Monopolizing Fortunes (193)
Monopolizing Fortunes (193)
There was no killing intent, so he didn't bother dodging.
"What the......."
"Shh! You look like a traveler just passing through, so just keep going."
A plain-faced woman in her late thirties whispered as she peered over the corner of a wall at the men sitting on a wooden platform.
Even without asking, he could tell who the men were and what the situation was.
"Bandits, I take it?"
"They're from the Howang Stronghold lot up above. They twist people's necks like chicken necks. Don't go drawing their eyes and getting yourself hurt—run off that way."
The woman tried to pull Do Tong-dal toward a gap in the wooden fence. If he hadn't known, he might have let it go, but seeing this, he couldn't just walk past.
More importantly, he was starving.
"If I chase those fellows off, can I get a meal?"
"What?"
Before the woman could stop him, Do Tong-dal came out from behind the house and ambled over to the clearing where the platform stood.
"Huh? What's that guy?"
The six bandits turned their heads toward Do Tong-dal one by one.
"Well, well! The bold heroes of the mountain stronghold are having a feast. Mind if I join you?"
Do Tong-dal brazenly perched his rear on one corner of the platform.
"What are you?"
"A traveler passing through."
"A traveler passing through, and you saw us and didn't just pass on by?"
"I've been eating nothing but gamey beast meat and weeds, and the smell of rice was too good to ignore. Heh heh heh......."
A bandit with one ear sliced off asked.
"If you're a traveler, you must have travel money?"
"A traveler without travel money is a beggar, not a traveler."
"Is that so? Then first, let's see that travel money."
The six bandits all lifted the swords lying beside them onto their knees at once. They must have had an arrangement for situations like this.
Do Tong-dal said with a smile.
"If I hand over my travel money, you lot will have to hand over something else."
One of the bandits tossed back a joke.
"Want me to hand over my balls?"
"Keep that filthy thing attached. I mean that thing above your shoulders."
The six faces went cold and hard.
"What did you say?"
Do Tong-dal let out a thin sigh.
"However rare martial artists are in the world these days, you don't know what that thing sticking out over my shoulder is?"
"It's a sword hilt. These days every dog and cow carries a sword. That doesn't prove you're a martial artist."
"Still, you ought to be careful. Do you really carry that head around just for decoration? Anyway, bandits are as ignorant as thugs."
Even at Do Tong-dal's words, the bandits showed no sign of backing off.
"As you say, martial artists are rare. Swindlers are common."
The six bandits again grabbed their sword hilts almost simultaneously. He wanted to cut their throats in one breath, but then wiping up the blood and hauling away the corpses would be a nuisance.
He couldn't dump such troublesome work on simple village folk, and he liked doing it himself even less.
"My laziness is what's saving you."
Do Tong-dal didn't even need to draw his sword. He shot forward, smashed the jaw of the nearest one, broke the next bandit's leg, and crushed the balls of the one with the sliced ear.
And so the six bandits, without even a chance to draw the swords they had grabbed, rolled on the ground with something broken or crushed.
"Ughhh......."
"Ugh! Ugh!"
Do Tong-dal's voice dropped onto the bandits as they let out assorted groans.
"Those of you with working legs, grab the broken ones and get out fast. This old man is hungry."
The one with the sliced ear glared at Do Tong-dal with savage eyes.
"You little shit, you think you'll get away with this? Do you know what our Howang Stronghold is?"
"At best, you're bandit scraps. And there's always one of you types. The kind who runs his mouth and earns a beating."
If he'd only earned a beating, that would have been lucky, but the one whose balls got kicked also had his arm broken. And so the six were driven off and had to climb the rough mountain path.
The thirty-odd villagers gathered around the clearing watched the scene with dumbfounded faces.
Do Tong-dal clapped his hands clean and flashed a grin.
"Now, how about that meal?"
Do Tong-dal promptly sat down on the platform and went on.
"Just set a bowl of hot rice right here and that'll do."
At that, a burly farmer burst out shouting.
