Heavenly Thunder... Martial God? (3)
“Your martial arts are at quite a high level, right?”
“Still lacking.”
“Lacking? And yet this guy brags about you nonstop?”
“Pardon?”
“Im Pilsaeng said so. That your internal energy's just not quite there yet, but purely in terms of skill, you're on par with him. He came by before and showed off that bruise you gave him, yapping on and on about it.”
Jin Yeo-rip let out a snort at Kang Seong-gil's words. Looked like he'd been playing up his grievances even here. And on par? Please. Every spar, he could tell Im Pilsaeng was still going easy on him—just watching how much stronger the man got each time was proof enough.
“Truly impressive. And you're not even twenty yet. Just hearing Im's stories has me itching for a match.”
“A match?”
“Yeah.”
“Weren't you something like Geum Bun-se-sun?”
He had no idea where the name came from, but it was murim-speak for retiring from the martial world. Such a grandiose way to put it. Geum Bun-se-su—washing your hands in a gold basin. How loaded did you have to be to make a basin out of gold?
“Hahat! Yeah, that's right. Broke my own precious blade and all. But damn, old habits die hard. I catch myself thinking about it now and then. Wonder if I'll ever go back someday.”
“Is that okay?”
“What's the problem? I quit murim on my own terms—no big public announcement or anything... Ah, long as I shut Im up, that is.”
Kang Seong-gil shot him a mischievous glance, and Im Pilsaeng sipped his liquor with a smirk.
“What bullshit. Even if I cut off his damn tongue, not sure it'd stop him.”
“Man, how do you always take jokes like that?”
“Jokes for you. And this is our lord's first time meeting you—why you acting all buddy-buddy?”
“What, jealous?”
“The hell?”
They bickered at the drop of a hat.
“Enough, you two. Sheesh, friends or not, how do you fight like this?”
“Well, it's...”
“Uncle Pilsaeng. We don't have much time left—gonna waste it all on arguments?”
“Ah! Right. Damn, got caught up in this idiot's pace.”
“Here, cheers.”
“Yeah!”
Glasses clinked as they downed their drinks in a flash. Kang Seong-gil watched with a warm smile. The friend, and his young lord—both a sight for sore eyes. He'd been like that once himself...
“Kang! We're out of booze.”
“Whoa, yeah we are. Guess running an inn dulled my instincts. Hahat! Hang on, got some premium stuff stashed away.”
“You bastard! If you had it, you should've brought it out sooner.”
“Hahat, yeah yeah. Be right back.”
“Grab more snacks too. Gotta have some fancy side dishes to serve the young lord proper.”
“You got it!”
Despite Im Pilsaeng's ribbing, Kang Seong-gil hopped up good-naturedly. But then he froze. His face twisted in a grimace. Im Pilsaeng too—frozen mid-sip, eyes sharpening as he stared out the inn door.
What the? Why so sudden?
Jin Yeo-rip tilted his head at the abruptly chilly air and peered out the window. All he saw was the inn's lantern light blurring into the haze.
Shwaaaaa!
Kaboom!
Pouring rain and the occasional world-shaking thunder—that was all.
So why were they...?
This was a first—Im Pilsaeng this tense.
“Hm, doesn't feel like some shakedown thug.”
“In this rain? And anyone with that kind of presence ain't no street punk.”
“True, it's your turf after all.”
Im Pilsaeng cracked a cold smile, lips curling just enough to send chills down the neck. A man could change that fast.
“Kang.”
“Yeah.”
“Killing intent's thick out there.”
“Thick? It's a mess. And coming right at us like this? Means they targeted us.”
“Figures. Damn it.”
Im Pilsaeng's face hardened. Enemy or not—yet—that sticky killing aura humming in the air wasn't good news.
“Which one of us?”
“Who knows. Could be me, you, or some random killer passing through.”
“What now?”
“What else? Quit murim long ago, but I ain't dying selling booze. Gotta prep.”
Kang Seong-gil chuckled dryly at that, strolling to the kitchen and gripping a cleaver.
“That all?”
“Don't worry—honed it chopping meat and veggies.”
“Gonna check it out?”
“I'll go.”
“You?”
“Obviously. This is my inn. Guest shows up, owner greets 'em at the door. You just sit and watch, boss.”
“Killing intent's heavy, though.”
“I'm Gu Jung-do. Name might be retired, but...”
Kang Seong-gil flashed a wry grin and stepped out.
Shwaaaaa!
Kaboom!
Thunder crashed, lightning flashing the world bright—and revealing the killing intent's source.
Two men stood there. An old man and a middle-aged one.
“Huh?”
Jin Yeo-rip's eyes widened, staring out the window. Didn't know the elder, but the other face was instant recognition.
“Tak Sobak?”
It was him. And Jin Yeo-rip realized their target: not Im Pilsaeng or Kang Seong-gil, but him.
Had to be the banquet mess. Gold-eyes moved faster than expected. And a mere twenty ri from Cheongeumbang? Ballsy.
They really wanted him dead.
But who was the old guy? Tak Sobak knew his guard was Im Pilsaeng. And with their old grudge, he'd know the man's skill better than most.
Coming so boldly meant they were prepared—and the elder matched Im Pilsaeng.
