Let's Prosper Together
Warriors charged in from all sides. Liquor and side dishes soared into the air. At that exact moment, Yi Jinpyeong—who'd been lounging at a slant—snapped his fingers against the floor and sprang up.
He booted Chief Steward Gwak Yeonyong, still too stunned to react, shoving him squarely under the upended table with its scattering bottles. Gang Ryong got the same treatment, gaping blankly at the ceiling.
They're out of their minds.
Was it really such a shock? Even if Gang Ryong couldn't surpass his limits and just collapsed, or stayed on as a mere limb of the family—Yi Jinpyeong wouldn't have cared a whit. His words about not needing to fight had been utterly sincere. After all, the world's greatest martial artist, Yi Gyeol, had never much trusted anyone besides himself. Except for a select few.
He snatched a flying cup from the air, catching every last droplet of liquor without spilling a drop. What brew had this one held? The faint plum aroma mingled subtly with the nutty scent of roasted rice straw—it had to be Geumjoncheong.
From rising to his feet, kicking Gwak Yeonyong and Gang Ryong, and snagging that airborne cup—not even enough time had passed for a single blink. And it didn't end there.
The next instant, Yi Jinpyeong appeared behind Pung Gaekru Master Yeom Dal, having slipped past the charging warriors. He wrenched the man's arm, pinning it twisted behind his back.
Yeom Dal was captured without playing any role in the drama at all.
"Kwaaak!"
Yi Jinpyeong downed the cup in one gulp, using the scream as his side dish. The first sip was clear and refreshing, but the aftertaste brought a crisp bitterness. A warm energy seemed to flow straight into his dantian.
"Now this is good liquor. Too fine to waste spilling everywhere!"
"Kuhk! A hostage play?!"
Yeom Dal bellowed in fury, and the charging warriors froze in their tracks. Yi Jinpyeong chuckled, released the bindings on the man's arm, and kicked him square in the ass. Yeom Dal face-planted limply into the floor.
"Hostage play? Don't be ridiculous. I don't have hobbies like that."
The hostage ploy was over, but the brewing brawl settled into a tense standoff. Terrified of being grabbed again, Yeom Dal scurried on all fours to hide behind his warriors, peeking out only once he felt safe. His face was a mask of bewilderment.
"Eek—then what the hell is this?! What kind of stunt are you pulling?!"
"I told you. Hand over half of this Pung Gaekru."
"You've been spouting nonsense since you got here!"
"It's not nonsense. It's exercising my rightful claim."
The boy took a leisurely step forward, hands clasped behind his back. His slightest movement sent the warriors flinching, thrusting their weapons closer. Not one of them had grasped how he'd moved just moments ago.
"Did you think we wouldn't care if you didn't pay your debts? Because Yi Gajang seemed easy pickings, because everyone borrows from us, because that's just how it is? Listen up and listen good. Yi Gajang has completely changed. Debts will be repaid. Anyone who owes us, we'll chase to the ends of hell."
"....."
"Oh, right—not a debt. An investment. Anyway, let me make it crystal clear one more time. I'm not budging from here until I recover that investment. If you think it's unfair, come at me. I'll lay you all flat."
That damn investment. Investment. INVESTMENT!
Yeom Dal trembled with rage. Who the hell hounded debts with such brazen logic? He conveniently forgot his own stubborn refusal to pay up.
Gnashing his teeth, he roared at the top of his lungs.
"What are you waiting for?! Kill him! Chop him to pieces! Give him no quarter—drag his corpse out!"
The warriors hesitated. But bolstered by their numbers, they bellowed war cries and charged again. After all, their foe was just one teenage boy, unarmed.
"Fine. Your choice. But the consequences are yours too."
Yi Jinpyeong flashed a sinister grin and stepped forward, cup in hand.
The next moment—crunch! The cup embedded deep into the face of the first charging warrior. The man's body spun a full rotation in midair before slamming into the floor with a thud. He lay utterly still.
Gwak Yeonyong, huddled under the table watching the fight, winced. That looked like it hurt—a lot.
"Surround him properly! Don't let him move freely!"
As Yeom Dal shouted desperately, Gwak Yeonyong felt a strange sense of déjà vu. It reminded him of when Hwang Sabang Leader Seo Dongrip had tried to kill Yi Jinpyeong and barked similar orders. But how miserably that had ended.
And now, the Third Young Master seemed even stronger than back then. And it had only been a week.
Blades danced from every direction. Dozens of burly warriors swung their arms and legs ferociously—how could there be any gaps amid that?
Yet nothing touched Yi Jinpyeong's body.
春風難以預測
Chunpung nani yeocheuk. Spring winds are impossible to predict.
Forward, backward, right, left. Yi Jinpyeong wove freely through the chaos. Amid the whistling blades, his palm flashed occasionally.
