Chapter 96. A Lucky Day (6)
Hanbin let out a baffled sigh at the hesitant bandits.
"Phew."
At the end of that sigh, he called out to Pyeon Yukranga.
Pyeon Yukranga bounded over at Hanbin's gesture.
His mere scowl was enough to terrify the northern river gangs, but to Hanbin, he was as meek as a lamb.
Forcing a grin, Pyeon Yukranga said, "What can I do for you, sir?"
"You see those guys?"
"Yes, the bandits, sir?"
"Yeah. Chase 'em off for me. They're a pain."
"Right away, sir."
As Pyeon Yukranga approached them, swinging his long staff.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The wind whistled again, and the bandits shuffled back warily.
That was when it happened.
Hanbin snapped his fingers.
Snap!
That sound somehow rang out louder than the whoosh of Pyeon Yukranga's staff.
This was presence. This was power.
Pyeon Yukranga and the bandits froze in place simultaneously.
All eyes turned to Hanbin.
He pointed his index finger at Geom-o.
"You stay. The rest of you, get lost."
"Me?"
Geom-o's eyes widened as he double-checked, and Hanbin nodded.
"Yeah, you stay."
In that instant, Geom-o turned to stone.
The bandits murmured, glancing at one another.
Someone spoke up.
"Let's bolt before he changes his mind."
"What about Geom-o?"
"Who cares about Geom-o? We're about to die here…"
Leaving only Geom-o behind, the bandits scrambled aboard their boat in a rush.
Thud thud, thud thud.
Their frantic footsteps echoed across the embankment.
Left alone, Geom-o stared blankly at Hanbin.
Memories of his childhood flooded back.
As far as he could recall, he'd always been abandoned.
Abandoned by his parents, he'd sought out relatives, only for them to sell him off as a slave.
When he came of age, he escaped that house and ended up with the Twelve River Strongholds of the Northern Rivers.
Life as a bandit had been the happiest time in Geom-o's life.
So why did it feel like he was being abandoned again now?
Not just by his boss, but by his comrades too.
Geom-o figured Hanbin had singled him out to make an example of him.
He might carve him up in the cruelest way possible.
As Geom-o steeled himself for death, Hanbin spoke up.
"What's your boss's name?"
"…"
Geom-o looked up, dazed.
"You're sparing me?"
"Why would I bother killing you? Your fleeing boss, maybe—but not you."
"Th-thank you! …Oh, right. The boss who ditched me—his name's Yang Ak-gun."
"Yang Ak-gun, huh…"
Hanbin trailed off, tapping his temple.
He'd heard the name somewhere before.
Nothing came to mind right away, so he pressed on.
"Which gang?"
"The Twelve River Strongholds of the Northern Rivers."
"Which stronghold?"
"The seventh one, operating on the Pyeongryeong River."
"Then spill everything you know—his features, habits, whatever."
"Well… Oh, yeah, one more thing. He's good at disguises."
Geom-o spilled every detail about his boss, Yang Ak-gun, with surprising fluency.
Yang Ak-gun wasn't his boss anymore—not after this.
To Geom-o, he was a traitor now.
Once Geom-o had laid it all out, Hanbin nodded.
"Got it."
"You won't catch him. He won't head back to the Pyeongryeong River."
"It's fine."
"Fine? Sir?"
"As long as no one got seriously hurt, we're good. Losing one box isn't the end of the world."
"Sir, they stole the Qingming Pill—how's that not a big deal?"
Geom-o was even more agitated than before.
Watching him, one of the Shanxi Three Evils stifled a dry chuckle.
Binghyeol Seosaeng forced a wry smile.
"Come to think of it, weren't you the one who lost the Cold Iron Box, brother?"
"Yeah, me…"
"Don't worry, brother. Last time, you fooled them with that weird wooden box instead of the real Cold Iron Box, right? This one's probably fake too."
"Haha, no—this time, the one we lost was real."
Heukui Salpung replied, and Binghyeol Seosaeng tilted his head.
"Did you check inside the box?"
"Hm."
Heukui Salpung tilted his head too, and Binghyeol Seosaeng continued.
"Just because the box is real doesn't mean the contents are. It's not like there's only one Cold Iron Box in the world."
"Haha, I didn't think that far."
"If it wasn't fake, would he have just let us go? A guy like that?"
Binghyeol Seosaeng nodded toward Hanbin, who was chatting in the distance.
Heukui Salpung and Pyeon Yukranga nodded silently in agreement.
As the trio speculated about the Qingming Pill theft, Hanbin turned a friendly smile toward Seolhwa by the carriage.
Then he snapped his fingers.
Snap!
Seolhwa whipped her head around and dashed over like lightning.
"Yes, young master?"
"Lay it out, Seolhwa."
Geom-o tilted his head at Hanbin's words, clueless as to what was happening.
Then something strange occurred.
Seolhwa unpacked a bundle and handed Hanbin a slender brush.
"Here you go, young master."
"Thanks, Seolhwa."
Hanbin nodded contentedly and took the brush.
Geom-o, who had been watching tensely, swallowed hard. Every move Hanbin made felt loaded with meaning.
He first thought Hanbin was writing on the empty bundle, but beneath it lay a small sheet of blank paper.
