When the Night of Frenzy Ends
"I owe you a great debt, Brother Jiang."
Baek Won-young bowed deeply toward Jiang Zhou. His whole body still ached and throbbed, and yet, strangely, strength was surging up through him. If the situation hadn't been so urgent, he would have been tempted to sit down right there and circulate his qi. But he had to return to the Murim Alliance at once.
"Once your body has recovered, come by for a meal," Jiang Zhou said.
"Of course. We owe Young Hero Yang a great debt as well."
He bowed to Yang Jeong too. In truth, it had been mostly thanks to him that they had all come through unscathed. Ak Hwan and the other rising prodigies seemed to know it as well, and they bowed in turn.
"Thank you. I will never forget this kindness."
"Thank you so much, Young Hero Yang."
Baek Ha-young crossed the Stone Bridge with a look of deep reluctance on her face.
"Thank you, Young Hero Jiang."
There was something extraordinary in Yeon Ja-seol's eyes as she bowed. Having paid her respects to Jiang Zhou, she quietly inclined her head to Yang Jeong as well, and he answered with a faint smile and a bow of his own.
"Travel safely."
The moment the last of the prodigies had gone, he slumped down onto the ground where he stood.
Whew...............
"That was a close call."
Jiang Zhou stared down at him with a weary gaze. "Hey. Why is the greatest hero under heaven sighing like that?"
"Don't mock me, Boss. You have no idea how much I suffered out there."
At that reply, Jiang Zhou's face began to twist, little by little. "And what, exactly, was so hard for the greatest hero under heaven?"
"I stood on the Stone Bridge and held back the enemy, didn't I? This is exactly the kind of moment when a drink is the answer. Shall I go pour us one from the kitchen?"
"You little.........so that was your goal all along?"
Pang! Whoooosh.........
Before Jiang Zhou had even finished speaking, Yang Jeong tore through the air and shot away. Whoooosh........
"Hey, you little punk......!"
Past the edge of the forest, Cheolgoe's body sailed over the fence as if riding the wind. Whoooosh.......
Then a blurred figure streaked past some twenty paces ahead of him — so fast that even Cheolgoe flinched in surprise.
"Hey, you little punk......!"
A second figure came hurtling after the first at tremendous speed. But this one did not sail past him.
"Might I ask why you saw fit to leap over my fence?"
Jiang Zhou planted himself in front of him, a faint killing intent seeping from his frame. Cheolgoe was taken aback, inwardly. The fastest route from the battlefield where he had fought the Alliance Leader to this inn had been straight through the forest — so that was the way he had come, and apparently that had been a mistake.
"I did not leap your fence out of disrespect."
"Then have you come as a customer?"
Jiang Zhou bent at the waist in a shallow bow. "I'll let it slide this once. Welcome."
Ha......
I'll let it slide this once?
Not even Baek Mun-do, the Alliance Leader himself, could say such a thing. Cheolgoe was left dumbfounded, but he accepted the words without protest.
"My thanks. No pheasant today either, I take it?"
"Tell me when you'll come again, and I'll have it ready for you."
"I doubt I'll have cause to visit for some time. I must pay a call on the Demonic Cult. Next time I come, I'll bring my own pheasant."
He uttered the chilling words as casually as one remarks on the weather. To say one was visiting the Demonic Cult — did that not mean he intended to do to them exactly what had been done here? Yet Jiang Zhou showed no reaction whatsoever.
"Head on into the inn."
"I'll lead the way."
Cheolgoe turned his back without a hint of ceremony.
Slurp........slurp.......
Cheolgoe devoted himself to the meal in silence. This was his second time eating here, and yet it felt as fresh as the first. Truly an astounding flavor.
Having drained even the broth, he set a single silver tael on the table. "That was a fine meal."
Jiang Zhou had been watching him quietly, and now he spoke. "There's a bit of Dongpo Pork left over. Would you care for it? I won't be charging you, of course."
By any measure the man was one of the greatest villains alive, and yet somehow, Jiang Zhou couldn't help but be drawn to him.
"Nay. The finer a thing, the more it must be savored sparingly — that is how the pleasure lasts." Rising to his feet, he left the inn without a trace of regret.
"Come again sometime."
"If I don't die, I'll return with a pheasant in hand."
