Chapter 73: How Much Booze Did He Chug to Master a Trick Like That?
Bang.
"Kah…."
The fiery liquor burned down his throat, but the raging fury showed no sign of dying down.
He'd lost his cherished subordinate Hama-cho and suffered utter humiliation to boot.
Ogu's parting words echoed in his ears.
—Aren't you just a puppet boss? Tell the real black society leader to come out.
"Insolent bastard."
He should have slit his throat…. A kick to the gut wasn't nearly enough.
Gu Ak-pyeong tipped the bottle back and chugged straight from it.
The fifth floor of Hwacheong Pavilion had been thoroughly cleaned. The shattered table and scattered food, the blood Ogu had spilled…. All traces had been wiped away.
But the wound to his pride couldn't be erased.
Ogu had killed Hama-cho, and he'd killed Ogu in return, so the meeting fell apart and the Ten Men Association members had all left.
Left behind, Gu Ak-pyeong had sent his men away and drowned himself in drink alone.
'Should've ripped that bastard's tongue out….'
The guy named U Bok-saeng had been tough as nails.
He hadn't confessed a thing, not even under torture. If he'd kept at it…. He might have cracked him. But the bastard had struck right at his reverse scale.
The moment "puppet boss" slipped from his lips, nothing else mattered. All he could think was to shut that mouth—drawing his blade and smashing at his neck.
And Gwang Dokdu, the lord of Uyang Pavilion, had blocked it.
—He's already on the road to the afterlife. At least let me preserve the body intact.
Gwang Dokdu was someone even Gu Ak-pyeong couldn't ignore. He knew full well that Gu Ak-pyeong was nothing but a marionette.
Deung Noya, the true boss of Sangyang's black society, and Gwang Dokdu went way back.
Thinking of Deung Noya made his teeth grind with a vicious crack.
'Puppet…. Fake…. How long do I have to put up with that shit?'
He knew the whispers circulating behind his back.
—The real head of Sangyang's black society is someone else.
No one dared question it to his face, but he often caught those looks of disdain.
Fresh anger surged.
Yeah. It pissed him off even more because it was true.
Even before heading to the Ten Men Association meeting today, Deung Noya had chewed him out.
—Can't even eat when the table's set? Want me to spoon-feed you? Why are flies buzzing around? Screw this up, and you'll pay with your head!
Deung Noya's chilling voice rang clear in his ears.
That damn old bastard deserved to die….
If not for that, he wouldn't have fallen for U Bok-saeng's desperate ploy, and he could have used torture to clean house in Sangyang's underworld, half of it at least.
'After all the dogged loyalty I've shown.'
The threat of death was nothing compared to the sting of that kick to the shin.
Did they still see him as the frontline meat shield, charging ahead with just a sword in hand?
Him! Gu Ak-pyeong! Black society lord Gu Ak-pyeong!
But he knew better.
One word from Deung Noya, and ten lives wouldn't be enough.
Deung Noya held the real power in Sangyang's black society. He was just holding it in trust. Hoping someday it'd be handed over for real.
—Seize control of Sangyang. Then the black society is yours, fully.
Believing Deung Noya's words, he'd run around like a dog to claim Sangyang's hegemony.
And now, the fruits of that labor were ripening.
He'd laid the groundwork in secret, when rumors hit his ears: someone was selling spectator rights.
His keen instincts fired. Gwancheonbang and Cheongsu Gate staying silent about the sales? That meant Sangyang's twin hegemons were turning a blind eye.
Gu Ak-pyeong had sent Hama-cho to find out who was selling, and got word it was some Baekhwa Pavilion branch manager posting notices.
Hama-cho had added his take: he'd already been watching the new painting shop owner on suspicion, figuring it was an outpost planted by outsiders eyeing Sangyang's power.
Could be.
Sangyang without the twin hegemons…. It was a honey pot for the underworld.
But Gu Ak-pyeong's gaze turned inward. He suspected a few in the Ten Men Association were using U Bok-saeng as a front for their schemes. They had the personalities for backstabbing.
So he'd plotted to use it to purge the Ten Men Association. If U Bok-saeng had talked, he could've cut it down to five in one go.
But the bastard…. Called him a puppet and made him lose it, killing him clean.
Now the puppet master hid.
'Who the hell are you!'
Gu Ak-pyeong glared like the enemy was right there, snapping his head up.
'!'
A masked figure stood inches away.
Even drunk as he was, how had he closed to within a zhang undetected!
Gu Ak-pyeong's spine chilled. Instinctively, he circulated his inner energy to drive out the booze.
At the same time, he spoke.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Your debt collector."
"Debt?"
Gu Ak-pyeong echoed the word as he smoothly drew the sword propped nearby.
It felt solid in his grip.
"Not bad. Sneaking in here."
Won Seung's eyes, visible above the mask, curved in a cold smile.
"Wasn't that hard."
Gazing up at Hwacheong Pavilion, Won Seung pondered.
Yong Jo-un's words lingered in his ears.
'Tch. Righteous revenge, my ass. Do it yourself…. Why push it on others?'
