The Association Leader — 2
"You barbarian bastards! The miserable wretches dug a trap?!"
So they really did come swarming in, every last one of them. From the third floor, I gazed down at the two black-path sects.
The Heukgong Sect and the Jeokgye Sect. Trapped as they were, the two sects stared up at the Joseon people on the floor above, their faces slowly registering just how badly things had gone for them.
"Lowly black-hairs who don't even know their place! How dare they!"
"We'll beat those barbarian bastards to death first!"
Blades drawn to cut down the Joseon people on the second floor, the black-path thugs charged for the second-floor stairway — which, of course, had been sealed shut.
Tut-tut. Any farther and it's a ring-out. The stage where you're meant to fight is the first floor.
Watching them try to climb, I raised my hand toward the Joseon people.
"Uwaaaaah!"
"The barbarian bastards are throwing rocks!"
We'd seized the high ground, you see. This is the traditional culture of Joseon folk living in a foreign land — Lu-budap: the ones upstairs give no answer, only stones.
Even for murim men, third-rate skill won't save you from a hail of rocks raining down en masse from above.
"You wretches! You think you'll get away with this?!"
Oh, we will. The Joseon gathered in the inn said nothing, only smiled in silence at the black-path bastards gnashing their teeth below.
The standoff between the Joseon, the Heukgong Sect, and the Jeokgye Sect dragged on for a while.
I had laid out the whole board precisely so they'd tear each other apart, but convinced as they were that they'd stumbled into a trap, neither side would fight carelessly.
But there was a fix for that, too.
Channeling the Soyun Mind Image Art, I resumed my commentary, sending my voice booming through the entire inn once more.
"Our players seem a touch shy! Then allow me to fill the intermission with some introductions! The Jeokgye Sect! In order to shrink the Heukgong Sect's territory! They drowned the Heukgong Sect leader's own younger brother — drunk, walking home at night — in the river!"
When the stream lies quiet, you simply toss in a stone.
"What?!"
"How could anyone know that?!"
How did I know? The Wuhan port is carpeted with Joseon people, that's how.
"You bas-taaaaard!"
The Heukgong Sect leader seized his sword hilt, his face twisted with murderous fury. Can't have only one side furious, though. Time for the next introduction.
"Now for the other side! The Heukgong Sect! Recently, their leader crossed paths with the Jeokgye Sect leader's nephew and his cousin right here in this very inn! He ordered his underlings to pick a quarrel with them on purpose — and had every one of them killed!"
Two Joseon waiters employed at the inn, and even a Joseon guest, had been swept into that fight and killed.
"You son of a bitch! You told me my nephew started it!"
"Started it or not — the weak die! That's the law!"
Rage has a way of blinding the eyes. At last, the blades of the two sects began turning toward each other.
"Stop! This is a trap set by the barbarian bastards!"
A trap? How hurtful. All I did was lay out the stage for you.
When one of the black-path men cried out in earnest, the two sect leaders shot us a glance, their expressions torn with hesitation.
At this rate, I'd better start throwing bombs along with the stones.
"One more piece of information! Fearing he might lose today, the Heukgong Sect leader raided the home where the Jeokgye Sect leader's aged mother lives! He has left orders that if he does not return by the appointed hour, she is to be put to death!"
"Whaaaaat!"
What a reaction. The instant the words left my mouth, a chorus of shouts rose alongside the Jeokgye Sect leader's stricken cry.
"For the record, the hiding place is a warehouse the Heukgong Sect frequently uses! Fail to finish this quickly and make it back in time! And today becomes the memorial day of the Jeokgye Sect's honored mother!"
The Heukgong Sect had dragged their full strength here, so they'd delegated the job to I-gu and Sam-gu — in truth, no one had been abducted. But the fact that the order was given? That was what mattered.
"...Today, then. Here in this inn, I will cut that wretched life of yours short."
"I'll kill you! Then every last one of those barbarian bastards as well!"
And so the two black-path leaders finished deliberating.
"CHAAAAARGE!!!!"
"Gwaak! My arm!"
