Chapter 40
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: A Toast with the Waterway Chief
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A strange tension hung in the air.
Suddenly, a loud burst of laughter echoed in all directions.
“Hahaha!”
Mae Jong-pyo, the one who let out the hearty laugh, cupped his fists in salute.
“Pleased to meet you, North Heaven Dragon. I am Mae Jong-pyo, chief of Gu-gang Water Stronghold.”
Gu-gang Water Stronghold was one of the top three among the Yangtze River Waterway Strongholds. It boasted a presence rivaling any ordinary martial arts sect.
Seol Hwa-un returned the greeting calmly.
“Pleased to meet you. I am Seol Hwa-un.”
“Seeing you in person feels so peculiar. I've wanted to meet you ever since I first heard the rumors!”
‘The bandits’ leader wants to see me?’
Seol Hwa-un felt a twinge of puzzlement. Sure enough, the bandits who had come with Mae Jong-pyo were staring at him with sparkling eyes.
“One of my subordinates said he caught a glimpse of North Sea Ice Palace folks, so I rushed over here on a whim. I nearly regretted it big time by not coming.”
“Why did you want to see me so badly?”
“I heard you wiped out three of the Green Forest Eighteen Bandits. Is it true?”
“Yes.”
As Seol Hwa-un nodded, Mae Jong-pyo’s face lit up even brighter.
“I knew it! Those mountain hicks must’ve been scared out of their wits. Hahaha!”
Eom Mu-hwi and Dong Ho-won tilted their heads, clueless as to what was going on.
Since ancient times, the Green Forest Eighteen Bandits and the Yangtze River Waterway Strongholds had been at odds. They were both thieves at heart, yet they spent their days cursing each other for being reckless idiots who knew no bounds.
It was laughable from a righteous faction standpoint, but they took it dead seriously.
“What a shame. I really wanted to witness you smashing those bastards myself!”
He turned right away to the subordinate at his side.
“Bring what we prepared!”
“Yes, Chief.”
Moments later, several bandits hauled a massive jar over from the speedboat. It was a vat of liquor.
“……?”
A small table and chairs were set up next.
“North Heaven Dragon, care for a drink with me?”
“Right now? In the middle of the day?”
Seol Hwa-un hesitated, but Mae Jong-pyo put on an unexpectedly pitiful expression that didn’t suit his rugged looks.
“You’re the biggest buzz these days among our lot. Grant me the honor of being the first from the waterway strongholds to share a drink with you.”
Seol Hwa-un was at a loss for words. This was something he could never have imagined in his previous life.
‘Bandits begging to drink with me.’
It wasn’t something to judge at face value, but it was certainly a far cry from the waterway strongholds he remembered.
Yangtze Dragon King Son Byeok.
Some thirty years prior, he had appeared out of nowhere and ascended to the throne of total chief of the Yangtze River Waterway Strongholds through astonishing martial prowess and cunning.
He then enacted sweeping reforms. He banned blocking ships to collect tolls or launching raids. Instead, he made an announcement to every port along the Yangtze.
Pay a set navigation fee.
In return, we’ll never touch your vessels and will protect you from other bandits.
The Yangtze River Waterway Strongholds numbered eighteen in all, with plenty of other bandit packs besides. It was a promise of protection from them.
Truth be told, a few strongholds had operated this way even before Son Byeok. He simply extended it across every Yangtze River Waterway Stronghold.
Ships flying the payment flag were rarely bothered by other bandits.
After all, fellow bandits feared the Yangtze River Waterway Strongholds more than the authorities or righteous sects.
There had been internal backlash at first, along with plenty of mishaps. But thirty years on, it was fully entrenched, and opinions of the Yangtze River Waterway Strongholds had utterly transformed.
‘To think they’ve changed this much.’
It was genuinely astounding. The Yangtze River Waterway Strongholds, once written off as mere bandit scum, had evolved like this.
‘The martial world has changed a great deal.’
