Chapter 51
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: The Taoist Who Came Down from Wudang Mountain (3)
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"Are you in there?"
As the silence stretched on, Si Wang-yu pressed his eye to the hole and peered inside.
Gong, seated in the darkness within, was utterly dumbfounded.
Not only had another request come in about those monstrously powerful hunters—enough to knock him flat—but the fool making the request was up to something completely absurd.
'They said the second son of the Si Family was all greed and no brains...'
The martial world still knew nothing of those hunters, and in all of Huanin County, the only ones who'd dare make such a request were from the Si Family.
With the second son now the new family head, it had to be Si Wang-yu who'd come knocking.
Grit...
Gong ground his teeth.
If he took this job, he'd be a dead man.
That idiot had no clue how terrifying those hunters truly were.
Even the sect leader of the Crimson Slayer Gate had strictly forbidden accepting any requests about them.
"We'll pass on this request."
The flustered Si Wang-yu raised his voice.
"Why refuse? I heard the Slayer Gate never turns down a job."
"Circumstances demand it, so we're refusing."
Si Wang-yu pressed even louder, demanding answers.
"What the hell are these 'circumstances'?"
Fury boiled up to the top of Gong's head, but he kept it locked down.
"Can't discuss the Slayer Gate's business. Please leave."
But Si Wang-yu had no intention of backing off that easily.
He had his own desperate reasons.
To keep his family whole, he needed the Seok Family's backing.
Seok Yang-ho, head of the Seok Family, had sworn off attacking the Si Family—but who knew when winds might shift?
To seal that promise tight, blood ties were the only sure way.
And for blood ties, he'd have to marry a Seok woman—the one he had his eye on was none other than Seok Su-a.
But word was, Seok Yang-ho had taken an unnatural shine to those young hunters.
Especially since they'd helped the Seok Family in all sorts of ways—even sheltering the retainers during the Jo Clan raid.
In repayment, Seok Yang-ho was bringing the young hunter into the fold as kin, showering him with favors.
No proper martial house would stoop to taking some backwater hunter as a son-in-law... but the world had a way of surprising.
'A pathetic hunter as my rival...'
His pride smarted like hell.
"Fine by you if I spread word the Slayer Gate ditched a request for no reason?"
Si Wang-yu was resorting to threats now.
'This moron's digging his own grave.'
Gong's patience snapped; his voice turned ice-cold.
"Fine. Digging into those hunters takes about ten days—come back then. Fee's a hundred silver taels."
Si Wang-yu shoved the voucher through the hole.
"Here. Make it solid. Detailed."
"No worries."
Once he'd accepted and Si Wang-yu was gone, Gong summoned the man waiting nearby.
"Head to the Crimson Slayer Gate. Tell 'em Si Wang-yu from the Si Family's gunning for the hunters."
"Got it. I'll wait for their answer."
"No need. It's a given."
The man left first. Gong slipped out of the pitch-black alley into the market.
'Seok Yang-ho's probably got the hots for those hunters too. Even a paragon of virtue can't ignore a chance to use 'em for his house.'
Thwack! Thwack!
I split every last log, stacked 'em neat, then rushed my outing prep.
Rice was plentiful, but meat and fish? Bone dry.
Bathed clean, fresh clothes on—I bolted out the door.
Hit the village, butcher first for meat.
"Five catties pork. Mix of skin and fat, if you please."
"One sec. Best cut comin' right up."
The owner knew my face, grinned wide, grabbed his cleaver, and headed for the hog on the hook.
I stood there like a lump, watching villagers hustle by.
Merchants hollering sales, hagglers dickering, daylight drunks bellowing, collar-grabbers brawling—the market din poured straight into my ears, not a note missing.
But one tiny voice snagged me hard.
"Oppa. I'm hungry."
"Just hold on. Bro'll score some food."
My eyes drifted through the crowd to the source.
Alley corner: boy about ten, girl maybe seven, hunkered down. Faces filth-streaked, rags for clothes—beggars through and through.
'Drifter kids.'
"Here ya go. Prime cut from this shop."
"Thanks, sir."
Paid up, bound for the fishmonger—I glanced back.
Girl still solo; boy was prowling spots, begging scraps.
Grabbed salted fish, turned—girl hadn't budged.
