Chapter 18. Tempest (3)
It felt like winter had suddenly arrived. But before the bone-chilling cold that could freeze everything solid, the bewilderment from what had just happened hit first.
“P-Pilsaeng!”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Im Pilsaeng responded with a bright smile to Jin Yeo-rip’s shout.
Is this something to smile about? You just killed a man! Blood... How are you so nonchalant about it?
Jin Yeo-rip had only called out and stared blankly, so Im Pilsaeng tilted his head, grabbed the bearded man by the scruff of the neck, hauled him up, and said, “Let’s go. The guards will handle the bodies.”
“Handle? They’ll just handle it themselves?”
“Of course. Can’t leave corpses in the street, right?”
That’s it? Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble for killing someone?
Jin Yeo-rip had recited the Heart Sutra like a madman in those final moments, terrified that Im Pilsaeng might actually kill them. No matter the era, was there a greater crime than murder? In his previous life, he’d be slapped in handcuffs and thrown in jail immediately. Even without the death penalty, killing this many people would mean life in prison, no matter how expensive the lawyer.
And yet.
“You’re the one who did the killing, Pilsaeng.”
“So what?”
“What do you mean, so what?”
Im Pilsaeng stared at Jin Yeo-rip’s retort for a moment, then nodded as if he understood. “Ah, right. Young Master grew up at Shaolin, where even the smallest killing is forbidden.”
“……”
“Young Master, I did what needed doing, and those men met their fates as destined. That’s all.”
It was a simple, clear answer. But seeing Jin Yeo-rip still frowning, Im Pilsaeng asked with a faint smile, “Why did you fight them yourself, Young Master?”
“To survive, obviously...”
“Yes, to survive. No greater purpose than that. Same for me. I killed them according to my beliefs. Couldn’t drag them all off, and if I let them go, they’d have run off—the same bastards who were after your life.”
“Beliefs?”
“Yes. Protecting you. That’s my purpose in life, my conviction, my justice.”
“Justice?”
“Yes.”
“How is that justice? Where’s the justice in killing people?”
“What is justice, then?”
“Huh?”
Caught off-guard by the immediate counter-question, Jin Yeo-rip struggled to respond, grimacing as he searched for words.
“Something right and proper. That’s justice.”
“You know it well. Then who decides what’s right and proper?”
“...Huh?”
“Justice differs for everyone. No matter what others say, or what the world calls justice—if you believe your conviction is right and act on it, that’s your justice.”
Jin Yeo-rip was speechless.
Damn... This guy’s spouting philosophy like a sage today. And so confidently?
“Young Master, I don’t know merchants’ ways.”
“……”
“But us sword-wielders? We all live by that thinking. Merchants pursue their convictions through profit. Warriors do it through martial might.”
Martial might is power. Meaning warriors enforce their convictions with strength—even if it hurts or kills others.
Jin Yeo-rip’s thoughts deepened as Im Pilsaeng continued.
“So those with the same or similar convictions band together into factions, sects, families. They become righteous, evil, demonic. They split and fight, even unto death, to impose their precious convictions—more valuable than life itself—on others.”
“……”
“The ones who attacked you were the same. They took the contract to kill you out of their beliefs and staked their lives on it. Me? As your protector, I can’t forgive those after your life, so I had no choice but to kill them.”
Jin Yeo-rip clamped his mouth shut at Im Pilsaeng’s words.
“It’s hard to accept now, but remember this always. A warrior’s life isn’t like a merchant’s. But if someone comes for you, make them pay the price. That’s how you survive in this world. Only then can you protect yourself.”
Jin Yeo-rip listened in silence.
Sophistry. But it clashes with my values... and the values of the world he’s lived in—and the one I have to live in now.
Beliefs and justice. A collision of worldviews.
He’d always thought societal norms defined justice as “right.” But Im Pilsaeng said protecting one’s convictions was justice.
Can justice truly be universal? In my past life, it was the same. Everyone chased their interests, packaged them as justice. They slandered opponents to justify it. Every nation, political faction—even kids’ worlds. All acted on their beliefs, calling it justice. The victor’s beliefs become “justice” in the end. The world works that way.