"If you can't sink a blade in their necks! Aim for the limbs first!"
"Oooooooh."
"A razor-sharp offensive from the Heukgong Sect right out of the gate! True to their black-path breeding, they're fighting two against one — how admirably cowardly!"
Thirty men tangled in a melee, viewed from above, was quite the spectacle.
Like a commentator calling out the key moments of a mass brawl, I carried on in a voice full of cheer.
"Somebody hurry over and help that one!"
"And in the middle of it all, on one flank of the Jeokgye line, they're preparing to loose hidden projectiles!"
"Why the hell is that bastard announcing our moves?!"
Because all of you need to go down together, that's why.
"Off their guard, are they?! One Jeokgye man slipping around behind the Heukgong rear! Preparing a dagger thrust!"
"DODGE!!!"
"Who the hell is that lunatic yelling from upstairs?!"
The Joseon Hometown Association. Tell them their new leader's name is Kang Yunho.
Both black-path sects were small outfits of barely a dozen men apiece, and of those, only one leader per sect was second-rate. Like some orchestrator of the battlefield, I disguised instruction as commentary and steered the whole lot of them toward mutual annihilation.
"Before anyone noticed, the Jeokgye Sect is down to ten and the Heukgong to eight! They're squaring off once more! Under ordinary circumstances, one side would concede and flee! But every exit is sealed! And there is no time! Today may yet become the memorial day of the Jeokgye Sect leader's aged mother!"
"Khhhrrk!"
"Shiiiiit!"
Both black-path leaders let out groans of pure anguish.
The Joseon upstairs, meanwhile, were in full festival mode.
"Bastards! Is that all you've got?! I've got Jeokgye at eight and Heukgong at six riding on this bout!"
"Yesss! I won!"
"You won? Then you're buying lunch later."
"Settle your debts before you go spending!"
"Grilled squid! Peanuts here!"
"Bring some grilled squid over here!"
"No peanuts for you?"
"I've got a peanut allergy, so..."
"We also have thunderclap-flavored chicken skewers. Care to try one?"
"I'm hopeless with spicy food, so I'll pass."
As the old saying goes, the finest spectacles in life are fires and fights. The Joseon people feasted on the black-path sects' dogfight — the same men who persecuted them every single day — and sent the inn's sales soaring.
"And now, at last, one-on-one! As befits their skill, only the two leaders remain!"
Before anyone realized it, only two men were left standing on the first floor, amid the corpses and the wounded.
"Khh!"
Was it finally ending? When the Jeokgye Sect leader's blade — said to be half a step above his rival's — grazed the Heukgong Sect leader's arm, the man dropped his sword in a flustered panic.
A shame, though. At this rate, the Jeokgye leader walks away far too clean.
"Dropping his very sword! The Heukgong Sect stands at death's door! Will the Heukgong Sect leader recognize the divine weapon lying close at hand?!"
Keep fighting just a little longer. I did prepare a trump card, you know.
"A divine weapon? Don't tell me — this?!"
Yes. That's the one. With a startled face, the Heukgong Sect leader lifted the object he hadn't spared a single glance until now.
Sensing that things were turning interesting, the Joseon crowd shouted as one, eyes fixed on whatever he held.
"He's got it! The iron chair!"
The divine weapon was an iron chair.
"In the murim, they say: a hundred days for the spear, a thousand for the saber, ten thousand for the sword! It means each weapon demands at least that long to master! But the weapon now in the Heukgong Sect leader's hands is an iron chair!"
The Jeokgye Sect leader's blade came flashing down at him.
"The iron chair blocked the blade!"
"Behold! That perfect unity of offense and defense! Usable from a seated position, requiring no mastery whatsoever — a true weapon! One might call it the one true King of All Weapons!"
"The King of All Weapons — the Iron Chair!"
The Jeokgye Sect leader faltered the instant his blade, wedged fast in the iron chair, refused to come free. The Heukgong Sect leader did not let the opening pass.
"Die! Die! Take thaaat!"