Gu Jung-do couldn't handle it alone.
“Uncle Pilsaeng.”
“...Yeah.”
“That's Saihai Money House's man. Looks like a guest for us.”
“Yeah.”
Im Pilsaeng nodded at Jin Yeo-rip's words. Same thought here. Now they knew who—Kang should step back, and he should greet them.
Problem was Jin Yeo-rip. No other foes sensed around the inn. But a guard leaving his lord alone?
“Uncle Pilsaeng.”
“Yeah?”
“You know better than anyone I can protect myself. Go.”
“But.”
“Gonna pawn off guests who came for me?”
Im Pilsaeng frowned, pondering, then murmured low.
“My lord, sorry.”
“Huh?”
“Just wanted to cheer you up, but I dragged you into danger.”
“I'm good. Actually feels better now.”
Jin Yeo-rip shook his head at the apology. Not his fault. Unforeseen mess—who could blame him?
“Uncle Pilsaeng.”
“Yeah.”
“You can win, right?”
“...Yeah.”
“Then I'll wait easy. With drinks.”
Jin Yeo-rip topped off Im Pilsaeng's glass. Best to stay calm now. If he panicked, it'd rattle the man—ruin his fight.
“Heh, drinks... Guess I'm the wagon driver then?”
“...”
“Back before they get cold.”
A faint smile, a quick bow, and Im Pilsaeng headed out.
Jin Yeo-rip chuckled despite it all. Wagon driver? No beard even.
The booze was cold already. But that confidence brimmed over—so it was fine. He just watched out the window, praying unharmed.
“You... Piao Xiang Shou?”
“Well, if it isn't you? Gu Jung-do senior too? Didn't expect that. Anyway, good to see you, senior.”
Tak Sobak grinned wide, eyes crinkling in mock delight. Kang Seong-gil scowled.
“Still got that sleazy mug. As annoying as ever.”
“Kekeke, that's how you greet an old junior?”
“Works for you.”
“Fair enough. But hey, vanished from murim, and turns out you ended up running Saha faction into the ground and slinging noodles?”
Tak Sobak eyed the cleaver in Kang Seong-gil's hand.
“Bastards like you crawling everywhere—made leaving easy.”
“Tch, so harsh. Repeatedly. But shouldn't that gripe go to Ghost Shadow senior inside, not me?”
“...”
“The guy who took down your boss.”
“Hmph! None of your business.”
“Not my business? Hilarious. Dog like me sharing a table with the man who killed my master's killer? Guess you ditched loyalty when you quit murim.”
“Loyalty? You even know what that means?”
“Nah, scum like me wouldn't. You know that.”
“Then what's your business here?”
“What else? Coin.”
“What?”
“Enough chit-chat. Your guest just stepped out.”
Tak Sobak grinned at Im Pilsaeng emerging.
“Pilsaeng!”
“Step back—he's my guest.”
“No, but...”
Kang Seong-gil glanced at the inn, worried for Jin Yeo-rip left alone.
“Don't sweat it. Told you—lord's strong enough to watch my back.”
“Heard, but.”
“Worried? Guard him yourself.”
“You good alone? That old man's no joke.”
“Fine. I'm Ghost Shadow.”
“Ghost Shadow my ass. Alright, your lord's on me.”
Kang Seong-gil said no more. He trusted it—Ghost Shadow Im Pilsaeng's skill. And he wasn't fool enough to miss the smart play.
Yet even as Gu Jung-do slipped inside to guard Jin Yeo-rip, Tak Sobak made no move—just laughed in the rain.
What? Why so cocky? He knew Gu Jung-do's prowess.
Im Pilsaeng eyed the elder more warily.
“Tak.”
“Yeah?”
“Gold-eyes send you?”
“Does it matter?”
“What?”
“Right? You're all dying here anyway.”
Tak Sobak cackled like it was the funniest joke. Im Pilsaeng scowled. Doesn't matter if I know—that vibe.
Had to be Gold-eyes. Made the elder beside him even more ominous.
Who was he, to make Tak this smug?
“You look rusty too, senior. Didn't even notice me tailing you.”
“Hm.”
Too giddy, yeah. Trying to cheer up Jin Yeo-rip.
“Made my job easy. Thanks—gonna make bank off you.”
“You dog bastard.”
Im Pilsaeng spat the curse, drawing his sword.
“Eek, scary. But here's the thing—I'm not the one facing you today.”
“...”
Tak Sobak turned, and the elder stepped forward.
“Ah, forgot intros. Might be forgotten now, but you've heard of him. Dokbi.”
“Wh-what!?”
Im Pilsaeng's eyes bulged at Dokbi. Dokbi—still alive? That monster from two generations back—sixty years ago?
If he was Shandong's top swordsman, Dokbi ruled another hell.
“And Gu Jung-do alone can't guard that fancy young master. I didn't bring just Dokbi!”
Tak Sobak's slits sharpened, evil grin flashing as he lunged for the inn.
“You bastard!”
Im Pilsaeng rushed to block—but rain-parting Dokbi charged with a smile, palm blasting out.
Damn it.
Flank wide open, Im Pilsaeng thrust a hand to block.
Kwaaang!
Thunder struck. Not from the sky—from the inn yard.