The Dang Family's Thunder Descends
Jeon Cheong-su had lived a life as foul as stagnant sewage, a far cry from the pure water his name suggested. He was a loan shark of the Yeowangchae, and no one could say how many lives he had shoved into hell with his talent for extorting interest through every manner of threat and intimidation.
Even a man like him had a dream.
He would grow the scale of the money he turned over until he repaid every last coin he had borrowed from the big lenders. Then he would peel off the Yeowangchae label, open a proper money house, pay his taxes like a decent citizen, make a few donations for show, and live out a second life as a respectable man. That was his goal.
So when the Hwiyeom Comprehensive Finance House and the provincial administration suddenly enacted the Special Ordinance on Interest Rate Limits for Money Houses in the Seongdo District, capping all interest in Seongdo at a flat twenty percent, it felt as if the sky itself had collapsed on him.
In the end he could not even recover the funds he had scattered across Seongdo. Swallowing tears of rage, he had been forced to leave the city.
Some of his Yeowangchae rivals had gotten off lightly because the Sichuan Dang Family stepped in and wrote off the debts in their place. But for scum who had gone as far as Jeon Cheong-su, the Dang Family had not come with negotiation. They had come with a threat.
Give up the money and disappear—or die?
Even if the Sichuan Dang Family had lost their hidden weapons arts, wiping out a low-life black-path Yeowangchae like Jeon Cheong-su would not have required a single drop of poison. That was the true weight of a great sect or one of the Nine Great Noble Families.
So when a quiet approach was made to the Yeowangchae who, like Jeon Cheong-su, had taken heavy losses and been driven from Seongdo, they snapped up the proposal without a second thought.
"That Dang Hui-yeom bastard is coming back from Yellow Dragon Gorge with only four escorts?"
"Even counting the porters it's only twenty or thirty men."
"No matter how fancy the Dang Family warriors are, if we get the bows ready and just rain arrows on them from a distance, what are they going to do about it?"
Martial artists of the jianghu despised the bow as a cowardly weapon that killed from afar, yet the power of massed archery could never be ignored.
The man who brought the proposal had even put a bounty on Hui-yeom's head.
Ten guan of silver.
Converted into silver taels it was a full five hundred—enough capital to walk away from the Yeowangchae life tomorrow and open a legitimate money house.
Grudge and greed met, and the deal was sealed in an instant.
More than a hundred Yeowangchae driven out of Seongdo dug into their own pockets and hired every back-alley thug they could find. Their numbers swelled to three hundred.
Even for martial artists, three hundred was an uncomfortable figure unless you stood at Peak or higher.
Jeon Cheong-su ground his teeth as he looked over that uncomfortably large force of "greenwood bandits"—they had all changed into the fur cloaks and rags that mountain bandits wore, so the whole affair could be blamed on outlaws.
The problem is those rivals…
Three hundred men meant roughly a dozen Yeowangchae bosses, each with ten or so hangers-on, plus the street toughs they had scraped together. Put another way: once the Dang Family brat was dead, everyone except the twenty or thirty under Jeon Cheong-su's own command would become competitors.
Still, I've got one card I can trust.
Not long before they set out, a wandering martial artist had come asking to be included. When Jeon Cheong-su heard the man had reached the Peak realm, his heart had leapt.
Even if I have to hand him half the bounty, I still come out ahead.
The plan was simple. Lie in ambush. The moment the Dang brat and his party appeared, drown them in a rain of arrows without a word of warning. Afterward a fight would break out over the head; that was when the Peak expert would help him cut down the other Yeowangchae bosses and tidy everything up.
A smile of anticipation was just forming on his face when a subordinate came running.
"Boss, it's them. They're coming up from the foot of the pass. Half a shichen and they'll be right under our ambush point."
"Good. Get ready. And don't forget—stay toward the rear."
"Yes, sir!"
Jeon Cheong-su snarled a grin as he ordered them to seize the best position: far enough back that they would not be caught by any desperate thrashing of the escort warriors, yet perfect for stabbing his rivals in the back when the time came.
His plan had seemed flawless.
Right up until the moment a handsome woman among the escorts hurled an iron cylinder that exploded in midair above the front rank and turned a dozen thugs into shredded meat.