Yeah. I don’t fully get it yet, but maybe I should follow his lead. I live here now. And I adapt fast.
Screw it—if I don’t understand, I’ll figure it out living day by day.
After deep contemplation, Jin Yeo-rip nodded with clear eyes. Reaching a conclusion cleared his mind like a breath of fresh air.
Still, he couldn’t completely discard a lifetime of moral values.
“Got it. I’ll keep it in mind. But promise me one thing.”
“A promise?”
“Follow your beliefs. But unless it’s absolutely necessary, never kill again.”
“Huh?”
“That’s my belief.”
Staring straight into his eyes, Jin Yeo-rip declared it firmly. Im Pilsaeng smiled warmly.
Of course, he couldn’t read Jin Yeo-rip’s mind. He just figured the Shaolin years made him oversensitive to killing. But it made him seem reliable—that bold declaration of his will.
“Young Master.”
“……”
“Just give the order when it happens.”
“Huh?”
“Obeying your command is part of my beliefs too. I’ll do it that way from now on.”
Im Pilsaeng bowed politely to Jin Yeo-rip and led the way, shoving the bearded man ahead. Toward the alley where the thug Kwak Chu lived.
After walking some distance, Jin Yeo-rip casually asked, “Hey, Pilsaeng.”
“Yes?”
“What was that move earlier?”
“What move?”
Im Pilsaeng reverted to his usual Unjeong Pavilion servant expression at the question.
“That. Poke.”
“Poke?”
“Yeah, one poke and they went nuts.”
“Ah! It’s called Divide Bone Twist Sinew.”
“Divide Bone Twist Sinew?”
The name alone was terrifying. Splitting bones and twisting tendons? But wasn’t it just a poke?
“I’ll teach you later. It’s a pressure point technique, but with your quick progress, you’ll pick it up easy.”
Im Pilsaeng grinned like it was nothing, but Jin Yeo-rip sensed something brutal ahead.
And when they met Kwak Chu, the thug from the Outer Market back alleys, Jin Yeo-rip couldn’t contain his astonishment more than ever. The mastermind behind the attack was someone completely unexpected.
“The young master of the Han family ordered it.”
“Han family?”
Jin Yeo-rip’s face twisted.
The Han family young master...?
“Han Iggeom?”
Why was that name coming up here?
“That bastard hired you to kill me? Directly?”
“Y-Yes.”
Kwak Chu gasped out the answer after a brutal beating from Im Pilsaeng and three finger jabs.
This was an unforeseen twist.
Jin Yeo-rip knew Han Iggeom well. He’d heard plenty from Jang Il about the Han servants’ gossip over a not-so-short time. The kid lacked the guts to order a hit.
Which meant someone had maneuvered Han Iggeom into it...
Jin Yeo-rip quickly formed a hypothesis in his mind to explain the unexpected direction—and nailed the answer.
Genius really is something. Piecing together the whole picture from a single clue.
“What now?”
To Im Pilsaeng’s question, Jin Yeo-rip smiled slyly.
“You said it earlier, right?”
“Yes?”
“Conviction is justice.”
“True, but what’re you planning?”
“Time for me to act on my conviction.”
“Yes?”
“To the Han family.”
Jin Yeo-rip strode ahead.
If Im Pilsaeng’s conviction was protection, his was survival. Until he was rich enough to shit on walls.
And Han Iggeom had just interfered.
So now, he’d teach everyone—loud and clear—what his conviction meant. Even if it meant drawing a sword...
Han Iggeom had just finished preparing for the academy and was bidding his father goodbye when—
BAM!
Someone kicked the front gate open.
“Oh? Off to the academy, Iggeom?”
Han Iggeom jumped like he’d seen a ghost at the mud-caked Jin Yeo-rip’s grinning face. When he spotted Kwak Chu dangling from Im Pilsaeng’s grip behind him, his legs gave out and he collapsed.
“What is the meaning of this?!”
The Han family guards tried to block them, but Im Pilsaeng was far faster.
Whoosh, smack! Thwack!
Closing the gap in an instant, he downed the guards, stomped one’s neck, and glared around with fierce eyes.