"Bad omen this early in the day."
Splash!
Boy caught a bucket of water right in front of some inn.
Tsk...
Pity hit me; I dug for silver to slip 'em—but stopped cold.
Kid that young? No way he'd hold onto coin.
Couldn't even buy a meal, bet.
Soaked boy hung his head, then shuffled to the next shop.
I stepped up to where he was peeking.
Couldn't even sort my own mess—sticking nose in others'? Pointless meddling.
But heart wanted what it wanted.
Boy looked up, eyes brimming fear at the wall of me.
"C'mon. Follow."
"Huh?"
Brushed past the dawdler, homeward—then wheeled and hollered.
"What're you waiting for? Move it! Grab sis too!"
Boy bolted back to her.
En route, ducked into the clothier for kid-sized gear.
Chill sharpening daily—their threadbare rags needed swapping for thick padded coats.
Home sweet home. Kids frozen at the gate—I beckoned.
"Parked there doin' what? I'll whip up chow—hit the river, scrub up."
Boy dithered, then dashed off with sis in tow.
Kitchen bound, I cooked double rice, triple soup.
Me cooking, they perched on the yard bench, waiting.
'Myeong-gak back?'
Stewing soup, grilling meat and fish—picked up a presence outside.
Peeked: right on cue, Myeong-gak swinging the gate open.
"Namu Amitabha Bul, Kwanseum Bosal. Back, patron."
"How'd it shake out?"
"No sweat. For sure... Amitabha Bul."
Mid-answer, he clocked the kids statue-still on the bench—chanted deep.
Myeong-gak asked zilch about 'em.
I eyed the pair, mute on the bench.
First glimpse of that boy in the village? Flash of kid-me.
Probably why they trailed me home.
Set the table, hauled it out.
Steaming rice right under their noses—kids smacked lips, scoped the room, chopsticks frozen.
"No side-eye. Chow down, all you want."
Boy bowed sharp, grabbed sticks.
"Thank you, sir."
Served sis first.
So tender, chest lumped up unbidden.
Myeong-gak and me sat across, dug in.
Kids vacuumed bowls but clammed on seconds.
Mid-bite, kitchen run—big bowl heaped, plonked before 'em.
"Pot's overflowin'. Polish it off."
Boy ladled: sis's bowl topped first, then his.
Meal on, Myeong-gak zipped it.
Dinner wrapped—Myeong-gak bused tables, dishes duty.
Pot scrubbed prime, fresh water, fire lit.
Water hot, hollered kids—stripped 'em, bathed 'em thorough.
Dressed in my new buys.
Old hand at it, moves smooth pro.
I spectated, wordless.
Kids suited up, he herded 'em to the room.
Out quick, finished wash-up, fresh table.
Liquor jug planted center.
"Patron. Glass?"
Craving hit outta nowhere—hell yeah.
"Hit me."
Guy read rooms like a savant.
Rounds flowed; Myeong-gak broke ice.
"Plans for the kids? Takin' 'em under wing personal?"
Brought 'em here, sure—but rearing? Nah.
"Seok Family tomorrow. Head'll take 'em, no doubt."
"Amitabha... Same page. I'd deliver 'em myself."
"Handle it."
I drained; he topped mine.
I topped his.
"Patron... Mind a question? That stunner lady patron—what's her story?"
One hand downed cup; other jabbed past the wall.
"Mean what? Village-bound?"
Topped my empty, probed again.
"In the dirt."
Eyes bugged, disbelief locked on mine—jug overflowed the brim.
"Baldy."
Ice-tone scowl—he jolted aware, then guffawed wild.
Puhehehehe...
Cut laughs, slammed cup dry, self-poured.
"That lady's deal?"
"Beats me. But killer of Seok retainers? Ironclad."
Myeong-gak's mug hardened grave.
"Her? Butchering Seok folk... Never heard tell of a woman like that in the martial world. Your take?"
"Hell if I know."
Couldn't spill Great Heavenly Demon's intel.
Absorption Demonic Art word out? Martial world riot—hordes flooding Huanin.
Heh heh heh...
"You underestimate the martial world far too much, boy. Hide that Absorption Demonic Art all you like—soon enough, they'll know it's surfaced. You grasp? Its return signals the demonic paths reentering the jianghu."