Chapter 17: The Fist King Who Visited the Pleasure Quarter
The Fist King Who Visited the Pleasure Quarter
Episode 17: The Fist King Who Visited the Pleasure Quarter
Yum Ji-sang immediately stopped his disciples when they tried to charge forward recklessly.
"No. Not yet—encircle him first. And Gwak-pyeong, you and the others gather your equipment. The rest, surround and hold your positions. He's fast. Don't chase if he runs. There might be more enemies outside, or it could be a trap."
He looked up at the sky and added,
"The moon is dark. Fight only here. There isn't enough moonlight for an open battle."
Dan Woo-sung clapped upon hearing Yum Ji-sang's precise assessment of the situation. Only then did Yum Ji-sang notice the cloth wrapped around Dan Woo-sung's wrist and forearm, his expression shifting slightly in surprise.
"Are you... the Grand Prince of the Silver River Merchant Group?"
The iron club at his waist wasn't a conventional weapon, and the cloth wrapped around his fists marked him unmistakably as a young fist master.
"That's right, isn't it? Hah, the Silver River Merchant Group's intelligence network really is something else."
At the mention of the Grand Prince, the Sosunpa disciples tightened their encirclement but held their ground. Their original orders had been to capture the Grand Prince alive.
Yum Ji-sang hesitated.
'This doesn't seem like someone I can take lightly.'
He barked an order.
"Attack with the intent to sever at least one limb. Keep him alive if possible. Don't worry about injuries—just strike. As long as he's breathing, he's worth money."
It was a practical command for his subordinates, but Dan Woo-sung found it amusing.
'So they planned to ransom me.'
Yum Ji-sang leaped into the air, landing atop the courtyard wall to scan the surroundings. Despite his flippant tone, he was meticulous. After confirming no additional enemies lurked outside, he gave the signal.
"Strike."
The Sosunpa disciples rushed Dan Woo-sung. He moved in response—until one of them suddenly threw something toward Yum Ji-sang and shouted,
"Master!"
A long wooden case flew through the air. Yum Ji-sang snatched it mid-flight, deftly opening it while keeping an eye on the fight. As expected, the Grand Prince was fast—already, three or four disciples lay groaning on the ground.
The case split into upper and lower compartments. The lower half housed a mechanism capable of firing steel needles, while the upper held rows of thin, razor-sharp projectiles. Though cumbersome—requiring manual reloading after every five shots—it was a portable weapon with devastating power and pinpoint accuracy.
Yum Ji-sang loaded five needles, aimed through the carved groove at the case's end, and pressed the trigger.
Thwip!
The needle buried itself into the back of a disciple's neck with a sickening thunk.
Yum Ji-sang clicked his tongue.
"Tch."
As his disciple collapsed, Yum Ji-sang narrowed his eyes and realigned his sights on Dan Woo-sung—just as the Grand Prince kneed another disciple in the forehead and launched himself skyward.
A perfect shot.
Yum Ji-sang fired again.
Thwip!
But the moment the needle left the chamber, something glinting in the moonlight shot from Dan Woo-sung's waist.
Clang! Crash!
His leap hadn't been reckless. Dan Woo-sung had hurled his iron club mid-air, shattering Yum Ji-sang's weapon before landing gracefully.
Yum Ji-sang recoiled, tossing the ruined device aside. His hands stung from the impact.
'His reflexes are insane.'
Drawing his sword, he barked another order.
"Net him!"
Fishing nets and small grappling hooks flew toward Dan Woo-sung as he weaved through the disciples, dropping them one after another. He activated his Lightfoot Technique, slipping past the overlapping traps before snatching the descending edge of a net mid-air. Channeling his Internal Energy, he twisted his wrist—
Whirrrrr—!
The net coiled tightly into a thick, whip-like cord.
Trapped within the circular encirclement, Dan Woo-sung lashed out. In an instant, half a dozen disciples screamed, clutching their faces.
He didn't bother with precision—not with so many targets. Infusing the whip with Lightning Style energy, he struck vertically and diagonally, felling two or three at a time.
Crack! Thud! Crack! Thud! Clang!
When disciples closed in, he swung horizontally. One man clutched his throat—gurk!—as the net's edge slit his neck open.
Yum Ji-sang's expression hardened as he watched.
'How is he fighting like this?'
The Grand Prince should have been young, yet his movements were those of a seasoned veteran. He fought like someone who had faced overwhelming odds countless times. Yum Ji-sang, who had been preparing to join the fray, froze, eyes wide.
He was already considering escape.
Then, mid-swing, the net unfurled mid-air—ensnaring six or seven disciples in one fell swoop.
What followed was absurd.
