Are We a Joke to You? (1)
A few days after Tae-jeong's death, an unusual peace settled over the town.
The impact of his demise was still positive for everyone involved. Wang Gon, the man most directly connected to him, hadn't returned yet.
Thanks to that, the merchants could finally savor a long-overdue respite.
Im Choong had his own worries, and Beon Saeng had his, but neither showed it.
Baek So-cheon's routine remained unchanged.
He worked diligently through the day, then immersed himself in personal training once his duties were done.
Occasionally, he pushed into more extreme regimens, and tonight was one such evening.
Right now, Baek So-cheon was scaling the sheer cliff of the tallest, most treacherous peak near Mun-seong—bare-handed.
Not just climbing, either. He had the leather satchel he'd brought when first assigned here strapped to his back.
Without inner power, a fall from this height would mean severe injury, if not death.
Baek So-cheon focused his mind, channeling strength into his fingertips.
Everyone thought he'd crumbled, but Baek So-cheon had never once given up on recovering his martial arts.
Over the past three years, he'd driven his body to its limits, steadily expanding those limits. To outsiders, it might seem reckless, but Baek So-cheon calibrated the intensity with meticulous planning.
His body had already surpassed its pre-injury state—in fact, it was stronger now. A miraculous outcome born from his desperate resolve to compensate for the lack of inner power.
Building on that resilient physique, Baek So-cheon pressed toward the summit. He nearly slipped once, teetering on the brink of a fatal plunge, but he didn't yield.
At last, he hauled himself over the cliff's edge.
He tossed the heavy satchel aside and collapsed flat on the rock.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Baek So-cheon gulped down the breaths he'd been holding. Tension drained from his body, leaving aches and exhaustion in its wake. Hauling that weight up such a brutal face was borderline insane.
When he'd first started training after rising from his sickbed, the thrill of growing stronger and fitter had hooked him. But as the sessions dragged on, it turned grueling.
Bloody, limit-breaking cultivation. Every day, he wanted to quit. After each one, curses spilled out unbidden. Nights like this, laced with mortal peril, only amplified it.
"Damn it! Goddamn it! I'm done! Never training again. If I do this shit one more time, I'm a mangy mutt-fucking dog."
How long did he lie there? His breathing finally steadied.
Then, an unforgettable echo resurfaced in Baek So-cheon's mind from that fateful day.
Three years will be enough. By then, you'll know my words ring true.
Baek So-cheon's eyes snapped open. He barked like a dog and shot to his feet.
"Don't make me laugh. I'll prove your words were bullshit, no matter what."
He scrambled up, yanked open the discarded satchel.
It brimmed with odds and ends, like a bottomless treasure pouch.
Baek So-cheon pulled out protective guards for his wrists and shins. They looked like safeguards at a glance, but these were forged from steel—for training.
He strapped them on, twisted his limbs to test the fit.
"Ugh, heavy as hell."
His regimen was advancing to the next phase.
Steel resolve—he wouldn't remove them even if his life hung in the balance. From the satchel, he withdrew a thick, worn manual.
The title had faded, its contents unknown at first glance, but it detailed inner power and heart methods. Tattered from endless readings.
Baek So-cheon perched on the cliff's edge and dove in.
"Couldn't write this simpler, huh."
He grumbled at times.
"Ah!"
Gasped in awe at others. He pored over the manual he'd revisited countless times these three years, as if seeing it anew.
Just then, the moon slipped free from the clouds, casting a gentle glow to aid his unyielding will.
Baek So-cheon's efforts stretched until dawn.
"What? Tae-jeong's dead?"
Wang Gon, returning from a few days out with Heuk Su, received the news about the Tae-jeong faction.
"Yes. Tae-jeong's dead, and several of his men were arrested."
The abrupt report left Wang Gon more baffled than shocked.
"What the hell happened?"
His subordinate explained, but it still didn't compute.
"So his men got nabbed by the Murim Alliance branch, and..."
He couldn't even wrap his head around that part. How do you cage wolves in a chicken coop? Fine, suppose they crammed them in by force. The real kicker came next.
"Tae-jeong went looking for his men and got killed? By some underling who isn't even the branch head?"
"That's right."
"You're sure?"
"Yes!"
"Heh."
Rumors were true: Shin-hwa-bang backed the Tae-jeong faction.
Most righteous sects shunned black market ties to protect their prestige, but Shin-hwa-bang had seized regional underworlds while building their own power.
To big sects, black market coin might seem like pocket change, but that ignored reality.
The profits from one turf's underworld were staggering. They burrowed into every corner of daily life, sucking blood like leeches. Shin-hwa-bang had tapped Jeol-gang Province's veins dry.