Smack!
Palm strikes infused with inner energy. Each resounding smack smack smack sent warriors spinning through the air before crashing pitifully to the floor. They didn't get up.
"Hiiik!"
Soon, only a third of the warriors remained. Realizing they couldn't handle it, the survivors backed away in terror.
Fear is contagious. Those who'd turned to flee crowded toward the stairs—only to spot Yi Jinpyeong already there, blocking the way. They scattered in panic, plastering themselves against the walls.
"No escape now. Everyone's getting at least one hit anyway, so line up in order. No one's gonna be dishonorable and try dodging theirs, right?"
Yi Jinpyeong strode forward, hands behind his back. One panicked warrior couldn't take the pressure and leaped out a window. Then another. And another...
But they were on the third floor. A considerable height. Poor landings from their hasty jumps drew agonized screams of "Kwaaak!"
Yi Jinpyeong peered down from the window and burst into laughter.
"Get it now? When expanding a building, always make sure to add a proper emergency stairwell."
Yeom Dal watched the one-sided beatdown in a daze. He lacked the confidence to break past Yi Jinpyeong to the stairs, or the guts to jump from the third floor. Beating the man barehanded after laying out dozens? Forget it.
Meeting Yi Jinpyeong's gaze, Yeom Dal shrank back.
"This mad bastard... No one said he was this strong..."
His body trembled. Yi Jinpyeong grinned.
"Why wouldn't you know? Word's already spreading through the underworld, isn't it?"
"Jang Gapae or whatever—just trash scrubs... A messy brawl with bone weapons..."
Tsk tsk tsk. Yi Jinpyeong clicked his tongue.
"Yeom Dal, you're sloppy in every way. Always verify intel with your own eyes. Judging by secondhand gossip? You'll regret it big time someday. Right?"
And that day was today. The day of massive regret.
Yeom Dal's face drained white; he had no reply.
Yi Jinpyeong approached slowly, squatting down to ask,
"So. How're you gonna pay? Half this place. Split it horizontally? Or vertically?"
"I... I..."
How do you split a perfectly fine tavern in half? Yeom Dal's eyes darted frantically at the absurd demand.
Then, someone answered for him.
"Sorry, but neither's gonna work."
A thick, steady voice. Someone ascended the stairs with heavy steps—stairs no one had dared approach.
***
Three warriors appeared on the desolate third floor of Pung Gaekru. Yeom Dal's face lit up.
"G-Great One!"
Judging by his greeting, they were from Chwi Hwa Bang. One wielded twin swords, one a whip, one a longsword. Their weapons varied, as did their looks.
The twin-sword guy had a beet-red face like a ripe persimmon and a stocky build. The whip wielder was slender, with a weary, gloomy expression. The longsword man wore his helmet low, striking a dramatic pose. He seemed the leader.
"This Pung Gaekru is under Chwi Hwa Bang protection. Can't have you causing trouble like this."
Yeom Dal scurried on all fours to the trio.
Yi Jinpyeong watched him flee without interference.
"Great Ones! Perfect timing—save me! This guy's barging in, throwing a tantrum out of nowhere!"
"Heard the gist downstairs. From Yi Gajang, huh? Over some old debt?"
"Y-Yes, but I only borrowed ten seok of rice—like, ages ago, I barely remember! And now they're demanding half the tavern? Utter bullshit!"
The helmeted man glanced up at Yi Jinpyeong.
"That true?"
Yi Jinpyeong shrugged.
"Wouldn't have come to this if you'd paid on time. Yi Gajang's gotten poorer over the years, while this guy's expanding buildings and living it up. Made my stomach turn. Better to prosper together than alone, don't you think?"
The twin-sword guy snickered. Whip guy scowled. Helmet sighed deeply.
Surveying the fallen warriors, he introduced himself out of nowhere.
"Name's Mae Cheongju. This bug-eyed twin-sword brute's Jeok An-ho. The weary-looking one's Chwi Go-gae. You might not know us, but in Chwi Hwa Bang, we're in pretty responsible positions. With real authority."
"And?"
"On Chwi Hwa Bang's name, I promise: leave quietly without more trouble, and we'll repay that ten seok of rice within a fortnight. We'll forget the ruckus here and the beating our men took."
"G-Great One! But!"
Yeom Dal clutched the helmeted man's pant leg in desperation, fearing he'd really let Yi Jinpyeong go.
But no need to worry. Yi Jinpyeong's reply was simple and immediate.
"I refuse."
"Figured as much."
The helmeted man nodded calmly, hand drifting to his sword hilt. His voice turned icy.
"Can't be helped, then. Let's see how you prosper together."
Yi Jinpyeong grinned wickedly.
"Sounds good. Let's prosper together."