Hanbin scribbled something in one swift stroke.
Scribble!
He set down the brush, rolled up the paper, folded it, and slipped it into a tube.
Hanbin handed the carrier pigeon tube to Seolhwa.
"Here."
"Send it like last time, young master?"
"Yeah, that'll do, Seolhwa."
Seolhwa skipped off lightly with the tube, and Geom-o tilted his head again.
He'd been racking his brain over what punishment awaited him.
But nothing happened to him.
And that maid, Seolhwa, was beaming happily.
None of it made sense to Geom-o.
Watching the scene, Heukui Salpung from the Shanxi Three Evils clicked his tongue.
"He's exactly like us. That Yang Ak-gun guy's in for it—poor bastard."
Just then, a pigeon flew overhead.
Flap flap!
Spotting it, Pyeon Yukranga spoke up.
"Brothers, in hindsight, we should've chucked that pigeon in the river when we had the chance."
"Little brother."
Binghyeol Seosaeng called to Pyeon Yukranga in a low voice.
"What's up, brother?"
Pyeon Yukranga perked up his ears and approached, and Binghyeol Seosaeng continued.
"Phew… You're so simple-minded, it's almost enviable. Even if we ditched the pigeon, you think that guy wouldn't spread the word? He'd eat the real one himself and pin the blame on us."
"Haha, you're right."
"That Yang Ak-gun's probably grinning ear to ear right now, dreaming big with the fake."
"Yeah, now that you mention it."
"He'll think he's hit the jackpot, clueless about what's coming."
Binghyeol Seosaeng glanced at Hanbin.
Pyeon Yukranga followed his gaze.
Memories of the past few days swirled in his mind, and he muttered unwittingly.
"Devil of a man!"
It was Pyeon Yukranga's honest sentiment.
His voice carried a bit, so Binghyeol Seosaeng pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shh!"
* * *
Downstream on the Zhang Ha River.
Yang Ak-gun yanked the iron nail from his shoulder.
"Phew… That bastard's relentless. Won't give up till the end."
Yang Ak-gun carefully unwrapped his bundle.
Finally, the Cold Iron Box appeared.
Chill wafted off it visibly—it had to be real.
Yang Ak-gun stared at it, lost in thought.
Sell it, and he'd live comfortably forever. Take it, and he might reach peak Super Peak.
He decided not to choose yet.
That was when it happened.
Coo coo!
A pigeon flew over his head.
"A pigeon? That's a good omen! Today really is my lucky day!"
Of course, it was the one Hanbin had sent.
Once it reached the Beggar Clan, Yang Ak-gun might never show his face again.
Not even in the strongholds.
Clueless to the pigeon's meaning, Yang Ak-gun grinned broadly.
* * *
Three hours later.
Hanbin's group headed toward the Henan Jeong Family.
Binghyeol Seosaeng, scouting ahead, turned back.
"Sir, there's a village over there. Better to stay there than camp out, no?"
"Sure."
That was when Binghyeol Seosaeng's eyes locked onto Hanbin's knee.
A small box sat there.
He muttered unwittingly.
"Cold Iron Box?"
Hanbin grinned.
"Why so surprised?"
"N-no, it's nothing."
Binghyeol Seosaeng quickly looked away.
It made no sense, no matter how he thought about it.
Which meant the Qingming Pill they'd lost earlier was fake too.
One suspicion crossed Binghyeol Seosaeng's mind.
'Does he even have the real one?'
'Or did he already gobble it up?'
It was a reasonable doubt.
As Binghyeol Seosaeng walked on, head tilted, Akbigwang rushed up anxiously.
"What's wrong?"
"Just checking if we left anything behind."
"Doesn't seem like it."
"Then why does it feel so empty?"
"Beats me."
Binghyeol Seosaeng turned away sharply.
He had no energy left to talk. He wondered if he'd fallen into qi deviation again—his head was spinning like on the boat earlier.
Ever since his qi deviation during ice arts cultivation, he hadn't fully recovered. He still suffered.
His nickname "Binghyeol" came not from his paltry ice arts prowess, but his pale complexion.
Overhearing, Pyeon Yukranga scanned the group, counting heads—just in case they'd left someone behind.
"One, two, three…"
Counting, Pyeon Yukranga nodded. No one was missing.
Nine when they boarded, nine now including himself. No people left behind.
So what was missing?
His second brother, Binghyeol Seosaeng, was renowned for his sharp mind. If he suspected something, they had lost it.
Unthinkingly, Pyeon Yukranga checked his money pouch at his waist.
Then he shook his head. Right—he'd surrendered it to Hanbin.
That's when Geom-o, the newest member of the group, spoke up.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing. We're in the same boat, so quit freaking out."
Pyeon Yukranga patted Geom-o's shoulder—lightly, he thought.
But Geom-o stumbled forward.
Geom-o felt like crying right now.
Hanbin had specifically pointed him out and brought him along.
He'd said leaders take responsibility, but letting the rest go was blatant favoritism.
* * *
The boat of the seventh stronghold among the Twelve River Strongholds of the Northern Rivers was a mess.
They should've tidied up more on land, but fear of Hanbin changing his mind had them shoving off in haste.
One bandit shaded his eyes from the sun, peering back at the receding shore.
"Phew."