Jiang Zhou watched until the last moment as the man called Cheolgoe vanished into the darkness.
The world certainly has no shortage of remarkable people.
The Alliance Leader and the Cult Leader had both been remarkable among the remarkable, but that man was every bit their equal.
As Jiang Zhou stood lost in thought, a presence stirred in the darkness. Almost certainly, that presence was Samryong.
"Apologize right now, and I'll knock it down from ten strikes to five."
Whoooosh...
The instant the words left his mouth, the presence vanished without a trace.
"Fine. Fetch the rod."
Whoooosh................
So very many had died. Corpses lined the ground outside the Murim Alliance walls, and more lay scattered within. And still the lights of the great hall had not gone out.
"Hurry, bring more water...!"
The Alliance's warriors moved busily, hurling water onto the raging flames. While the survivors doused the fires and gathered up the dead, Sin Pung-gae crouched on the ground, examining the corpses.
Sniff... sniff...
"What a truly foul stench."
The reek rising from the bodies was worse than the stench that clung to his own. He loosened his beggar's robe, revealing an old wound that had festered and wept pus for years.
"How did this old body ever fight, I wonder?"
Baek Mun-do came to his side. "It is Blood Cult sorcery."
Back in the day, those creatures had given the One Hundred Heroes a world of grief as well. Those milk-white eyes were not eyeballs rolled backward — they were dark pupils that had hidden themselves away inside the skull. Big Brother had dubbed them Those with Inverted Eyes, and so the One Hundred Heroes had called them the same ever since.
"This old man shares the Alliance Leader's thinking. But back then, they didn't reek of the grave like this, did they?"
"They must have wielded a sorcery even more vicious than before."
"Vicious though it may be, judging by their state, these men look to have been dead a long, long time — would you not say?"
Sin Pung-gae also examined a corpse whose face was covered in tattoos.
"Strange writing. Never in my days have I seen characters like these.............."
While he pored over the body, Baek Won-young and the other prodigies came hurrying over.
"Are you unharmed, Father?"
"So you and Ha-young are safe as well."
Baek Mun-do let out a silent breath of relief. That so many warriors had perished was a sorrowful thing, but that his son and daughter had survived unharmed was a comfort beyond words. Still, Baek Won-young looked far from whole, as though he had taken a serious wound.
"Young Hero Yang and Brother Jiang of the inn protected us."
At those words, Sin Pung-gae's head whipped around. "Did you just say Young Hero Yang?"
"Yes. Young Hero Yang's martial arts appeared anything but ordinary."
Baek Ha-young added her own word. "Father, Young Hero Yang is without question a rare talent of the murim."
Even amid all this grief and ruin, Sin Pung-gae broke into a radiant smile. "Truly.......the successor of the Beggars' Sect."
"Why on earth should Young Hero Yang become the Beggars' Sect successor?"
Baek Ha-young looked positively scandalized. Was the man really meant to join a sect of dirt-poor beggars with nothing to their names?
"The handsomest man under heaven will hardly go hungry, will he?"
"What are you saying, Sect Leader? Why would Young Hero Yang ever go begging door to door?"
Baek Mun-do hastily cut the conversation short. This was no time to indulge such curiosity — dealing with the dead came first.
"All of you, go help with the bodies."
"Understood, Alliance Leader."
Thud..! Thud...!
Yang Jeong dug into the earth with all his might. He had to bury the corpses of the enemies he himself had cut down. His face was a mottled mess of bruises.
Jiang Zhou was making the rounds nearby, digging up wild herbs. Whew...
As Yang Jeong paused to catch his breath, Jiang Zhou growled at him. "Dig faster, will you?"
"I'm nearly done, Boss."
"Dig deeper. Bury them shallow and they'll stink the place up."
"Yes, sir."
Thud...! Thud...!
Yang Jeong took up his shovel again and went back to work.
"Once the bodies are buried, fix the house up."
Thud...! Thud...!
"Boss, I'm not a carpenter."
"So what, you'd rather just eat and loaf around all day?"
"Would that be all right?"
"You want to die?"
At Jiang Zhou's threat, Yang Jeong shut his mouth. Having dug the pit deep, he dragged a corpse over and dumped it in, then began heaping soil back over the top.