In the dim moonlight, white arcs of lightning crackled from Dan Woo-sung's hands, surging through the net with a zap! The trapped men convulsed violently, shrieking as one.
"GAAAAAH—!"
As the electrocuted disciples crumpled, the remaining Sosunpa men instinctively stumbled back.
A momentary lull settled—
Dan Woo-sung turned his gaze toward Yum Ji-sang, still perched dumbly on the wall. When their eyes met, the Grand Prince spoke.
"What're you staring at, you bastard? Get down here. Don't even think about running."
Yum Ji-sang's eyes bulged. Ridiculously, only about ten disciples remained standing—the rest littered the ground, motionless.
When Dan Woo-sung spoke again, the disciples hesitated, glancing at their master. They could face death in battle, but not for a leader who would abandon them.
Yum Ji-sang snapped, "What are you doing? Attack!"
Dan Woo-sung laughed. "Look at this guy. You were planning to run, weren't you?"
Yum Ji-sang met his gaze. "Of course not."
Then he dropped behind the wall—and bolted.
A chorus of exasperated sighs rose from his disciples.
Dan Woo-sung snatched a discarded grappling hook from the ground and vaulted after him.
The surviving disciples exchanged glances.
"Let's run. He'll kill the master and come back for us anyway."
They fled in the opposite direction—the typical end for a defeated faction with no loyalty to speak of.
Yum Ji-sang, already sprinting blindly through the dark, lost all sense of direction. He paused, panting, only to flinch at the sound of rapid footsteps closing in. Panicked, he dove deeper into the shadows.
Then something skimmed the ground behind him—a hooked projectile. He leaped—
A whirling grappling hook shot beneath him. Before he could react, a net engulfed him mid-air.
Whap!
Dan Woo-sung's fist smashed into his face.
Yum Ji-sang tumbled, tangling himself further in the net. Had his disciples stayed, he might have stood a chance in a real fight. Instead, he was captured without landing a single blow.
He roared, "GRAND PRINCE!"
"Why the desperate shouting?" Dan Woo-sung stepped forward, looking down at his catch—a fat catfish with whiskers.
"I—I have wealth! A ransom! Spare me, and I'll pay—no, I'll give you everything!"
Dan Woo-sung sighed. "Why do you keep reducing lives to money?"
His foot came down.
"Just die."
Crunch.
Yum Ji-sang's neck snapped.
Dan Woo-sung scanned the area instinctively before heading back toward the manor. The memory of Yum Ji-sang adjusting his pants earlier left a sour taste in his mouth.
Inside the abandoned manor, Dan Woo-sung searched until muffled sobs led him to a room. He slid the door open—
A woman, wrists bloodied, struggled against the ropes binding her to the bed.
She flinched at the masked figure, tears streaming silently.
Dan Woo-sung's gaze swept over her naked form. Thankfully, she bore no bruises—but the sight of her exposed body was pitiful. He draped a blanket over her before untying her wrists.
The woman—Soo Ran-yi—stared at him, tears subsiding.
Recognition flickered in Dan Woo-sung's mind. He sighed.
'The courtesan from Danhyang Pavilion.'
They had never shared a bed—rumors of her involvement with an acquaintance had kept him away.
"Get dressed. I'll escort you."
With the escaped disciples lurking nearby, letting her go alone was too dangerous.
Soon, they walked the night streets in silence—toward Danhyang Pavilion.
Halfway there, Soo Ran-yi froze. The pervert who had tormented her lay dead in the alley, wrapped in a net.
She whispered, "One of his lackeys came earlier... asked if I could attend a scholar's banquet. I didn't know they were like this."
An unnecessary apology, heavy with sorrow. Then she added something unexpected—
"He took money from his waistband."
Dan Woo-sung raised a brow. Money again?
"Check it."
Soo Ran-yi rifled through the corpse's robes, retrieving a thick leather pouch.
Dan Woo-sung mused, "With that, you wouldn't need to return to the pavilion."
She stared at him, bewildered.
"Who... are you?"
The mask and darkness hid his face.
"Just a man who used to visit pleasure houses."
She pushed the pouch toward him.
"I have nowhere else to go. No friends, no need for money."
When he didn't move, she carefully placed it on his shoulder.
"Thank you for saving me."
After a few steps, she turned back.
"Could you walk with me... just until the lights?"
Dan Woo-sung adjusted the pouch and fell into step beside her.
The night stretched long.
As they entered the lantern-lit streets, he lowered his mask. Recognition dawned in her eyes.
"Will you visit for a drink, Grand Prince?"
He shook his head.
"No. I'm done with pleasure quarters."
She nodded.
"You've changed. Thank you... for today."
Dan Woo-sung turned toward the merchant district.
"Live well."
There was nothing else to say.