The iron chair, swung with every ounce of the Heukgong Sect leader's strength, came crashing down on the Jeokgye Sect leader's skull. A neck bending wrong. That would be a mortal wound.
The one to fall in the end was the Jeokgye Sect leader.
"I'll kill every last one of you barbarian bastards!"
On a first floor crowded with corpses and the wounded, the Heukgong Sect leader — the sole survivor — screamed up at us with a voice thick with hate.
Now he would rally what remained of his sect, treasure today's humiliation, and go right back to persecuting the Joseon people.
But here's the thing. That's only if you're the final victor.
"Hm."
The first-floor kitchen door swung open, and a man approached the Heukgong Sect leader with unhurried, easy steps.
"Who the hell are you?!"
"What is the meaning of this rampage, in an inn under the protection of the Seocheon Escort Agency?"
"Meaning? ...Ugh!"
The escort's blade was faster than any murim swordsman's I had seen all day.
"As ever, the proper finish to an inn brawl is a master appearing out of nowhere to shut the whole thing down. A round of applause, if you would, for our final victor — the escort of the Seocheon Escort Agency!"
"Waaaaaaaah!"
Did you think I'd leave loose ends behind?
"Leader Kang Yunho!"
I'd been wondering when you'd show. The moment the black-path bastards in the inn were cleared away, the Choi brothers — Il-gu, I-gu, and Sam-gu — came rushing up to me, faces radiant with gratitude.
"Don't just stand there looking moved. Take this."
With a perfectly indifferent expression, I handed the Samgu brothers a small box.
"What's with the pigeon?"
"A carrier pigeon. Use it whenever you need to reach me. And now that the black-path crowd is gone from the port, you three will start introducing Joseon laborers to take their place."
"You mean... us?"
"Joseon folk ought to band together, no? Run it without pocketing half the money the way those black-path bastards did, and it's good for you and good for every other Joseon person besides."
It was a modest little stake, true — but one that had yielded enough profit for two black-path sects to fight over with their lives on the line. I'd done the hard part; rather than hand the spoils to strangers, better to put the Samgu brothers, men who had trained in the martial arts, in charge of it.
"To think you'd give a post like this to the likes of us..."
The Samgu brothers stared at me, their faces on the verge of breaking past all decorum.
"I'll route every scrap of unloading work from the Seocheon Escort Agency's vessels your way as well, so make the most of it. That's agreeable, Escort Leader?"
I turned to the Escort Leader of the Seocheon Escort Agency's Wuhan branch standing beside me and asked, half as confirmation.
"You're offering them to me at a bargain. I've no reason to refuse."
The Escort Leader nodded with a smile.
The Wuhan branch gets its dockhands cheap, the Joseon get a steady income — mutual aid all around.
"You're even giving us the work! Then... how much should we pay you in tribute?"
Maybe it came from keeping company with the black-path crowd, but they were quick on the uptake about exactly the wrong things.
"What is this, a flea's liver? Do I look that hard up to you?"
I laughed with lofty scorn, like an uncle regarding his little nephew's snotty pocket change.
But listen — you weren't about to just agree on the spot because I said all that, were you?
"No, of course not! Still, you're the one giving us this livelihood, so..."
Right. You have to refuse at least once.
"If your conscience truly pricks you, don't give it to me — set it aside as dues for the Hometown Association. I'll use it to help Joseon folk who can't afford to eat or dress themselves."
Playing the part of a great man unbothered by petty sums, I channeled the Soyun Mind Image Art and deliberately raised my voice.
Every Joseon person in the inn can hear me, yes? Time to quietly show them what a true leader of the Joseon Hometown Association looks like.
At my words, the Samgu brothers' faces crumpled with emotion, and without any one of them moving first, they dropped to their knees.
"...Leader. We will serve you with our very lives!"
"Leader! We will give you nothing less than our best!"
"This debt of grace! We will never, ever forget it! Please, accept our bows!"
The three brothers bowed low, as though honoring the most venerable elder of a great house, pledging their loyalty to me.
"Good. Keep working this hard, and I'll find greater posts for you."
The three brothers didn't seem to notice, but every gaze in the inn had turned toward me.
