Storm and Stress (6)
The atmosphere grew icy cold. Amid the silence so profound that only the pattering of raindrops hitting the ground could be heard, despite the thinning downpour, Jin Yeo-rip and Gong Yasin stared each other down.
To the onlookers, it looked like they were locked in a tense standoff, but Jin Yeo-rip remained utterly composed throughout, while Gong Yasin's pupils trembled faintly.
"Hmm, shall we start by cutting off one head, then?"
"Pardon?"
Jin Yeo-rip kept his gaze fixed on Gong Yasin and flashed a sly grin.
"Pilsaeng."
"Yes, Young Master!"
"Sever Mak Sopyeong's head."
"Understood!"
There was no hesitation. The command was delivered in such a matter-of-fact tone that it hardly felt like a threat, and Im Pilsaeng's sword rose high above Mak Sopyeong's nape.
"Aaaah! Sp-spare me!"
Startled, Mak Sopyeong shrieked helplessly, unable to move a muscle due to Im Pilsaeng's pressure points.
Bluff?
But there was no time to judge. Shwaaak!
Gong Yasin's face twisted as the sword swung down with ferocious power.
"Y-Young Master! Mercy, please!"
Yet the cry came from Mak Cheong-gyeong. The branch manager had lunged forward, clutching his son tightly and squeezing his eyes shut.
And the sword halted precariously in the air at Jin Yeo-rip's raised hand.
Gong Yasin's face flushed beet red.
"A father saving his son, eh?"
"……."
With a casual wave of his hand, Jin Yeo-rip signaled Im Pilsaeng to withdraw.
"Thank you, thank you, Young Master."
Mak Cheong-gyeong, who had narrowly escaped death, prostrated himself before Jin Yeo-rip, repeating his gratitude over and over. His limbs trembled faintly.
Humiliation?
What could be more important to a father than his son's life? At least, Mak Cheong-gyeong was that kind of father.
Of course, Jin Yeo-rip had targeted him first precisely because he knew that personality all too well.
Gong Yasin ground his teeth and slowly knelt.
With one already on his knees, holding out longer would be pointless. Jin Yeo-rip had won the battle of wills.
Moreover, that attempt on the neck had looked utterly genuine. Had Jin Yeo-rip not raised his hand in time, Im Pilsaeng would have sliced clean through without a second thought.
Two corpses would have resulted.
Gong Yasin had no choice but to concede. His sons were guilty, and Jin Yeo-rip held the proof.
"Young Master, we have erred. Tell us our sins, and we shall pay the fitting price."
Jin Yeo-rip curled one corner of his mouth at the words.
"Your sins, you say? Fine, I'll lay them out. Better to be clear about these things."
"……."
"This dawn, I was ambushed in the Outer Market. It was an outsider, introduced by that fellow Gwak Chu over there. Investigation revealed they were hired by Han Iggeom, son of the Han family."
Jin Yeo-rip recited everything he'd uncovered so far.
"But why arrest our children?"
"Mak Sopyeong recommended Gwak Chu to Han Iggeom."
"Mm."
Gong Yasin let out a frustrated groan, but Jin Yeo-rip continued calmly.
"And Gong Cheon-gi and the rest—your own sons—in egged Han Iggeom on, urging him to kill me."
"Is this true?"
"They confessed it themselves. Everyone gathered here heard it."
Gong Yasin glanced around at those words.
The walls of Unjeong Pavilion were lined with spectators. It was a complete encirclement.
If everyone had heard, no defense would hold. Even claiming it was mere incitement wouldn't fly—they'd spoken openly of murdering direct kin, and the deed had nearly been done. No taking it back now.
Gong Yasin clenched his jaw, eyes squeezed shut. How could they be so foolish?
Their firmly entrenched faction was on the verge of crumbling to childish jealousy and envy.
There was only one way to stop it: abandon his son.
In that moment, Gong Yasin realized it. Jin Yeo-rip had truly inherited Paegum Jin Ha-seong's blood.
No—even superior blood.
Which made him dangerous. If he took the helm of Cheongeumbang, there'd be no place left for them.
Gong Yasin, at the crossroads of choice, gazed at Gong Cheon-gi, still unconscious on the ground.
Bloodshot veins burst in his eyes. His teeth ground as if they might shatter.
To save him, he'd have to yield everything to Jin Yeo-rip.
He couldn't.
…My son, forgive me. My love for you falls short of my loyalty to the clan.
Gong Yasin made his decision.
Then he met Jin Yeo-rip's eyes squarely.
"What would you have us do?"
"Who knows."
"We accept. Whatever you command."
Jin Yeo-rip's eyes narrowed at the resolve in Gong Yasin's gaze. Well, well? Made up your mind, have you?
He could guess what that decision was. The eyes were cold and resolute….
For the first time, the terror of this world struck him anew. A place where one could discard even their own child for the family's sake.
But masking such thoughts, Jin Yeo-rip pondered long before speaking.
"Execution… I'll hold off on that."
"Pardon?"
"I'd love to take heads, but I need to think this through carefully. These kids have bright futures ahead, don't they?"
The elders behind him sighed in relief, but Gong Yasin's eyelids twitched.
Hold off? No—this meant he was seizing their leash to test their mettle.
Jin Yeo-rip should have killed his son. Severed the head.
That would have allowed a reversal later. People always pity grieving parents who'd lost a child.
Could he have…? Planned even this far ahead?
"What's wrong? Displeased with my decision?"
"N-no, of course not. Saving my worthless son's life—such boundless grace, like rivers and seas. How can I ever repay it?"
"Good, then."
"Pardon?"
