Chapter 3
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Piercing Sword Sect Luoyang Branch 3
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“You bastards! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Wang Mun-gi, resting quietly in his quarters, bolted outside in shock at the sound of the front gate splintering apart.
I tried to slip away fast through the dog hole I’d dug behind the branch, just like always...
But hearing Wang Mun-gi’s booming voice that matched his hulking frame, I had no choice but to turn my steps around.
‘No Chu-sam here—if I ditch the guy and run, it’ll blow up into a disaster. Even if these thugs give me hell, I’ve got to hold down the fort today.’
I steeled my nerves and started walking.
“Senior Brother!”
I figured I’d moved quick without overthinking it, but Wang Mun-gi’s face was already flushed red as a ripe persimmon. He had the debt collector’s collar gripped tight in his fist.
Hard to say if he was punishing the guy for kicking in the gate they’d slaved over for days, or just quelling the ruckus of invaders storming the branch.
One thing was dead certain: if I didn’t rein in Wang Mun-gi right now, that debt collector might choke out and check out of this world for good.
“Junior Brother! What the hell are you doing?!”
“Senior Brother!”
“These are esteemed guests. Put him down on the ground—now!”
“Sure thing. I was just about to snap this bastard’s neck and make next year today his death anniversary...”
“You idiot! They shove an iron spike in your ear or what? Snap what? Loosen that grip!”
“Huh?”
Wang Mun-gi cocked his head side to side, totally baffled.
But I kept barking at him to drop the guy, so he finally eased up, grumbling and clucking his tongue.
“Street trash like you. Count yourself lucky. If Senior Brother hadn’t stepped in, I’d have pulverized you from gullet to toes today.”
The debt collectors shriveled up at Wang Mun-gi’s savage threat, heads retracting into their shells like turtles.
I’d pegged them as pretty bold types, smashing the gate and hollering...
But yeah.
Before Wang Mun-gi’s bear-paw grip, they turned into perfect lambs.
‘Whew, smart move not bolting like usual. Bit later and we’d be prepping a funeral.’
Clueless to my thoughts, Wang Mun-gi snorted like a raging boar.
“Anyway, Senior Brother—what’s this about unpaid debt? Didn’t we clear everything but the Gold Money House loan last month?”
“Ugh, things got messy. Step back for now. I’ll smooth this over nice and easy.”
I settled Wang Mun-gi down, then checked if the debt collector was still breathing.
“Hey, you coming around?”
He’d danced right up to death’s door and barely clawed back, eyes half-rolled, foam at his mouth—but pulse strong and steady.
“Phew, what a relief. You pulled through without croaking.”
I let out a sigh of true relief.
We were already drowning in King Yama Debt, and icing a collector here for cash would balloon what we owed the Black Society sky-high.
Just mumbling relief that the tab wouldn’t climb—but it hit the debt collectors different.
Gulp.
Faces gone ghost-pale like the dying, they swallowed hard on reflex.
Then a quick peek at Wang Mun-gi’s log-thick forearms before whipping eyes to me.
“Y-you’re Jang So-cheon?”
“That’s me.”
“W-we’re here for the money you borrowed from the Black Society.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Unlike Wang Mun-gi’s fist-first approach, maybe my polite honorifics softened them up.
The debt collectors eased their tucked necks out, gingerly pressing for payback.
“Five hundred taels from the Black Society. When you planning to square up?”
“A disciple of a famed righteous sect stiffing a loan—ain’t that shameful?”
“Chief said if no pay by today, he’ll blast your debt across all Luoyang.”
“Interest too steep for full payoff? Principal at least. I’ll sweet-talk the Chief into a nice extension.”
Fine words, fine returns.
Me leading polite turned these arson-threatening sharks downright courteous.
Old wisdom never fails.
“Of course. Borrowed money’s gotta be repaid—that’s just right.”
My admission lit up their ashen faces.
