Seo Dongrip, Lord of Hwang Sabang (Age 45)
Seo Dongrip (45 years old), the rugged middle-aged leader of Hwang Sabang who had clawed his way up from the gutters, surviving every hardship life could throw at him. A man with no blood, no tears. His scarred face, vicious even by his standards, creased with deep wrinkles. He couldn't make out a word his subordinate was muttering.
"Hey. What the hell's that guy saying? Am I the only one who can't hear him?"
Another subordinate standing beside him bowed his head low.
"I couldn't hear anything either, my lord."
"Right? The bastard's just mumbling to himself, yeah?"
"Yes."
"Whew. For a second there, I thought my ears were going already."
Seo Dongrip let out a sigh of relief. Then, out of nowhere, he hurled a dagger.
Shwick!
The blade sliced through the air with a razor whine, grazing the edge of the hairy subordinate's ear by a hair's breadth before thunking into a pillar.
"Whaa?!"
The hairy subordinate, who had been mumbling incoherently with his head bowed, flopped around like a carp on dry land. Seeing the unseemly display deepened the wrinkles on Seo Dongrip's brow even further. The guy was useful in all sorts of ways, which was why he'd put him in such an important position as Dodu. But somehow, his behavior had only grown more idiotic.
"Why's your voice like that? Speak up properly! You trying to fuck with me?!"
The hairy subordinate was none other than Gang Ryong, the Dodu. Only after the harsh scolding did he raise his voice. But it was still too quiet, forcing Seo Dongrip to lean way in to hear.
The explanation dragged on for a good while, but understanding it was just as elusive.
"So, the bastard who beat the shit out of you lot was Yi Gajang's third young master?"
"Yes."
"Wasn't he supposed to be a lunatic?"
"Yes. He's really crazy!"
Gang Ryong shouted it like he was emphasizing some universal truth. Sensing his explanation fell short, he added a clarification.
"Before, he was crazy in a mindless way. Now, he's crazy in a mindful way."
Deep furrows etched into Seo Dongrip's brow.
This fucker's playing word games...?
But Gang Ryong's face was deadly serious. He wasn't the type for puns anyway. Could he have caught some madness from Yi Gajang? Yeah, that had to be it. How else could those walking skeletons of brothers have sent him packing?
Seo Dongrip's suspicions hardened into certainty at Gang Ryong's next words.
"...And that bastard said he'd come here himself?"
"Yes."
"Told me to kowtow on the ground till he got here?"
"...Yes."
"And you're just relaying this to me all innocent-like? That's it, right?"
Seo Dongrip's hands trembled. Killing intent roiled off him. The scars on his face twisted even more grotesquely. Gang Ryong was on the verge of tears by now. But he stood firm, even raising his voice louder.
"But if we don't... he said we'd both die! I'm serious! That guy's the type who'll do it if he says he will! I wanted to cut and run more than anyone, but this man Gang Ryong—with my unwavering loyalty to you, my lord—!"
Seo Dongrip slashed his hand through the air, cutting him off. Why the hell had that whisper turned into a bellow all of a sudden? He was almost scared the words would leak out.
"Anyway. When's this bastard showing up on his own two feet?"
"He said soon..."
"'Soon' my ass. We just sit here nice and quiet? He wants me banging my head till then?"
"N-no, not that!"
"Then what?"
Gang Ryong's eyes darted around. Then his face lit up like he'd struck gold.
"I... I'll have my men stand watch day and night! The second that bastard shows, I'll signal right away! That way, you won't have to kowtow for long, right?"
Crack!
Seo Dongrip's patience—and the chair arm he gripped—shattered to pieces. He exploded up like lightning, lunging at his subordinate.
"You telling me!" Thud! "To actually!" Thud! "Bang my head?!" Thud! Thud! Thud!
Seo Dongrip's fists were huge and rock-hard, honed over a lifetime perfecting Huangsa Fist—the technique that pulverized foes to yellow dust. Each blow sent Gang Ryong flying back, the next landing before his feet even hit the ground. Thud thud thud!
He often beat his men, but unleashing like this with full sincerity? It had been ages. How long did it go on? Finally, Gang Ryong's hands, clutching his head as he curled shrimp-like, went slack. The man was a bloody pulp. Even losing consciousness, he mumbled faintly.
"Ugh... my lord. It's real... that guy's a crazy master... Still time to run far away, or get the kowtowing started early..."
"You insane fuck! You think I haven't survived this town a day or two? If word gets out Yi Gajang handed my ass to me, even the snot-nosed brats will laugh! And you're scared of that punk, telling me to kowtow? You're the one ruining my face!"
