Storm Over Suzhou
The organization Tamri led was the Suzhou Branch of Haomun’s Boat-Horse Faction.
The character for “boat” referred to the water taxis and the boatmen who worked them, while “horse” meant the teamsters of the horse stations—the drivers themselves.
“The Suzhou Branch of Haomun is divided into five factions in all,” Tamri explained. “The Windflow Faction, the Dark Night Faction, the Gallant Faction, the Gambling Soul Faction… and our own Boat-Horse Faction.”
“The names all sound grand enough. Care to elaborate?”
“Of course. The largest and strongest of them is the Gallant Faction.”
“Haomun calling themselves gallants? What are they really?”
“What else would a pack of lowlifes who swagger around calling themselves heroes be, if not street thugs and local ruffians? They’re a third-rate gang of enforcers.”
“Ah. I see.”
“To a true martial master they look like a joke—just another pack of third-rate punks. But compared with the courtesans, thieves, pickpockets, and boatmen, they’re the ones most at home with violence, and they keep a tight hierarchy among themselves. That makes them the closest thing Haomun has to a proper underworld martial sect.
“And their leader, Three-Kill Fist Wi Cheong-gang, is a Peak master.”
“Three-Kill Fist…”
Dang Su-jeong tilted her head. Hwi-yeom asked, “Someone you know, Aunt?”
“Anyone who reaches Peak has at least a name people have heard. What I can’t figure out is why a Peak master would settle for running a street gang.”
“Peak masters are strong, no question—but the Poison Phoenix sitting right here is a Transcendental Peak master, and a specialist in poisons and hidden weapons besides. Wi Cheong-gang’s chances of beating her are zero.”
He said it as if he fully expected Dang Su-jeong to go fight Wi Cheong-gang on his behalf. She could have been annoyed, but Hwi-yeom simply laughed it off.
“So the Gallant Faction has the most men and the best fighting strength. What’s next?”
“That would be us—the Boat-Horse Faction. Boatmen and drivers live rough lives, so we’ve got a fair bit of muscle and backbone. Unlike some of the other trades, we can live openly without much trouble, so our numbers aren’t small either.
“Compared with the Gallants, our weaknesses are that we’re not used to killing and that we’re a collection of independent boatmen and drivers. Our cohesion and organization leave something to be desired.”
“And after that?”
“If you’re talking money and influence, it’s the Windflow Faction. They’re the courtesans, the madams, and the brothel networks those women run. That puts them in contact with high officials and binds them tightly to the merchants, so they sit close to both gold and power.
“Their martial strength is weak, though, and the power isn’t really theirs—they cling to powerful men. More often than not they get dragged around by that power instead of using it. Their intelligence network, on the other hand, is every bit as good as ours. Put a beautiful woman and a few cups of wine in front of a man and his tongue loosens, after all.”
“Makes sense.”
“Next is the Dark Night Faction. Fancy name, but they’re just a gathering of gentlemen of the night—thieves—and pickpockets. Weak in a fight, weak as an organization, but any night visitor can turn into an assassin at a moment’s notice. You can’t afford to get careless.”
“Thieves… I’ll remember that.”
“Last is the Gambling Soul Faction—the gamblers. They’re mostly the cardsharps and shell-game artists who make their living in Suzhou’s many dens.
“Martial strength, organization, intelligence—none of it is worth a damn. Complete trash. But their leader is no one to take lightly. He’s none other than one of the Two Fiends of the Jianghu: the Gambling Fiend, Jang Ho-seung.”
“The Gambling Fiend!”
Until that moment Dang Su-jeong had been watching the whole parade of nobodies inventing grandiose nicknames and clubs for themselves with pure contempt. Now a genuine note of shock escaped her lips.
“He’s famous?”
“If you say ‘Gambling Fiend of the Two Fiends Under Heaven,’ you’re talking about a true eccentric who sits right on the line between orthodox and unorthodox. In pure martial rank he’d be upper-tier Transcendental Peak.”
“Which means…”
Stronger than Dang Su-jeong herself.
She filled in the rest. “The Gambling Fiend originally practiced an ordinary Buddhist art called the Great Strength Stone Buddha Qi Gong. That art has one fatal side effect.”
“A side effect? What is it?”
