Chapter 97. The Shadow War (1)
A sighing pirate was asked by another.
"What's wrong?"
"What do you think? I nearly died, that's why. Anyway, I never expected the branch leader to stab us in the back."
"Yeah. With the Ak Family, Musi Geomga, and even the Hebei Paeng Family getting involved—not to mention the Three Killers of Shansi throwing us into the mix. It's insane. We should wash our hands of this, big brother."
"As if we have the money to..."
"Don't we have this boat? The hold below is full of stuff we can sell."
"Hm, you have a point."
"Still, not here. We should head a bit further downstream and sort things out there."
"Right. It's a shame Geom-o got dragged off, but we living have to fill our bellies first. Gather the brothers."
The newly appointed leader raised his oar high, and the pirates on deck roared.
"Wooah!"
"For a new beginning!"
"Time to get out of here!"
As their cheers echoed across the deck, someone in the hold below stirred and muttered in a low voice.
"Mm, so noisy..."
It was sleep-talking.
A woman with her long hair tightly bound and a single hairpin.
None other than Musoryul.
Her seasickness was severe—far too severe.
Earlier, when the boat rocked and spun violently, she had fallen through the hole Yang Yak-gun had made, against her will.
Fortunately, she landed on a pile of grain sacks and wasn't hurt, but she lost consciousness right away. Or rather, she fell asleep.
Called the Iron-Blooded Woman, her body wasn't strong enough to endure such a grueling journey.
And with seasickness on top, this was the result.
She lay fast asleep on the grain sacks.
Unaware that Musoryul was below, the pirates kept cheering.
"To us!"
"Let's go!"
The seventh band of the Gangbuk Twelve River Pirates Association, solidifying their new start, had no idea a disaster rode in their hold as they planned their fresh lives.
A few days later, in the reception room of the Justice Alliance's Henan branch.
A large table filled the space, antique scrolls adorning the walls.
At the broad table, a man tapped the armrest, waiting for the door to open.
Tall with sharp eyes, he sat ramrod straight like a crane—dignified, almost scholarly.
One might mistake him for a Confucian scholar.
But his sly, smirking lips evoked a snake.
A crane and a snake?
An odd pairing of features.
Fitting the scholar vibe, he had laid out a painting album for appreciation.
It was covered in numbers.
His name was Jeong Hwiji.
Second son of the Henan Jeong Family.
In other clans, he'd be on par with the family head.
The Henan Jeong Family hadn't replaced their head yet, so despite his high rank, he got no such treatment.
But things had changed.
Since the family head fell to a mysterious illness, Jeong Hwiji had been leading alongside the young heir, Jeong Inji.
As the family's number two, he glared fiercely at the numbers in the album.
He was in the same boat as Lady Jeonghwa, after all—hardly surprising.
Then the door creaked open.
Jeong Hwiji quickly closed the album.
A man in mourning clothes stamped with "Jeong" entered and cupped his fists politely.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Great Hero Jeong. I am Hwang Jiyong, head of the Justice Alliance Henan branch."
The seated man rose slowly.
"An honor to meet you, Great Hero. I am Jeong Hwiji of the Henan Jeong Family."
Jeong Hwiji returned the salute.
"I've heard of the famed Henan Swift Sword. Please, sit. Tea will be served shortly."
Henan Swift Sword—Jeong Hwiji's moniker.
Even among the speed-obsessed swordsmen of the Henan Jeong Family, his swiftness stood out.
Yet it stung him deeply.
A title honoring his mastery of the family's sword, but he'd lost the young heir contest.
With greetings done, they sat.
Hwang Jiyong eyed Jeong Hwiji cautiously.
As expected of the family's top sword, his presence was formidable.
Stroking his chin, Hwang pondered why he'd come.
Clearly, to request escort for the Qingming Pill in transit.
The Justice Alliance had ears everywhere and knew the situation well.
The escort from Hebei Paeng Family to Henan Jeong Family.
Centered on the coveted Qingming Pill, drawing interest from both unorthodox and orthodox factions.
The Henan branch had feigned ignorance on purpose.
No gain in meddling.
But if things escalated, they were ready to step in.
Wondering where to start, Hwang studied his face—then tilted his head.
No emotion readable. Face like ironclad armor.
As if protected by protective aura.
