Chapter 69: Pung Gongja Is Too Young to Die...
Hwacheong Pavilion, fifth floor.
The room was a total wreck after Gu Ak-pyeong smashed the table.
A middle-aged man who looked a bit senior scowled and glared at him.
"Guild Leader, what the hell is this? You call us here and then wreck the spread?"
Inviting people and then smashing the food—it was an insult to everyone present.
But Gu Ak-pyeong didn't apologize. Instead, he fixed the man with a savage glare, eyes bulging.
"Bae Yeom-bangju! Was it you?"
"What? 'You'? Guild Leader Gu, have you lost your mind?"
"I've been waiting for a day like this... and someone beats me to my own meal?"
Gu Ak-pyeong stared daggers at Bae Yeom-bangju, a man he'd always treated with deference.
Bae Yeom-bangju's face flushed beet red, too stunned to speak.
"Guild Leader Gu! What nonsense is this toward Senior Mun?"
Not just Bae Yeom-bangju—the other members of the Ten Council were pointing fingers at Gu Ak-pyeong too.
The black society might rule Sangyang's underworld, but these were heads of their own factions, men with real power.
Acting like this ignored their faces entirely. Yet Gu Ak-pyeong didn't flinch, his brutal expression sweeping over the members.
"Whoever's scheming behind my back dies by my hand!"
"Hah...!"
The oil shop owner, Gwang Dokdu of Yu Chok-bang, spoke up as if to calm him.
"Guild Leader Gu, if you have a reason for this, you should explain. If one of us betrayed you, I'll handle it myself. So tell us what happened."
Along with Bae Yeom-bangju, Gwang Dokdu was one of the few older than Gu Ak-pyeong. Out of respect, Gu Ak-pyeong let out a heavy sigh and reined in his rage.
"Does the fight between Gwancheonbang and Cheongsumun seem like it just happened out of nowhere?"
"...?"
The Ten Council members flinched in surprise.
"Nothing in this world just happens."
The sharper ones caught on immediately.
Gu Ak-pyeong meant someone had orchestrated this from the shadows—and that someone was right here among them.
Ogu, listening quietly, felt puzzled inwardly.
What the hell? The three-way duel was Pung Gongja's doing.
Someone asked.
"Are you saying the standoff between Gwancheonbang and Cheongsumun is your handiwork, Guild Leader Gu?"
Gu Ak-pyeong didn't answer directly. He scanned the room and spoke.
"Day after tomorrow, Sangyang's twin overlords—Gwancheonbang and Cheongsumun—will both suffer crushing defeats and crumble. That's why I called this meeting today: to discuss Sangyang's future with the Ten Council after they're gone."
"Right. Someone's gotta take the reins in Sangyang."
"But... some bastard stabbed me in the back. One of you here is in bed with the twin overlords."
"What?"
The Ten Council members exchanged glances.
"Guild Leader Gu, are you sure? Can you stand by that claim?"
Gwang Dokdu's eyes flashed with curiosity as he pressed.
Gu Ak-pyeong's gaze landed on Ogu.
"Spill it. Who gave you your orders?"
Ogu realized Gu Ak-pyeong was under a massive delusion.
For some reason, he thought the one distributing the spectator passes for the duel was one—or several—of the black path leaders here.
The Ten Council heads turned hostile stares on Ogu.
Gu Ak-pyeong spoke slowly.
"Name your backer."
Backer? We've only got three of us... should I call it the Three-Man Alliance?
Then Hama-cho's transmission voice rang in his ear.
-Tell the truth. And throw in Bae Yeom-bang, Gansu Gate, and Sam Mi Hall as your backers too! Do that, and I'll let you live.
Ogu shot a startled glance at Hama-cho.
Hama-cho nodded toward the front. Ogu's eyes returned to Gu Ak-pyeong.
Those eyes... they weren't the rage-filled ones from moments ago. His face was still flushed with fury, but his gaze was coldly, brutally calm.
Those eyes were telling him: Do what Hama-cho says.
These fuckers?
Ogu looked barely twenty-something on the outside, but inside was a jianghu veteran who'd weathered over a decade of storms.
He grasped the situation instantly.
They're using this to purge a few Ten Council members!
Sangyang was a big city, sure, but it was overcrowded with factions. They'd banded together as the Ten Council to challenge the twin overlords... but once those were gone, thinning the herd would suit the black society just fine.
At the same time, the thought flashed: I won't make it out alive. The moment he opened his mouth, it'd be a slaughter.
Ogu scanned the Ten Council faces. Tension hung thick—who's name would drop from his lips? When his eyes met the oil shop owner's, there was a flicker of pity.
Ogu sighed deeply and asked Hama-cho.
"How'd you know it was me?"
He was genuinely curious why they'd picked him.
Hama-cho grinned shamelessly.
"Weird, right? You drop outta nowhere like a star from the sky, set up Baekhwa Pavilion on Sangyang's streets. Young guy like you. And your moves? All over the place. Your boys were in and out of Cheongsumun and Gwancheonbang like it was nothing..."
