Chapter 28
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Annoying Ties (2)
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Who suffers when a disturbance or accident breaks out at an inn? It's entirely the innkeeper, the staff, and the other guests. For the innkeeper especially, it's like a bolt from the blue. If they could at least get proper compensation, that'd be one thing, but among martial artists, there are hardly any who aren't unreasonable. Unless your guts are spilling out, it's hard to demand money.
Asking for money for no reason? You're lucky if your head doesn't roll.
Of course, the innkeeper knows this all too well, so they don't dare act out. Money matters, but not more than their life.
"What nonsense. Since when did you care about that? Spit some real words, you inn destroyer!"
'When did I ever destroy an inn?'
"I might not know about others, but I know everything about you. Want me to recite the numbers?"
'Ahem. Anyway, I haven't broken any this time.'
"Just admit you're too lazy. You don't want to get involved."
'Why are you butting into my son's education?'
"Because I'm your sky-high master."
This Cheon-gyeong bastard kept popping up out of nowhere to nitpick. He couldn't understand the pains of a father reflecting on his shameful past and advising his son not to repeat it. And this was all sincere advice born from experience. Every single person he'd met at inns had picked a fight.
'I was just minding my own business.'
"Oh please, who was it that said they couldn't stand the sight of you and started trouble?"
'They told me to give up my seat first.'
"So you smashed their limbs for it?"
He'd often run into handsome young heirs from prestigious families. Their behavior was always outrageous, ruining his appetite. In truth, if you analyzed it, he was just venting his frustration with his own situation. Still, he couldn't stand their arrogance.
"Son, you must always stay humble."
"But you told me not to go getting beat up."
"You shouldn't get hit."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"Want me to make it make sense, Daddy?"
"It's perfect now! It all makes sense!"
That's my boy.
He grasped situations perfectly. With instincts that sharp, he wouldn't go getting thrashed anywhere. But if he couldn't handle my Ten Seconds Style smoothly, he wasn't ready for the jianghu.
"Your meal is here, sir!"
The serious father-son talk ended as the waiter came in. He brought stir-fried vegetables, steamed fish, and dumplings. An odd mix, but they paired strangely well. They were called the inn's three treasures. The veggies were perfectly stir-fried, the fish seasoned mildly yet flavorful, and the dumplings just right. Their balance of flavors made the set rival any full-course meal, even if none stood out alone.
He also brought a bottle of bamboo leaf liquor.
"Care for a drink?"
"You're giving me some?"
"You learn drinking from adults."
"From what I know... yeah, okay."
He cut off any nonsense beforehand and enjoyed a simple meal with his son. Eating while overlooking So Lake's scenery was exquisite. The sunset made it even more magnificent.
But sure enough.
A fight broke out in the inn's second-floor dining hall. Looked like a dispute over seats. Waves of qi rippled through the air.
"See?"
"Shouldn't we check it out?"
"Not at all."
"What if it goes wrong?"
"Their problem."
Fights were the responsibility of those involved. Sure, the aggressor bore more blame, but that didn't obligate a third party to step in. These days, saving someone didn't guarantee gratitude.
'Too lazy.'
'Exactly! It's a hassle. So what!'
Taejin had grown used to his father's rational selfishness. When had Dad ever cared about others' business? He'd always said not to meddle unless absolutely necessary.
'Because I'm not complete yet.'
As a martial artist, completion was vague. Even perfection left higher realms. Still, Taejin drew a line. He'd hold back until he reached a satisfying level.
Crash!
Breaking glass echoed.
The innkeeper's heart shattered with it. Someone should stop it, but who? Butting in clumsily was a sure way to die. Unless it was your own life, you didn't beg for help—that was the way of merchants.
Thud, crash!
The second floor was turning into a wreck. A hulking man was tangled with five young punks surrounding him. It started one-on-one but turned into one against five.
"...Cowards."
"Told you not to stick your nose in. Playing the hero got you this mess!"
The trouble started with the frightened woman and child cowering in the corner. Self-proclaimed North Wind Five Dragons demanded to join their table; she refused.
But their real aim was the woman. They used her rejection as an excuse for lewd demands. The burly man couldn't stand it and intervened, clashing with the First Dragon, Oh Chu-hwan.
Oh Chu-hwan smirked, expecting an easy takedown, but the big man was tough if not fast. In the cramped inn, footwork was tricky, and Oh got pushed back. His buddies joined in.
"We'll start by chopping off your limbs."
"Then comfort ourselves with her in front of you."
"Think those balls make you tough? You'll die!"
Nam Cheol-ho seethed but was helpless. His mistake for stepping in half-cocked. Whatever the reason, once involved, it was his burden. He wouldn't back down for lack of strength.
"Before that, one of you dies."
"You bastard! Fine, today you die!"
The North Wind Five Dragons sensed it.