"What in the world have you done! If you send those bandits off all beaten up like that, we're the ones who'll have to deal with the aftermath!"
The woman who had first grabbed Do Tong-dal and hidden him stopped the farmer.
"He did it to help us, so don't get angry. Dear."
"How is this helping! That man can eat a meal and be on his way, but what about us, rooted to this land?"
The plain-faced woman's expression turned cold.
"So what? You couldn't do a thing against the bandits, but now you want to pick a fight with the man who helped us?"
"Huh? Ah...... no, that's not what I meant......."
"Then shut your trap, you useless man. Oh, look at me. Just wait a moment. I'll hurry and bring the rice."
While the woman went to get the rice, an old man of seventy leaning on a cane came over.
"Where are you headed?"
The face of the old man, who had lived his whole life as a farmer, was full of wrinkles, and his exposed skin was like tree bark.
"Nowhere in particular. I stopped by to get a meal and ask the way down to a town where I can sell some goods."
"That's no hard thing. Even if we live poorly, our hearts aren't stingy."
Even in this situation, the old man let out a hearty laugh at the end of his words. Aside from the man who had first scolded Do Tong-dal, no one blamed him.
There was even a farmer who said, 'Those bastards got the beating of their lives, so it feels good inside.'
Most slash-and-burn farmers were hostile to outsiders, but this village had the kind of hearts that welcomed travelers.
When the woman brought over a big bowl heaped with steaming rice, the old man said, 'Let's give him room to eat comfortably,' and waved the people away.
Do Tong-dal was moved by the warm rice, the people's kindness, and the old man's consideration even for Do Tong-dal's comfort.
The farmers around the platform scattered in all directions, but their gazes didn't entirely disappear.
In any case, since it was the table the bandits had been eating from, it was a feast. Do Tong-dal was working his spoon and chopsticks diligently when a small shadow came pattering up.
It was a boy of about eight with his hair tied back carelessly.
"Mister, are you a martial artist?"
A woman called out, 'Hanmu! Come here!' but the boy called Hanmu didn't even turn his head.
"Well, I've got one foot in it."
Anywhere else, he would have answered, 'No, I'm a thug,' but here he didn't want to say that.
"Then I can show you where you can do the, uh...... the...... what was it?"
"Ascension to immortality?"
"Yes! Want me to show you where you can do that?"
Do Tong-dal wondered what on earth he was talking about. Ascension to immortality? The boy must have heard some old tale somewhere.
"There's a place like that?"
Do Tong-dal mumbled through his rice and played along half-heartedly.
"Of course! Four people from our village did it!"
Just then the old man came over and rapped Hanmu on the head.
"You brat, stop bothering the guest and get lost."
Do Tong-dal pulled Hanmu, who was rubbing his head and going 'Ow!', toward himself.
"It's fine. He's offering to tell me how to ascend to immortality—there's no way I'd dislike that. Ha ha!"
As he laughed, a few grains of rice flew out of his mouth. Do Tong-dal said, 'Yikes! Precious rice,' and quickly picked up the grains that had fallen on the table and ate them.
"It's just a ghost story the child tells. Don't pay it any mind."
"Ascension to immortality is a legend. How is it a ghost story?"
Hanmu jumped in indignantly.
"It's not a legend, it's true! Seven years ago, my father ascended to immortality too!"
The old man looked at Hanmu with pitying eyes, then sat down on the edge of the platform. He seemed to want to take the child away but was too worn out and had no strength.
It seemed he had made up a lie to soothe Hanmu. Do Tong-dal went back to working his chopsticks when Hanmu said in a small voice.
"What I said is true. There's a cave halfway up Yeorusan where you can ascend to immortality."
He had no interest in ascension to immortality, but the cave caught his attention. What Do Tong-dal wanted was a cave where he could train in seclusion.
"There's such a thing, you say?"
When Do Tong-dal showed interest, Hanmu's words sped up.
"Everyone in the village knows! Grandpa told them!"