KWA-AANG!!
"?!"
Before setting out for Yellow Dragon Gorge, Hui-yeom had assembled an escort exactly as he had discussed with Dang Un-sang and Dang Su-jeong.
The number was so small that Un-sang could not hide his worry.
"Are you truly certain this many will be enough?"
Hui-yeom had called up only a single platoon of the Flame Net Unit—barely thirty men.
Given that an assassination was expected, the anxiety was natural. Hui-yeom remained unruffled.
"If the escort looks too solid, the attempt itself will be called off."
"Wouldn't that be better?"
"Better to look just weak enough that they think they can succeed, then crush them cleanly, than to force them into preparing something we can't stop."
Hui-yeom intended to turn the ambush around and finish Hong Ilgon for good.
First he made the itinerary completely transparent.
Rest stops chosen with the party's stamina in mind, estimated travel times, every detail that looked like ordinary travel planning—to anyone hunting an ambush, it was irresistible bait.
Between Yellow Dragon Gorge and Seongdo he picked a stretch that was not too far, yet late enough in the journey that the travelers would be starting to relax—perfect ground for an ambush—and scheduled a rest there.
He made certain word reached Hong Ilgon's ears. In the end the enemy did exactly as expected: they lay in wait at that very spot for Hui-yeom's party.
"If an assassination attempt comes this time, the attack will happen here."
Un-sang tapped a point on the map with one finger.
"Injeong Valley. Good water supply, natural place to rest halfway. Bowl-shaped hollow with a stream cutting straight through the middle like a knife slash. Perfect for dropping on someone from the forested high ground."
"How do you think they'll come at us?"
"Unless they're complete idiots, they'll avoid close combat. We're the Dang Family. No one wants to get near people who throw poison unless they have no other choice. So in this terrain they'll seize the high ground and pour arrows down."
Un-sang might not have been a brilliant manager, but he was a military expert. He spread the map and continued.
"So we hide shields in the carts and arm everyone with them before we enter the valley. An arrow rain from above is frightening, but with proper shields the damage is almost nothing. And these aren't archery grandmasters putting internal energy into every shaft."
"And after that?"
"Once they realize the arrows are useless, what else is left? They'll try a charge."
"That's our chance for a counterattack."
"Exactly. Su-jeong, the weight is on your shoulders. You must keep Yeom safe."
"Oppa, do you only worry about your son and never about your little sister?"
"Of course I worry about you too."
"Sure you do."
Dang Su-jeong snorted a laugh.
"I-I want to go as well!"
Dang Un-hwa shot his hand into the air.
"My martial skill may be lacking, but no one matches me in the yield and purity of Explosive Poison. I want to see with my own eyes how the stuff I made actually goes off."
"…Don't you already spend every day blowing the Innovation Hall's explosives testing wing half to pieces?"
"I've never used it on living people before!"
"…"
Un-sang wore the expression of a man briefly weighing whether his younger brother had been more tolerable as a petty thug lusting after the family headship or as the current blood-crazed slaughter-demon panting to watch human meat get processed. Then he nodded.
"…Do as you like."
Un-hwa was currently infatuated with Hui-yeom; in the worst case he would at least serve as a meat shield. With that merciless thought—hardly the thinking of an elder brother—Un-sang gave permission.
And so Hui-yeom's party finished their business at Yellow Dragon Gorge and started back. The moment they reached the predicted ambush site, the waiting Yeowangchae revealed themselves and unleashed an arrow storm without a word of warning.
But Hui-yeom's people had expected it. They simply pulled the large shields from the carts and the rain of arrows was stopped with almost insulting ease.
"What the hell is that?! Since when do Dang Family warriors walk around carrying shields?!"
"Damn it! The arrows aren't getting through!"
They had never properly trained in archery, and none of them were putting internal energy into the shafts. Sheer numbers alone could never punch through a shield wall.
When events refused to follow the script, the Yeowangchae panicked.
"Just keep shooting! Keep shooting, damn you!"
They emptied their quivers, yet the party beneath the shields, tucked away like turtles, took not a single wound. By choosing high ground to exploit the terrain for archery, they had created the perfect defensive angle: simply holding the shields overhead blocked every arrow.