Thud thud thud! A few more, and Gang Ryong went limp. Dead or alive? Who knew.
"Hah... hah... you stupid bastard..."
Seo Dongrip wiped the blood from his fists, catching his breath. After the frenzy, his head finally cleared a bit.
Yi Gajang, huh. Truth was, Gang Ryong wasn't some scrub. He'd trusted him enough for the Dodu spot because the guy could swing a blade. That earnest look in his eyes nagged at him too. Could the Yi third young master, known as a madman, really be some hidden martial arts expert?
Bullshit!
Seo Dongrip snorted. He bellowed, summoning every last subordinate.
"All of you, assemble! No one's exempt! We're heading to Yi Gajang now!"
Yeah. Even if those punks had hidden some kung fu, they were just three scrawny skeletons. No way they could take him—or all of Hwang Sabang.
A subordinate checking on Gang Ryong asked cautiously.
"Uh... what about Dodu Gang?"
"Still breathing?"
"Barely."
"Leave him. Live or die, don't care."
The cold-hearted bastard without pity or tears, Seo Dongrip of Hwang Sabang. He didn't hesitate a second, marching out. Dozens of armed men scrambled after him. Dust billowed white, weapons clanked. Destination: Yi Gajang.
Seo Dongrip of Hwang Sabang arrived at his target in one furious dash. He craned his neck, gazing up at the massive gate.
Yi Gajang.
李家場.
Majestic, bold calligraphy. Just looking at it stirred the blood. Rumor had it the founder himself—the unparalleled greatest under heaven—had penned it. A clan built by the man no one in the Central Plains could rival.
But that was ancient history. Now, Yi Gajang was just Yi Gajang. The supreme master's world-shaking arts had died with him, the overflowing vaults had emptied. Hell, folks now mocked their empty estate as "No-Family Grounds."
"What're you waiting for? Call 'em out!"
"Uh... my lord. We can just go in."
Ah. He nodded—then crack! smacked the back of his subordinate's head.
"Then what're you standing around for? Open it up quick!"
"Guhk... Yes, sir!"
The subordinate stumbled, shoving the gate open. Creeeak—twisted wood groaned as Yi Gajang's doors parted. Seo Dongrip strode inside.
He'd heard the stories from his men plenty, but stepping foot here himself? First time.
"Ho..."
Beyond the gate stretched a vast courtyard. Once a training ground for dozens, hundreds honing their arts? Now, just eerie silence. Spiderwebs draped the halls, weeds choked the yard wild.
Still good. Just neglected, no people. Prime spot facing broad Dongjeong Lake, spacious and sunlit—leagues beyond Hwang Sabang's cramped lair.
A thought flashed through Seo Dongrip's mind.
...Why not swallow Yi Gajang whole while we're at it?
He slapped his knee in admiration at his own genius.
Dongjeong Lake crawled with rival factions vying for turf, but no one had ever eyed Yi Gajang. Not in his knowledge. Makes sense. Once the greatest under heaven, a clan that gave freely for a century—who'd make enemies?
But now? No more handouts, no retainers, no allied sects to defend them. And they'd struck first without repaying their debt. If Hwang Sabang seized it by force, who'd dare complain?
Perfect excuse, perfect justification!
Following his men deeper into the grounds, his ambitions swelled.
Patch that wall, tear down those shacks... that spot's bare—plant some flowers...
In his imagination, this was already Hwang Sabang's new home. He stoked his qi, steeling for battle. He'd never planned mercy, but now his resolve burned hotter.
"Listen up. If any of you go soft 'cause of some bullshit friendship like that idiot Gang Ryong, or hold back your strikes—I'll take your head first. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
His menacing tone drew a thunderous reply. Just crush the Yi brothers, and done.
But.
After passing several inner gates to the heart of the estate, the sight that greeted Seo Dongrip and his men was utterly unexpected.
A scrawny kid crouched, stuffing food into the mouths of youths sprawled on the ground. Nonchalant as hell, ignoring their menacing arrival.
The young men lay still, eyes rolled back white, just slurping whatever he fed them.
A bizarre scene unlike anything they'd witnessed. Learning to make jiangshi? And that sizzling oil smell—what the hell was piled on that cart?
Stunned, he glanced at his men.
"Beggars, right? Couldn't even pay their debts?"
"...Yes."
"Then what's with all that meat? Looks like they're eating better than me."
"He did clean out our pockets earlier."
"Our pockets too?"
"Yes. But we weren't flush enough for that much meat..."
As he blinked at the absurdity, the boy—who'd ignored them entirely to keep feeding—slowly looked up. Flashing white teeth in a grin.
"Oh, you made it?"