Chapter 193
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 193
Chapter Title: Family Scam Troupe (2)
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From a distance, there were people watching the scholar's house.
Mujin had arrived first upon receiving word from the Beggars' Clan and secured a spot to observe. The rowdy antics unfolding before him were playing out just as expected, and he found it all quite entertaining.
"Aren't you going to step in?"
"It's fine."
"Aren't they going to get killed like that?"
"Killed? Nah, those guys are all about the money."
"Money?"
"They never do anything that doesn't pay off."
Loan sharks were ruthless. Why? Because defaults were a dime a dozen. But they didn't kill. They only resorted to brutality when there was no other way to squeeze out the cash—otherwise, they wrung every last drop of blood to extract it.
Just like Mujin had left the Guo Family Manor alone, treating the child who'd tasted the bait with care. They kept coughing up money on their own. It would be a shame to discard a money pouch that kept giving endlessly.
To usurers, the scholar's house was exactly that. Especially with parents and children around. The sense of responsibility to keep the home afloat was strong—they'd scrape together the funds somehow.
'Looks like they got hit hard back then. He really hated loan sharks.'
-I see.
The Demon King sounded indifferent.
As if he couldn't care less.
Whatever.
To Yong Mugil, who had once led the Murim Alliance as its strategist, usurers were no different from grim reapers. He never forgave even the slightest misstep. No wonder their kind was on the verge of dying out. Every single one of them broke the law in some way.
As the Alliance's strategist, exposing their crimes and sending martial artists was all it took. No need for elites. Thugs like that could never stand up to real fighters anyway.
"You could've helped from the start."
"No, that's not how it works. People don't form real bonds unless they're desperate."
Hwangbo Seoryeong replied to Namgung Yeonhwa, who seemed dissatisfied.
Mujin nodded silently in agreement. It might seem cruel, but humans were emotional creatures. No matter how much you dressed it up in logic, the difference between desperation and comfort was night and day. Like the world before and after taking a dump.
"That's not chivalry."
"Exactly. It doesn't fit the righteous path at all. But if the world ran purely on chivalry, we wouldn't need to walk it in the first place, would we?"
Mujin watched their debate with interest—Namgung Yeonhwa, who would face demons on the front lines, and Hwangbo Seoryeong, who had to position warriors on the battlefield.
In time, Kwon Hu would claim supremacy as a hegemon of his generation. Mujin acknowledged her sharpness back then. But even to her, Kwon Hu was just a tool for controlling the tide of battle.
Their perspectives were bound to differ.
Hard to say who was right or wrong.
Depending on the situation, Namgung Yeonhwa might be spot on, or Hwangbo Seoryeong's choice might prove wise. Justice shifted with the era, the context, the circumstances. There was no absolute, unchanging truth.
For that, it would have to reach the realm of ultimate truth.
"So, you're saying we should ignore injustice right in front of us for the sake of some goal?"
"Not always, but if there's a good reason, maybe. Selective chivalry is more realistic than pretending to be perfectly righteous."
"I've said it a million times: if we're the righteous faction, we act like it."
"Even if it decides your clan's fate? If you're that confident, I'll apologize."
Namgung Yeonhwa was at a loss for words.
She couldn't flatly deny it. If her clan's destiny hung in the balance, how would she act? Could she abandon her blood kin for chivalry? Saying yes made her a hypocrite; no made her one too.
"No need to agonize. It's a question no one can answer easily. If you'd replied without hesitation, you'd seem inhuman."
"You're right."
Her shoulders slumped at her own cowardice in not refuting it. She desperately wanted to argue back, but words failed her. Instead, she'd been persuaded by Hwangbo Seoryeong.
It was only natural, really.
Namgung Yeonhwa might excel in martial prowess, but outsmarting Hwangbo Seoryeong in a battle of wits was absurd. Even on ridiculous topics, she couldn't win.
Heh heh!
She needed some comfort.
Seeing Mujin grinning like an idiot made her blood boil. When a comrade was in a tough spot, the least he could do was sympathize—instead, he was reveling in it.
Crystals of annoyance dripped down.
Well, that's just how he was.
"Why try to win an argument with her? You should stick to what you're best at."
"You madman! Is that what you call advice?"
"Arguments are for people who can't fight. If you're good like me, you settle it with fists."
"Your sister deserves a medal for putting up with you."
Namgung Yeonhwa looked utterly exasperated, caught off guard. Her specialty was fist arts. Was he seriously suggesting she punch it out with Hwangbo Seoryeong? The guy's head was clearly not right.
