Chapter 95: At Least Feed Me Some Meat Rice Before You Go
Yu Bul-gun gazed down at the Sang River from the window of Deung Noya's empty office on the second floor of the Shipowners Association.
It had been his scheme to seize control of the Sang River's hegemony using the black society as a front. For the past year, he'd poured his heart into it.
He'd met the leader of the nationwide black society—said to be harder to reach than the emperor himself—and set the Sangyang underworld in motion. Now, the results were imminent.
'Once the Sang River's hegemony falls into our hands...'
He could smuggle in essential materials near the imperial capital: iron ore and raw iron for weapons, saltpeter for gunpowder. Raw iron and saltpeter were state-controlled goods; private trafficking was punished as tantamount to treason.
And "tantamount to treason" meant extermination of the entire clan. No upright faction like Gwancheonbang or Cheongsu Gate could ever join in. Only the black dao, who dove into any profitable venture regardless of the flames, could pull it off. That was why he'd chosen the black society from the start.
'Plus, in a pinch, we can block the northwest army's advance route.'
It was a scheme that killed two birds with one stone. No wonder Seong Wang was watching its success with keen interest.
All his efforts would bear fruit tonight.
But why was it so damn muggy?
Yu Bul-gun fanned away the sticky river breeze with his sleeve and returned to his seat for a sip of tea.
Drinking tea in the dead of night wasn't great for the stomach, but on nights like this when he had to pull an all-nighter, it was useful.
His gaze fell on Deung Noya, half-reclining in a rattan chair, fast asleep.
The old man's too ancient to stay up all night, huh.
'I have to make this happen. And replace that useless geezer.'
Once the Sang River hegemony shifted to the black society, he'd install a compliant, capable underling as its leader.
Deung Noya wasn't asleep, merely lost in thought with his eyes closed.
He was suppressing his twisted emotions.
When Sang Noya—the Huangdo black society leader and nationwide black society chief—offered to help him seize the Sang River hegemony if he was interested, Deung Noya had thought it absurd. He'd even suspected the man had lost his marbles.
It violated black dao rules. Anything suspicious needed digging into, or you'd get stabbed in the back. So he'd mobilized every connection to uncover who'd egged on the nationwide black society chief, discovering Seong Wang's faction behind it all.
Whether Seong Wang was plotting rebellion was common gossip in Huangdo, even fodder for wagers.
Deung Noya realized refusal wasn't an option and accepted. Had he declined, he'd be buried six feet under by now, reduced to bones. Rebels saw no boundaries; they slaughtered anything in their path.
Having weathered decades of jianghu storms, Deung Noya knew why Seong Wang's faction chose them as proxies. He wasn't thrilled to be at the center of the storm in his twilight years, but the Sang River hegemony was too tempting to pass up.
So he'd set to work. He'd painstakingly acquired a century-old humanoid ginseng and passed it to Cheongsu Gate naturally enough. As expected, Hwa Cheon-baek began training to unblock his Conception Vessel.
Next came Gu Ja-ang's meeting with Jo Bang-un. The drinking buddy who'd vented to the beaten Jo Bang-un about endless humiliation was Deung Noya's plant. That buddy connected Jo Bang-un to Gu Ja-ang, hinting that Hwa Cheon-baek's Conception Vessel training would elevate him to new heights, endangering Gwancheonbang.
From there, events unfolded smoothly. Cheon Il-hae, burning with rage, moved to crush Gwancheonbang. Deung Noya merely steered the flow now and then.
This was the elegant black dao art of manipulating the world's currents from the shadows... Had it gone perfectly, it would've been a legendary feat in black society history.
Deung Noya's vaunted elegant black dao method had gone awry because of the Yong family descendant. Once that bastard appeared, Gwancheonbang shifted course. They could've steamrolled through, but...
Gu Ja-ang—that slimy Gwancheonbang chief steward—had pivoted to using the Yong descendant to save coin for Jeokhyeolsan. Things got messy. Gwancheonbang and Cheongsu Gate, on the brink of clash, now just bickered over the Yong heir.
As he pondered countermeasures, the three-way duel was suddenly announced.
He'd cheered inwardly. The duel was the perfect chance to elegantly eliminate both Gwancheonbang and Cheongsu Gate.
Deung Noya moved swiftly. He ordered his proxy, Gu Ak-pyeong, and the Ten Council to prepare for post-duel chaos.
And slipped Cheon Il-hae a Golden Pill. Quite naturally, of course...
The Golden Pill was a legendary elixir doubling inner energy and physical prowess. With a little tampering...
It unleashed the body's latent potential, but the backlash was severe—the greater the effect, the worse the aftereffects.
Cheon Il-hae must've hesitated. Facing the duel, torn between doubling his power and the risks was natural.
But he never knew the pill he'd obtained would drain his congenital essence, turning him into a cripple...
When Deung Noya heard Cheon Il-hae had suicided, he cursed inwardly. For some reason, Cheon Il-hae took it early... Maybe the poison master who'd doctored it botched the dosage, killing him prematurely?
Anyway, Cheon Il-hae was dead... Another variable.
The world was an endless chain of variables; nothing to be shocked about.
Deung Noya now pondered how the board might shift and how to counter it.