“It flattens the emotional range of anyone who masters it, forcing the mind into a state like still water. A lot of Buddhist arts do something similar.”
“That’s a side effect? Sounds like a good thing.”
Hwi-yeom cocked his head. Sama Yun cut in from the side.
“The problem is that Jang Ho-seung never properly cultivated the Great Strength Stone Buddha Divine Art. He stumbled onto the manual by chance and taught himself, so the art went wrong. His emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure—were forcibly crushed down to almost nothing. Life became completely flat for him.
“Ever since, he’s gambled just to feel something, to remind himself he’s still alive. Not only gambling—he picks fights on purpose, throws himself into every kind of outrageous stunt, anything for a jolt of reality. That’s how he earned the name Gambling Fiend.”
“I see.”
Hwi-yeom took it all in, then spoke. “So from the Boat-Horse Faction’s point of view, there’s no easy target anywhere. A straight fight with the Gallants is suicide. The Windflow Faction’s influence is a headache. The Dark Night Faction is almost impossible to locate. And the one group that looks softest, the Gambling Souls, has a leader who’s an untouchable supreme master. That about sum it up?”
“Honestly, yes. But every other faction is in the same boat, so everyone’s just watching each other. The first one to attack another becomes the public enemy and catches fire from every direction.”
“I’m curious—why don’t they simply join forces?”
“That’s a rather foolish question.”
Even as she dismissed it, Tamri answered without hesitation. “No one divides treasure. Even if they swear to share, sooner or later someone will complain about the method or the amounts and betrayal is guaranteed. That’s what Haomun is. Just as weak animals survive predators by turning on each other, betrayal and secret struggle are the normal order of things inside Haomun.”
“Heh. So I can take that to mean that you, Branch Leader, will eventually betray our main house as well?”
Hwi-yeom prodded. Tamri not only accepted the jab—she doubled down.
“If the Tang Family ever looks so loose that I could betray you and walk away clean, of course I would. But is it that loose? The Young Master’s Tang Family?”
She met his provocation with one of her own. Hwi-yeom smiled.
“Then start by handing over the intelligence on enemy numbers and territories.”
“Can we consider the alliance sealed?”
“Write the contract first. The core terms… let’s see. In exchange for the main house helping the Branch Leader take control of Suzhou, the Branch Leader swears loyalty to the Tang Family.”
“How did a talk about a business partnership suddenly leap to an oath of fealty?”
“Because you’re not even the complete Branch Leader yet, and you’re trying to use our house’s strength to claim the seat properly.”
“Hahaha. I can’t win. Very well. If you deliver Suzhou into my hands, this Tamri will gladly become the Tang Family’s dog and lay every last thing in Suzhou at your feet.”
From the window Tamri watched Hwi-yeom and the Tang people leave. Her lieutenant asked cautiously, “Young Master… will this be all right?”
“Guildmaster.”
“Yes—forgive me, Guildmaster. Are you truly certain about bringing the Tang Family in?”
“Of course.”
Tamri gave a short laugh. “The Tang Family is an orthodox sect, pure and simple. Right now they enjoy the Emperor’s favor and handle every major state project. If people like that dip their toes into Suzhou’s darkness? Just exposing that would be a fatal blow.”
The predecessor of Noksan had been the mountain bandit strongholds of Sichuan and Yunnan among the Seventy-Two Greenwood Forts, and its staff were former bandits. Angang’s predecessor had been the infamous river pirates of the Yangtze’s Eighteen Water Strongholds. The Emperor almost certainly knew and simply looked the other way—because the Tang Family was useful. But if the truth were publicly revealed, it would be far harder to sweep under the rug. Especially for someone like Byeong Jong-pi, who already ground his teeth over the Tang Family; he would sink his teeth in with real relish.
On top of that, the very act of the Tang Family killing people in the streets to suppress the other four factions would supply more than enough material for an accusation. “Officials do not interfere in the martial world” only means the authorities will turn a blind eye to fights between martial artists. Haomun’s rank and file, however, look less like martial artists to outsiders and more like powerless victims.
The Gallant Faction’s thugs and the Dark Night Faction’s thieves could still be painted as unorthodox martial men. But the moment the Tang Family turned the Boat-Horse Faction into an enemy? That became “an attack on honest boatmen and drivers,” and the principle of non-interference collapsed.
