Chapter 318
Yong Mu-gang took a deep breath and asked:
"How did you find me?"
An ordinary person would have asked, 'Who are you?'
But what mattered to him was: How did you track me down?
Until now, even seasoned assassins had failed to trace his whereabouts.
He was desperately curious how such a young man had managed to locate this place.
"You seem curious."
"I am."
"If I satisfy this curiosity, the same thing won't happen again."
When the man struck right at the heart of the matter, Yong Mu-gang forced a smile.
"As if that's possible."
"I'll explain."
The man, who had been gazing out the window, turned his head and spoke.
"The areas near where you committed rape and murder always fell within the Crippled Gang's territory."
"..."
"Of course, no one in the murim would pay attention to something like the Crippled Gang's sphere of influence."
The man curled his lips as he continued.
"After all, it's a faction only the disabled can join, and the Flower Plucking Bandit—famed for his incredible movement technique—would seemingly have no connection to them."
"That alone wouldn't have been enough to find me."
In response to Yong Mu-gang's question, the man grinned.
"Because no one knew about your disability?"
Yong Mu-gang's eyes widened instantly.
Until now, not a single soul in the world had known his leg was crippled.
"No one could have guessed that the Flower Plucking Bandit, with his astonishing movement technique, had a disabled leg."
"..."
"You must have practiced relentlessly to use the prosthetic below your ankle so naturally. And..."
The man's gaze sharpened like a blade.
"To avoid being pursued, you killed the only person who knew—your master, Dokhaengdo."
Thud.
Yong Mu-gang's eyes bulged as if he'd been struck on the back of the head.
That was the secret buried deepest in his heart.
Killing one's master was no different from killing one's parents.
Even for someone as ruthless as the Flower Plucking Bandit, if this truth came to light? He would be abandoned by all, forced to live in complete isolation.
'How in the world does this bastard know that?!'
Yong Mu-gang was so shocked he could barely breathe.
But he suppressed the pounding in his chest and asked calmly:
"How did you know that?"
"At every scene of your crimes, there were unique traces left by someone using a prosthetic leg."
While tracking Yong Mu-gang, the man had instantly discerned two things:
That his left leg was crippled, and that his sudden disappearance routes were linked to the Crippled Gang.
"Impressive. To think an outsider would recognize the unique traces even I wasn't aware of leaving."
Yong Mu-gang swallowed his astonishment and spoke.
"Until now, not a single person has ever uncovered that I'm a member of the Crippled Gang."
He deliberately drew out his words.
He needed to prolong the conversation as much as possible to find an opportunity to escape.
"Judging by how thoroughly you investigated the prosthetic's traces, you're not from the murim. Are you from the Magistrate's Office?"
Instead of answering, the man looked out the window.
His gaze fixed on the moonlight suggested he was waiting for something.
Seizing his chance, Yong Mu-gang swiftly pressed a hidden mechanism on the floor.
Click—!
With a metallic clank, poisoned hidden weapons rained down from the walls.
Boom!
At the same time, he kicked open the door and bolted outside.
Thud.
But just as Yong Mu-gang was about to activate his movement technique, a searing pain tore through the back of his neck.
"Gah—!"
The man who had been standing inside the room was now gripping his nape—when had he moved?
Murmur, murmur.
As chaotic voices rose, everyone at Nongga Hong rushed outside.
Among them was Song Ok-bang, the Deputy Sect Master known as the Great Mother of the Crippled Gang.
"Who are you?"
Song Ok-bang glared at the man holding Yong Mu-gang by the neck.
"Do you realize this is the Crippled Gang's headquarters before committing such an act?"
"How amusing."
The man chuckled darkly.
"Did you even know who this man was before hiding him?"
"What does it matter? If a disciple of our faction requests sanctuary, it is our principle to provide it without question."
"Then it's time to change that principle."
A bloody light flickered in the man's eyes.
"Unless you want every branch of the Crippled Gang—including this place—wiped off the map by tomorrow."
Song Ok-bang fell silent.
Having lived sixty years of hardship and roughness, she had the courage to laugh even with a blade at her throat.
But when she met the man's gaze, an inexplicable fear began bubbling up inside her.
Clatter, clatter.
Just then, two long-distance carriages rolled into Nongga Hong, and people began disembarking.
The carriages bore flags embroidered with the character for "Steel."
It was the carriage of the Gang Sang Escort Agency, located near Nongga Hong.
At this unexpected turn of events, Song Ok-bang's eyes widened in shock.
Why in the world would an escort agency's carriage enter the Crippled Gang's territory?
Blinking rapidly, Song Ok-bang stared at the middle-aged man stepping down from the carriage.
He was Jang Il-do, the leader of the Gang Sang Escort Agency.
"Why has the escort master come here?"