Watching this evidently irritated Jiang Zhou, who grumbled as he pulled up herbs. "Your clever brain works fine for useless nonsense, but when something actually needs doing you've got no sense at all? No wonder your poor body suffers."
"What do you mean by that, Boss?"
"Why dig the pit the hard way?"
"Then what am I supposed to dig with?"
Jiang Zhou drew the Ink Sword from his waist.
KA-BOOM.......!
One sweep of the blade, and with a thunderous report a cloud of dust bloomed upward.
"If that's not a pit, what is it?"
Jiang Zhou waved the Ink Sword and gestured at the hole. "That only works because it's you, Boss. I can't do that."
"Why not? You can too."
"Really?"
"Yes, you brat."
Yang Jeong, skepticism written all over his face, picked up the sword he'd set down at the edge of the clearing. Shing...
KWA-BOOM......!
He drew the blade and slammed it down into the ground — and sure enough, just as his boss had said, a pit opened up. Smaller than the one Jiang Zhou had carved, but a pit was a pit.
"Huh? It actually works?"
Good grief......
"Hopeless fool."
An old man whose white beard spilled down to his chest crossed the Stone Bridge together with a young man and woman. The elder and the youth were both hugely built, and the young woman, lovely as she was, stood nearly as tall as the man. Each of the three wore a great saber strapped to their backs — blades so long they reached below the hips, and wide as boat oars.
"Grandfather, the Murim Alliance is not far now. Might we not take our meal there?"
"The Alliance has just suffered a great calamity. Do you imagine they have the presence of mind to entertain guests?"
At the old man's stern rebuke, the young man bowed his head. "Your grandson's thinking was shortsighted, Grandfather."
"There happens to be an inn right here. We shall eat before we enter."
"Yes, Grandfather."
The moment they stepped over the crumbling fence, Jiang Zhou hurried out to greet them. "Welcome."
"We seem to have come rather early — will you still be able to serve us a meal?" the old man asked, his voice courteous.
"Of course. Please, sit."
At Jiang Zhou's invitation, the young man and woman looked the table and chairs over. The table was rough-hewn, and the chairs had been made by sawing logs in half.
"You mean for us to sit here?"
The young man's voice did not come from his throat so much as boom up from his belly, deep as a temple bell. Ahem. At his question, the old man cleared his throat, unslung the saber from his back, and leaned it against the table. Whereupon the young pair, looking slightly abashed, did likewise and took their seats across from him.
"What is this establishment known for?"
"Today we have Pork Noodles and Dongpo Pork."
"Then keep it simple. Bring us the Pork Noodles."
Jiang Zhou asked, courteous but without any great expectation. "One bowl of Pork Noodles is one silver tael. Will that be all right?"
At that, not only the young pair but even the composed old man looked surprised.
"One silver tael for a single bowl of Pork Noodles? What manner of talk is that?"
The young man sprang to his feet and demanded an explanation.
Here we go again.
Just as Jiang Zhou was preparing himself to give up, the old man spoke. "Let us at least have a taste. Bring it out."
With that, the young man shot Jiang Zhou a glare and sat back down.
Tak....! Tak.......!
Inside the kitchen, Jiang Zhou hammered the dough against the cutting board and began pulling noodles. Waiting for their meal, the old man and the young man fell into conversation.
"There is word going around that some six hundred masters fell at the Murim Alliance this time."
"Does that frighten you?"
"Honestly, it does, Grandfather."
"Did you not say you wished to follow in your uncle's footsteps? You were the one who dug in your heels about joining the Alliance, after all."
"That resolve has not changed, even now."
Hehehehe.........
The old man smiled warmly. "Your uncle feared death as well, you know. But he faced the Blood Cult gladly, shoulder to shoulder with his comrades."
"Truly...... my uncle feared death?"
"What man alive does not? I can still see him plainly before my eyes — that rascal, bidding us farewell with tears streaming down his face."
The young man and woman fought to hold back their tears. The old man went on, his smile unchanged.
"You must stand firm. Only then, when you meet your uncle again someday, will you be able to face him proudly, no?"
"I will remember, Grandfather."
Jiang Zhou heaped meat and noodles into the bowls with a generous hand and brought them out — and set a lavish portion of Dongpo Pork down beside the noodle bowls as well.