Chapter 41. The Reborn Ogu
The short man spoke up.
"From what I see, seven hundred nyang is a bargain. It's my money, so you don't need to worry about it. Let's take a look at the other paintings before we go."
The two men turned to the paintings on the opposite wall. When they spotted one priced at two thousand nyang, they recoiled in shock.
"Are they insane? Paying two thousand nyang for a mere copy."
The plump man eyed Jong Bi suspiciously.
"Be honest. You slapped that price on it here, didn't you?"
"No, sir. Our shop sells everything with complete honesty and fairness. That one was priced by the governor himself."
"Oh...."
Hearing it was the governor who set the price, the plump man couldn't press the issue further.
Once the customers left, Jong Bi closed the shop door and headed inside.
It was evening—the time for Ten Battles' No. 92, Jong Bi, to transform into the head chef.
As she stepped into the inner quarters, Jong Bi froze, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Who are you?"
The man before her had to be Ogu, judging by the circumstances. The undergarments he wore were the ones she'd dressed him in herself, and his body had been wrapped head to toe in bandages.
A pile of those bandages lay scattered at the man's feet, confirming it was Ogu.
But... this wasn't Ogu.
A strikingly handsome young man gazed at her quizzically.
"It's me, Ogu. Teacher Song."
"Ogu...? Did you... get reborn or something?"
It wasn't surprising that Jong Bi hadn't recognized him.
Ogu had originally been in his early thirties. But the man before her looked no older than his mid-twenties.
As Jong Bi stared in a daze, Ogu sensed something was off and hurried to the mirror.
"Gasp! Who's this?!"
Double eyelids made his eyes appear larger. His once-hooked nose was now elegantly straight, and his eyebrows stretched long and refined.
'This... this isn't me.'
Ogu was gone, replaced by some random pretty boy pulling a long face.
Won Seung walked in just then.
"Like what you see? I put some real effort into it."
Won Seung beamed proudly at his handiwork.
"Dress him up nice, and the noble ladies of Sangyang will swarm like clouds."
Ogu flinched at Won Seung's words.
Noble ladies?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
What was he supposed to do?
"We should change your name too. I thought about it—born twice, so Uboksaeng. Again Reborn! What do you think?"
"Pardon?"
"Don't just stand there gaping. Go wash up and change. I bought stuff that suits you. You've got a lot to learn from here on out."
Won Seung would have to teach Ogu about paintings, knowledge, salesmanship.
As darkness fell over the Yong family ruins.
The Yong descendant returned empty-handed once more, slipping through the broken front gate.
With familiar steps, he headed to the inner quarters he'd claimed as his residence. The shattered windows were crudely boarded up with wood, but drafts whistled through.
Hwa Cheon-gang hadn't shown up today either. It seemed he'd need to try something else.
The Yong descendant went to the kitchen, scraping together a meal from leftover rice and vegetables before retiring to the bedroom.
Lighting a small candle, he sat for a moment in meditation, circulating his qi. Then he peered out through the gaps in the wooden boards.
'Five again today.'
At some point, eyes had begun watching him. It started with one, then two, gradually increasing until it hit five a while back.
Too much hassle to chase them off one by one, so he just let them watch.
He had nothing to hide, and even if they ambushed him, he was confident he could handle it. Besides, being under surveillance helped keep his senses sharp.
Soon, night deepened.
For some reason, sleepiness hit earlier than usual tonight.
Suspicious, he checked his qi circulation—no poison.
The Yong descendant lay down, and the moment his head hit the pillow, he passed out.
Then.
Crack!
A pebble flew in, striking the headboard.
The Yong descendant jolted awake, instinctively drawing the sword propped beside him.
Shing!
Metal clashed, sparks flying. Shockingly, the enemy was right in front of him.
The assailant's dagger was pushed back by the tremendous power infused in the Yong descendant's sword.
Whoosh!
Clang!
The dagger shot forward again, deflected by the Yong descendant's blade. In that instant, the foe leaped for the broken window sill—ghostly footwork.
The Yong descendant launched himself like a spring.
Slash!
Even mid-air, his sword didn't stop. It spun a full circle, slamming down on the enemy.
Schwick!
The sharp sword qi raked across the assassin's back.
Slice!
The assassin's clothing tore, blood spraying. As they twitched, the Yong descendant thrust his fist forward—not to kill, but to capture and uncover the mastermind. That was his mistake.
The enemy spun like a top, parrying the fist with twin palms and using the recoil to leap back three zhang.
'A woman!'
In that brief clash, the Yong descendant discerned her gender from her build, movements, and the feel of her hand.
In his momentary surprise, she vanished.
The Yong descendant scanned around and called out.
"Has some esteemed senior come to give me a wake-up call?"
A little later, and his throat would have been slit.
The assassin's skill was astonishing. Without that pebble, he'd be dead for sure.
He offered thanks, but no reply came.
The other watchers had scattered too, no doubt fearing his wrath after the ambush.
The Yong descendant followed the trail of blood.
That's when he realized she was a professional assassin.
The blood led toward the mountains. An ordinary person would search there, but the Yong descendant had a keen nose.
He caught the faint scent of blood mingled in the wind.
And the wind blew from Sangyang.
'Sangyang... Cheongsu Gate?'
Blue flames of fury ignited in the Yong descendant's eyes.
Won Seung sat in the tearoom, sipping tea while gazing at the night garden.