“Anyone moves, see what happens.”
The guard gurgled under his foot, freezing everyone in place.
Reliable.
“What is the meaning of this?!”
It was Han Changjin, the Han family head. He roared, glaring at Jin Yeo-rip.
Jin Yeo-rip knew him—not close, but familiar. Thanks to his excellent intel source. Though that source had no idea how his words reached Jin Yeo-rip.
“Hello, Han family head. I’m awfully curious myself. What is this?”
“Young master!”
He hadn’t grasped the situation yet.
“I don’t know the reason, but this breaches all decorum! If you have words, follow protocol—not barge in like some rogue! Do side branches mean so little?!”
His bulging eyes and bellow suggested he didn’t know what his son had done.
Meaning he wasn’t involved.
Jin Yeo-rip narrowed his eyes and pointed at Han Iggeom.
“Iggeom.”
“Y-Yes?”
Swallowing hard as he was singled out, Han Iggeom’s eyes widened.
“You tell me. Why I’m doing this.”
“Th-That’s...”
As the mood turned awkward, Han Changjin glanced between Jin Yeo-rip and his son.
Mud-caked young master. Two men held by Im Pilsaeng. Son singled out. Clearly connected.
In that instant, Han Changjin sensed something terrible had happened—something he didn’t know about, and dangerous for them. Instinctively.
“Y-Young master!”
“……”
“Please, come inside first.”
From “young master” to “Young Master” in a flash.
Jin Yeo-rip chuckled at the instant attitude shift.
As expected... Quick on the pivot. Straightening things before even knowing what’s up.
“Fine. Got a lot to say anyway. Pilsaeng, let ‘em go. Drag those two along.”
“Yes, Young Master!”
Jin Yeo-rip deliberately dropped the honorific for Im Pilsaeng. Time to flex some nonexistent authority as the eldest young master.
“Iggeom.”
“Y-Yes?!”
Han Iggeom flinched and looked up. Jin Yeo-rip beckoned with a smile.
“You’re coming too, right?”
“……”
“Come on, yeah?”
At the gesture, Han Iggeom rose with trembling eyes, legs shaking as he shuffled forward. Han Changjin’s face twisted in utter disgust.
But he didn’t forget to issue orders.
“Guards, stand down and seal the grounds tight. Chief steward, to the academy—tell Master Baekhak I’m hosting the young master, so excuse his attendance.”
“Yes, family head!”
Seeing the guards and steward move, Han Changjin followed Jin Yeo-rip inside.
“Whew, nice hall.”
Once inside, Jin Yeo-rip toured the place like nothing happened.
“Y-Young master!”
As the doors shut, sealing them alone, Han Changjin dropped to his knees and prostrated.
“Whoa, what’s this? A man of your age...”
“I don’t know what my son did. But please, show mercy.”
Begging without knowing why—Jin Yeo-rip chuckled.
Impressive. Merchants...
But Jin Yeo-rip had come prepared, knowing exactly what to say and do.
Did he target only Han Iggeom? No, the fool who manipulated this idiot into targeting him. He’d chase the trail to the end.
“You kneel easily, Han family head.”
“……”
“No wonder your son’s good at sucking up. Like father, like son?”
“Pardon?”
“Haha, just a joke. A joke.”
Jin Yeo-rip waved it off laughing, but Han Changjin’s insides roiled.
Like poking at his past flip from family head’s side to Lady Yi’s faction.
But without anger or hint, he prostrated deeper, apologizing.
“I can’t presume to grasp your intent, Young Master. Forgive me.”
“Really? That’s weird.”
“……”
“Kneeling to a kid like me without knowing why.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Alright. Iggeom, your dad wants to know—why don’t you explain?”
Glancing over, Han Iggeom just shivered, mouth shut.
“Aw, can’t talk like that. Tsk tsk. How’d a punk like you think to take my head?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re shocked, huh.”
“……”
“Got jumped during morning training. By these guys.”
Jin Yeo-rip pointed at Kwak Chu and the bearded man he’d personally dragged. Han Changjin understood everything.
The young master’s mud. His son’s shock.
Ah... What have you done?
Han Changjin’s sky crumbled.