Since the Crippled Gang and the Gang Sang Escort Agency were based in the same region, the two were fairly well acquainted.
"I was told there was a ten-thousand-nyang escort job here at Nongga Hong."
Song Ok-bang tilted her head in confusion at Jang Il-do's words.
"An escort job... in our gang?"
"Indeed. I've already received five thousand taels as an advance payment."
Around noon, a mysterious man had visited the Gang Sang Escort Agency.
And with an advance payment of five thousand taels, he had requested that an item at Nongga Hong be delivered to the Emei Sect by the Hour of the Dog.
The distance to the Emei Sect was barely a hundred li—hardly a challenge.
Yet someone had willingly paid five thousand taels upfront? In these lean times, it was an offer too good to refuse.
"You're finally here."
At that moment, the man restraining Yong Mu-gang spoke.
"This is the item."
Shink!
The sword strapped to his back flashed with a cold gleam. In the same instant, Yong Mu-gang's head separated from his body.
Splurt—!
Blood sprayed in all directions.
The man casually tossed the severed head to Jang Il-do.
"Deliver this head to the Emei Sect. Another five thousand taels will be paid upon completion."
Though Jang Il-do had worked in the escort business for thirty years, he had never been so stunned.
To decapitate a member of the Crippled Gang inside their own territory and then transport the head?
The martial arts of the Crippled Gang's members weren't particularly formidable, but when it came to relentlessness and cruelty toward their enemies, they were on par with the Dang Clan.
Song Ok-bang glared at the man and spoke.
"Do you have any idea what it means to kill a gang member within our own domain?"
Every martial society had its own rules, and failing to uphold them meant the loss of their existence and dignity.
Martial factions of the Murim would stake their lives to defend these ironclad principles.
Because if those principles collapsed, so too would the gang's prestige.
The Crippled Gang had only one rule:
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
Though they were a gathering of the weak and disabled, the number of Crippled Gang members scattered across the Central Plains was beyond counting.
Those who harmed their members would be hunted down with their lives on the line. That was why the Crippled Gang had become a sanctuary for the disabled.
"Our gang exists everywhere across the one hundred eighty thousand li of the Central Plains. Even if you were the descendant of kings and nobles, you would pay the price for this."
"Is that so?"
The man's indifferent response made Song Ok-bang shout.
"Reveal your identity! Otherwise—"
"Bu Eun-seol."
The man—Bu Eun-seol—looked down at her and spoke solemnly.
"I am Bu Eun-seol, disciple of Langya Pavilion."
In that instant, her pupils trembled violently.
"T-The Heir of the Demon Hall?!"
Song Ok-bang was deeply shaken.
Bu Eun-seol, the legitimate successor of Langya Pavilion and the Heir of the Demon Hall—the Martial Soul Lord.
Even if they could kill the descendants of kings and nobles...
They could never lay a hand on the future ruler of a million demonic practitioners.
"In the future, be more selective about who you take in."
Bu Eun-seol's voice was icy.
"If you shelter another Public Enemy of the Martial World like Yong Mu-gang, the name 'Crippled Gang' will cease to exist in the Murim."
At this, not only Song Ok-bang but even Jang Il-do, who had been staring at the severed head, widened his eyes in shock.
"You're saying this man is the Flower Plucking Bandit, Yong Mu-gang?"
"That's right."
Bu Eun-seol gazed at the distant sky and spoke calmly.
"For a long time, he evaded pursuit by hiding behind the dual identity of a Crippled Gang member. The martial factions simply didn't know."
Song Ok-bang's body trembled.
She realized Bu Eun-seol's words were no mere threat.
What if they had known Yong Mu-gang's true identity and sheltered him?
Even if the Demon Hall might have overlooked it, this young Heir of the Demon Hall would have undoubtedly dismantled the entire Crippled Gang without hesitation.
Whoosh—!
Just then, the Sound of Breaking Air echoed from the distant sky as dozens of martial artists in white garments descended into Nongga Hong.
—Halt!
With a thunderous shout, the figures surrounding them were none other than Cheon-geom and the Yojin Sword Unit.
"You—?"
Cheon-geom's eyes bulged when he saw Bu Eun-seol.
He had scoured every corner of the Central Plains to capture Yong Mu-gang. And just when he had finally tracked him down to the Crippled Gang's doorstep...
Had Bu Eun-seol intercepted him again?
Tch.
Bu Eun-seol flashed Cheon-geom a cold smile.
As he turned to leave—
"So the best you can do is interfere with my work at every turn?"
Cheon-geom snorted derisively.
"You're putting in effort, I'll give you that. But do you really think petty tricks like this can stop my rise?"
"Obstruction?"
Bu Eun-seol let out a soft laugh.
"So you consider the act of capturing a Public Enemy of the Martial World an obstruction, do you?"
