Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: 25. Nightmare (2)
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The old woman known as Grandma Baek spoke up, her face etched with mild concern.
“Looks like a mountain beast came through last night. Mind fixing it for me?”
“Of course, of course. Happy to help.”
Seo Moon-ho examined the fence with a calm expression.
Every house in the village had wooden fences like this, and just as Grandma Baek said, it looked like some beast had torn into it—utterly wrecked. She'd become a widow at a young age, so with no man around to handle household fixes, she often turned to Seo Moon-ho for help.
The repair was done in no time.
He worked the fence with practiced ease, removing the damaged sections and patching in new ones until it looked solid again.
“This should do it, right?”
“Perfect! Now come eat before you go.”
Grandma Baek beckoned him over.
He sat on the porch, eyeing the spread: seasoned vegetables and cool fresh water.
Grandma Baek took a seat across from him.
They chatted idly as they ate.
“This is delicious.”
“Really?”
She beamed.
Her teeth weren't what they used to be, but Grandma Baek's wrinkled lips curved into a bright smile at his reaction.
Friends sometimes asked him.
Didn't he find life in the countryside—born here, living here—stifling?
The village used to have over fifty households, plenty of friends back then. But one by one, they'd left to chase their dreams, leaving few peers behind. Unlike them, Seo Moon-ho had no regrets. His parents might've hoped for bigger things, but he'd married a beautiful local girl and fathered a child so perfect it hurt to even look at her. That was enough. Sitting still, watching fluffy clouds drift by, he knew staying was the right choice.
He pushed practical worries aside for now.
As he savored the simple pleasures of daily life, his one and only daughter came running up, shouting.
“Daddy, Daddy!”
“Walk slowly, slowly.”
“Some guests came. The uncles said to fetch you, Daddy.”
“Guests?”
He was puzzled.
This place was deep in the mountains, far from any outsiders' paths.
Yet guests?
Suppressing his reluctance to get up, Seo Moon-ho headed toward the spot his daughter mentioned.
A heavy silence descended.
From the moment the newcomers identified themselves as the Peng Clan of Hebei, Seo Moon-ho—who lived far removed from the martial world—couldn't help but tense up. His eyes kept drifting to the sword at their waist. Word was the Peng Clan's swordsmanship was brutally dominant; the moment it cleared the sheath, heads would roll.
He swallowed dryly.
He tried to hide his nerves.
“Could you say that again?”
The man named Peng Mujong replied.
“We've received word that Demonic Cult evildoers have infiltrated Hebei lately. We don't know their intentions, but after pursuing them, their trail vanished nearby. That's why we're asking: could you help us? You're familiar with these mountains, unlike us outsiders. With your guidance, we could track them down easily. It's for the justice of the martial world. We'll reward you handsomely, so please lend us your aid.”
He was polite.
His courteous demeanor could sway even the unwilling.
But.
It's dangerous.
Seo Moon-ho's heart didn't budge.
Orthodox sects, unorthodox ones, Demonic Cult—it didn't matter.
Martial artists were trouble; that was the common folk's view.
Every tale of the martial world's brutality reinforced his resolve: never get involved.
The village elders seemed to agree.
They'd called him because they knew Seo Moon-ho had the guts to speak his mind even to martial artists—as the village representative.
Seo Moon-ho spoke.
“I'm sorry, but we can't.”
“...You truly won't?”
“We're just ordinary folk. We wouldn't dream of meddling in great ones' affairs. Besides, aside from villagers, I've never seen anyone wandering these parts. If we spot anything odd, we'll inform you right away. But helping directly... that's beyond us.”
“Hmm...”
The man showed a flicker of displeasure.
He clearly hadn't expected refusal.
“Then allow me to make a different offer.”
Whoosh.
He gestured.
A follower behind him produced something.
“A bill of exchange from the Azure Dragon Merchant Guild. Take it to any branch, and they'll hand over one hundred taels of silver, no questions asked.”
One hundred taels of silver.
An enormous sum.
Peng Mujong met Seo Moon-ho's gaze.
“Will you refuse even this?”
He needed time to think.
After sending the martial artists away, the villagers gathered with Seo Moon-ho at the lead.
“One hundred taels! Just guiding them a bit—why not take it?”
It was Uncle Jang speaking.
Seo Moon-ho shook his head at the man's greedy gleam.
“It's martial world money. Could lead to trouble down the line.”
