Chapter 6
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Piercing Sword Sect Luoyang Branch 6
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"Hmm."
"If we can handle 'that matter' cleanly without a single slip-up, it'll net us over five hundred taels in profit for the Black Society."
"Sure, that'd be true if it's handled cleanly, but..."
Gwak Su-san shot Jang So-cheon a displeased glance and continued in a low murmur.
"How can we trust a raving mad gambling lunatic like that with 'that matter'?"
If things go wrong, the Black Society could vanish from the world without a whisper.
He whispered the last part into Na Cheol-gi's ear so softly that it never reached Jang So-cheon, who stood about ten paces away.
But Jang So-cheon, born gambler that he was, sensed it instinctively the instant Na Cheol-gi spoke.
They say even if the sky collapses, there's always a way out! This is my chance! It reeks a little suspicious, sure. But no matter what, I have to grab it!
Jang So-cheon's eyes gleamed with fervent resolve.
Still, he didn't rush in eagerly or beg for the job. Instead, he waited calmly.
Until the conversation between Gwak Su-san and Na Cheol-gi wrapped up.
"Leader, think about it rationally. Do you really expect five hundred taels from selling off that rundown estate? We might not even recover the principal if the sale falls through."
"We can't rule that out entirely."
"So rather than banking on squeezing five hundred taels out of it, why not put that guy to use where it counts and generate more than five hundred taels in value? That's the smarter play."
"Hmm."
"Of course, I'm not saying we hand 'that matter' straight to a deranged gambler at rock bottom right from the start."
"Then what?"
"Test him once or twice. No, three times. Give him three minor tasks, gauge his skills and how he handles them. Once you're convinced he can pull off 'that matter,' offer debt forgiveness as the reward and assign it then."
Don't dump the big job on him blindly—instead, test him with three trivial errands first.
This struck Gwak Su-san as a solid idea. He stroked his bushy chin beard, clearly intrigued.
Seizing the moment, Na Cheol-gi drove the nail home.
"For the three tasks, compensate him by extending his repayment deadline as he wanted. Tell him the full debt wipe only comes if he nails 'that matter' perfectly. If anything goes even slightly sideways, the original contract stands. That way, we risk zero loss while milking a peak expert for all he's worth."
"Kuhhuhuhu, what a knee-slapping stroke of genius."
Gwak Su-san grinned wide enough to flash his scarlet gums, clearly delighted by Na Cheol-gi's scheme.
And why not?
No matter how it played out, the Black Society stood to lose nothing and gain plenty. Who could turn that down?
Gwak Su-san's cheekbones shot up toward the heavens, and Na Cheol-gi calmly relayed the proposal to Jang So-cheon.
"Young hero Jang, what's your answer? Will you take on some work for the Black Society?"
"..."
"Naturally, we won't assign anything that clashes with your beliefs or sense of justice—like assassinations, kidnappings, or arson. No need to worry on that front."
"Ahem! Well, that's reassuring, but..."
It was an offer too good to pass up, yet Jang So-cheon didn't bite right away.
As the old saying went: test the stone bridge before you cross.
His situation was dire, true, but he had to scrutinize every detail.
Back in my gambling days, I'd seen plenty of lives ruined by one bad bet.
Drawing on hard-learned experience, Jang So-cheon meticulously dissected Na Cheol-gi's proposal: rewards, contingencies for failure, the works.
Gwak Su-san bristled at the gambler's gall. Here he was, offering a street rat a golden chance out of respect for his skills, and the ingrate was playing hard to get.
Na Cheol-gi wasn't thrilled by Jang So-cheon's stiff attitude either, but he swallowed his rising ire for the Black Society's gain.
After a thorough back-and-forth lasting nearly two quarters of an hour, Jang So-cheon finally nodded with a satisfied smile.
"Impressive. The Black Society's true brains, indeed. I never dreamed you'd come up with such a fair resolution."
"..."
"Ahem! Anyway, glad we could settle this amicably."
Clink!
Jang So-cheon sheathed the sword he'd drawn an inch for a quick draw.
Gwak Su-san and Na Cheol-gi blanched at the sight, convinced that cooler heads had prevailed—otherwise, this lunatic would've started swinging in broad daylight.
A thick-skinned shameless rogue like that struts around claiming righteous sect status? What a degenerate world.
The world's gone mad—who's righteous and who's unorthodox anymore?
Whatever.
Ignoring their ashen faces, Jang So-cheon beamed, thrilled at finding a way out of his debt.
"Just send word to the branch anytime. Whatever the job, I'll handle it flawlessly with everything I've got."
"..."
"Ahem! Well then, I'll take my leave. Thanks for everything."
With that, Jang So-cheon turned and strode out of the Black Society headquarters.
He didn't spare a glance for the thugs whose organization he'd trashed earlier, his steps light and carefree.
That evening.
A chill hung over the modest dinner table.
Wang Mun-gi flicked his eyes wildly, radiating murderous intent, while Yeo Chu-sam—fresh from a half-day stroll—glared at me with brazen insolence.