Even without Yong Jo-un's words, he knew he stood at a crossroads.
Would he walk the assassin path as Jeokhyeolsan intended, or…. Or what? The warrior's path like Yong Jo-un?
Neither was what he wanted, really.
But right now, he had to kill the bastard up there.
On the assassin path: sneak in quiet, paralyze with needles or smokeless incense, then sever the neck.
Righteous revenge…. Declare the reason for death, give him a sword and a chance to fight, take him down with skill?
'Hmm.'
Skipping the easy way for some unclear reason, taking the long road…. He had to think it over.
If Gu Ak-pyeong was peak as Hyeol Hwa said…. A fair fight might get him killed instead of revenge.
That wasn't revenge—it was suicide.
But….
Won Seung had coldly assessed his own level, observing Jong Bi and hearing from Hyeol Hwa.
He wasn't a first-rate master yet.
Assassin trainees trained brutally for ten years, gained twenty years of inner energy, then graduated. They specialized in assassin arts, but killing techniques made them first-rate material. Then two years as apprentice assassins to fully bloom.
First-rate wasn't just training. It needed unique insight into martial arts, enlightenment, and real combat experience. The few survivors of harsh training had those qualities—they'd hit first-rate in two or three years.
Won Seung had opened his Conception and Governor vessels, held double the inner energy of peers—forty years' worth—but lacked first-rate finesse and combat application.
Not just lack of experience. Sparring among trainees mimicked real fights. It wasn't simple experience…. It was the killer instinct in life-or-death moments, the decisiveness.
Above all…. Won Seung had never killed a man.
Ah, Ak Gyo-du didn't count. The booze bottle killed him.
Won Seung steeled himself and eyed the brightly lit fifth floor of Hwacheong Pavilion.
Along the Sang River tributaries, pleasure houses still echoed with song and music at this hour.
Hwacheong Pavilion alone lay in quiet hush.
Four guarding the front gate, four at the first-floor door, and patrols in the courtyard here and there.
Who knew how many inside.
Intel was sorely lacking. But Won Seung figured this was his best shot.
'Hitting at an unpredictable time more than makes up for the disadvantages.'
Gu Ak-pyeong might be peak. He wasn't quite first-rate himself. But he didn't care.
Won Seung never bound himself to such labels. He judged himself coldly but didn't let it limit him.
He vaulted the wall silently, slipped into a gap in the patrol, and clung to the first floor of Hwacheong Pavilion.
The building was carved with ornate floral patterns—perfect handholds to climb.
Each floor up, he peeked inside.
Finally, at the fifth, he peered through the railing.
In the lavish banquet hall, a middle-aged man drank alone.
It'd take a bit to fully purge the booze with inner energy.
Gu Ak-pyeong circulated qi covertly as he addressed Won Seung.
"Who sent you?"
"Does it matter?"
Won Seung shot back, then pulled a chair across the table and plopped down. He yanked off the mask.
Gu Ak-pyeong frowned at the unexpectedly young face.
"Too young for this kinda stunt."
He figured one of the Ten Men Association had sent an assassin.
After he'd nabbed U Bok-saeng, those plotting in the shadows would have to move—he'd expected as much.
Just…. Faster than anticipated. And the killer was a kid.
'These punks look down on me? Sending some fresh-faced country bumpkin?'
Newbies to the city did anything for respect. Probably one of those.
Shame, though—the looks were wasted on this line of work.
Gu Ak-pyeong sized up Won Seung and inwardly relaxed. Sure, he was a bit buzzed, but he'd clawed up from the gutters of the underworld asura field—no way some brat could take him.
Then he flinched, scanning around. This could be bait, the real threat elsewhere.
His eyes caught a draped wall hanging. Yank it, and his ten men waiting between the fourth and fifth floors would rush up.
He always had them on standby when at Hwacheong Pavilion.
Gu Ak-pyeong considered how Won Seung had slipped past them. But seeing no one around, he eased up.
Won Seung watched closely.
Selfish prick. Mid-forties? His face bore the ruthless years of living for himself alone. Greed and impatience flickered too.
And booze at a time like this….
Everyone holding their breath over Sangyang's hegemony duel, and the so-called black society lord boozing till dawn?
'Guess the puppet rumors are true.'
No way a guy this clueless about the currents ran the underworld.
Won Seung sitting quiet? Gu Ak-pyeong took it for fear.
'Scared now that he's facing me. Play this right, and I can pry out his backers.'
Still tipsy, Gu Ak-pyeong twisted the situation to his liking.
He didn't ponder why Won Seung came alone, or why the mask came off at the end.
Gu Ak-pyeong put on a stern tone.
"Gutsy for your age. I'll spare your life. Spill who sent you, and you're free."
Speaking like he was granting a favor, he poured a cup and flicked it over.
The cup spun gracefully, landing with a thunk before Won Seung.
Impressive trick.
'How much booze did he chug to master a trick like that?'
Won Seung eyed him pitifully, but Gu Ak-pyeong mistook it for awe and smirked, pleased.
Showed the kid the level gap—time to reel him in.
