Chapter 4
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Piercing Sword Sect Luoyang Branch 4
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Thud! Thud! Thud!
I strode forward toward the debt collectors, my footsteps booming loudly.
My once-handsome face, which had set the hearts of Luoyang's women aflutter, was now twisted in a fierce scowl.
The collectors flinched violently at the sight, then began backing away stealthily.
They had clearly witnessed how I'd sent a brute like Wang Mun-gi sprawling with a single blow, and the aura I was subtly exuding felt far from ordinary.
Instinctively, they sensed that tangling with me now might lead to disaster.
"Urgh."
"Ugh..."
The debt collectors groaned like men who hadn't relieved themselves in days, eyeing each other warily.
I scanned the group, who resembled turtles retracting their heads into their shells.
Then I clamped down hard on the shoulder of the oldest-looking one among them.
"Eek!"
Whether from surprise at my sudden move or pain from my iron grip, a faint groan escaped the middle-aged collector's lips.
I couldn't tell which it was.
"Y-You bastard! A disciple of a righteous sect, refusing to pay up and instead bullying honest debt collectors with brute force..."
"Even if I died and came back to life right now, I wouldn't have a single coin to pay."
"W-What?"
"It's the truth. Believe me."
"Have you ever seen such a scoundrel? If you borrow money and spend it, you should work to pay it back! Just whining that you have no money like this... Urghhh!"
"Whining? I'm politely and most humbly begging for your understanding right now."
Crack!
As my politeness increased, so did the force in my grip, making the middle-aged collector flop around on the spot like a freshly caught carp, nodding his head frantically.
"A-Alright! Alright already! Please! Let go of my arm! Just let go...!"
"And if I do? Will you extend the repayment deadline?"
"Y-Yes! By my authority, I'll extend it, so please, just release my arm!"
"Hmm, how long an extension?"
"H-Half a day. No, a full half-day. Aah, I'll be generous. One day. Just one more day at the end... Aaaaagh!"
"I'm treating you with such courtesy, and all you offer is one day? One day? Are you toying with me?"
At my angry rebuke, the middle-aged collector shrieked like a magpie and rattled off several compromises.
Unfortunately, none appealed to me in the slightest.
"Hand over the estate as collateral... Rejected. Cut off my hand instead of the money... Rejected as well. Bring the head of Red Dragon Gang Leader, Red Dragon Ghost Blade Nam Seong-pil... I'm no assassin for hire from the Piercing Sword Sect. I can't just kill without cause. Rejected."
I politely asked the middle-aged collector—whose shoulder was now dislocated, leaving his arms dangling limply—to offer other options.
He flatly refused my request, leaving me no choice but to soothe my wounded feelings by applying even greater force.
"Gweeaaak!"
Great power comes with great responsibility, as they say.
Overwhelmed by the force he couldn't handle, the middle-aged collector let out a pig-like squeal and fainted.
I clicked my tongue regretfully as I looked down at him, his limbs twisted like some soft-bodied creature.
Then I turned to the young, pale-faced collector and made a very polite request.
"Young hero, surely you have some solution?"
"Y-You crazy fuck...!"
"I suggested we all huddle together and find a way out, yet you curse at me out of nowhere?"
Crunch!
I used Eagle Claw Hand to rip into the young collector's collarbone, which had gone pale with fear.
Of course, "rip" was just a figure of speech—it didn't mean I tore the bone out of his body.
I merely applied enough force to leave him hunched over, unable to use his shoulder for a while.
But the novice collector, with his loose tongue and exaggerated reactions, collapsed flat on the ground and wailed.
"Aaaah! My shoulder! My shoulder!"
At that, the other collectors drew their tools in unison and charged at me.
They'd stayed silent while the middle-aged one writhed like squid on a grill.
What was this now, pulling weapons at this point?
But as the debtor, I was in the weaker position, so I kept my mouth shut and swung my fists diligently.
Thwack! Crack! Crunch!
One punch per man.
Arm, leg, ribs—one of those got shattered for sure.
"Aaaagh!"
"S-Spare me...!"
"Not me, not me! I didn't... Aaaah!"
In about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, I'd dealt with all the collectors.
I fetched a cart from the branch warehouse.
Then I roughly loaded the foaming, collapsed men onto it and headed out of the branch toward Black Society headquarters.
Rattle, rattle.
The cart jolted with every bump, burdened by the weight of over a dozen grown men.
"Urgh! This kind of heavy lifting is exactly what Mun-gi would've been perfect for..."
Why was I going through all this trouble myself?
Couldn't I have just woken that guy up, explained the situation, and let him handle it?