"Senior brother, does that rice even make it down your throat?"
"Slurp, nom nom!"
"Even a lame excuse would do—just say something."
"Urgh! Hunger's the best sauce. This barley porridge is sliding down nice today."
"Ha, look at this guy. I ask for any words at all, and he just spouts nonsense?"
Clack!
Yeo Chu-sam slammed down his spoon and ground his teeth.
"Senior brother."
"Don't bother a dog while it's eating. Finish your meal first, then we'll talk."
"A ghost who dies stuffed looks better in the coffin? That it?"
"Who's dying? I'm thriving. Cut the crap and eat."
Yeo Chu-sam nearly exploded, accusing me of farting then getting mad, but Wang Mun-gi's iron grip pinned him down.
Wang Mun-gi spoke in a frosty tone.
"Chu-sam, for old times' sake, give him time for one last supper."
"...One quarter-hour. Exactly that. I can't hold out longer."
"One quarter-hour? Half that's plenty."
Wang Mun-gi, still reeling from the knockout blow to his skull, eyed me like an arch-enemy, venom pooling in his gaze.
Yeo Chu-sam matched him, sharp aura flaring as he waited for my meal to end.
Half a quarter-hour later, after polishing off my barley porridge—and theirs too—to sate my hunger, I stared at the ceiling and let out a booming belch.
"Urrrrp! Ahh, now I feel alive. Any longer, and my stomach would've glued to my spine."
"...Senior brother, that's your last words?"
"Kid, even I know what to say to my senior brother and what not to. What's with that tone?"
I drummed my bloated belly like a drum and clicked my tongue.
Then, stealing glances at Yeo Chu-sam and Wang Mun-gi just as they reached for their swords, I spilled it.
I'd settled things with the Black Society and cleared my King Yama Debt clean.
"Ahem! It was just a little misunderstanding with them, so no need for such grim faces."
"..."
"Anyway, Chu-sam, feel better after your half-day airing out? Less glum?"
"..."
"Oh, and Mun-gi. Sorry about earlier. You charged in blind, foaming like a rabid colt, so I had to go a bit heavy-handed. How's the spot where I hit you?"
Despite my sincere question, neither opened up.
They just rolled their eyes and snorted, clearly doubting if I was bullshitting to weasel out.
It stung—karma from my reckless youth, when I'd sweet-talked my master and brothers with silver lies.
But what could I do?
With my past sins, words alone wouldn't prove my innocence. Actions would.
"Fine, I get it. You don't trust your senior brother, so come dawn, we'll head to the Black Society and verify. That work?"
"..."
"What, scared I'll sneak off tonight and coordinate a story with them? Relax. I'm not some impulsive seventeen-year-old anymore—I'm thirty now. Thirty. No more shameless stunts."
And so on.
I droned on with lengthy self-reflection confessions until their guards finally eased.
"Hmm."
"Hah, fall for it again?"
"It's not falling for it—it's believing the truth."
I corrected Yeo Chu-sam, then grabbed Wang Mun-gi's hand, his face as impassive as a toad's.
"Mun-gi."
"..."
"If there's a shred of lie in what I'm saying, strangle me with this hand."
"...For real?"
"Yeah, for real... Urrrgh!"
Before I finished, Wang Mun-gi clamped my throat with his bear-paw grip.
Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!
I frantically slapped his forearm, gasping out.
"You punk... not now... when the truth comes out... then..."
"..."
"M-Mun-gi..."
With my windpipe crushed, even speaking was agony.
And in his vise-like hold, my neck could snap any second.
A few more moments like this, and I'd die a bachelor ghost, never wed.
Grk, have to use force after all?
As I subtly gathered qi for a palm strike to his chest—just in case—
Slowly,
strength drained from Wang Mun-gi's grip. He'd finally decided to trust me, it seemed.
"One last time. I'll believe you once more. So..."
"..."
"Don't disappoint your juniors, the sect elders, or Master again."
His words layered with meanings, I pondered seriously before replying in earnest.
"I swear it. I'll never tarnish the Piercing Sword Sect's name again."
"Keep that promise. Or I'll snap your neck for real with these hands."
Wang Mun-gi laid down his grim threat, then rose his massive frame and stormed out.
Yeo Chu-sam followed with a sharp parting shot, slamming the door behind.
Bam!
The room felt instantly lighter with the two brutes gone. I sighed in relief and flopped onto the floor, ready to cross my legs as usual.
But for some reason,
even after dodging that near-death scrape, the mood wouldn't lift today.
Mun-gi's teary eyes? Or the lingering tremor in my throat from his grip?
I didn't know why, but my chest felt crushed like a boulder on it. I left the windowless cell.
Sighing deeply, I gazed at the long sunset stretching across the sky, lost in thought.
Then, an arrow whistled over the wall. Tied to it was a crumpled letter.
My first mission from the Black Society.
"Tonight at midnight hour... Fragrant Flower Pavilion...?"