Chapter 20 - Reunion with the Archrival
All eyes in the banquet hall, including Ak Manho's, turned toward the entrance, mouths clamped shut in tense silence.
The awning slowly parted.
A servant girl in flowing robes entered, carrying dishes on the chill river breeze.
"Eek!"
But she froze mid-step.
Of course she did—with all those rough-faced bandits glaring at her.
One of the bandits glanced at Ak Manho.
"Boss, she rubbing you the wrong way? Want me to slit her throat?"
"I-I'm so sorry! Please spare me!"
Not even knowing what she'd done wrong, the girl dropped to her knees and prostrated herself flat on the floor.
The plates she'd carried shattered with a crash, spilling food everywhere.
Ak Manho scowled at the mess.
'Sigh... false alarm.'
The bandit rose, drawing his sword with a slow shing.
Torchlight glinted off the blade, sending a chill through the hall.
Ak Manho snapped to attention and shot him a glare.
"You idiot. Back off. Ruining good booze with this crap."
The bandit, who'd only stood to get chewed out, blinked in confusion and sat back down.
"Thank you! Thank you, Boss!"
The girl bowed repeatedly, her face pale as death.
Ak Manho waved her off irritably.
"Enough. Clean this up."
"Yes!"
The other waiting servants rushed in at the ominous mood, helping their colleague.
The party's vibe plummeted visibly.
Then, one of Ak Manho's longtime veteran lieutenants spoke up.
"Boss, cool your temper. Finish what you were saying earlier."
The old lieutenant stood and filled Ak Manho's cup to the brim.
Somewhat calmed, Ak Manho took the cup in his massive hand.
"What I was saying?"
"You know, about the true greatest swordsman in the world."
The old man, more suited to a staff than a sword these days, had guarded the waterways since the previous boss's time. He chuckled good-naturedly, playing to Ak Manho's mood.
You couldn't spit in the face of a smiling man.
Ak Manho cleared his throat a few times and continued reluctantly.
"Who else? Geomje might top in pure swordsmanship, but in a real deathmatch? No one beats that guy."
Recalling old times, Ak Manho shivered slightly.
The veteran nodded and clapped his hands.
"Ah! You mean the Sword Demon, the one you crossed blades with?"
"Yeah. No one's survived fighting him. I did—'cause it was me. Me!"
"Hahaha! Right you are. But rumors say the Sword Demon's dead."
"Hmph! Him? Dead? What nonsense!"
The grim rumors swirling through the martial world lately.
The Demonic Cult's Vice Cult Leader, the Sword Demon, had lost his life in a succession struggle.
They said he'd even lost his infamous demon sword—that had claimed countless righteous masters' heads—and his dantian was shattered.
"Think so? Well, the guy who matched you wouldn't go down easy, but they say he lost his inner energy."
"Argh! Damn it! Ruining the booze! Drop the Sword Demon talk!"
"Aigoo! Sorry, Boss."
Ak Manho snatched a bottle and chugged it down.
Clear liquor streamed through his beard like black grapes.
Watching, the veteran felt a question rise.
He always cursed like that, yet seemed oddly regretful about the Sword Demon's death.
"Boss. Got a question."
"Old folks should just crash and sleep. What's with all the curiosity?"
"Hahaha! Must be the age."
"Spit it out."
Ak Manho grabbed a snack and shoved it in his mouth.
The veteran pressed on, eyeing his greasy lips.
"Isn't the Sword Demon your sworn enemy? If he's dead, shouldn't you be thrilled? Why the anger?"
The other bandits nodded quietly in agreement.
Ak Manho jabbed a finger at them, spraying spit.
Chewed food flew onto the table.
"You idiots! Warriors, my ass! Sure, he left me a scratch, but he was my archrival! You get losing your rival? Huh, you morons?!"
"......"
"......"
Everyone bit their lips.
The Sword Demon—even the Heavenly Demon yielded a step.
Archrival to a man who could crush the world underfoot? Even stray dogs would laugh.
"Huh? Damn it! Who laughed? Who snickered?!"
Ak Manho shot up, scanning wildly.
The bandits waved their hands frantically.
"No, Boss! You misheard! No one laughed!"
"Yeah! Misunderstanding!"
Despite their denials, Ak Manho's rage didn't subside.
"You think you can fool me? You know how sharp my ears are! I heard it! Who was it?!"
Just calming down, and now this tantrum again.
His mania worse than usual, the bandits clamped their mouths and pondered escape.
"Come out! Ignoring me now?! Huh?!"
As Ak Manho bellowed.
One bandit, eyeing the exit for flight, tilted his head with a gasp.
The spot where servants had frantically cleaned moments ago.
A stranger stood there, staring silently.
"Boss. Some weirdo slipped in."
"What, you changing the subject?!"
"No, really, right there—"
"You till the end—!"
Heads turned toward the entrance one by one.
Ak Manho whipped around, huffing.
And then,
"......?"
Ak Manho's eyes bulged.
His mouth gaped, flush of booze and fury draining to pale.