A thud echoed from the back yard.
Jong Bi emerged from her room, checked the yard, and beckoned him.
Won Seung went to see—a figure lay crumpled by the wall. Black clothes and a mask screamed shady business.
Won Seung scowled at the wall.
"Gotta make this higher. These bastards keep hopping over."
Second time, after Ogu.
Jong Bi approached the prone black-clad figure, peeled off the mask, and whispered.
"This one's a woman. And damn pretty too."
Won Seung checked—yep, a woman.
"Whoa, blood!"
Jong Bi spotted the blood on her hands and examined the figure.
"Knife wound to the back."
"She's passed out from the injury. Toss her out."
"What? Dump an injured person?"
"We're barely open, and a corpse shows up? Nothing good comes from that."
"Ugh, you're heartless. Helping the wounded is the righteous path."
The suspicious vibe drew Ogu out of bed too.
Jong Bi told him.
"Perfect timing. Grab her legs. Let's move her inside."
As Jong Bi tried to lift the woman, Won Seung blocked her.
"Bringing her in spells trouble."
"What? You know her?"
"Nope. But look at her. Assassin's getup."
"She's an assassin?"
"Check the outfit. Mission clothes, right? Means she killed someone, and now their buddies or underlings are chasing her."
Jong Bi told Ogu.
"Teacher U, clear the parlor first."
As Ogu headed to the parlor, Jong Bi murmured low.
"Same trade, so we gotta help."
"Same trade?"
Did the assassin world even have concepts like that? Weren't failures supposed to get their comrades killed to cut off loose ends?
Won Seung was dumbfounded.
"Aigoo. Be real. You're doing this 'cause she's hot, admit it."
Jong Bi's face turned solemn.
"Assassins don't fall for beauty. But if I'd gotten hurt on a job like this and someone helped me... I'd want that."
Ogu returned after tidying the parlor.
Jong Bi and Ogu laid the woman on the parlor table—the same spot Ogu had been operated on.
Then they both stared at Won Seung expectantly.
Treat her, now.
"Tch...."
Won Seung shook his head and entered the parlor to examine her closely. A long gash ran across her back, sliced clean like a razor.
"Sword or blade qi did this—not a direct blade hit. Missed vitals. But the internal injuries are worse."
"Mm. Got it."
Jong Bi and Ogu nodded. Won Seung looked exasperated.
"You idiots. Doesn't that ring any bells?"
"Bells about what?"
"Opponent's a qi master with sword or blade energy. And they deliberately avoided killing blows—enough internal damage to let her flee."
"Mm. Brutal bastard. Won't even let you die clean...."
Ogu said.
"Aigoo, not the point. They let her go on purpose to track her. Once she leads them to her base, they'll wipe everyone out."
Only then did it click for Jong Bi and Ogu. They exchanged glances and bolted out.
"Wipe the blood trail first."
"Alley too."
They hustled back and forth, erasing traces.
Won Seung stripped off the woman's top. He'd dissected bodies with Dok Sabu plenty of times, including women, so he thought nothing of it... until her bare breasts came into view, making his eyes bulge.
'Live ones are different....'
She was stunning. Where Hwa Yeo-wol had a subtle, pure beauty, this woman blazed like a vibrant rose.
"Ugh...."
As she stirred, Won Seung quickly pressed her blood points.
He flipped her prone, cleaned the wound with water. The sharp blade qi had carved a diagonal slash across her pale back.
Won Seung fetched needle and thread.
"Count yourself lucky you met me. Minimal scarring! Challenge accepted."
He stitched with meticulous care, stitch by stitch.
His embroidery skills ensured a solid suture. He slathered on golden wound salve, wrapped her torso in bandages, and redressed her.
"External wounds fixed... but internals are the issue. What the hell kind of energy is this? So vicious."
Won Seung took her pulse, frowning deeply, then fetched internal injury meds from the pharmacy.
"This stuff's expensive...."
He hesitated, but her face changed his mind. He fed her the pill without delay.
Treatment done, he released her paralysis points—but pressed them again as precaution. No sense in her thrashing and popping stitches.
Meanwhile, Jong Bi and Ogu finished cleanup and returned.
"Lay her somewhere."
"Already done?"
Jong Bi and Ogu looked disappointed. They wanted to watch the treatment. Won Seung clicked his tongue at their expressions.
"She's a master too. Mess around, and your head rolls."
"We're not like that. Don't misunderstand."
Jong Bi and Ogu waved it off, protesting, then tilted their heads.
"But where to put her? Rooms are full."
Baekhwa Pavilion was small, with three rooms—all occupied.
Won Seung pointed at Jong Bi.
"Under your bed frame, face down. Back up."
Jong Bi and Ogu carefully hoisted her and left. Won Seung cleaned surgical traces and lit incense.
The faint aroma masked the blood scent.
Scanning once more, he spotted a bloody nursing bra under the table.
As he reached absentmindedly, he suddenly twisted his right hand back to thump his waist.
"Aigoo. Can't read late anymore. Eyes so blurry, back killing me."
Muttering randomly, he went to the cabinet for tea. On the way back, he kicked the bra under the table.
He took the teapot to the kitchen, added hot water, and brewed.
Sipping tea in the dead of night, gazing at the garden—it had a poetic charm, but didn't suit him.
A chilling voice sounded.
"Tea at this hour... Planning to skip sleep? Or do you have troubles that keep you awake...."