Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Translator: Penny
Chapter 20
The True Owner of the Elixir (3)
Without delay, I rented a horse and galloped toward Jinan.
Having lived a life where a single command could resolve any issue, taking direct action like this filled me with a newfound vigor. It was clear that change could indeed empower a person. I also realized anew that change was inherently connected to hope.
Upon arriving, I immediately visited the Gambling Den.
However, I couldn't find Gwak Dosu there. Of course, I fully considered the possibility that he might be wearing a mask like mine or had disguised himself.
I didn't need to rely solely on facial recognition. I simply needed to observe the gamblers and focus on those with martial arts skills.
But the gambling den was filled with nothing but small-time gamblers. For one thing, the stakes were too low. If Gwak Dosu was truly as gambling-crazy as Gong Jong had claimed, he wouldn't be satisfied with such paltry sums.
Did Gong Jong deceive me?
Could he have sent me here to distract me while tipping off Gwak Dosu to escape?
That seemed unlikely. The Gong Jong I knew wasn't the type to sacrifice himself for others. He wouldn't choose a lifetime of being hunted by the Heavenly Blade Gate just to save Gwak Dosu.
If that's the case, he must be hiding somewhere nearby.
With such a massive bounty on his head, he'd be lying low.
Then a thought suddenly struck me.
Could it be? Could that actually exist here?
Every day, Gal Saryang submitted his reports, detailing the most bizarre incidents occurring throughout the Central Plains. Among them, one particular matter related to gambling stood out:
Secret Gambling Dens.
As the name suggested, these were unauthorized gambling dens, commonly referred to as Secret Dens.
Officially licensed gambling dens were strictly regulated by the Martial Arts Alliance. They were subjected to exorbitant taxes and numerous restrictions designed to prevent gambling addiction and financial ruin, including limits on the maximum stakes allowed.
This regulatory environment inadvertently led to the proliferation of Secret Dens.
Despite annual crackdowns, these illicit establishments had proven impossible to eradicate completely.
I should investigate this, I thought.
To gather more information, I headed to the largest inn in the area.
There was a group of people in the Martial Arts World known for possessing the most extensive knowledge of current events.
From professional information brokers who bought and sold secrets to itinerant merchants, escorts, and ronin wandering the Central Plains, there was one person we could most easily access: the inn waiter.
They heard all the boisterous tales and gossip that echoed through the inns. After all, the inns were the source of every rumor in the Martial Arts World.
After securing a table at the inn, I asked the young waiter who came to take my order, "Who's been working here the longest?" He pointed to an older man.
I called him over. As expected, he looked quite aged, with shrewd eyes that reflected the weathered wisdom of someone who had seen it all.
The easiest way to loosen their tongues was with money.
I placed ten taels of silver in my palm.
The waiter was startled. Customers usually tossed him a copper or two as a tip, if they tipped at all—and most didn't.
"Answer just one question, and this ten nyang is yours."
Ten nyang—a stroke of luck that might come once in several years. The waiter's eyes wavered.
"Ask me anything."
"I'd like to handle some tiles."
"There are several gambling dens nearby."
"But I prefer somewhere quiet."
The waiter's eyes flashed momentarily. Quick-witted, he seemed to understand my meaning instantly.
Of course, after working as a waiter in this district for over a decade, he'd know. But this was a sensitive matter—he couldn't blurt it out without risking trouble.
I stared intently at the money in my palm, then back at the waiter for a long moment. Finally, as if having made up his mind, he lowered his voice and said, "There is a place for those seeking quiet."
"Where?" I asked, pressing the money into his hand without hesitation.
Normally, one would pay only after receiving the information, but I paid first. This approach proved effective.
The waiter lowered his voice further. "About ten li west of here, you'll find Pung-a Manor."
"Thank you."
"But you can't just walk in. You need a proper introduction from someone known there."
I stood up. "I'll figure something out."
"You don't need to worry about that."
A kindly-looking old man emerged from the main gate of Pung-a Manor.
"What brings you here?" he asked.
I replied casually, "What else? Just visiting."
The old man sized me up. "I don't recognize you."
"Great Hero Gwak sent me."
"Which Great Hero Gwak?"
I casually drew a finger across my cheek, mimicking the scar depicted on Gwak Dosu's wanted poster. If the old man didn't recognize the gesture, it would confirm that Gwak Dosu wasn't here or was operating under a human skin mask. In that case, I could simply state his name again to verify.
Regardless, I was confident that Gwak Dosu's name would carry weight here.
Sure enough, the old man chuckled and lowered his guard. "Follow me."
He led me to the rear garden behind the building, offering a few cautionary remarks along the way. Though couched in polite terms, the message was clear: "Cause trouble, and you're dead."
A surprisingly large structure stood in the rear garden.