The Martial Alliance’s shifts had left him disappointed, but this brought a fresh jolt of surprise.
Seol Hwa-un loathed martial artists who preyed on commoners with extreme prejudice, yet he couldn’t help but respect the Yangtze River Waterway Strongholds.
The man before him, Mae Jong-pyo, radiated the aura of a hero more than a villain.
It was hard to outright refuse when such a figure was showing this much goodwill.
“Very well. But I can’t drink for long.”
“Hahaha! Naturally. I’m on patrol myself and can’t stay away too long.”
Surprisingly, Mae Jong-pyo was cruising the speedboat to keep tabs on the other bandits.
Seol Hwa-un, seated across from him, asked,
“Do the chiefs of the other strongholds patrol like this too?”
“Of course. Some slack off now and then, but with the total chief making unannounced checks, they can’t get too lazy.”
Seol Hwa-un nodded.
“I see. It’s certainly a world apart from the Green Forest.”
Mae Jong-pyo furrowed his brow.
“Don’t lump us in with those ignorant yokels. Times change, the world changes, and so must our way of doing business. The system the total chief established is the perfect way for everyone to coexist, don’t you think?”
Casualties were minimized, revenues stabilized. These days, any opposition seemed downright ridiculous.
“Is the Yangtze Dragon King still the total chief?”
“Hahaha, that he is. Still going strong. He’s our living legend.”
Word had it he was in his mid-fifties when he took the post, putting him well over eighty now.
Martial artists did tend to live long lives, but staying active at that age was exceedingly rare.
‘Hm, the Yangtze Dragon King.’
Mae Jong-pyo had a subordinate snag some fish and slice it into sashimi right there as an accompaniment.
“Here you go!”
The liquor he’d brought was twenty-year-aged Yeo-ahong—several times pricier than standard Jukyeopcheong, and packing a serious punch.
One glass turned into two, and a pleasant buzz set in. The initial awkwardness had long vanished.
“Young Palace Lord, mind telling me how you crossed paths with the Green Forest Eighteen Bandits? The rumors are flying, but I haven’t heard the full story.”
“Hm, well...”
Seol Hwa-un calmly recounted how it all started at the Shanxi Sword Sect, leading to clashes with Ghost King Stronghold and Red River Stronghold.
Dang Cheong and Hwangbo Yeong, unfamiliar with the details, perked up their ears.
“...Not called the North Heaven Dragon for nothing. Even Yo Rip, the Ghost King—a top hand even in the Green Forest—didn’t seem to trouble you much.”
Seol Hwa-un saw no need to deny it.
“The chief of Cheonmok Mountain Stronghold, Neung Pa-jeok, was brought down by our North Wind Brigade Leader.”
Mae Jong-pyo’s eyes widened at that. He glanced toward the North Wind Brigade Leader standing near the bow.
‘Neung Pa-jeok’s a master even I wouldn’t underestimate... Impressive.’
A spark of rivalry ignited within him all the same. But it wasn’t the moment to call for a spar.
‘There’ll be a chance someday.’
The North Wind Brigade Leader sensed the gaze and looked back. For an instant, their eyes locked.
‘For a bandit, he’s one hell of a swordsman.’
He felt much the same. Yet he didn’t forget he was on escort duty.
“…….”
As if by mutual agreement, they both turned away.
“That was a fine tale, Young Palace Lord. Care to hear mine now?”
He regaled them with his own exploits, boasting all the while. The surprising part was his account of teaming up with the military to wipe out Japanese pirates.
‘Heh, impossible to call them bandits at this point.’
Bandits subduing foes alongside the army!
Seol Hwa-un found himself drawn deeper into the stories.
“And so I...”
Mae Jong-pyo was a rare breed—a true good fellow. Bold, reasonable, and easy to talk to.
‘He’s got real charisma that pulls people in.’
Small wonder he was touted as a contender for total chief.
After downing three glasses in a row, Mae Jong-pyo’s expression turned wistful.