As Hwang hesitated, a maid brought tea.
Steam rose from the cups, easing the awkward air.
Hwang knew it was time.
"Great Hero, allow me to state our position on the Qingming Pill escort."
"Speak."
"First, my deepest apologies. We'll explore ways to assist."
At Hwang's words, Jeong Hwiji slammed his teacup down hard.
Thud!
Tea splashed up from the table. But the droplets didn't stray an inch from the cup—covered by his inner power.
Showing his might, Hwang narrowed his eyes.
The tea remained untouched.
Hwang took it as a power display.
With guilt on his side, he couldn't counter with force.
Hwang bowed his head slightly.
"My apologies. You must be quite angry."
Jeong Hwiji shook his head faintly.
"Don't you grasp my intent?"
"Your intent, sir?"
"I see the events around this escort as that tea."
"What do you mean?"
"If no one interferes, no rumors or outcomes need cleaning up."
Hwang stared at the teacup.
Jeong Hwiji had slammed it hard enough to shake the table.
A second show of force, several times stronger.
The table still quivered.
Yet no tea spilled.
Inner power sealing the top.
The tea was the escort.
Jeong Hwiji continued.
"Father's age being what it is, the family head will change soon enough, no?"
His meaning was clear.
The second son wanted current head Jeong Muryong dead.
And to claim the seat himself.
"Family head..."
Hwang trailed off.
To draw out concessions.
Jeong Hwiji, reading it, continued casually.
"Once head, the keys to the vault are mine. What does it matter what I take? Speaking of, Branch Head Hwang, your son is due for the Justice Alliance's Heavenly Dragon Academy. To avoid falling behind, elixirs might help..."
"Hm."
Hwang tapped his temple, staring at Jeong Hwiji.
Momentarily, their gazes locked in the air.
Their eyes aligned.
Hwang lifted his cup.
Wetting his lips, he spoke.
"I've noted your intent, Great Hero. This is the Henan Jeong Family's will?"
"Yes, one and the same as mine."
"Understood. Could you leave a commission form? As a Justice Alliance warrior..."
"Of course."
Jeong Hwiji smirked.
The "commission" would be scrap paper post-success.
He could write dozens that never saw light.
To him, his request had ample justification.
Henan Jeong Family handles its own—mind your business. Solid rationale.
Of course, no intent to guard the Hebei Paeng Family escort.
Even if it arrived safe, no issue.
He'd rigged the board either way.
As Jeong Hwiji exited the branch, a subordinate hurried over.
"Young master, did it go well?"
"Has my work ever had flaws?"
"Heh, of course not."
"And you handled my orders?"
"Yes, sir. I'll guide you. Picked the elite among ronin."
"You'd better stand by those words."
"This way, then."
The subordinate led him swiftly to a shabby training hall.
No signboard—this was the ronin market and sparring ground for Henan wanderers.
Helpers for his task awaited. Jeong Hwiji entered with eager anticipation.
Clang! Clang!
Weapons clashed; he turned.
A man and woman crossed blades.
Jeong Hwiji's face twisted.
"I said elites—why bring a woman?"
His subordinate pointed to the woman swinging far off.
"Young master, watch a bit more."
Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew on clash. But odd—the woman dominated unilaterally.
Tanned skin, sleek build.
Didn't look strong.
Her tanned skin screamed warrior; the form-fitting uniform revealed curves rivaling Chang'an's famed courtesans.
Yet she battered the man mercilessly?
Jeong Hwiji narrowed his eyes.
"Definitely not orthodox arts."
"No. Even unorthodox avoid such reckless forms."
"True. Where's she from?"
"Heard Hainan."
"Hainan..."
Jeong Hwiji stroked his chin, eyeing the female warrior, then nodded.
Made sense with the subordinate's words.
Hainan folk had dark skin from sea winds.
The tanned woman was, naturally, Sim Miho.
She felt eyes on her but focused on the spar.
Her weight-forward guido and built-up inner power were devastating.
She vented accumulated fatigue with each swing.
The situation amazed Sim Miho.
Her mission was simple.
Someone from Henan Jeong Family seeking skilled ronin would come to the market.
Join under them for good pay.
Han Bin would command after.
What was unfolding here?
And how did her lord know so precisely?
Pondering briefly, Sim Miho swung cleanly, banishing doubts.