Hope for the new leader, gratitude, even awe. Satisfied with the scene I had staged so deliberately, I clapped them on the shoulders.
"You truly mean to turn this inn into an arena and make a business of it?"
As I stood quietly watching the Joseon people tidy up the first floor below, Lim Hayeon came over carefully.
"You think I shouldn't?"
"The idea of setting murim men against each other to draw a crowd is fascinating, but not many murim folk care to be made a spectacle of."
Fair enough. Strip a murim man of his pride and all that's left is a corpse.
Even a ronin who can be hired for coin — honor and pride be damned — wants a cause to fight under. He doesn't want to fight as someone's evening's entertainment.
To run a proper arena, you'd have to offer sums that would make men cry out that it was far too much money to refuse.
"I have no such plans. This was for the Joseon Hometown Association."
Running an arena comes with headaches beyond counting. I gave a small laugh and shook my head.
"For the Hometown Association?"
Lim Hayeon tilted her head, puzzled.
"Both of those black-path bastards were notorious for what they did to Joseon folk. More of us died at their hands than fingers can count, and those they beat crippled, or left unable even to rise from their beds, were beyond numbering."
"So it was revenge for the Joseon people?"
"I'd rather you think of it less as simple revenge, and more as my inauguration as leader."
Because the Joseon people are being persecuted?
Did I burn with righteous fury and deliver a patriotic kick — vowing they would never again look down on the land that would one day give the world its beloved K-dramas and K-pop, legendary footballers for storied clubs like Manchester United, Tottenham, and Napoli, and its proud K-games and esports stars?
No. That wasn't it.
More than simple revenge, there was another reason.
"Inauguration?"
"A person's very psychology shifts the moment they look down on another from a high place. Merely savoring the sight of the men who once made them tremble and grovel tearing each other apart is enough to make them feel they took part in the revenge. And on top of that, they look up at the one man who orchestrated all of it — and carve his power into their memories."
First, announce the leader's power. And for that, the revenge had to be certain.
Some, their senses drowned beneath the cheering, never caught on — but the Joseon who had suffered under those two sects could not tear their eyes from the dogfight below. Some of them were even weeping.
"You — the one who became their leader?"
"Exactly. That single event made them feel my existence more than saying 'I am your leader' a hundred times ever could. We have a leader. A dependable one. A man who can help us. And if he can help us, his orders must be followed. Awe and fear will arrive together."
Truth be told, leader of the Joseon Hometown Association was never some lofty seat.
Closer to the president of an apartment complex's women's association, or the leader of a group project. It wasn't for nothing that Madam An had nodded along and told me to take the Hometown Association's chair.
But that wasn't why I'd decided to become its leader.
Wuhan. A city where I had no ties to anyone at all.
Would I live out my days as a debtor, or win myself wings to soar into the world? I stood at a crossroads.
I had no intention of leaving so crucial a challenge to the flip of a coin. I had to succeed. And for that, I needed people I could wield as if they were my own hands and feet.
"The Joseon certainly do look at you differently now."
"Word of today will spread to every Joseon soul in Wuhan who wasn't here to see it. From now on, when the leader calls, they come. No Joseon man who hears a single word from my mouth will find it easy to refuse me."
I leaned on the railing and looked down.
On the first floor, though I had given no order, Joseon laborers were diligently clearing away the wreckage, sneaking glances up at me all the while.
They understood, too.
That if they pleased me, a day would surely come when they'd reap the same rewards as the Samgu brothers.
"You really are..."
Lim Hayeon stared at me, too astonished to close her mouth.
"Because from here on, I intend to get serious about business."
"If not an arena, then you'll put the Joseon to work running a labor brokerage at the port?"
A labor brokerage at the port wouldn't be bad. The profits would be juicy, no doubt. But that wasn't why I'd staged all of this.
To Lim Hayeon, watching me with worry in her eyes, I gave a smile meant to put her at ease and spoke.
"I'm planning something far bigger."
Now that I had gained my hands and feet, it was time to build something grander than any arena.