"Since when has the Demon Hall been in the business of apprehending martial world criminals?"
The Heavenly Sword curled his lips upward.
"Moreover, Yong Mu-gang was a notorious villain the Martial Alliance had been hunting down in full force. Why are you stepping in?"
Bu Eun-seol's voice dripped with derision.
"When it comes to hunting down vile bandits who commit atrocities, what difference does it make whether it's the Demonic Path or the Righteous Path?"
At that moment, Jang Il-do, the escort bureau chief who had just placed the severed head into a box, bowed respectfully toward Bu Eun-seol.
"W-well then, we'll deliver this to the Emei Sect."
Watching this, the Heavenly Sword gritted his teeth.
'This bastard did it on purpose.'
If he had gone so far as to hire an escort bureau to deliver the head, Bu Eun-seol must have already tracked Yong Mu-gang down long ago.
But it was obvious—Bu Eun-seol had deliberately waited for him to arrive before making his move, timing the capture precisely.
"Aah, clever."
The Heavenly Sword grinned, spinning his finger in the air as if amused.
"When you want word of such deeds to spread quickly through the martial world, hiring an escort bureau is the fastest way to make it happen, no?"
"Is that so?"
Bu Eun-seol smiled brightly, as if struck by sudden enlightenment.
"Then when I send your head to the Sword Sovereign, I should use an escort bureau too."
"Heh-heh. Hahahaha!"
The Heavenly Sword cackled, nodding approvingly.
"I adore that madness of yours..."
But Bu Eun-seol didn't even listen. In an instant, he kicked off the ground, soaring into mid-air as he departed.
'This bastard!'
Flames flickered in the Heavenly Sword's eyes as Bu Eun-seol ignored him and left.
CRACK!
At the same time, Yong Mu-gang's corpse crumpled like crushed paper, pulverized in an instant by the Heavenly Sword's monstrous internal energy.
"So this is what it means to hold the upper hand in an information war."
After a brief daze, the Heavenly Sword smirked and nodded.
"Then from now on, I'll make good use of it too."
A glint of madness shimmered in his eyes.
Bu Eun-seol had simply anticipated his movements and struck first.
Well then—the Heavenly Sword would do the same. He would track Bu Eun-seol's every step and obstruct him at every turn.
"From now on, the tables will turn."
After all, if it was the Martial Alliance, they would surely be keeping a close watch on the movements of the Demon Hall's successor.
"You can look forward to it, Bu Eun-seol."
The Heavenly Sword bared his teeth in a grin.
And now, he would repay the favor in kind.
Hidden Demon Pavilion, Meeting Hall.
Bu Eun-seol, Yu Un-ryong, and Myo Cheon-u sat together, heads bent in discussion.
"That bastard took the bait," Yu Un-ryong said.
"That lunatic isn't focusing on gathering intel to earn merits—he's pouring all his effort into uncovering your movements instead. It's far more efficient for him."
"I thought he was just a madman, but he's got a decent head on his shoulders," Myo Cheon-u chuckled.
Yu Un-ryong shook his head.
"He's no ordinary madman. Aside from his inability to empathize with others' emotions... his martial arts, his intellect—there's nothing lacking in him."
"Hmph. Even so, he's still trapped within the Buddha's palm."
Myo Cheon-u turned to Bu Eun-seol.
"So? What's the plan? Things went just as you predicted."
Bu Eun-seol had deliberately intercepted the Heavenly Sword's prey to provoke him.
And he had known that, in retaliation, the Heavenly Sword would try to track his movements and interfere.
"We're going to the White Python Wind."
"The White Python Wind?"
Myo Cheon-u tilted his head in confusion.
The White Python Wind was a coalition of bandit groups that dominated the Yanyuan and Liangshan regions of Sichuan.
What made them unusual was that they didn't engage in outright pillaging—instead, they imposed "protection fees" on mountain villages under the guise of taxation.
At first, the taxes had been light, but as the burden grew heavier, the villagers were driven to the brink of starvation.
Yet no faction dared to challenge the White Python Wind—their forces were overwhelming, and the treacherous highlands of Sichuan made any large-scale military campaign against them a grueling, near-impossible ordeal.
"You're going there in this freezing weather? Besides, the White Python Wind is much closer to the Martial Alliance's sphere of influence!"
Myo Cheon-u crossed his arms.
"If you're not careful, they might actually steal the initiative from you."
Bu Eun-seol shook his head.
"It doesn't matter. The White Python Wind isn't the objective."
At that, Yu Un-ryong, who had been scrutinizing a map, suddenly widened his eyes.
"Wait, if we're talking about the White Python Wind's territory..."
After a long moment of contemplation, his lips parted in realization.
He had known Bu Eun-seol was a master strategist—but he never could have dreamed he would exploit human psychology's blind spots to lay a trap like this.
