Chapter 85: The Thousand-Li Escort (3)
Jang Ja-myeong blurted out in shock.
"What? You mean the fourth young master is a god? What kind of nonsense is that?"
"Heh heh."
The herbalist surnamed Cheon let out a hollow chuckle as he glanced around.
Jang Ja-myeong followed his gaze, turning his eyes to the surroundings.
He flinched and took a step back. The villagers were all glaring at him.
"Ah, what's going on here?"
As Jang Ja-myeong's eyes widened in question, the herbalist quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him away.
"What's the matter?"
Ignoring Jang Ja-myeong's words, the herbalist hurried out of the spot and took a deep breath before continuing.
"Phew... Doctor Jang."
"Yes, speak."
"If you badmouth the fourth young master here, you're in big trouble."
"What do you mean? What's his connection to the villagers?"
"Not long ago, they say the fourth young master healed a cripple. I didn't see it myself, though."
"Gasp! Healed a cripple?"
"That's right. Down in the lower village market, word is he performed a miracle. He stood up a beggar girl who'd been sitting there for days on end. According to those who saw it..."
The more the herbalist spoke, the wider Jang Ja-myeong's eyes grew.
The story was simple enough.
There had been a pitiful beggar girl the villagers watched with sympathy, and he'd lifted her right into the air with vacuum grasping.
Even more absurd, he'd made her run.
Jang Ja-myeong stared at the herbalist in disbelief.
"Does that even make sense? How do you lift someone with vacuum grasping and make them run?"
"Heh heh, don't talk like you'll get struck by lightning. In this village, there's only one person who doesn't believe in the fourth young master."
"Who's that?"
"Over there..."
The herbalist nodded toward a spot, trailing off.
There stood a white-haired elder snorting in fury.
He looked old, but his aura suggested he was tough as a bull's horn.
Jang Ja-myeong asked,
"Who's that, and why's he so mad? Did the fourth young master owe him money or something...?"
"Heh heh, no. That's our village's one and only doctor."
"Ah."
Only then did Jang Ja-myeong nod in understanding.
Having his patient stolen away, the man's resentment was easy enough to grasp.
At that moment, Yi Mu-myeong, who'd been watching from the side, tugged at Jang Ja-myeong's sleeve.
"Let's go, Doctor Jang."
"But is it okay to just leave things like this? With all those people crowding in front of the empty Cheonsu Manor?"
"We can't chase them all away, and even if we did, they'd come back after we leave. How could we stop that?"
"True enough, heh heh."
"Right now, the important thing is carrying out the task our lord gave us."
Yi Mu-myeong practically dragged Jang Ja-myeong away.
As he was pulled along, Jang Ja-myeong still looked baffled, staring at the villagers lined up before Cheonsu Manor.
A few days later.
Clatter, clatter.
The Thousand-Li Escort Bureau's carriage rattled along the cliffside path. A cliffside path was a road carved alongside a mountain trail.
It was impossible to blast through treacherous mountain routes.
Whenever urgency struck—like supplying military provisions in wartime—they built wooden paths along the slopes. And here, urgency naturally meant war.
Hence the Central Plains proverb: one war, one road. A single conflict birthed a single path.
The Thousand-Li Escort's journey had already covered a hundred ri.
From Hebei Paeng Family to Henan Jeong Family spanned a thousand ri.
Yun Yong-ho had received word from the ronin king Yi Se-myeong that this mission was the Thousand-Li Escort.
Whether it truly became a thousand ri or stopped at a hundred depended entirely on Hebei Paeng Family's fourth young master, Han Bin.
But Yun Yong-ho never let his guard down, not for a moment.
He had to protect the carrier pigeon—their entrusted cargo—to the bitter end.
That was when it happened.
Yun Yong-ho reined in his horse, narrowing his eyes at the path ahead.
Whiiiish.
The horse snorted to a halt as well.
A prickling killing intent bored into Yun Yong-ho's skin.
To bare such intent on a busy daytime trade route?
It was as good as a declaration of war.
The source was about a hundred paces away, around a bend obscured by pine branches growing from rock crevices.
The enemy was likely lying in ambush there. Though "ambush" hardly fit.
Not with killing intent this sharp and stinging.
Yun Yong-ho thrust his sheathed sword forward and bellowed,
"Which senior blocks our path? Show yourself!"
At the same time, footsteps echoed along the cliffside path.
Thud, thud.
Yun Yong-ho swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the swaying pine.
Then, a massive face emerged between the branches.
Even from a hundred paces, the bandit's scarred visage was unmistakable.
A huge flanged mace rested on his shoulder.
A flanged mace was a metal staff tipped with an oval head studded with sharp spikes.
The problem was its size.
The flange alone was as big as an ox head.
Yun Yong-ho gulped dryly.
The bandit's bulk and that weapon evoked a single moniker.
Minced-Meat Lang-a.
A Sapa warrior operating in Shanxi, so named because he minced foes like meat with his flanged mace.
Victims were left as formless pulp.
