100. Hwi-yeong's Elites (5)
“……And who might you esteemed masters be?”
The black path thug's voice suddenly dripped with courtesy. If you'd only heard it, you might've thought he was some imperial scholar from the palace.
“You first. Don't you know the jianghu code of etiquette?”
Myeong-yeop chuckled mockingly. It was absurd—the black path goons suddenly acting polite while Wudang disciples lounged around like they owned the place.
The thugs shrank even more under the relaxed confidence of Myeong-yeop and the other seniors.
“We're disciples of the White Crow Gate, near Hweon.”
“Black path scum like you calling yourselves a sect?”
Myeong-yeop laughed outright. The thugs' faces flushed red, but they couldn't muster a word.
It wasn't just Myeong-yeop—even the kids were radiating an intimidating aura. Sure, they were cute little brothers back at Wudang, but out here, they were disciples of one of the Nine Great Sects.
For a moment, I recalled my grueling days training at Wudang. Endless complaints and gripes, all because a free-spirited merchant like me felt suffocated by their rigid ways.
Still, coming to Wudang had been the right call. Having these uptight orthodox Taoists in my corner? What could be more reassuring? In my previous life, I'd have had to throw gold at a situation like this.
As I grinned to myself, Myeong-gyeong whipped around to glare at me.
“What?”
“You look like you're thinking something irreverent.”
“Nah, just gazing at you all with the utmost respect.”
“No proof, so I'll let it slide as an unproven crime against your seniors.”
The White Crow disciples eyed us warily as we bantered and joked.
“Senior, let's just go.”
“Yeah, give back the money and we're square. Haven't spent it yet.”
The disciples whispered to their leader up front. The gap between us was glaring—they actually thought we couldn't hear them. That alone spoke volumes about our difference in realm.
Still, their self-appointed spokesman seemed desperate to salvage some face.
“We've given our affiliation, so out of jianghu courtesy, shouldn't you do the same?”
“Nothing special. Just folks cultivating the Dao on a little spirit mountain in Hubei.”
Myeong-yeop smiled as he said it. They didn't even have the wits to catch on right away.
They blanked out for a second, then their faces drained of color.
In Hubei, the only place worthy of being called a spirit mountain was Mount Wudang—and those cultivating the Dao there? Taoists. Putting it together to realize we were Wudang disciples wasn't hard.
Of course, if they'd been real martial experts, they'd have sensed the Taoist qi radiating from us.
“Haha, ha... So you're the true immortals of Wudang. What brings you from Gyeonhyeon all the way to Hweon?”
The thug who looked like their big senior—a vicious-faced brute—rubbed his rough palms together. Even his aggressive glare had softened into something almost meek.
“Curious about Wudang business?”
“N-no, no! Why would riffraff like me pry into the Nine Great Sects' affairs? Just asking after your well-being. Gyeonhyeon to Hweon isn't exactly a stroll, right? Heh heh.”
The other White Crow disciples watched their struggling leader without a hint of pity. If anything, they looked like they wished he'd drop to his knees to get them out of this. Maybe that was black path loyalty for you.
“Enjoy your time sightseeing in Hweon, then. Hongze Lake's great for calming the mind. So we'll just be...”
“Hey, where do you think you're going?”
Their sneaky escape attempt failed. I'd stepped up to block the door.
“You think you can pick a fight with mighty Wudang and slink away quietly?”
“W-what do you want, then? I'll crawl between your legs if I have to. You might not know, but Hweon is the hometown of General Han Xin, the peerless hero of Han. Crawling like that honors him, right?”
Now the guy was just spouting nonsense. It was almost pitiful.
Glancing at the stairs and railing to the second floor, I saw a few who'd fled earlier peeking back down. No more fighting sounds, so curiosity had drawn them out.
“Heard? It's Wudang.”
“What? Why would Wudang be here?”
“Beats me.”
“Damn, those White Crow idiots are in deep shit.”
“Heh heh. Serves 'em right.”
The onlookers started chattering loudly, making sure everyone heard. Laughter rippled through the crowd, turning the White Crow crew into a full-on joke.
Myeong-yeop glanced at me and shook his head slightly. He didn't want to get more involved. Fair enough—Wudang folk were proud. Mingling with lowlife black path thugs was beneath them.
If they'd kept pushing aggressively, sure, but they knew their place and were backing off. No need to drag it out.
Truth be told, I could've let them go. My goal was just to etch into every merchant in Hweon's mind that Wudang was here backing us.
I cleared my throat.
“We don't kill lightly. Not recognizing Wudang isn't a capital crime, is it?”
“R-right! Of course! If Wudang Taoists went around killing easily, what would set you apart from scum like us?”
Relief bloomed on the White Crow faces. But they were missing something.
“I'm not a Taoist.”
“Pardon?”
“Told you. I'm the caravan master, not a Taoist.”
They'd probably assumed because I carried a sword like the seniors. Instantly, their expressions turned ugly. But with Wudang disciples right there, they didn't draw steel.