"That's all?"
"Saw you posting those spectator pass notices myself—honestly, kinda shocked. A master like you pasting flyers? Makes you wonder how scary your bosses must be."
Hama-cho glanced around at the Ten Council, pressing his point. He had to sell Ogu as suspicious, no matter how forced it sounded. Once a name dropped, force would handle the rest.
"To snag passes from the twin overlords and run the three-way duel... what kind of power does that take?"
"Hm. You figured it out, huh."
Ogu nodded readily, leaving Hama-cho flustered instead.
What the...? This guy's just gonna spill that easy?
Hama-cho glanced at Gu Ak-pyeong.
Even Gu Ak-pyeong's icy gaze wavered. The names from Ogu's mouth would decide everything—they had to move fast to crush them.
Don't make me laugh. You think it'll go your way?
Ogu couldn't die here. Not just because life was precious, but he had to warn Won Seung—the black society was gunning for Sangyang's throne.
The passes had made him a target. Exposure meant no mercy.
Pung Gongja is too young to die...
Growing up as the class outcast had honed Ogu's cold cunning—that's why Gu Ja-ang had recruited him.
He'd been humiliated by Jong Bi, tortured with Won Seung's "painful bruises," thrown in a brain cell starving and delirious. Sanity had slipped away for a while.
But with a new body(?) and identity, stability returned, and so did his wits. He realized Won Seung's scheme had nearly killed him—but no grudge. They were enemies then. He was rational enough to accept it as circumstance.
Living with Won Seung brought new joys. At Baekhwa Pavilion, he wasn't the outcast anymore.
Won Seung taught him painting and writing in spare moments—"gotta have basics to sell art." Young as he was, like a master. Sometimes a hyper little brother, but watching him shuttle between Gwancheonbang and Cheongsumun to pull off the duel? Astonishing. Genuine admiration.
Jong Bi fed him delicious meals every time. In that short span, wielding a brush instead of a blade felt... good. I could live like this.
Not letting these bastards ruin it...
Ogu swept his gaze over the black path leaders.
For Pung Gongja's sake, he had to fight dirty.
Then—flash! Lightning cracked, thunder booming right after.
Krraaack! Boom!
A bolt struck nearby, the roar shaking them all.
Nature's fury made everyone flinch, eyes drawn to the strike despite themselves.
Now!
Ogu didn't hesitate. He lunged at Hama-cho, who stood with his spear on his back, head turned toward the lightning.
"Watch out! Hama-cho!"
Gu Ak-pyeong's urgent shout made Hama-cho whip around.
"Hmph!"
Seeing Ogu charge, Hama-cho snorted and threw a right hook.
Everyone ascending to the fifth floor had left weapons at the door—empty hands. But Hama-cho was confident. Ogu might've thrashed three underlings like stray dogs on a hot day, but he was Uyangjeong's head. The blood on his hands to climb there...
Ogu was nothing. But things didn't go as planned.
Ogu slipped the punch under his left armpit, closed in tight, and hugged him. Man-on-man embrace—embarrassing to watch.
"You little shit?"
Not fighting, not playing—Hama-cho panicked at the weird hold, aiming a kick at Ogu's shin. But Ogu extended his slightly bent knees and leaped powerfully.
Hugging Hama-cho, of course.
"Huh?"
The pair shot a zhang out the window. Past the veranda—nothing but air below.
Splat!
Rain poured over them.
"No you don't!"
Gu Ak-pyeong surged up, kicking a rolling porcelain dish at them.
Crack!
Shards flew at Ogu in midair. But he'd anticipated it. He spun, swapping positions with Hama-cho.
Thwack-thwack-thud!
The fragments embedded in Hama-cho's back.
"Gaaah!"
Hama-cho screamed in agony as they plummeted.
Desperate not to die, he swung wildly to smash Ogu's skull.
But Ogu slid down Hama-cho's body to his legs, grabbing hold. Even more awkward pose—no time to care.
Fifth floor took time to climb, but the drop was a blink.
Hama-cho got one swing—it missed. Ground incoming.
Splat!
From fifth floor to pavement—Hama-cho's skull shattered, naturally.
Ogu, the bastard, shoved Hama-cho's lower body hard just before impact, launching diagonally upward.
From that height, Ogu wasn't unscathed. Protecting his head, he tumbled sideways—with a pop, his left shoulder dislocated.
Nggh!
No time for pain.
Ogu rolled once more on the ground and sprang up, bolting for the wall.
"Grab that fucker!"
Glancing up, Gu Ak-pyeong loomed on the fifth-floor veranda, snarling down.
Swordsmen poured from Hwacheong Pavilion's first floor, swarming the garden. More rushed from the main gate.
While running, Ogu grabbed his dangling left elbow with his right hand, yanked hard, then shoved it back in.
"Kk!"
Click. Shoulder reset.
Meanwhile, a black society thug sliced at him from the front. Three more behind, endless waves after.
Hwacheong Pavilion crawled with black society goons—and the Ten Council's escorts too.
Swish!