Realizing the plan had collapsed, Jeon Cheong-su and the other Yeowangchae bosses eyed one another, then drew their blades.
"Shit! Everyone draw and charge! Since it's come to this, we smash them flat!"
Even if their men had to bleed, they now had no choice but to close and take heads.
"Don't be afraid! We've got the numbers!"
"When has the Dang Family ever been some invincible fortress?!"
"Twenty silver taels for every warrior's head!"
Numerical superiority, old grudges, and raw greed. When the three came together, the thugs forgot their fear, snatched up sabers and cheap iron swords, and charged down the valley slope.
The people of the Sichuan Dang Family did not so much as twitch as they watched the rush.
Dang Su-jeong let out a short, scornful laugh.
"I kept thinking maybe, but no—these aren't even the Killing Curtain or the Asura Sword Gate. What are these guys?"
"Yeowangchae, I imagine. They must be overflowing with grudges."
The Dang people simply waited, hands tucked into their sleeves.
When the charge closed to fifty paces, Hui-yeom spoke.
"Throw Tang Thunder."
Cha-ak!!
Almost before the flint rings on their fingers could spark, two cylindrical iron casings left Dang Su-jeong's hands and arced into the sky.
"Hidden weapons!"
"What's he aiming at?"
It was not a throw so fast the eye could not follow. If anything the Tang Thunder was lofted almost leisurely, as if to be seen. The lead thugs sneered at the slow trajectory climbing above them.
That was the last laugh any of them ever laughed in this world.
—KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWANG!!!
Thirty people threw. Sixty Tang Thunder grenades detonated almost as one above the heads of the front rank. The concussion shook the entire valley.
The men in the van did not even have time to scream before they became flying chunks of meat. The iron shot blasted outward from the Tang Thunder too fast for the eye to register; it was as if an invisible giant had reared up and slammed both fists into the valley floor. Bodies were flung in every direction, torn apart in a single heartbeat.
Those who survived stumbled, tumbled down the slope, or simply froze where they stood. The shot from the airbursts had raked as far back as the middle ranks.
A moment later the screams of the "unlucky ones who lived" filled the gorge.
"Aaaagh!!"
"Gyaaaaah!!"
Men with their bodies riddled like sieves, men rolling with blood pouring from the empty sockets where their eyes had been, men howling over hands that looked as if a tiger had chewed them and spat them out…
A thick blood-scent settled over the valley like mist, as though one corner of hell had been transplanted there in an instant.
The Yeowangchae plunged into panic.
They were not a drilled army. They were not even the disciplined disciples of a single sect. They were not even the greenwood bandits they were pretending to be. At best they were back-alley thugs who had lived by threatening the weak and bleeding them for coin. Having just watched human beings turned into bloody rags before their eyes, they had no will left to fight.
And then—
"Kwahahahahahaha!!"
—one madman's peal of laughter drove the final nail into their terror.
Dang Un-hwa stood with bloodshot eyes and hair in wild disarray, head thrown back, roaring with laughter at the heavens.
"Did you see it, Heaven?! Did you hear it, Earth?! This is the Dang Family's thunder! This is the power of our great Sichuan Dang Family! And I, Dang Un-hwa, am the one who made the Dang Family's thunder!! Kwahahahahahaha!!"
…Contribution percentages aside, the sheer mania pouring off Un-hwa's blood-soaked laughter was enough to make even a sane observer's survival instinct scream, That lunatic is not right in the head—stay far away. And these men had just watched people turn into meat mixed with cloth scraps right in front of them.
Without anyone needing to give the order, the thugs shrieked, flung their weapons away, and fled. Through the chaos the Dang people calmly prepared to draw fresh hidden weapons from their robes.
Using the confusion, the Crimson Cloud Sword Ghost Ha Un sprinted toward Dang Hui-yeom, teeth clenched.
So that's Tang Thunder! Terrifying. But those people aren't all Peak masters—how can it have this much power?
The thought was a misunderstanding born of ignorance about how Tang Thunder actually worked. Ha Un believed the explosions were a function of the Green Dragon Divine Art. He had never realized that even the coachmen and servants who knew no martial arts could throw a Tang Thunder and make it detonate.