This guy was dangerous. He couldn't overwhelm them now, but later he would. Better nip it early. Murderous intent filled their swords.
"Die!"
As the chaos erupted and killing intent boiled, Mujin cracked the door and peeked at the scene. Obvious reason. Seeing the trembling mother and daughter explained it. Lecherous scum harassing them; the man stepped up.
He planned to ignore it—his choice. But the man's face rang a bell.
'Where do I know that guy from?'
'Iron King.'
'Ah, that pumpkin-headed sweet potato.'
'A pain in the ass.'
Stubborn blockhead, but he'd tormented the Demonic Cult during the Great Blood War. His Iron Blood Lion Qi was impressive. Too willful and pigheaded for friends, though. Human relations in the toilet. How does one even...
'Says the guy who...'
'I just didn't make any.'
'Couldn't.'
'I chose not to!'
Anyway, running into a young Iron King—future pumpkin sweet potato—here of all places. His youthful bravado was something. But if he died or got crippled here, how would history change?
He wasn't on Mujin's level, even as a king. Still, his young self was unexpected. Mujin figured he'd been a famed late-generation talent. Yet here he was, struggling against third-raters.
"Can't let that happen."
Mujin decided to safeguard Iron King's future.
Unlike himself, he stuck his nose in. Naturally, no warning to these third-rate trash.
Swoosh, bang!
A strike to the back of the head.
Guhk!
The sudden fist nearly caved in his skull. Wouldn't kill, but getting up would be hell.
"...What? You... guk!"
Asking got no answer.
Mujin grabbed his collar, slammed him down, and hurled him at the charging punks. Catching him awkwardly was a mistake. Mujin lunged, swept a leg, and kneed the airborne face.
Splat!
Without pause, he flung two more. The last two—one tried assessing, but time was short. Mujin grabbed a plate and smashed his head.
Crack, crash!
In seconds, four of the North Wind Five Dragons were down. The lone First Dragon, Lee Myeong-woo, recoiled in horror.
"...Sneaky ambush... khek!"
"Watch your back."
Focus only on me? How?
Nam Cheol-ho's eyes bulged. Ignoring the wounded tiger for a rear sneak attack. Rage surged to bursting; foam spewed from his mouth.
'Emotional, huh.'
Who'd feel good after a beating?
North Wind Five Dragons or whatever—no need to know. Mujin shattered their dantians so they'd never strut again. For martial artists, dantian was dearer than life, but mistakes demand payment.
As Mujin crushed the dantians, Nam Cheol-ho frowned.
"Was that necessary...?"
"They're weaklings."
"What?"
"Think these punks will repent? Lucky if they don't cause more trouble."
Don't drop guard on vermin. They hold grudges deep. If they can't handle it themselves, they borrow hands. Cripple them fully first—no profit in touching them then.
Profit-chasers surround themselves with the same. They won't act without gain.
Mujin meticulously ruined their dantians and crippled two limbs each. In an empty alley or if they'd struck first, he'd have killed them. But outright murder hurt his clan's rep more. Bodies could be dumped later.
"Besides, you're not dragging that woman around with you."
"...True."
One-on-one failed, so they ganged up. Failing against Nam Cheol-ho, they could've blamed and threatened the woman. Illogical, but the world worked that way.
"Loot their clothes for cash."
"I'm not that kind of guy."
"Who said take it? What do we do with this mess? Gotta compensate. You can't just save someone irresponsibly and bail—the innkeeper? Cover the damages."
"...Right."
Mujin told them to report attempted murder and property damage to the authorities, then gave the looted money to the innkeeper. The terrified mother and daughter bowed repeatedly in thanks.
'Life's like that.'
If grateful, say thanks.
'Ugh, no sleep and this crap.'
'Thirty days without sleep and you're fine—quit whining.'
'No sleep tires the mind, not the body.'
'Isn't the nonsense tiring by now?'
Tsk.
The Demon King nitpicked everything. Pitiful, dragging this petty guy as a "friend."
Before dawn, Mujin visited the local Hao network to check the punks' identities. Any backers, he'd handle them.
Lucky for them.
No backers, or they'd have joined the afterlife that night. Nam Cheol-ho couldn't handle them yet. Save him from hassle just to die tomorrow? Pointless meddling.
No thanks to wasted effort.
And that was that. Future Iron King, Demonic Cult tormentor—but this kid needed manners.
'At least say thanks.'
Help given deserved bows, but the brat used informal speech.
Just like someone.
'Boomer.'
'You damned—!'
Morning, he left the inn for So Lake's docks. Plenty of early risers. Pack-peddling merchants hustling to earn their keep.
Day laborers, folks with stories—all boarding. So Lake was small compared to Dongting or Tai, but vast up close, horizon endless from the docks.
But a familiar face blocked the way.