Yet in that brief moment, she'd snapped back to her usual self, as if the gloom had never been there.
"Father-in-law types are tricky opponents, for sure."
"Logical people can't stand anything that contradicts their thinking."
Back in his War King days, Mujin remembered dealing "fairly" with argumentative fools: one word, one punch.
Though it always ended one of two ways.
Apology or the afterlife.
Mujin took the former as confidence in victory and the latter as clean acceptance of defeat.
"That's true."
"So you need to broaden your perspective a bit."
Mujin might not have Hwangbo Seoryeong's insight, but countless battlefields had instinctively taught him how to handle people.
"Looks like the show's wrapping up. Time to grab some food?"
The thugs' performance was nearing its end. Too soon or too late would ruin it.
At just the right moment, Mujin kicked open the door.
Bam! Whoosh!
He'd meant it lightly, but the door flew off its hinges and shattered. Unintended, but perfect for grabbing attention.
Usually, laying out a mat made them hesitate, but Mujin knew they rampaged better without one.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Can't you tell? Just a wandering hero passing by."
Jang Bongpal, the leader of the thugs trampling the scholar's house, scowled at the stranger. He'd seen his share of meddlesome "heroes" playing at justice.
Fools who talked big, but fighting them never ended well. Even third-rate martial artists were threats if provoked.
Weighing the costs, Jang Bongpal softened his expression and politely urged him to move along.
"It's nothing serious. Just go on your way."
"Nothing serious? You want me to ignore people bleeding out? Stop there and get lost yourselves."
"We're just here to collect a debt. And sir hero, you don't even live in this village, do you?"
"Sounds like you'll be back the second I leave."
"Can't be helped until we get paid. As I said, this is a legitimate transaction. Even the authorities would side against them."
Jang Bongpal tried his best to send him off courteously while signaling his men with their code.
Shing!
They hadn't drawn them while beating the scholar and his family, but the thugs carried short daggers of convenient length. They unsheathed and positioned for closest range.
"Hostages if it comes to it."
"I'd prefer it doesn't, sir hero."
Jang Bongpal knew how to handle "heroes." They poked their noses into others' business without knowing their place, spouting nonsense about justice. Best not to fight head-on—hostages were key.
Offer a bit of compromise too. Perfect for dealing with thick-headed types.
"We're not just bullying them for cash. We're taking only what's in the contract."
"How much?"
"Will you pay it for them, sir hero?"
"If I must."
"Fifty nyang in silver, sir hero."
The scholar's wife, who had been listening silently, shook her head vehemently in denial. They'd borrowed fifteen nyang. Even with interest, fifty was outrageous.
Whoosh!
At Jang Bongpal's signal, his men pressed blades to her throat. No room for backtalk. Anyway, this was a talkative hero with money—a sucker. No cash in this dump, so perfect timing.
Clunk, roll!
A dull yellow lump rolled across the floor to Jang Bongpal's toe.
It was a gold ingot.
Mujin tossed three nyang worth.
"Take the rest and get lost."
"Of course! Let's go, boys!"
Jang Bongpal snatched the gold, pocketed it, and herded his men out of the scholar's house. The tense standoff, ripe for bloodshed, resolved absurdly simply.
A heavy silence fell over the ruined home.
Sob sob sob!
Soon, the man's shoulders shook. He clenched his teeth to stifle it but couldn't hold back. Years of pent-up grief erupted at once.
Ugh heh heh sob!
He'd tried not to show weakness. But Yong Mugil felt more pathetic for failing his family than his own misery.
"Daddy, don't cry!"
"...I'm sorry. Mother, dear! Forgive me!"
Like a contagion, the family embraced, weeping quietly. Even that they couldn't wail freely was heartbreaking.
Mujin waited patiently.
Bottling up resentment wasn't healthy. Better to let it pour out now for quicker recovery.
'Yawn's coming on.'
-Don't you have any emotions?
'When did the Demon King start caring about that crap? Hilarious.'
-Heartless bastard!
Once they'd composed themselves,
Mujin sent the son to the market for ample food supplies and had Yukchil fetch a physician. The house was barren—not even weeds for sustenance.
What had they even survived on? Surviving without starving was a miracle. Yong Mugil's wife looked far older than her years, her hardships plain to see.
'Tsk tsk, this ain't no way for humans to live.'
The wife and kids just needed wound care, but the old mother required treatment for her chronic illness.
After tending to her, they all sat together. The room was shabby but spacious.