In fact, even Hong Ilgon—who had watched Lee Jinmyeong throw one during a demonstration—had missed that detail. From the moment he began planning Hui-yeom's elimination he had considered only martial artists. A kind of fixed idea.
—Siiing!!
A second wave of Tang Thunder arced into the sky.
Before departure Hui-yeom had issued each of them four types of Tang Thunder, ten of each, graded by fuse length: three seconds for a ten-pace throw, five seconds for thirty paces, ten seconds for fifty. Just like dynamite whose detonation timing is set by fuse length, the Tang Thunder could be used exactly the same way—once the burning fuse met the explosive core inside, it went off.
The second volley flew farther than the first and burst above the fleeing thugs' heads. Screams, scraps of flesh, blood, and iron shot filled the air.
In that moment of pure carnage, Dang Su-jeong's eyes locked onto a single figure tearing down the slope at terrifying speed. She was already drawing a third Tang Thunder; she clicked her tongue, put it away, and drew throwing daggers instead.
"Oh, so there was someone useful mixed in. From Qingcheng, are you?"
The Crimson Cloud Sword Ghost Ha Un's pupils shook violently.
How?!
They had reacted as if they had known about the ambush all along—calm, natural, no panic. They had even raised shields as though they expected arrows. That alone would have been enough to suspect a traitor. But preparing hidden weapons of such absurd power for this throng of thugs and wanderers? And how had she recognized that he was a Qingcheng martial artist?
How… how did they know even about me?!
In that instant a conversation with Songhak Jin-in flashed through Ha Un's mind.
—Master, wouldn't it be safer if others went with me rather than me alone?
—That Hong Ilgon fellow is a little suspicious.
—What? What do you mean?
—Nothing certain. Just an odd, uneasy feeling. If the situation starts looking strange, run immediately.
The pieces snapped together. Ha Un roared.
"Hong Ilgoooon!! You traitorous son of a bitch!!"
"Oh-ho, so it really was true? Nice confession~."
Hui-yeom grinned.
"Don't kill him, Aunt. Keep him alive."
"My goodness, of course. How could I refuse a request like that?"
Dang Su-jeong smiled sweetly, but her eyes were pure murder.
Piyuuung!!
In a blink more than a dozen daggers left her hands. Phoenix Daggers—basic Dang Family throwing technique—yet in the hands of someone as skilled as she, the forms bloomed like the scattered feathers of a phoenix.
But—
Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-kang!!
Ha Un, a Peak master himself, knocked every last dagger aside with his sword. Su-jeong's eyes narrowed.
"Not bad. Let's see if you can handle this too."
She gave ground before the closing Ha Un and hurled Tang Thunder from her robes. Three grenades shot out in an instant, forming a perfect triangle—front, left, and right of him. A dizzying chill ran through Ha Un.
I can't dodge…!
Tang Thunder was not an ordinary hidden weapon you could simply step aside from. The gaps between the three were wide enough for a dozen men to pass, yet the moment they detonated not even an ant would get through.
Ha Un poured every drop of internal energy into a defensive form.
A screen of blood-red sunset sword-qi unfurled around him like a folding screen—a perfect Geommak, the Sword Barrier that sealed every angle.
No matter how formidable a hidden weapon, it cannot pierce this barrier. I only need to endure once, then I'll cut your throat!
He poured out a vast flood of internal energy and steeled his resolve.
But—
—Kwa-kwa-kwang!!
"Kkeuuugh—!!!"
The Crimson Cloud Wind Barrier was said to stop even a driving rain without letting a single drop through. The storm of iron shot that erupted from the three Tang Thunder grenades was denser than rain, and far more vicious.
Tiny steel balls slipped between sword and sword and riddled Ha Un's entire body with wounds like ant tunnels. Blood sprayed from every direction; the shock and the thunderclap scrambled his organs. He vomited blood.
"Waaaaargh!!"
Barely remaining upright, using his sword like a cane, he never saw the small iron ring that streaked toward the center of his brow. Dang Su-jeong's Meteor Ring form cracked against his forehead and his head snapped backward.
This can't be… to end so absurdly…
That was the last thought before his consciousness cut out.