“Warriors are talking. How dare a filthy merchant butt in?”
“Yeah, Hwi-yeong. They've repented enough. Let 'em go.”
Myeong-yeop finally chimed in. He really wanted nothing to do with them. But that attitude was a bit disappointing.
The little brothers might be excused, but the seniors needed to become part of the new Wudang I was shaping.
“Seniors, how can you harbor such soft thoughts?”
“What?”
Not just Myeong-yeop—even the White Crow thugs looked baffled.
“Hey, great hero, why listen to some merchant punk? Escort duty or not, he's way out of line.”
The White Crow crew found it weird that the Wudang disciples were humoring me. My caravan hands behind me probably thought the same—why would lofty Wudang elites take orders from me?
“Changing people requires a proper system of punishment and reward. Punish mistakes, reward good deeds. But these guys picked a fight with us, and now they're getting off scot-free? Next time, they'll think they can bully someone else, bow their heads, and walk away with the same bad lesson.”
The seniors stared, dumbfounded by my sudden rant. Wudang elders never taught this stuff—it was all new logic to them.
“If their victim is a master, maybe they escape. But what about ordinary folk? These types turn savage, skin 'em alive, and hang the hides from village gates.”
“We're not that bad...”
“Seniors, can't you hear it? The wails of villagers who've already suffered—and those who will. It's echoing right now!”
They pondered deeply as I pressed harder. Even the White Crow thug who'd tried defending himself fell silent.
“So what do you suggest?”
Myeong-yeop, first to collect his thoughts, asked.
“I said it already. Clear punishment and reward. These black path devils weren't born evil. We reform them. Punishment's the only tool here.”
“I see.”
As the seniors warmed to my words, the White Crow faces turned ashen. Some even gripped their sword hilts with trembling hands. The pressure was crushing them.
“Then let's do this.”
“Yes.”
“Teach 'em a lesson without taking lives.”
“Perfect.”
I smiled thinly. Exactly the line I wanted. Killing them here could've escalated things beyond control.
“One at a time. I'll sort you out.”
Myeong-yeop cracked his neck and stepped forward. The White Crow thugs flinched and eyed each other.
“If you're thinking of ganging up, think again. I'm not skilled enough to hold back and let you live.”
His calm words unleashed a wave of qi. Wudang's signature softness filled the inn. As Myeong-ja generation disciples, they were practically Wudang's next core forces. Rarities in a backwater like Hweon without a proper sect.
The overwhelming inner power sapped their will to fight. Their leader hesitated, then stepped up.
“You won't kill us, right?”
“Don't worry. Wudang keeps its word.”
Before he finished, the thug charged. Myeong-yeop smirked.
……
Wudang wasn't some pushover for petty black path tricks. They all ended up bruised, bleeding, and twitching on the floor.
“Black pathers are a different breed.”
Myeong-gyeong sheathed his sword as he returned, the last one. He'd only joined because of me—Myeong-yeop could've handled it alone, but I suggested giving the others real combat experience, and he'd agreed.
I'd orchestrated the whole thing, but since Myeong-yeop approved, no egos were bruised.
“No more bullying folks. Next time we catch you, it's an arm per offense.”
“Ugh... egh.”
Myeong-yeop growled. The thug, missing teeth, mumbled something garbled, rounded up his crew, and bolted like rabbits.
“Now, back to our meal...”
“Wooah!”
“So cool!”
As I moved to wrap up, merchants from the stairs and upstairs erupted in cheers.
I stepped back to let the seniors shine. They waved awkwardly at the crowd, looking hilariously out of place. Couldn't help but laugh.
Son Yeong-ui received an absurd letter from the White Crow Gate master. It was packed with curses, demanding why he hadn't warned them about Wudang warriors being in town.
But how was he supposed to know?
“What the hell is this with Wudang out of nowhere?”
The Nine Great Sects kept to themselves, especially Wudang—they never meddled in merchant affairs. At most, they'd escort a trade caravan a few times a year.
Merchants had tried luring Wudang into business before. Partnering with them would skyrocket a caravan's value.
But Wudang always stayed aloof, taking only small jobs and dodging big money on purpose. Near-obsessive about staying pure from wealth.
Now they were suddenly helping a caravan? Baffling.
“We screw up somehow?”
“Doesn't seem so. Word's spreading fast—Wudang warriors are in Hweon.”
One of his managers spoke up. Son Yeong-ui knew that much. The gate master wasn't one to lie. He just didn't want to believe it.
“Damn it.”
He gnawed at his already-short nails, tearing flesh deep.
“Send a letter to Hefei.”
After brooding, Son Yeong-ui spoke. The manager flinched. Hefei was Anhui's capital—and the only ones there worth contacting were one group.
“The Nangong family...?”
“Who else?!”
Son Yeong-ui bellowed. The manager bowed and hurried out.
Panting with rage, Son Yeong-ui slumped back and bit his nails again.
Only the Five Great Families' Nangong could handle Wudang. That was his calculus.