"No, wait. Knowing that hot-tempered pig, he would've charged at them like a wild boar before I even finished talking."
How did our sect's discipline end up in such shambles? Damn it all.
I let out a long sigh, then braced my thighs and pulled the cart.
Rattle! Rattle!
The jolting grew louder as our speed picked up.
I hurried out of the back alley onto the bustling main street teeming with people.
Every eye on the busy avenue turned to me.
"Oh my!"
"Good heavens..."
"Is that guy alright?"
"Shouldn't someone fetch a physician?"
Why were the stares fixed on me instead of the men piled like luggage on the cart?
Simple reason.
The collectors were out cold with broken limbs and ribs, but I—despite my face being smeared with blood from the fierce fight—was steadily pulling the cart like an ox, wide awake.
Of course all eyes were on me.
'Worth the extra effort on the makeup. Real wounds for real blood gets instant reactions.'
Sharp-eyed folks might spot the self-inflicted cuts on my forehead, of course.
But what did that matter?
The fact was, their tools had split my forehead open, and I'd shed a basin's worth of blood.
That established self-defense beyond doubt, plus ample circumstantial evidence that Black Society had tried to bully the debtor with force.
If I leveraged that for smooth negotiations, I could surely wrangle some debt forgiveness and an extended deadline as compensation.
I smirked, cutting through the crowded street buzzing with murmurs.
Most people fretted more over me—dripping blood from my gore-smeared face—than the cart's cargo.
But every crowd has its share of nasty busybodies.
"Looks like that guy took on all those men alone."
"Those on the cart—judging by their martial robes, Black Society thugs..."
"Tch, Luoyang's about to get noisy again."
"Noisy? Take a look at the emblem on his chest."
"Flying Eagle? Ah, with all that blood on his face, no wonder. It's Piercing Sword Sect's Spectrum Sword."
"Hmph! Spectrum Sword, my ass. Call it the Extortion Sword."
"Haha, what's got you so riled at Jang So-cheon? Did he roll dice against you at the gambling den or something?"
"Tch! Don't even bring it up. Just thinking about it boils my blood."
"Fighting Black Society in broad daylight... Gotta be gambling debts, right?"
"Obviously! Why else would he parade down the street covered in blood like that?"
Whoosh! Swish! Swish!
"Hmm? Are there flies buzzing nonsense around? I hear annoying drivel by my ear."
I shook my head side to side, shaking off the gossips slandering me with their venomous words.
Then, as a disciple of the Piercing Sword Sect, I squared my shoulders, marched proudly to Black Society headquarters, and bellowed.
"Come out, Black Society Leader! Jang So-cheon of the Piercing Sword Sect is here for his pay!"
Thud-thud-thud, slam!
The Wall Chief Manager burst into the Black Society Leader's office and urgently reported the situation.
"L-Leader! Big trouble, huge trouble!"
"Big trouble? What kind of huge trouble in broad daylight? Did Red Dragon Gang come charging in out of nowhere?"
"N-Not that, but..."
"Then did the officials suddenly jack up our tribute payments?"
"Not that either..."
"Not Red Dragon Gang, not the officials shaking us down for bribes—what the hell is this huge trouble you're making such a fuss about?"
Black Society Leader Gwak Su-san slammed his fist on the table in a rage, prompting Deputy Leader Na Cheol-gi to sigh softly and shake his head.
"Brother, how many times have I told you? Let people finish speaking before you lose your temper."
"Hic!"
"See? Our Wall Chief Manager's a proper scholar type. Treat him that roughly, and like the last ones, he'll bolt in the night. I've warned you."
"Hmph! If a weakling ink-drinker runs, we drag him back. Why handle him like fragile porcelain?"
Gwak Su-san despised Na Cheol-gi's soft touch with underlings.
But the man had real business savvy, unlike himself.
His skills were so impressive that Black Society had grown to rival Red Dragon Gang in Luoyang's underworld, thanks to him.
So Gwak treated Na Cheol-gi like blood kin, no matter what.
"Urgh. Fine, fine. I'll work on my quick temper."
Gwak reined in his boiling fury and gestured for the Wall Chief Manager to explain slowly.
"Y-Yes. Well, the debtor... he owes money... but he keeps demanding pay... and his face is all bloody... right there in the front courtyard, making a huge racket, demanding money..."
Debtor. Money. Pay. Blood-smeared.
As the manager repeated his nonsensical ramblings, Gwak's patience snapped.
He shot to his feet and stormed out of the office to the front courtyard, snorting like an enraged bull and roaring.
"You bastard! Has your gall swelled beyond your belly? Do you even know where you are, causing a scene in broad daylight like this?!"