Do You Believe It? (3)

Having finished his calculations, Han Bin hid his expression and spoke casually.

"You're welcome anytime."

His ready agreement caught Jang Ja-myeong off guard this time.

"Thank you so much for accepting so readily."

Jang Ja-myeong, clad in his white uniform, offered a deep fist salute.

From that day on, Jang Ja-myeong visited Cheonsu Manor from time to time.

Of course, Han Bin secretly observed his every move.

That Han Bin's lips curled upward at Jang Ja-myeong's actions was his little secret.

Two weeks later.

The Mangho Squad members finally laid hands on their swords again.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Jang Sam, swinging his backsword, widened his eyes.

His usual backsword felt strangely light.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The other squad members tilted their heads in confusion.

"This feels weirdly light."

"It's like my sword got swapped out."

As the entire Mangho Squad sensed the change and their eyes gleamed, a sob echoed from somewhere.

"Sob sob."

All eyes turned to one spot.

There, Jo Ho crouched, stifling his tears.

Startled, Jang Sam approached him.

"What's wrong, Jo Ho?"

"N-nothing, Uncle."

"Come on, what're you holding back from us for...?"

"Hyang's getting married."

"Ah."

Jang Sam let out a sigh. They exchanged simple news through the laborers who came and went from Cheonsu Manor—it was nothing new.

But of all times, bad news had to hit now.

Jo Ho sniffled as he spoke.

"I'm gonna kill that bastard."

"Ahem."

Jang Sam cleared his throat awkwardly.

For days now, the kid had been talking about killing someone, but even Jang Sam had no idea who.

As Jang Sam patted Jo Ho's back, Han Bin appeared before them.

"I have a few announcements."

"Please speak, my lord."

So Daeseop and the squad members offered crisp fist salutes, and Han Bin continued.

"First, starting today, drinking water comes only from the two wells inside Cheonsu Manor."

"......"

As everyone tilted their heads, Han Bin went on.

"And starting today, we begin live combat training."

With that, Han Bin thrust his sword, Wolah, forward and flashed a bright smile.

The squad members tilted their heads at his grin, while So Daeseop flinched, his shoulders trembling faintly.

With Han Bin's declaration, live sparring between the Mangho Squad and Han Bin commenced.

Han Bin swallowed hard, taking in each squad member with his eyes.

He could see the points denoting formulas rippling on their surfaces.

Moments later, standing in the training ground, Han Bin handed his waist-sheathed Wolah to Cheolno and picked up a wooden sword from those scattered about.

Swish. Swish!

He spun the wooden sword, then pointed its tip at the Mangho Squad warriors.

"Who's first? Two at a time is fine too."

At that, Cheolno rushed forward.

"Young master, you mustn't overdo it."

"My lord, I agree. There's no need for a general to be stronger than his soldiers."

So Daeseop meant it sincerely.

In his eyes, Han Bin's martial prowess was at best First Rate.

His forms were just bizarre enough to trouble opponents, that was all.

In short, Han Bin was a tricky foe, not an overwhelmingly mighty one.

Han Bin nodded.

"Better to pick them off one by one, then."

"Pardon? Pick them off?"

"Nothing, just a slip of the tongue."

Han Bin raised his wooden sword and took position at the center of the training ground.

"Alright, any prepared squad member, step up!"

At his call, their eyes lit up.

Sparring with the young master's attendants was scary, but facing Han Bin himself seemed doable.

The youngest warrior, Jo Ho, stepped forward first.

Grinding his teeth as he advanced.

'Gonna kill him. Gonna kill him.'

The warriors buzzed at the sight.

"Our maknae's not about to cause trouble, is he?"

"Yeah, if the lord gets hurt, we don't get paid."

"Nah, no way—he wouldn't go for blood, right?"

They were worried for Han Bin's safety.

So Daeseop tilted his head at their words.

Hadn't Han Bin recently dueled five ronin and even clashed with Musoryul of the Mu Family Sword Clan?

They'd all decided to learn martial arts after witnessing that.

Considering that, underestimating Han Bin was impossible.

Yet here they were, fretting over him in this live training.

Just then, Jo Ho's wooden blade clashed with Han Bin's wooden sword.

Clang!

Clang!

After a few exchanges, both leaped back.

Han Bin scrutinized his opponent piercingly.

Jo Ho burned hotter under that gaze.

They clashed again.

In that instant, Han Bin unleashed a form from the Yongrin Sword Art.

'Jeon-gwang-seok-hwa.'

Shing!

Han Bin's wooden sword sliced through space, but no one caught its trajectory.

"Gasp."

Gasps rose here and there.

At the same time, Jo Ho sprawled in a grand "dae" shape across the training ground.

As mouths hung open, the victor of this bout, Han Bin, stared vacantly at the distant mountains.

A new formula—no, from the application section.

Han Bin's lips curled upward.

The Mangho Squad members watching him felt a chill.

Jang Sam murmured softly.

"Does he feel no emotion?"

"He looks like he's enjoying beating us."