A tall man in white robes and martial garb.
First doubt, then shock, now horror.
Complex emotions swirled in Ak Manho's pupils as he stared.
"B-Boss...?"
The Yangtze bandits, seeing their boss like never before, held their tongues and watched.
"Who's that guy making Boss freak?"
"Debt collector maybe?"
"Pfft, bullshit. Drunk?"
"Still—"
"Shh! Shut up and watch."
Silence stretched.
Torches crackled.
In the suffocating quiet, Jin Muhon gazed calmly at Ak Manho alone.
"Th-That... really... you... you... you...?"
Ak Manho flapped his lips like a carp.
Bandits watched his mouth for the next words.
"You?"
"Thingamajig?"
Jin Muhon smirked and spoke.
"Long time no see, Turtle Boy."
"......!"
Crash!
Ak Manho toppled backward on the spot.
***
Whoosh—whoosh—whooooosh—
As night deepened, the Yangtze's waves rumbled low and heavy.
In pitch darkness, the river flowed relentlessly, moonlight shimmering like silver scales atop it.
- For real, can I go? He won't chew me out later?
- Nah. He pulled back the escorts and servants too. Must have a reason.
Ak Manho hastily ended the banquet and sent all subordinates far away.
Even his personal guards and servants were no exception.
Thus, he finally met alone with his archrival and nemesis, the Sword Demon, after so long.
"Really... you?"
Ak Manho's voice quivered.
Jin Muhon strolled the hall instead of answering.
"Bandit scum, always. Can't eat clean—place is a sty. No seat even."
"I'm asking if it's really you!"
"Ah. This spot's decent."
Step. Step. Step.
Jin Muhon climbed the low dais and plopped onto the tiger-skin throne.
Warm fur enveloped his back naturally.
"Hey, Turtle Boy. Bandit on tiger skin? You Long River Bandits or Green Forest Outlaws?"
"Sword Demon!"
Shrieeeek!
Something grazed Ak Manho's cheek.
Red blood droplets sprayed; severed hair strands fluttered like willow leaves.
Realizing late, Ak Manho recoiled in terror.
'Wh-What was that?'
He hadn't seen it. No killing intent—nothing.
If that strike had aimed for his throat...
Ak Manho swallowed hard, looking up at Jin Muhon with dread.
'Damn... they said he lost his inner energy. Sneaky Demonic Cult bastards!'
Jin Muhon gazed down coldly.
Meeting those eyes, Ak Manho's heart plummeted; the old wound from over a decade ago throbbed vividly.
"Never speak that title again."
"......"
Ak Manho met the gaze, steeling himself.
'Damn it. I'm not the old Ak Manho! I'm lord of the Yangtze! You bastard!'
Position makes the man.
Ambition swelled in his chest.
But he couldn't voice it.
Hiss...
Blood-red mist expanded from Jin Muhon, looking utterly vicious.
'Yeah, hold it. Boss face to keep. Not worth brawling some mad demon.'
Ak Manho twitched his face into a grin—his lordly smile for an old rival.
"So what do I call you?"
"Jin family head."
"Jin family head? What fami—ah!"
Ak Manho's eyes sparkled; he clapped.
"Disguise! So the righteous-demonic war's finally on? Ha! That's why the rumor you lost your energy and got booted—brilliant ploy! Hits like a hammer! As expected of Demon Brain's scheme... Gurk! Gah!"
Rambling on, Ak Manho clutched his throat, hacking.
Something ominous.
The blood mist crept up his legs like a living thing.
"Turtle Boy. Tongue's gotten long while apart."
"Sp-Spare me... Sw— no, family head..."
"Ha. Spare you? Tricky."
Jin Muhon leaned back leisurely, eyeing the ceiling.
"Looks like over two hundred in your gang. Trim the fat and spar? Test the blade."
"Damn! You really here to... kill us... all...? Wh-What did we... urk... do... gah!"
Jin Muhon lowered his gaze.
The choking blood mist dispersed faintly.
Legs buckling, Ak Manho slumped to the floor.
"Hah... hah... damn... why so... weak..."
Vision spun. Head throbbed.
His heavy dantian felt oddly hollow.
"Steadily popping spirit pills, huh? Inner energy's grown."
"H-How'd you...!"
"Enough."
Jin Muhon raised a hand, silencing him.
"Don't care how you got 'em. Keep getting them steadily."
"......?"
Ak Manho couldn't read the Sword Demon's intent.
The monster who should lurk in the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains.
Why show up unannounced after over a decade without contact?
'Not here for chit-chat.'
Said to rival or surpass the Heavenly Demon.
Even if the rumors of exile were true, the Sword Demon wasn't one to trifle with.
And now, his energy seemed fine.
Ak Manho exhaled long, closing then opening his eyes.
"What do you want? Anything but my head."
"Spirit pills."
"Sure, I'll gi—huh? What?"
Jin Muhon grinned, extending his hand.
"Turtle Boy. Hand over the spirit pills. Quick."