The surrounding walls were exceptionally high. I could sense the presence of martial artists concealed among the strategically planted trees, their auras lingering in the air. If my internal energy had been fully restored, I could have pinpointed their exact Martial Arts Level, even whether they were yawning, crouching, or standing. But now, I could only vaguely sense their locations.
Feigning ignorance, I followed the old man, secretly plotting my escape route. I weighed which opponent to subdue and which path offered the quickest way out.
Two martial artists guarded the entrance, their skill palpable. One of them extended a hand.
"Hand over anything that could be used as a weapon."
I surrendered the sword I was carrying. I had intentionally left my own blade behind and brought this cheap iron sword instead, so I parted with it without regret.
Another man thoroughly searched my body, checking my physique to assess my Martial Arts Level. He completed the inspection casually, finding nothing of concern.
That reaction perfectly reflected how my abilities were perceived externally. My body wasn't fully developed yet, and my internal energy had only been cultivated for five years. In a way, this simplicity made things easier.
A Martial Artist opened the door and said, "Walk straight ahead."
I walked down the dark, narrow corridor. It occurred to me how easily they could kill someone here if they wanted to. With my mediocre martial arts skills and having surrendered my weapon, I would be helpless against an ambush in this place.
At the end of the corridor stood a door, guarded by two martial artists whose formidable skill was immediately apparent. Given the large sums of money likely changing hands here, it was clear they employed only the most capable individuals.
Their confidence in their own martial prowess explained why they didn't rely on stricter entry controls, such as letters of introduction or tokens. Yet I couldn't shake the suspicion that they might also have some sort of arrangement with the Branch Head of the Martial Arts Alliance in this region.
When the guards opened the door, I stepped into a vast, grand hall.
In stark contrast to the dim corridor, the interior was brightly lit and opulent. Shapely women moved through the crowd, serving drinks, while musicians played on a raised platform. It felt like stepping through a single doorway had transported me to another world entirely.
Over twenty massive tables were scattered throughout the hall, each surrounded by groups ranging from three or four to over twenty gamblers, all deeply engrossed in their games.
The atmosphere here was completely different from the ordinary gambling den I had visited earlier.
The patrons here were wealthier, dressed in far more expensive clothes, and appeared far more affluent than those in the common den.
But they were also far more addicted to gambling—the kind of people who could no longer find excitement in an ordinary den.
That's why the stakes here started at ten times the usual gambling den stakes and had no upper limit. In a single hand, fortunes could swing between heaven and hell, offering a thrill like no other.
First, I slowly surveyed the room, memorizing the layout of the tables, the locations of the entrances and exits, and the latrines. Once I had familiarized myself with the terrain, I began searching for Gwak Dosu.
I recognized Gwak Dosu instantly. Despite his long, unkempt hair and shaggy beard, it was unmistakably him.
The fool was gambling openly, brazenly exposing his face and making no attempt to conceal the distinctive scar on his cheek.
Look at this guy? Has he completely lost his nerve?
But I soon understood why.
Secret Den Martial Artists were stationed throughout the grand hall. There were over a dozen of them, with five clustered particularly close to Gwak Dosu.
At first, I thought they were monitoring him, but after observing for a while, it became clear they were guarding him.
Is this bastard running his own gambling den now?
Upon further reflection, that seemed unlikely. If he were running a gambling den, Gong Jong would surely know about it.
He must have some kind of close relationship with the owner of this place. Maybe he manages the Secret Den for him, or perhaps he's even killed people on his behalf. That's why he acts so brazenly, as if he owns the place.
Alright, what's the plan now?
Killing him seemed straightforward enough. A surprise attack while he was engrossed in gambling would end him with a single strike. Then I could cut through anyone who tried to stop me and escape.
It was a viable option, but there was always the risk of an unexpected martial arts master appearing. Besides, if a large-scale fight broke out, the maids and entertainers could get hurt.
For now, I decided to keep that option as a last resort and focus on finding a quieter way to resolve this and slip away undetected.
Just then, a seat opened up at the table where Gwak Dosu was sitting.
A man stood up, grumbling about his terrible luck that day.
As I watched him, an idea struck me.
In a gambling den, the lucky one isn't necessarily the one with the best hand. It's the one who knows when to quit and walk away.
Without hesitation, I took the seat that had just been vacated. I made no attempt to conceal my presence. On the contrary, I figured that being loud and conspicuous would draw less suspicion.
As soon as I sat down, I pulled a large wad of cash from my pocket and piled it high on the table.
"I'm betting my life on this," I declared. "No one leaves this table until someone dies tonight."
My posturing as a gullible fool eager to lose his money must have been convincing, because Gwak Dosu, sitting across from me, grinned. The scar on his cheek twisted with his amusement.
"And what if you're the one who ends up dead?"
The other gamblers snickered.
Refusing to be intimidated, I scoffed loudly. "Hmph! We'll see whose luck runs out first. Now deal the cards!"