Heir to the Wolf's Blood (10)
It was a good farewell. A clean one. That's what Mukgang thought.
That is, if the wolf with muffled footsteps hadn't emerged from the darkness and spoken to him.
"Long time no see, Brother Muk."
"There's no reason for you to call me brother, so don't."
His tone drew a firm line, but Sima Bu paid it no mind, flashing his signature affable smile as he bowed to Mukgang.
"If I can't call a great hero like Brother Muk my brother, then who can I?"
"This time, my little brother Sima here received a great favor from you."
Dog father, tiger son. In an instant, Mukgang found himself with a greedy tiger of a nephew whose head was filled with thoughts of devouring his secret martial arts from a backstabbing, two-faced dog of a little brother. He let out a weary sigh.
"...So what do you want from me?"
"If you've received a favor, isn't it only right to repay it?"
Sima Bu lightly clapped his hands, and a servant waiting behind him carefully opened the lid of an ornate wooden box. Inside lay a plaque engraved with "Sima."
"It's a plaque of gratitude from the Sima Family, Mangtakjo-ui, one of the Four Pillars of the Evil Faction."
Favors are repaid in gold, grudges in steel. It's an unspoken rule that anyone in the jianghu must follow, righteous or evil.
"Show this plaque, and the organizations under the Sima Family—like the Blood Wolf Band or Blue Snake Gang—will never treat you as an enemy. If you need aid, they'll provide it. And furthermore..."
"Enough. That's plenty."
They were words not worth hearing anymore, so Mukgang pulled a bundle of jerky from his bosom and cut Sima Bu off.
"I've already received my repayment from your son. So put that pointless plaque away."
Sima Bu's eyes gleamed with knowing amusement at the glimpse of jerky peeking from the bundle. He bowed to Mukgang even more deeply than before—the bow of a parent to their child's master.
"Thank you for taking in my foolish child as your disciple."
For some reason, the image of Yeomhwa bringing him a lunchbox and begging to learn martial arts from Mancheon overlapped with the scene. Mukgang sighed heavily.
Father and daughter were cut from the same cloth. Blood is thicker than water, it seemed—even that black heart of his had been passed down. The shamelessness must have gone to Mancheon, the cunning to Yeomhwa.
A shameless, cunning wolf family.
"...Is that all you had to say?"
At Mukgang's calm prodding, Sima Bu wiped the smile from his face and got to the real point.
"What do you make of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's recent movements?"
He had no obligation to answer, but the memory of the lunchbox Yeomhwa had given him before made his heavy mouth open despite himself. If you'd accepted alms, reciting a sutra was the way of the Buddha.
"The more chaos within, the more they turn their eyes outward."
With that, Mukgang turned and resumed his silent trek into the darkness.
Sima Bu shouted something from behind, but he didn't stop.
"I've told you enough. Figure out the rest yourself."
He pulled a strip of jerky from the bundle and popped it into his mouth. Not bad.
Raiding the Fire Cult to secure a mountain sacrifice for the Heavenly Demon, mustering troops to conquer the Sima Family. On the surface, it looked like the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult was gearing up for full activity. But not to Mukgang's eyes.
It was just a ploy to quell internal chaos by looking outward. Honestly, what was strange was how quiet they'd been until now.
And with good reason. The spiritual pillar and symbol of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult—the Greatest Demon of Past and Present, Heavenly Demon—
He looked up at the sky.
Gazed at the moonless night sky shrouded in thick clouds.
—Had vanished seventeen years ago, on a day when the heavens themselves were blotted out.
***
"...Shall I tail him?"
Jang Sambung, who had been hiding her form with shadow arts, revealed herself and awaited orders. Sima Bu slowly shook his head.
"Tailing your child's master is hardly proper."
Since when did you care about propriety?
It was absurd. People really went soft when family was involved.
"...If you want him to teach one more thing, why not teach it yourself?"
She couldn't understand why he didn't pass the family's secret arts to his eldest legitimate son, Mancheon, in the first place. To Sima Bu's valid question, he gave a wry, self-mocking smile.
"He's already learned fine righteous faction arts. What good would teaching him our filthy underworld evil arts do? I don't want to ruin my son's life."
Four Pillars of the Evil Faction this, that—no matter how you dressed it up, he was just an underworld gang boss. How could he reveal to his family that he was the kind of filthy evil boss who buried men, women, and children alike in mountains and seas if they got in his way?
Impossible. To his beloved wife and children, he wanted to be nothing but a good husband and father.
That's why he'd even paid to frame the cult's invasion as bandit work. He wanted to report it to the authorities or the righteous factions right away, but that would lead to investigations into his dealings with the cult.
The Sima Family's true nature would be exposed.
Now, at last, the plan to bring the Sima Family into the light was on track. He could finally bid farewell to the tiresome shadows.
Sima Bu turned to gaze toward Mancheon's room.
Not as an evil faction boss, but as a father worried for his son.
"...I'll never let Cheon burden the yoke of the evil factions. I'll pass on only the bright, good things."
'Heartless bastard.'