Yet Peak-realm escort leader Yun Yong-ho wasn't one to fear him. Minced-Meat Lang-a was brutal, but his title came from avoiding peers, preying on the weak.
For all his size, he was cunningly evasive against equals.
Minced-Meat Lang-a's true name: Gang So-chu.
By rough estimate, early Peak realm. No match for Yun Yong-ho's upper Peak.
As Minced-Meat Lang-a approached slowly, Yun Yong-ho drew his sword.
"Halt."
Thud, thud.
Minced-Meat Lang-a closed in steadily.
Yun Yong-ho glanced back briefly.
Even if it was a token escort, Han Bin's group weighed on him.
Thud, thud.
Infusing his steps with inner power to shake the path, Minced-Meat Lang-a stopped six paces from the carriage.
Six paces—enough for his mace and arm to reach.
Yun Yong-ho raised his sword into high guard.
He'd charge when the attack came.
Then Minced-Meat Lang-a burst into laughter.
"Keh heh, why the sudden killing intent?"
He smirked as if clueless to his own fault.
Yun Yong-ho shot back swiftly.
"The pot calling the kettle black. You're blocking an escort—hardly your place to complain."
"Keh heh, this lowly one never bared any intent. Why pick on me?"
Wordplay any fool could see through.
Yun Yong-ho narrowed his eyes.
"No time for games. Clear the way."
As he finished, Yun Yong-ho tilted his head.
The prickling intent still stung his skin.
He eyed Minced-Meat Lang-a, but no aura emanated from him.
The source remained the same.
Yun Yong-ho peered beyond the pine where he'd emerged.
That was the origin.
A sudden realization hit him.
Minced-Meat Lang-a wasn't alone.
He operated solo mostly, but had two sworn brothers.
Black-Clothed Killing Wind Staff Gang and Ice-Blood Scholar So Kyung-un—Sapa masters.
Together with Minced-Meat Lang-a, they were the Shanxi Three Killers.
Yun Yong-ho's eyes widened at the thought.
His ominous hunches during escorts had never failed.
In his peripheral vision, a scholar with a fan appeared from behind.
Tall and gaunt, with a pale face like one long deprived of sun.
Rumored expelled disciple of the North Sea Ice Palace, he wielded ice arts befitting his title, Ice-Blood Scholar.
His presence meant Black-Clothed Killing Wind was near too.
Yun Yong-ho tallied mentally.
Hebei Paeng Family's fourth young master Han Bin? Early Peak at best—no, precisely, a top First-Rate on the cusp.
His maid? Baggage.
As escort leader, his calculations were done.
"Escort Gang! Drive the carriage back!"
A shout to his trailing comrade.
As the horse wheeled hesitantly, Minced-Meat Lang-a's mace whistled through the air.
Bam!
Luckily, the carriage was out of range.
Yun Yong-ho dodged the mace and lunged for the bandit's chest.
One step.
One more, and his sword would pierce home.
Whoosh!
His blade sliced the air like wind.
That was when it happened.
Yun Yong-ho sensed an odd killing intent.
Unlike Minced-Meat Lang-a's, it felt alien.
At the unfamiliar aura, he swiftly withdrew.
Something grazed his forearm.
Snick!
Yun Yong-ho retreated from the mace's reach, assessing.
Blood dripped from his arm.
But he couldn't look away.
Between him and the mace-wielding Minced-Meat Lang-a stood a black-masked figure with a dagger.
Black-Clothed Killing Wind.
The Sapa master from the Killer Net.
Retreat was Yun Yong-ho's only play now. He turned to signal the driver and comrade—
Only to grit his teeth at the sight.
Ice-Blood Scholar blocked the carriage's retreat.
But the next scene made him gasp.
"Gasp."
Hebei Paeng Family's youngest young master—whom he'd expected to stay put in the carriage—stepped out slowly.
Han Bin, emerging, glanced around casually.
Any onlooker would peg it as a clan heir's rookie mistake on their first foray into the jianghu.
Clans bred frog-in-a-well successors.
The proverb went: A clan heir's sword carries wind—empty bluster.
No one in the clan met their swings earnestly.
But in the vast jianghu sea, that frog learned the world's masters.
And the timing here was abysmal.
Strolling out mid life-or-death clash?
Is he sane?
Rumors swirled lately about Hebei's famed coward Han Bin.
He'd shed the coward label, but Yun Yong-ho dismissed it as planted hype.
Severing Heavenly Mountain Blood Wolf's lifeline? Victory over Volcanic's Se Jae-o? All tall tales to him.
One more rumor persisted.
Hiring beggar elder Hong Chilgae as master for a fortune.
This one rang true, so folks bought it.
Glancing about like on a picnic, Han Bin snapped his fingers.
Snap!
Tension hung thick between the Thousand-Li escorts and Shanxi Three Killers.
But all cocked their heads.
Matching Han Bin's signal, Seol-hwa dashed out bundle in hand.
Ignoring stares, she spread it before him.
Her moves outpaced even Cheolno's.
Unrolling paper, handing the brush—it was done in a blink.
Only difference: Han Bin held a fine brush this time.