“Regrettable, but we’ll have to call it here for today. Any plans to visit my stronghold? I’d love to drink through the night with you.”
Seol Hwa-un shook his head.
“That won’t work. I have my group and a fixed schedule.”
It wasn’t truly impossible, but dragging everyone to a stronghold felt excessive.
“Fair enough. Swing by whenever you get the time. Send word from any Yangtze port, and I’ll come fetch you myself.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t know what you make of us, but we think highly of you and bear you no ill will. If you ever need a hand, just say the word. We’ll help with all we’ve got.”
“I appreciate the words.”
“Hey now! We’re not like those righteous faction windbags who talk big and do nothing! I mean it.”
Dang Cheong and Hwangbo Yeong, listening in from a short distance away, flinched involuntarily.
“Got it.”
As Mae Jong-pyo stood to leave, he added as if it had just occurred to him,
“Oh, and watch out for the Green Forest Eighteen Bandits. Word on the wind is they’re grinding their blades for the North Sea Ice Palace.”
Seol Hwa-un already had it in mind, but he nodded all the same.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
After Mae Jong-pyo departed.
Having spent a full day aboard ship, Seol Hwa-un’s group finally reached Poyang Lake.
They disembarked at a nearby port and spent the day in Nanchang, the provincial capital of Jiangxi.
Nanchang, nestled by Poyang Lake, was plenty picturesque, but it held little thrill for a group that had already toured Hangzhou.
In the end, Seol Hwa-un’s party set off for Hunan Province the very next day.
The most thrilled among them was Hwangbo Yeong.
“When we get to my family, I’ll treat you all to a grand welcome! Hahaha!”
Fifteen was still young. After half a month apart from his family elders, bunking with strangers, it was only natural he’d miss home.
Dong Ho-won stroked his chin.
“The Hwangbo Family... Mu-hwi, recite what you know.”
“About what?”
“About the Hwangbo Family.”
“You punk!”
The other North Wind Brigade members were already watching with keen curiosity, so he sighed and spoke up.
“A family that specializes in fist techniques as their core martial art. Their signature absolute arts include the Thunderbolt Divine Fist and Heavenly King Three Fists—skills worthy of jianghu acclaim. They’re surprisingly adept at swordsmanship too, though it pales next to their fists.”
“I see.”
“They’re one of the Eight Great Families, but not top-tier.”
He glanced at Hwangbo Yeong before continuing.
“But the Hwangbo Family’s real claim to greatness lies elsewhere.”
“Hm?”
“In holding firm as a righteous faction in Changsha, Hunan Province.”
Dong Ho-won cocked his head.
“What’s special about that?”
“Southern regions have traditionally been evil faction territory.”
That was largely because the Nine Great Sects and Eight Great Families clustered up north.
“Hunan Province in particular is crawling with notorious evil sects—virtually no renowned righteous groups to speak of. Changsha’s the sole exception.”
A proud smile bloomed on Hwangbo Yeong’s face as he feigned indifference.
“The Hwangbo Family stands alone, guarding the lands around Changsha amid enemies on every side.”
“Ah!”
“Hehehe.”
A giggle finally escaped Hwangbo Yeong’s lips.
Seol Hwa-un, listening in, nodded.
‘They’ve got real grit, that Hwangbo Family.’
Even back when he led the Martial Alliance, they stubbornly clung to Changsha as their base.
During the era when the Alliance formed under the banner of righteous unity, suggestions to relocate had poured in endlessly.
Yet the Hwangbo Family refused to abandon the city their ancestors had defended.
Even as clashes and pressures from evil sects stifled their growth.
‘If they’d planted roots somewhere easier, they’d rank among the best of the Eight Great Families.’
That same stubborn perseverance was what sustained the Hwangbo Family today.
A hint of anticipation curved Seol Hwa-un’s lips.
‘Wonder what the Hwangbo Family looks like these days... I’m curious.’
Three days later, Seol Hwa-un’s group arrived in Changsha—capital of Hunan Province and stronghold of the Hwangbo Family.