Jang Sambung barely managed to swallow the crude words that nearly burst out loud. If he hated the cult and evil factions so much it made him sick, he shouldn't take their money. Sucking up every last drop from the shadows before jumping to the light—that was pure thief mentality.
...But on second thought.
The evil factions were a den of thieves to begin with, and Sima Bu was one of their bosses. A thief scolding another thief for thievery would just confuse everyone.
Jang Sambung grumbled to herself, came to her own conclusion, and nodded.
***
Summer, when the peach blossoms bloomed in full.
Beautiful pale pink petals swirled, veiling the sky.
And as promised, Mancheon and Yeomhwa shared the oath cups beneath the peach tree.
"I swear before heaven and earth: I, Sima Mancheon, shall never betray Yeomhwa and will stay by her side until my dying breath."
It was the classic oath to the heavens, but Yeomhwa felt it lacked something. So she tweaked the latter half to her taste.
"I, Sima Yeomhwa, likewise swear never to betray or cease loving orabeoni, and to remain by his side even unto death."
They declared their vow to the heavens and drained their cups. The Peach Garden Oath intertwined with the red thread of fate, binding their destinies even tighter.
Yeomhwa shyly lifted her lips from the cup, peeking at Mancheon's face with bashful hesitation.
Thick brows, sharp jawline, straight nose, wolf-like amber eyes.
Her handsome orabeoni, as always.
...Yes, my handsome orabeoni.
She gently placed a hand over her chest.
Even through her clothes, she could feel her heart racing with joy at being joined with her beloved orabeoni.
"We've made our oath. Shall we stroll the market?"
At the kind, warm hand extended to her, Yeomhwa's face flushed peach-blossom pink amid the scattering petals.
A man and woman holding hands in public. Such a vulgar, crude act.
...Yet her body moved first.
Her reason numbed by orabeoni's sweet whisper.
She tentatively laid her delicate fingers atop his palm.
Their hands clasped.
The pair, their oath complete, walked side by side down the street amid the whirling peach blossoms.
‧ ‧ ‧
A cheerful hum escaped my lips unbidden.
I combed my beautiful black hair with the comb orabeoni bought me at the market.
I'd only glanced at it because it made me look a bit prettier, and he'd bought it without hesitation.
It's not just the gift that delights me. It's that orabeoni paid attention, that he looked at me. That's what fills me with joy.
The sense that this man loves me. It's happiness.
I gaze at the hand that had been linked with orabeoni's.
Orabeoni's warmth rises in my mind.
Orabeoni's hand.
Orabeoni's voice.
Orabeoni's face.
Oh no.
It's only been moments since we parted and returned to my room, yet I already miss orabeoni.
...But Yeomhwa no longer thought herself vulgar or crude for it.
Because a wife missing her husband was only common sense.
As natural as a brother marrying his sister.
So without hesitation, she stepped out of her room.
She wanted to run faster than the wind, but she couldn't.
Every motion deliberate, she advanced with beauty and grace.
As the wife of her beloved orabeoni and future lady of the Sima Family, she must show chastity and poise.
Back straight, measured steps—one, one—toward orabeoni's room.
And just as she raised her hand to knock, a passing maidservant addressed her.
"Miss, the Second Young Master isn't in his room right now. He's gone to send a letter to Miss Ohae."
It felt like a hammer to the back of her head.
Not shock that orabeoni wasn't there, of course.
Her head turned slowly.
"...Miss... Ohae?"
"Ah~ Miss Ohae~ You don't know her? A while back, when the Second Young Master studied at the Jegal Family Manor for about a year, he got close to her. They must be on really good terms—they've been exchanging letters ever since. From what I see, there's something special between them."
Information she wanted but didn't want to hear poured from the chatty maid's mouth, striking at Yeomhwa's body and heart.
How long had she prattled on? At the call of another servant looking for her, the maid bowed to Yeomhwa and hurried off.
"......"
A strange silence hung in the corridor after the chatterbox's departure.
Yeomhwa blankly opened Mancheon's door.
She knew she shouldn't, but without realizing, she rummaged through orabeoni's desk.
Opening a drawer revealed dozens of letters, all carefully preserved. The sender's name on every one: Jegal Ohae.
Why...?
Why keep letters from a mere friend so preciously, one by one?
This is strange... Orabeoni.
Steadying her trembling hands, she shoved the letters back into the drawer.
She desperately wanted to read them, but that would be utterly vulgar, so she bit her lip and fled the room.
Or rather, ran.
She couldn't accept that affection meant only for her was directed elsewhere.
Yeomhwa's legs flew down the corridor.
No trace of propriety now.
Traces of another woman on her beloved orabeoni.
Her breath came ragged, heat rising.
Anger at the one who dared covet what was hers, anxiety at the thought of losing her precious one—her body shook.
Tears welled in her blazing red eyes.
With rough motions devoid of grace, she flung open the door to Sima Bu's private study, where he now was.
"What is the meaning o—"
"Teach... me martial arts."
My orabeoni, found at last. My one and only xiao shao xian.
No one, no matter who, will take him from me.
If they have, I'll seize power and take him back.
Greedy flames flickered in Yeomhwa's crimson eyes.
The ravenous wolf hidden behind elegance bared its fangs.
The wolf's blood was inherited.