“For real? You’ll pay?”
I flashed a warm smile, nodding, voice soft as silk.
“One more month, please. Senior uncles sell that cursed silk safe, haul back money bags—principal plus fat interest, all yours.”
“...”
“Dead serious. Trust me. One month. Clears the whole slate spotless.”
I figured my earnest tone—no lies, pure truth—had won them over.
But these trustless sharks didn’t even pretend to listen.
“Knew it!”
“That scam again!”
“Half a year since that ‘one month’ bullshit!”
“No more! Jang So-cheon, fork it over now—or this estate’s inferno!”
Then Wang Mun-gi, who’d held silent till talks tanked, snarled beast-like.
“Five hundred taels Black Society? Half a year unpaid? Senior Brother—what the fuck’s going on?”
“Junior Brother, back off. This mess is mine. Cool it and hear your senior out.”
I waved him down like taming a wildcat.
But Wang Mun-gi wasn’t housebroken—he’d slug even his senior in a rage-fueled fury.
“You miserable bastard! Swore off dice forever, begged belief—less than a year, back rolling in the den?”
Whoosh!
Hand blade chopped at my skull like an axe on logs.
Brute flex on surface—but sect’s sole blade art, Red Dragon Eighteen Blades pinnacle, Heavenly Thunder Strike, adapted fierce.
“No gambling! Unavoidable shit—had to borrow short-term!”
I dodged his lightning chop, scrambling to clear the air.
But rage maxed, he wouldn’t hear a word.
Dead sure it was dice debt.
“You punk, just listen...”
“Shut it!”
“Hah, I’m your senior brother... how you gonna tell me to shut up?”
Senior-junior order crashing this low? Kinda heartbreaking.
“Again—big puppy eyes to play victim! Think I fall for that crap twice?”
“Urgh.”
“Your gambling buried us! Kids to gramps over sixty, freezing in snow, plowing, hauling—to erase that pile! No more dens! And you grabbed dice again?”
Whoosh! Whoosh!
His chops ramped wilder. One nick, and bear-grip’d shatter bones.
So Blue Eagle Step fused Flying Eagle Body Method—sidestepped easy.
Known as Eagle Claw Seven Forms Lightness Skill primers, footwork and evasion ace-tier solo.
Blasts, bursts, pivots—flawless.
“Eeeeeek!”
Dozens of one-way swings, not a hem-touch—livid, he bellowed buffalo-long.
“You bastard! Catch you, I’ll snap every limb clean!”
“Mun-gi, all tensed—you couldn’t nab a fly. Forgot my repeats?”
“Quit dodging—spit truth!”
“Told you. Unavoidable.”
“That lame excuse fly?”
Thirty-plus whiffs, breath rock-steady—no tiring.
Hoped he’d flop solo—but beast-stamina Mun-gi? Nah.
‘Tch, starving, no energy. No quit in him—fine.’
Long-overdue harsh lesson, senior cred restored.
“Gotcha!”
Red Dragon Eighteen Blades: Red Dragon Emerges from Water chaining Cloud Dragon Ascends to Heaven—all-in thrust.
Screeeeeam!
Arrow-hand sliced low, elbow-spring redirected blink-fast to throat.
Dragon breaching waves, heaven-bound—pristine power link.
First-timers’d drop unknowing.
But I’d mapped his chains—slid the switch-gap, counter.
Thwack!
Knee rammed the jaw of his low-stanced leg-stretch.
Blindsided, “Keurk!”—he reeled.
Others’d shatter jaws, lights out—but not him.
So fists hammered throat, chest, plexus mid-stagger.
“Grrraaagh...!”
No single hit—four vitals smoked.
Bear-tough hide, tiger-bones—even he couldn’t shrug agony.
“Mun-gi, nap it off. Meantime, senior settles that cursed debt.”
I tucked passed-out Wang Mun-gi in quarters, headed wrecked front yard to Black Society goons.