"Maybe it's my time at Shaolin, but beheading doesn't sit right with me. Just make sure to educate them properly at home. Can't have them plotting murders already."
"We shall engrave it on our hearts."
Leaning on Shaolin's precept against killing as an excuse, Gong Yasin ground his teeth and replied.
"Ah, but I'm quite looking forward to it. You called it grace vast as rivers and seas. How will you repay it, I wonder?"
"……."
"Take your boy and go. I'm exhausted—must be all this life-threatening drama."
"Yes, Young Master."
Gong Yasin bowed deeply and departed, bitterness of defeat weighing heavy.
The young master's magnanimity. Everyone had witnessed it.
Rumors would spread like wildfire—in Jin Yeo-rip's favor….
It was afternoon on the day of the incident. Given the gravity, the academy had naturally closed its doors. Not that surprising, with over half the kids in that state.
He'd considered training, but So Hye's fussing kept him meditating indoors instead of venturing out.
It was peaceful. Unjeong Pavilion felt eerily empty, as if the dawn's chaos had been a dream.
How long had it been since he'd savored such leisure? Was it the name's doing? Gazing skyward, clouds lingered overhead, softly enveloping the pavilion.
Sleepy. Well, he'd been dashing about since dawn….
Just as drowsiness tugged at his eyelids—
"Young Master!"
A booming voice from outside shattered his nap.
"Who is it?"
As Jin Yeo-rip stretched and tilted his head, Im Pilsaeng opened the door.
"Huh?"
It was unexpected. A throng of warriors poured in, lining up on both sides to form a path. Through their midst strode a elegantly attired middle-aged woman.
Stepmother?
Why her? Jin Yeo-rip, momentarily flustered, quickly straightened his clothes and descended the steps to greet her.
"…What brings you here, Stepmother?"
So Hye twitched at the term but silently bowed and stepped back.
"Young Master, what in the world happened?"
"……."
"An ambush?"
Yang Sojin approached with a face full of feigned worry, patting Jin Yeo-rip's body as if checking for injuries. No warmth—just the cold, chilling crawl of a serpent slithering over skin.
"Any wounds…?"
"Nothing serious."
He brushed her hand away.
"Nothing serious? How can you say that? I heard about the dawn attack and my heart dropped. I feared the worst for you."
She played the doting mother to perfection. But to Jin Yeo-rip, who knew Cheongeumbang's undercurrents all too well, it was revolting.
Heart dropped? Hilarious. Probably sank because he hadn't died.
"Thank you for your concern."
"Concern? It's only natural. I was furious. That Han family brat—utterly outrageous."
Jin Yeo-rip stifled a laugh at her venomous glare and outburst. So that's why you're here now? After everything's wrapped up?
She'd summoned the elders and heard the details. No point showing her hand now.
The power struggle within Cheongeumbang was a fierce undercurrent battle. The morning clash had drawn blood; now was time for stitching wounds.
Hence her visit. To probe the meaning of his "suspension of judgment."
"Come inside. I feel awkward with you standing."
"Goodness, look at me. Holding up an injured patient with my worrying. Let's go in."
"Yes."
As he led her inside, So Hye—face sour with displeasure—still fetched her duties.
"I'll prepare tea."
"Thanks."
Flashing a smile, Jin Yeo-rip offered her the seat of honor upon entering the room, then knelt before her and bowed deeply. Deliberately labored.
No need to show he was perfectly fine.
"No, Young Master. You're hurt—"
"I can't forgo propriety. Please don't mind."
"Sigh, you take after your father even in useless stubbornness. Fine, I won't argue. Sit in the chair."
"Thank you. I won't refuse your kindness, Stepmother. My injuries ache, and I haven't rested."
After the bow, he pulled up a chair and sat facing her.
"What do you plan for the Han family?"
Her blunt question drew a subtle smirk from Jin Yeo-rip. What a straightforward personality.
Charging in without warning—how had she held back this long?
But he knew her game: no time to think, force a raw response leaking true intent.
Think I'm some sixteen-year-old kid? Try thirty. With genius intellect inherited, he'd never lose a battle of wits.
Well, since you're here, time to rake some nerves.
"Hmm. For now, just a warning."
"A warning?"
"Yes."
"Is that enough?"
"No choice. Punish the Han family, and I'd have to purge the elder faction that conspired with them."
"…The elders?"
"Their sins aren't just the kids'. A parent's failure to teach is the root."
"Mm."
Implying he'd nearly swept them all away but held back, eyes laced with killing intent—Yang Sojin's brow twitched. Complicated expression.
Of course it was. How could she stay calm when her own limbs might be severed?
"But!"
"…?"
Jin Yeo-rip bellowed suddenly, then winked with a grin.
"Can't let something like that shake Cheongeumbang, right?"
"……."
"Besides, they swore to repay the grace, vast as rivers and seas."
Yang Sojin nodded with a smile at his beaming face, but inwardly seethed. Damn him—doing this on purpose….
Grinding her teeth unwittingly, she forced calm.
"Admirable loyalty to the clan. Must've been hard to swallow your anger at your age."
"No need."
"I heard you took down all the elders' sons single-handedly?"
"Yes."
"Shaolin's teachings must've helped."
Her gaze slithered like a snake's. He felt like prey, pondering briefly.
She knew his academic prowess from the academy; now probing his martial level—and Shaolin ties, too.
Time to answer.
"Yes."
"So you truly learned Shaolin martial arts?"
"Indeed. Abbot Hyecho was so reluctant to part, saying we'd meet again. Still fond memories."
As he smiled wistfully, even bowing theatrically, Yang Sojin's face twisted most entertainingly.
All lies, of course. But so what? Believe it or not—your call!
If caught later, just adolescent bravado dreaming big.