Chapter 97. It's Not Right to Use People as Fish Food
Deung Noya had assigned black society thugs who were little more than laborers.
The black society was vast and varied, with skill levels all over the map.
The street-loitering riffraff were the bottom-feeders, while those who could actually hold their own had carved out spots in brothels, gambling dens, or liquor houses—decent gigs where they lived reliably.
The real heavyweights ran the profit-making operations. They masqueraded as upstanding merchants or businessmen, dressed sharp, lived in fine homes, and carried legitimate status. Unless you caught them in the act, they were indistinguishable from honest traders.
The true masters of the black society? No one knew who they were—just that they existed. They lived double lives, one identity in the light, another in the shadows.
Deung Noya, nursing a grudge over Yu Bul-gun's order to handle cleanup duty, had sent over the dregs—not even street-level punks, but actual grabbers.
Jeok Yeom Ijeopjang grabbed one of the fleeing laborers and demanded, "What the hell are these guys?"
"They're from Gwancheonbang! Look at the 'Gwancheon' stitched on their chests!"
Gwancheonbang? Jeok Yeom Ijeopjang sensed things were going sideways.
Jeok Yeom Iljeop had marched off to smash Gwancheonbang. So why were they showing up here? It could only mean... Jeok Yeom Iljeop had been taken down?
Ijeopjang couldn't believe it, but he reported straight to Gang Chun-mok.
"What? Gwancheonbang? Where's Hoyugu?"
"He's waiting for you in the afterlife!"
Cheon Seok-san dropped down like a stone, unleashing a fist straight at Gang Chun-mok. No telling how long the drug would last—better kill first, think later.
A ferocious surge of energy poured from his fist.
"Fist strength?"
Gang Chun-mok hastily drew his blade and slashed down.
Boom!
Gang Chun-mok skidded back. Ijeopjang and Samjeopjang charged in at the sight.
Boom! Crash!
Cheon Seok-san clashed fiercely with Gang Chun-mok and the Jeok Yeom captains.
Fist gales, blade auras, and sword qi whipped through the predawn streets, smashing parked carriages, market stalls, and even collapsing walls on nearby homes.
Watching the brutal fight from afar, Won Seung clicked his tongue.
The minion brawl at the warehouse docks was nothing compared to this. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he committed every detail to memory.
Ilgwon Pasan is that strong?
Maybe he let me go on purpose last time? The thought nagged at him. Cheon Seok-san's fist packed enough power to split mountains and cleave the Sang River.
Even the capital's elites, ganging up on him, were struggling.
The real masters stay hidden, alright.
But realizing one such monster had been gunning for him sent chills down his spine. He'd love to sneak in a poison strike, but the melee was too intense—get caught in it, and he'd be lucky to walk away with bones intact.
All he could do was hope the capital masters finished him off.
Gwang Dokdu stepped out into the predawn streets from his oil shop. Muggy summer nights, but dawn was bearable.
Cheol Mado walked shoulder-to-shoulder with him across the market district. Vendors were early risers—should be a few prepping stalls by now... but it was eerily quiet.
Sangyang's people sensed instinctively: the fight wasn't over.
Huh.
Gwang Dokdu let slip a faint, inexplicable chuckle.
He loved these market streets. Born and raised in Sangyang, they'd been his whole life. The air was thick with scents—steamed buns, fried dough, boiling meat broth. The day's bustle lingered like morning mist in every corner.
Passing the market, he turned into the tavern district. Here, the stale booze reek mixed with vomit welcomed intruders.
Gwang Dokdu cherished even that stench. How many wild nights had he rolled through here in his youth?
Midway down, black-clad figures emerged from alleys to shadow him. The men in black, wielding cloth-wrapped butcher blades, followed silently.
Exiting the tavern street, past the red lantern district, their numbers swelled past thirty.
Heading toward the main road to Cheongsu Gate, Gwang Dokdu halted abruptly.
An officer in the alley ahead shook his head. Friend's son.
Stay safe.
Gwang Dokdu gave a faint smile and a wave. The black-clad men melted into the streets.
Boom!
A distant burst of energy.
Gwang Dokdu dispersed his men and resumed his slow stride, Cheol Mado at his heels.
This time, someone waved from another alley.
Another friend's son...
Gwang Dokdu leaned against a street marker, feigning an old man's weary rest.
Sweat beaded on his greasy hair. A chill glinted in his deep-set, wrinkled eyes.
Cheol Mado swore he saw steam rising from Gwang Dokdu's body.
Finally, Gwang Dokdu turned slowly.
"We're heading back."
"Huh?"
"The fight's over."
"But..."
Deung Noya said wipe 'em all out...
"Not our game. I'll explain to Deung Noya later."
With that, Gwang Dokdu shuffled off down the dawn street.