"Now, now! You keep talking nonsense. It's been a while since this old man gave you the switch, hasn't it?"
Even the final weapon of the switch couldn't close Hanmu's mouth.
"Then why did Father go to that cave? Why?"
"Didn't I tell you to stop that talk!"
Hanmu glared at the old man, shouted, 'I hate you, Grandpa!', and ran out of the yard. Deep pain welled in the old man's eyes as he watched the boy's retreating back.
"Pay not the slightest mind to that child's words. I've only gone and disturbed your meal for nothing."
Do Tong-dal spoke to the old man as he lifted himself off the platform.
"Then you pay no mind to the bandits, sir."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll take care of it. You just need to tell me where the stronghold is."
The old man waved both hands.
"Don't even think of going to that tiger's den! The ones who came here aren't all of them. Close to a hundred bandits swarm in Howang Stronghold! They're so vicious that even the government troops can't do anything about them, so please finish your meal and be on your way!"
He was grateful for the old man's heart, which worried more about a traveler than about their own safety.
"I'll handle that matter myself."
The bandits weren't the problem. What Do Tong-dal cared about more was the cave Hanmu had mentioned. If that cave was a good place for seclusion training, Do Tong-dal could ask for nothing more.
'Hm. I might be able to make a good deal with the villagers too.'
With such thoughts, he cleanly emptied a bowl of rice. The woman who had brought the rice asked if he wanted more, and Do Tong-dal exercised the virtue of polite refusal.
He wanted to deal with Howang Stronghold quickly and then look around the cave. So he persistently asked about Howang Stronghold's location.
As if they had all made a pact, the villagers shut their mouths at Do Tong-dal's question. It seemed the old man, who appeared to be the village head, had laid down the law.
But wherever you go, there are always one or two people who don't listen to their elders. The man who had gotten angry at Do Tong-dal was one of them.
"The reason I'm telling you the stronghold is because I trust you. Don't martial artists kill ten men with one stroke and fly through the sky?"
"That's not a martial artist, that's an immortal."
"Anyway, just make sure those Howang Stronghold bastards never dare show their faces in our village again. Then I'll tell you about the cave Hanmu mentioned."
"Ha ha! Ascension to immortality, you mean."
"It's no lie."
"What?"
"Two hundred years ago, a martial artist actually ascended to immortality there, they say. It's a story passed down through the generations, so it's not just some legend."
A story passed down through the generations is precisely a legend.
"I'll clean up Howang Stronghold and come right back."
As Do Tong-dal climbed the mountain, he had exactly one concern. It was about how far to go with Howang Stronghold.
Bandits or not, slaughtering a hundred people didn't sit well with him.
But if he beat them half-heartedly, they would surely come down to the village and run wild.
'Killing them really would be the cleanest.'
Do Tong-dal decided to go to Howang Stronghold first and make up his mind. His pace was so fast that he thought he might arrive at Howang Stronghold before the ones who had fled after the beating.
* * *
Jang Gu-mok, the chief of Howang Stronghold, had been a butcher by birth. When he lived in the village, he slaughtered dogs and pigs; after becoming a bandit, he slaughtered people.
"Heh heh heh...... Do you know the best thing about becoming a bandit?"
The five merchants trembling before him couldn't say a word and just pressed their faces into the ground.
When Jang Gu-mok had been a butcher who only killed dogs and pigs, people had spat as they passed him by. Now they were too terrified even to lift their heads.
"Eung-sik."
At Jang Gu-mok's call, the second-in-command, Go Eung-sik, answered.
"Yes, Chief."
"You answer."
"First is wealth, second is women, and third...... this is the most important—instead of dogs and pigs, you get to slaughter people. Heh heh heh......."
Go Eung-sik, who had been in perfect sync with him since their butcher days, smoothly recited the answer Jang Gu-mok wanted to hear.
"Exactly right. Rob the merchants and take their money, go to some village and drag back women to play with, and when you get tired of them, kill them like a proper butcher. What a joyful life this is."
* * *