandits behind and headed toward Shaanxi.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ -To my dear Father.
I'm off in search of love.
At twenty-four, isn't it said flowers bloom brightest at eleven days? I've contributed my modest talents to the family thus far. Now, I wish to live for myself. Please don't look for me.
Moyong Hye, vanishing after leaving just this letter.
The Moyong Family was thrown into chaos by the sudden event.
While Moyong Cheon roamed like a wastrel under vague expectations as a shield, Moyong Hye had effectively served as deputy family head.
Confining him to the training hall was Moyong Guk's intent to empower her—a open secret in the family.
And now, a sudden elopement for love?
Moyong Hye was famous for keeping men at arm's length. Her innate beauty was wasted; she bestowed affection on no man. Her focus was solely the family's prosperity.
So who could she be with?
"Could it be that Yi Se-woong fellow?"
"......"
In the Moyong Family head's hall.
Those summoned by Moyong Guk gathered for a secret meeting. With no narrowing suspects, Yi Se-woong's name surfaced—he'd spent the most recent time with her.
"Absurd. Have you seen how he treats the young lady?"
"Right. Cold as ice. Thinks he's Namgung family material just 'cause he's a prospective son-in-law?"
"Hye showed him courtesy only to uphold the family's dignity!"
Of course, immediately dismissed.
Due to his icy rejection of her feelings.
"This is definitely a code."
"A code?"
"Yes. Think about it. Hye lives and breathes for the family. For her to suddenly leave on her own?"
As Moyong Hak—the family brain trust—spoke, all held their breath, focusing on him.
"Hye must have been forced to leave against her will! Decoding this letter will reveal the truth!"
"Oho, possible?"
"Of course. I taught her the basics of codes. Just wait."
Tap, tap-tap.
Moyong Hak drummed the table, deep in thought.
Moments later.
When he opened his eyes, Moyong Guk demanded with bloodshot glare.
"So what does it mean!"
No code existed, of course.
But their overactive imaginations, via Moyong Hak's mouth, veered toward a wild conclusion.