Another squad member chimed in.

Ignoring their stares, Han Bin organized the formulas.

Not yet perfected application forms, but enough to set Han Bin's heart racing.

Gazing into the void, Han Bin turned to the Mangho Squad.

"Next!"

His shout drew two main reactions.

Those flinching back, and those drawing their wooden blades.

Soon, the clash of wooden swords and blades rang out again in the training ground.

Clang!

Clang!

In Cheonsu Manor's temporary infirmary.

Jang Ja-myeong opened a book.

It looked like an ordinary tome at a glance, but its center was hollowed out to fit two vials.

Jang Ja-myeong checked the vials again.

They contained poison from the Baekdokmun.

Exactly three days ago, this Hebei Paeng Family fourth young master had commissioned him.

He wanted the Mangho Squad—his fourth brother's guard unit—incapacitated.

To showcase his newly formed guard unit's overwhelming might far and wide.

For that, the Mangho Squad had to be made into paper tigers.

For this mission, Jang Ja-myeong had infiltrated with powdered energy-draining ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠poison.

At first, it was tough. He couldn't casually enter the kitchen, and no squad members visited the infirmary.

But then the situation changed.

The fourth young master, Han Bin, had designated specific wells for drinking water.

Seizing the chance, Jang Ja-myeong slipped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the Baekdokmun's special powdered energy-drainer. A slow-accumulating poison that didn't react immediately, he dosed it to peak during the promised sparring.

Easier than falling off a log.

He'd received ten nyang of silver upfront, with the rest upon completion.

Just wait, and a fortune would roll in.

As long as his sect didn't find out, no better side gig existed.

As Jang Ja-myeong indulged in happy fantasies—

Creak.

The infirmary door burst open, and Mangho Squad members poured in.

At their frantic entrance, Jang Ja-myeong quickly backed away.

For a moment, he thought they'd discovered his poisoning.

"Wh-what's going on?"

His voice trembled as Jang Sam replied.

"Healer, could you check this guy?"

"Wh-what guy?"

Only then did Jang Ja-myeong look at the squad members.

His eyes widened.

Their uniforms were torn everywhere, exposed skin scraped and bleeding.

And it wasn't just one.

Three had rushed in at once, begging treatment.

Jang Sam shouted.

"Please, hurry!"

Jang Sam's own state wasn't great either.

Jang Ja-myeong instinctively pointed to a cot.

"This way..."

Trailing off, he gathered his medical tools.

As he applied hemostatic herbs to the first patient, Jang Ja-myeong asked.

"What happened? An attack?"

"Not an attack—training."

Jang Sam shook his head. Finishing the first, Jang Ja-myeong examined the second.

"This one's out cold from a clean hit to abdominal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pressure points. He'll wake after some sleep."

He inserted needles into the second patient's abdomen and wiped sweat from his brow.

Medicine was just a side study in the Baekdokmun.

He wasn't a full-fledged physician.

But treating these sudden patients had drained his energy.

The second patient he'd just finished was Jo Ho.

Then Jang Sam spoke.

"Thank you, healer sir!"

The older Jang Sam offered a fist salute, and Jang Ja-myeong waved it off.

"N-no, no need."

"Truly thank—cough."

Jang Sam couldn't finish. He spat up a mouthful of blood.

"Are you alright? Over here..."

Turning, Jang Ja-myeong started to point to a cot but froze.

Both cots were occupied.

He pointed to the floor.

"Lie down here."

"Yes, cough. Thank you."

As Jang Sam lay down, Jang Ja-myeong remarked.

"Ruthless hands, no mercy. If this keeps up, he'll shorten his lifespan..."

He swallowed the rest. It might sound like cursing a warrior.

Then the door opened again.

Creak.

Another group of warriors flooded in.

"Heavens!"

Jang Ja-myeong's jaw dropped.

This group's wounds looked even graver.

But he didn't know it was just the beginning.

That night.

Jang Ja-myeong groaned and tossed in discomfort.

The cots were taken by patients; now he lay on the infirmary floor with the other warriors.

"Ugh."

Stifling a groan, he couldn't fathom this stroke of bad luck.

But it wasn't all loss.

Checking their pulses, he felt almost no inner power.

The energy-drainer was working, to some extent.

The problem? It was kicking in far sooner than planned.

Of course, this was Jang Ja-myeong's delusion.

Most Mangho Squad warriors hadn't lost their inner power—they'd never had any to begin with.

As Jang Ja-myeong clung to his misconception, someone stirred on a cot.

The young warrior called Jo Ho, it seemed.

"Uncle!"

He called out. Pretending to sleep, Jang Ja-myeong eavesdropped.

Someone answered Jo Ho.

"You alright, Jo Ho?"

"Yeah, Uncle, but what's this? Blood all over ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your uniform..."

"Body couldn't take the shock, I guess."

"Uncle, let's bail."

"That again?"

"We'll die if we keep taking hits like this."

Jo Ho grabbed Jang Sam's hand.