"You're planning to exploit the situation there."
"Correct. The White Python Wind is merely bait."
"Truly terrifying. You are."
Yu Un-ryong shook his head as he spoke.
"Of course, this incident won't be the end of your scheme."
"Naturally."
Tarnishing a person's reputation and honor is no easy feat.
Bu Eun-seol intended to drag Cheon-geom into the abyss through relentless, overlapping schemes.
"This is only the beginning."
A bloody light flickered in Bu Eun-seol's eyes.
"Soon enough, the Martial Alliance will willingly cast that lunatic out."
A bone-chilling wind howled through the mountains.
The journey to the White Python Wind's stronghold, reachable only after an endless climb up sheer cliffs, was nothing short of penance.
Bu Eun-seol walked the treacherous mountain path alongside the Death Shadow War Unit's unit members.
But something was odd.
Considering the White Python Wind's forces, two units would have sufficed.
Yet Bu Eun-seol had brought all five units of the Death Shadow War Unit.
They even carried an excessive amount of supplies, as if preparing for a prolonged engagement.
How far had they climbed?
In the distance, dozens of masters clad in white garments ascended the mountain path.
It was Cheon-geom and his sword unit from the Martial Alliance.
"Hahaha! Seems like even you can't do anything about it this time!"
Cheon-geom, leading the vanguard, spotted Bu Eun-seol's forces and deliberately used his Lightness Skill to descend to where Bu Eun-seol stood.
"What now? We've already taken the lead."
With only one path forward and the Martial Alliance's swordsmen ahead, Bu Eun-seol and the Death Shadow War Unit couldn't overtake them without engaging in battle.
"Wouldn't it be a shame to lose the advantage after coming all this way?"
Cheon-geom looked down at Bu Eun-seol with a mocking grin.
"Not that I'd mind if you attacked right now."
A chilling madness swirled in his eyes.
"If this sparks the Great Orthodox-Unorthodox War, well—that'd be entertaining in its own way."
"..."
Bu Eun-seol remained silent and took another step forward.
Cheon-geom snorted, unimpressed.
"Playing indifferent, huh? Bet you're seething inside."
Then, with another burst of Lightness Skill, he returned to his ranks and barked an order.
"Stay sharp! Those Demon Hall bastards might try to overtake us!"
Regardless of their vigilance, Bu Eun-seol continued his steady ascent.
Upon reaching the mountainside, a clearing and a village came into view.
"Catch us if you can!"
As the path widened near the village, Cheon-geom taunted them before leading the Yojin Sword Unit forward with Lightness Skill.
"..."
Bu Eun-seol made no effort to pursue. Instead, he surveyed the village.
The sight was devastating.
Most houses had collapsed from landslides, and the villagers were on the brink of starvation.
Even a bandit raid would have left the place in better condition.
"Listen, unit members."
Bu Eun-seol issued his command.
"From now on, repair the collapsed houses and distribute the food we brought appropriately."
—Yes, sir!
Martial artists trained in martial arts could lift massive logs as effortlessly as chopsticks.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The unit members under Wi Cheon-gyeong's command swiftly scaled rooftops to begin repairs.
"Form a line! We'll distribute food!"
Won Se-mun and his subordinates, laden with provisions, handed out rations to the villagers.
Jo Nam-cheon and others personally delivered food to the bedridden.
"Repairing the entire village will take about three days."
Wi Cheon-gyeong reported, and Bu Eun-seol nodded.
"Take the time needed to restore it completely."
Bu Eun-seol knew the villages in the Yanyuan region had suffered catastrophic damage from landslides.
And Heavenly Sword, blinded by his obsession with claiming credit, wouldn't spare a glance at their plight—too focused on staying ahead.
No... even if he had the time, he wouldn't lift a finger.
Heavenly Sword was fundamentally incapable of empathizing with others' pain or emotions.
To him, the suffering of these villagers wouldn't even register.
"Honorable warriors... why are you helping us instead of pressing forward?"
The village chief approached, his voice trembling.
"Shouldn't you be rushing to overtake them?"
He had watched as Bu Eun-seol's group and Heavenly Sword's forces raced toward the White Python Wind's stronghold.
Yet now, Bu Eun-seol and his men had halted to rebuild the village?
"Eliminating the White Python Wind was meant to protect the innocent in the first place."
Bu Eun-seol replied flatly.
"What meaning would their destruction hold if people are dying like this?"
"Ah..."
The chief wiped away tears, overcome with emotion.
Martial artists often claimed to protect commoners by eradicating bloodsucking bandits, but their true motive was usually expanding their own influence.
Yet these warriors before him had come with genuine intent to save lives.
"Thank you... truly, thank you."
Struggling to contain his gratitude, the chief clasped Bu Eun-seol's hands and bowed repeatedly.