“That's only for dirty cash. This is the Peng Clan of Hebei—one of the Five Great Families backing the Murim Alliance. They'd never endanger innocents. It's safe to accept. And since it's upholding martial justice, all the more reason.”
“But...”
“Moon-ho, you want to send your girl to a fine academy, right? You'll need money for that. And think of the second one on the way.”
Uncle Jang had a point.
Seo Moon-ho needed money.
Life in the mountains suited him, but his growing daughter deserved city opportunities.
Fine clothes, proper education, a solid future.
And with his wife pregnant with their second, he'd been scouring the hills daily for anything sellable. His eyes twitched. Truth be told, he'd once dreamed of city life like his friends. But after scams and hardships dealing with cold urbanites, he preferred the pure, uncalculating folk of his home.
“What about the others?”
“Not a bad deal, but...”
“We'll follow your lead. No one else could guide them.”
They deferred to him.
The whole village acknowledged it.
Seo Moon-ho was their pillar.
He closed his eyes.
...Hwa-yeon.
Jin Hwa-yeon.
He thought of his wife.
One hundred taels could pamper her through the pregnancy, no doubt.
He gritted his teeth.
Met their expectant gazes.
“All right. We'll do it.”
A few days passed.
The tension proved needless; everything wrapped up smoothly.
As guides, they searched the mountains high and low, finding only beast tracks—no real leads.
Peng Mujong dismissed them casually.
“You've worked hard. You're free to go.”
The Peng Clan kept their word.
Down in the city at the Azure Dragon Merchant Guild, they handed over the hundred taels at the mention of the Peng name.
Half went to Seo Moon-ho.
Since he'd borne the brunt as chief guide, the village took half to improve communal facilities, and he kept the rest. Some grumbled about the split—after all, he'd handled everything from start to finish, and the village only got half by virtue of neighborliness. Still, Seo Moon-ho wasn't too upset. It was a chance to fix up public spaces, and he wanted everyone to thrive.
That day.
He returned laden with gifts.
“Daddy, Daddy! How do I look? Pretty?”
“My princess is always pretty.”
His daughter bounced excitedly.
Always roughhousing like a boy in the country, she couldn't stop admiring herself in the hand mirror wearing her new silk dress. He'd splurged on the mirror too—girls needed basic grooming tools, after all.
“Honey, you didn't overdo it?”
“Overdo? This is all for you.”
“Oh my.”
They unpacked the gifts.
His wife's radiant smile melted away his fatigue.
Yeah, good call.
The past few days.
Smooth as they were, it'd felt like walking on thin ice.
Sharing space with martial artists, every glance or breath made his heart skip. Weren't they known to lop off heads on whims? The brutal rumors kept him on edge. But now, cash in hand, those worries seemed overblown.
“Wait here. I'll whip up some meat dishes soon.”
His steps were light.
In the kitchen, cooking rare ingredients, he found himself humming.
He was happy.
He wished for this happiness to last forever.
That night.
Seo Moon-ho's eyes snapped open.
...What?
Something was off.
Goosebumps prickled his skin.
Nights in the mountains weren't silent.
Wind rustling, insects chirping, beasts stirring—normal sounds should've filled the air. But nothing. That silence unnerved him; instinctively, he sat up.
He grabbed a club.
Cracked the door open quietly.
Gasp.
He sucked in a breath.
Eyes wide.
Outside.
An unbelievable sight assaulted him.
Bodies strewn everywhere.
Even Uncle Jang, who'd bragged about the silver just that afternoon, lay cold among the corpses. Time froze. He thought to flee, but before he could act, footsteps approached the house.
Damn.
He dove back into bed.
Shut his eyes.
Gripping the club under the blanket, he waited for the intruder.
Bandits for sure. When they check if we're alive, smash 'em and run.
His heart pounded.
Mouth bone-dry.
It felt unreal.
Blissfully happy that day, now plunged into hell. What rotten luck. If the bandits had hit a day later, the martial artists would've wiped them out. Those terrifying figures now seemed like saviors in hindsight.
Creeeak.
The door opened.
His heart thundered louder.
He waited for them to draw near.
At the feel of breath on him, he'd brain them—he vowed it over and over.
But then.
“What're you doing? Get up.”
His heart plummeted.
His mind went ice-cold.
Not because his plan was rumbled.
A quick peek.
No mask.
No intent to hide identity—and even without that, the voice gave it away.
No doubt.
“Get up, you bastard.”
Peng Mujong.
He sneered down at Seo Moon-ho.