Therefore the Tang Family could never truly take Suzhou. They would be thoroughly used by Tamri and then driven out.
Of course Tamri valued her own life. To avoid dying someday from poison slipped into her food, she would have to show the Tang Family at least a token of sincerity. What had they asked for? A business partnership on the personal boat service? That much she could grant. Once Suzhou was in her hands, a little convenience for their water-taxi business was nothing.
And so I take Suzhou, and I pull one step ahead in the race to become the next Haomun Lord!
Flushed with that ambition, Tamri found herself speechless the next day when her subordinate brought the report.
“What? The Gallant Faction wiped out overnight? The Gambling Fiend swore loyalty to the Tang Family? The Gambling Soul Faction and the Windflow Faction merged into a new Tang Family enterprise? What… what the hell is this nonsense?!”
One day earlier—after finishing the meeting with Tamri—Hwi-yeom returned and immediately summoned the Dokwadae. He gave them a brief account of the situation, then issued the order.
“From this moment, we exterminate the Gallant Faction.”
“If that is the command, we obey… but is it wise?”
The temporary acting captain of the Dokwadae asked. Hwi-yeom smiled.
“Don’t worry. The Gallant Faction are nothing but street ruffians—black-path scum, pure and simple. Even if we make a fair amount of noise, the authorities will uphold non-interference. Just be careful not to produce civilian casualties.”
“Understood.”
“We’re inside the city, so make use of the handguns.”
Until now the weapons had felt almost like Dang Su-jeong’s personal tools, but every member of the Tang Family had been trained in the pepperbox revolvers—the Hagyeongchong. Combat units such as the Hwamangdae and Dokwadae each carried their own.
“Yes, sir!”
Every Dokwadae operative practiced a simplified version of the Green Dragon Divine Art known as Explosive Poison Art, and they were thoroughly proficient with the weapon that detonated that explosive poison in place of gunpowder to fire its lead balls. Tonight, however, they would use the powder-charge version of the Hagyeongchong rather than the explosive-poison type.
Fifty martial artists armed with anachronistic handguns, slaughtering gangsters in the sixteenth-century Venice of Asia that was Suzhou, possessed none of the stylish noir of an 1980s Hong Kong film. The Dokwadae simply mowed the thugs down with the mechanical ease of men clearing weeds.
“Who the hell are you?! Which faction sent you?!”
Bang-bang-bang!!
“Gyaaaah!”
“Aaaagh!”
All they had to do was visit each of the dens Tamri had pointed out, kick the doors open, and ventilate the occupants with pistol fire. The “martial-world disturbance” Tamri had imagined never even materialized. There were no street duels of clashing swords and sabers, no blood and entrails spilling into the alleys, no civilians caught in the middle to turn public opinion against them. No real battle formed at all.
As for the Gallant Faction’s Peak master, Wi Cheong-gang…
“Heh heh! So you are the famed Poison Phoenix, Dang Su-jeong! A worthy opponent at last!”
“….”
“I am Three-Kill Fist Wi Cheong-gang! Today I will kill you and raise my name to the heavens! If you thought that beauty would dull my fists, you are sorely mistaken!”
“….”
“Take this! Three-Kill Demon Emperor Fist—!”
Bang!!
“Guh.”
Dang Su-jeong, already at the pinnacle of mastery, drew and fired faster than the eye could follow. The bullet punched through his brow. He crumpled with a bewildered expression, never quite realizing he was dead.
She blew the smoke from the barrel, then swept a cool gaze across the stunned thugs.
“You can walk yourselves to prison, or I can open a new breathing hole in each of your skulls. Your choice.”
And so the Gallant Faction of Haomun lost its leader and collapsed without ceremony. Their end was almost merciful. They had at least gone through the motions of a martial fight before dying; even in the afterlife Wi Cheong-gang might have scratched his head and wondered how he died, but he would not have felt particularly cheated.
The leaders of the Windflow Faction and the Gambling Soul Faction, however—Seol Baek and Jang Ho-seung—were destined for a far longer and more absurd night when Hwi-yeom arrived unannounced in the small hours.
“Shall we build a paradise together?”
“?”