"Who killed him?"
"Some rookie who just transferred to the branch."
"A rookie?"
"Yeah. They say it was an accident. He tripped over the rookie's foot, fell, and cracked his skull."
"Like he ate a Mu-yeong Foot or something?"
"No... just a bad fall, head hit the ground."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. Multiple witnesses."
"What an idiot. Worst luck ever."
Cultivating Tae-jeong as a reliable pawn had taken years of effort. Black market thugs don't pledge loyalty to brute force alone—they're always ready to stab you in the back. He'd just started trusting the guy, and this happens.
"But why'd this blow up in the first place?"
"It started when some guy named Beon Saeng from the branch arrested Tae-jeong's men."
"This punk's been quiet forever—why rock the boat now?"
"No idea."
"First, we gotta spring the Tae-jeong faction. Anyone to replace him?"
The figurehead didn't matter. As long as they obeyed and filled the tribute coffers, even a backyard mutt would do.
"The top candidate went to the branch with him and died too. Next is some guy named Jong-bae, but he's locked up in the Mun-seong branch."
Wang Gon shook his head.
"What a mess."
"Oh, while you were out, Branch Head Im Choong stopped by."
"How the hell does that guy manage his subordinates? Pisses me off."
He should've seen it coming when the self-righteous prick turned down the century-old ginseng.
Heuk Su, who'd been silent, spoke up.
"I'll handle it."
Wang Gon knew how: threaten Beon Saeng, beat him half-dead if needed to free Jong-bae. Tempting, but not now.
"Can't stir shit before the big job."
The major operation in Mun-seong loomed—pivotal for his rise. No room for escalation.
"Then what?"
Wang Gon narrowed his beady eyes, hatching a nasty scheme.
"Times like this call for a classy touch."
That afternoon, an unexpected visitor arrived at the Mun-seong branch.
"Sis-in-law!"
It was Branch Head Im Choong's wife, Ju-ssi. Hearing she'd come, Im Choong rushed out of his office.
"What brings you here?"
She rarely visited the branch.
"This."
She held out a small wooden box. The moment Im Choong saw the familiar item, his face hardened. He knew its contents without opening it—the century-old ginseng Wang Gon had tried bribing him with.
"Some scary-looking warrior dropped it off at home."
Worried it might be something illicit, she'd brought it straight here.
Seeing her husband's grim expression, Ju-ssi asked anxiously,
"Something wrong?"
"No. Don't worry, head home. Leave this."
"You sure it's fine?"
"Yeah."
Ju-ssi turned away, uneasy. Her feet dragged; she sensed trouble.
"Whatever it is, be careful, honey."
"I will. Get home safe."
He hid it well, but Im Choong was furious, rage boiling over.
Coming to his home was blatant intimidation. Delivering the ginseng to his wife was a choice: swallow it and obey, or risk your family?
This bastard. Thinks he can push me around.
He couldn't forgive dragging his family into this.
Beon Saeng approached.
"Smells nice. What's that?"
"None of your business."
Im Choong snatched the box and stormed out.
"Where you headed?"
No answer. He just left. Im Choong this agitated? Unprecedented.
"What got him so pissed?"
Baek So-cheon, who'd watched, turned to Beon Saeng.
"You close with the branch head?"
"Yeah."
"Follow him."
"Why?"
"A warrior fuming over a box of century-old ginseng? Means big trouble brewing."
"Whoa! Century-old ginseng?"
Baek So-cheon had pegged it by scent alone.
"Got a guess who sent it?"
Beon Saeng nodded. He'd met someone shady lately who fit. Shin-hwa-bang bribe—Im Choong refused, so they delivered to his house.
Im Choong lived for his family; dragging them in explained the fury.
"Then you know where he's headed."
"Yeah."
"Go."
Beon Saeng hesitated.
What could he do alone? Even rallying the branch warriors wouldn't help.
Wang Gon's crew outnumbered them and feared no Alliance grunts. Especially Heuk Su—terrifying.
The one guy he trusted right now? Baek So-cheon.
"You not coming, bro?"
"Why me?"
"Coworker's in potential danger, right?"
"A few days in, and we're coworkers?"
"You're tight with me."
"While you're deluded, your branch head's in the fire."
"Damn, you're cold!"
Beon Saeng bolted out.
His frantic footsteps returned moments later.
He burst back in, shouting. Desperate to drag Baek So-cheon along, he'd found his angle.
"Not as a brother—as your superior, that's an order. Mobilize."
Beon Saeng pleaded with desperate eyes.
Please help.
Finally, Baek So-cheon stood.
"An order, huh... Fine. Alliance warrior obeys orders, right?"