'But where the hell are those idiots?'
His most reliable men... He spat curses thinking of Cheol Mado and Gwisoo. He'd ordered them to capture Gu Ak-pyeong's killer, but no word yet.
How long since their shins got busted? Still not right in the head...
As Deung Noya and Yu Bul-gun sank into their thoughts, footsteps echoed from below.
Cheol Mado entered. He glanced at Yu Bul-gun in Deung Noya's seat, then approached the rattan chair and whispered.
"I have something to report."
Deung Noya glanced at Yu Bul-gun, who showed no sign of yielding his spot, just sipping tea.
'Fucking dog...'
Deung Noya cursed inwardly, rose, and stepped out. Cheol Mado shot another glance at Yu Bul-gun before following.
They stopped at the corridor's end by the window.
Cheol Mado eyed the office and asked,
"What's with that bastard?"
"Meat rice."
Deung Noya spat venomously, his gaze icy. Cheol Mado nodded knowingly. "Sang River fish food"—a man marked for death.
"How'd it go?"
"Well..."
Gwisoo had been ambushed, and they'd lost the targets, yet Deung Noya stayed calm. That unnerved Cheol Mado.
It deserved a shin-busting at minimum...
Deung Noya stared out the window. Cheol Mado followed his gaze and spotted a black society grunt sprinting toward them.
Deung Noya frowned. That runner was his mole in Gwancheonbang.
Something had gone wrong.
"Wait here."
Deung Noya ordered Cheol Mado to stay in the hall and returned to the office.
Clattering footsteps followed as the mole burst up.
"Noya! Big trouble. Our brothers in Gwancheonbang—all captured."
The panting mole blurted it out unprompted.
Yu Bul-gun stared, baffled. The mole caught his eye and added,
"Th-the guys from Huangdo... all dead. Some insane master showed up in Gwancheonbang..."
"What?"
Yu Bul-gun shot to his feet.
"Bare hands—smashed 'em all. Then rounded up Gwancheonbang men and headed for Cheongsu Gate. Says he'll wipe 'em out."
"What the hell? Explain properly, step by step."
Deung Noya's chilling glare made the mole flinch, then spill the Gwancheonbang massacre in full.
He added at the end,
"Looked like one of the legendary Ten Great Experts."
"Ten Great Experts?"
Yu Bul-gun was dumbfounded. A single touch of Crimson Flame Palm could fell even True Realm masters. Yet ten men butchered by one?
One of the Ten Great Experts? Kwon-wang, maybe?
"He took Gwancheonbang men to Cheongsu Gate?"
Deung Noya asked calmly.
"Yes. Heard our Huangdo guys went to Cheongsu Gate—says he'll sweep 'em all."
"Hah!"
Yu Bul-gun slumped into his seat.
An expert like that lurking in Sangyang... What the hell was going on?
Stunned by the Crimson Flame Palm squad's annihilation, Yu Bul-gun was at a loss.
Deung Noya glanced at him and stepped out.
Cheol Mado, waiting in the hall, had overheard the report.
Deung Noya's long-prepared plan had hit a snag. Best to shut up and await orders. Speaking out could mean worse than busted shins.
When Deung Noya was truly furious, he grew eerily calm... And crossing him then meant becoming Sang River fish food.
His voice now carried that tone.
"A-ryu..."
A-ryu was Deung Noya's nickname for Cheol Mado of the True Blade School.
"Tell U-yangjeong's Gwang Dokdu to convene the Ten Council... Tell him we end this tonight, so pitch in."
If Gu Ak-pyeong was the black society's proxy leader, Gwang Dokdu of U-yangjeong was Deung Noya's hidden blade. No one knew how many such cards he held—that was his terror.
Cheol Mado knew Gwang Dokdu was one, but not the extent of his power.
As Deung Noya turned to leave, he glanced back at the office.
"At least feed the meat rice before you go."
The three Dosanrim experts made their decision.
Cheongsu Gate's iron arrows seemed endless. They reloaded in rotation, firing without cease.
—We break through! I'll lead; Jung-san, cover the rear!
Daesan sent a transmission to Eum-do and Jung-san. Leaving Yang-do and Mi-san's bodies weighed heavy, but the living had to survive.
Daesan surged forward, Eum-do on his heels, Jung-san last.
"Die!"
Daesan cleaved through the infuriating arrow storm, swinging his blade madly. Crescent qi blades flew in succession.
Cheongsu Gate's encirclement fell back, loosing arrows, but the Dosanrim blade killers were faster.
Daesan slashed at the Cheongsu Gate warriors who hadn't retreated in time.
"Gah!"
Three or four crumpled under the qi. The hasty retreat disordered their lines.
Daesan cleaved left and right, forcing a gap. The fearsome qi blades parted the warriors to either side, opening a path.
"Go!"
Daesan charged the hard-won gap. He ignored arrows whistling from the flanks. A few hits wouldn't kill him. He defended only vitals as he ran.
Once past the arrow encirclement... nothing could stop them.
But... in the path's center stood a figure in pitch-black night clothes, face masked.
What the hell is that guy?
The figure flicked his hand.
Darts flew.
Just darts... No.
One flick, but three darts hurtled forth.