Cheol Mado's shins ached. Looked like another ass-kicking coming...
Crunch!
Gang Chun-mok, taking Cheon Seok-san's fist full-on, soared through the air, spewing a fountain of blood. No surviving that.
Ijeopjang and Samjeopjang lay cold as corpses, surrounded by piles of Jeok Yeom squad bodies.
Even with the captain and two sub-captains, they'd been pushed back—so Jeok Yeom reinforcements charged Cheon Seok-san, only to die in vain.
Absolute expert!
Pyeong In-gang's eyes filled with awe at Cheon Seok-san.
Legends of the Ten Great Experts—Do Wang butchering hundreds of Yakcha Gate bladesmen, Kwon Wang punching through Zhu Ling Bang's hordes. Tall tales floating through jianghu, believe or not.
And today, a new legend was born on Sangyang's dawn streets.
A legend that would crown Gwancheonbang... no, all Henan... as overlords.
A new sky rises over Sangyang!
Overcome with emotion, Pyeong In-gang looked skyward—and froze.
Smoke? It billowed from all directions.
"Fire!"
Shouts and screams erupted: fires everywhere.
Pyeong In-gang scanned the battle-ravaged street. Torches littered the ground, some still burning.
Dropped in the chaos, igniting homes?
Then, darkness fell.
Like night returning.
Looking up, Pyeong In-gang's jaw dropped.
Blotting the dawn sky: arrows.
"Dodge—evade!"
The Taesu sat through the night in the main hall of a civilian home.
Reports flooded in from across Sangyang. No one had expected the Taesu to care this much about public safety.
He'd summoned not just officers, but army generals too.
Escort Captain Son entered with a report.
"Just now, Gwancheonbang's new Bangju took down unidentified masters."
Sangyang Taesu So Yeonggwan knew exactly who that mystery master was. But he played dumb.
"Begin!"
Son Captain exited, signaling his men. They'd already stacked straw in empty homes—wooden structures blazed up fast.
Soldiers ambushed across the city poured into the streets.
Sangyang's rising star general Son Uchaek, mounted and brandishing a spear, bellowed, "Subdue the thugs disrupting our peace!"
Son Captain, beaming at his nephew's cry, shouted, "They're bandits who torched homes and wrecked streets! Capture every last one!"
Won Seung had watched Cheon Seok-san slaughter Gang Chun-mok's crew, then the Taesu swoop in on Gwancheonbang's locusts. Seeing the panicked Cheon Seok-san and Pyeong In-gang flee with their men, he slipped away with Jong Bi.
Cheongsu Gate was ringed with troops—the encirclement took ages to break.
Taesu's in bed with Cheongsu Gate, clear as day.
Hwa Cheon-un hadn't flinched at the new foes—now it made sense.
Taesu's a slippery bastard too.
Talked big about punishing troublemakers, then set fires to justify a takeover. The capital goons would've been pincushions regardless—even without Cheon Seok-san.
Then claim they caught the arsonists.
But why let Gwancheonbang escape?
Taesu had subtly cleared a path for Cheon Seok-san and Pyeong In-gang.
Against Cheongsu Gate, better to finish them off. Unfathomable. Either way, extra caution around Taesu or Hwa Cheon-un from now on.
Foxes among foxes, both.
Won Seung and Jong Bi evaded patrols, reaching the Sang River banks.
They'd ditched their night gear for loose summer singlets—nothing suspicious in this heat.
They crouched by the water.
The elite clash had their blood still pumping.
"Bi Jangno's that level too?"
"Not quite."
"Ilgwon Pasan that strong? No need to dodge Kwon Wang then."
"Kwon Wang's stronger still."
Chatting idly, they waited for full daylight and crowds. Better than risking checkpoints en route to Baekhwa Pavilion.
Then Won Seung spotted a corpse floating downstream.
Casualty from last night? Plenty died...
But the robes looked scholarly.
Won Seung fished it out with a net pole.
"Why drag up a dead guy?"
Jong Bi crouched, watching.
"It's not right to use people as fish food."
Won Seung inspected the body—and froze.
Yu Bul-gun?
Strutting like a peacock last night—why's he river fodder?
After bullying that terrifying black society boss Deung Noya at the Shipowners Association?
His gut was a bloody mess, like a knife wound.
Pressing the pole into the belly, hack—Yu Bul-gun vomited water.
"Huh, still alive?"
Jong Bi leaned in, prodding the soaked clothes with a stick. Yep, dagger stab to the gut.
"Hmph. Amateur work. Hurts like hell but won't kill."
"Nah, deliberate. Stabbed to writhe in agony till he drowned."
Won Seung examined the wound. Clean thrust, sparing vitals. Bleeds, but doesn't kill quick.
Deung Noya's handiwork—but neither Won Seung nor Jong Bi knew.