No Alternatives: The Tension Builds
The robed warrior who had introduced himself as Mae Cheong-ju subtly twisted his body into position. His scabbard was fully concealed behind him, his center of gravity shifted slightly forward.
Yi Jinpyeong smiled with evident interest.
"Hoo. Drawing technique, eh? Not a common skill. From Zhejiang or Jiangsu Province, perhaps?"
Mae Cheong-ju's brow furrowed. To discern his martial art from such a minor adjustment in stance—the boy's perceptiveness was no joke. He still looked so young; how was this even possible?
He glanced at his comrades, signaling with his eyes. The whip-wielder pulled back slightly to create distance, while the dual-sword bearer lowered his center of gravity and advanced half a step. Their positions, distances, and angles were exquisitely coordinated. Tailored to their weapons' strengths, they perfectly protected and supported one another.
"Planning to come at me all three at once? Reinforcing each other's strengths while covering weaknesses—quite the solid combination. Impressive."
Mae Cheong-ju replied in a forced calm voice. "When results matter more than pride, you see. We hope for your understanding."
"Understanding? What's there to understand? Better to give your all now than make excuses later."
Yi Jinpyeong's leisurely response. He seemed utterly detached from the fight, as relaxed as could be. That nonchalance only ratcheted up the tension further. They hadn't even truly engaged yet, and already the pressure was mounting.
"...So it wasn't mere chance that Jang Gapae fell."
"Oh? You knew about that too?"
"With the underworld buzzing like that, how could we not?"
"That Yeom Dal back there didn't seem to have a clue, even after hearing the rumors."
"Jang Gapae wasn't well-known around here. But the Dongbeonhoe staying quiet after their turf was invaded? There must be a reason. They're no force to underestimate. Probably got some big backer."
Mae Cheong-ju's words aligned perfectly with Yi Jinpyeong's earlier analysis. Smart guy, Yi Jinpyeong thought approvingly...
"Even the underlings you smashed earlier were battle-hardened veterans. For men like that to flee in terror, you're clearly no one to take lightly."
"Not bad judgment. If only you weren't charging me anyway."
"You're misunderstanding. We're just not letting our guard down. We won't lose."
"Confidence is good. If it's backed by the skill to match, it'll be perfect!"
Yi Jinpyeong nodded with a pleased expression. Truth be told, he rather liked these guys. Their refusal to underestimate the enemy was reason enough. But his opponents didn't seem to appreciate the sentiment. The faces of the dual-sword and whip wielders twisted viciously. Mae Cheong-ju's expression was hidden beneath his deeply pulled hood.
"I hope your bark matches your bite. Otherwise, I'll be sorely disappointed."
"Don't worry about that."
Yi Jinpyeong shot back. "Whatever you expect, I'll deliver more."
It was then.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
With a thunderous shout, an overturned table in the corner flipped upright. Gwak Yeonyong ducked in dismay, while the hairy overseer Gang Ryong sprang up boldly. His eyes, which had stared blankly into empty space until now, finally focused. Veins bulged on the hand gripping his saber.
He scanned his surroundings. Seemingly bewildered by the changed situation during his daze, he soon spotted Yi Jinpyeong, bowed deeply, and bellowed.
"Young master! I'll fight! Leave this to me!"
"...You?"
"Yes! Didn't you say Chwi Hwa Bang was mine?"
"Ah."
Yi Jinpyeong's mouth fell open. Come to think of it, yeah, he'd said something like that. He hadn't expected the guy to zone back in at this exact moment, though.
"I didn't say I was handing it over. Just to give it a shot."
"Young master! I've made my choice! To face them, whoever they are. To leap higher than ever!"
The bucktoothed chief steward Gwak tugged lightly at his hem. Enthusiasm was fine, but the timing sucked. Gang Ryong ignored it, puffing out his chest and declaring proudly.
"This man Gang Ryong! I'll show you for sure! I'll be your blade, young master! Roaming the jianghu freely! I'll become the greatest under heaven! That's what this man Gang Ryong truly aims for!"
Gang Ryong's eyes blazed intensely. Everyone blinked at the sudden proclamation—Yi Jinpyeong, Pung Gaekru's Yeom Dal, Chwi Hwa Bang's trio...
"Gang Ryong, oh Gang Ryong."
"Yes!"
"Seems like you're misunderstanding something. 'Greatest under heaven' refers to just one person. You saying you'll stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me?"
"Ah! Uh... well..."
Gang Ryong scratched his head. Gwak hid behind the table again. Yi Jinpyeong eyed him for a moment.
"Anyway. Have at it."
He clasped his hands behind his back and stepped aside. Gang Ryong's face lit up.
"You bastards! Chwi Hwa Bang scum!"
"Right. And heads up—these guys look tougher than I figured."
"I'm tough too."
"And all three are teaming up."
"...Brothers. No need to gang up—how about one-on-one duels?"
Chwi Hwa Bang's trio stared in bewilderment. Where the hell had this big lug popped up from, and why now? And 'greatest under heaven'? What nonsense. They were just here to reclaim a measly ten seok of rice from this backwater Dongjeong Lake dive.
Regardless, the hairy warrior stood boldly before them, eyes wide and burning with battle spirit. The trio exchanged silent glances. With Yi Gajang's young master hanging back, they'd drop the bear first, then deal with him. Better to hide their combined strength? Nah. The brute looked easier than the unpredictable boy anyway. They concluded it was smarter to conceal their full power.
"I'll handle him."
The dual-sword wielder stepped forward. Red-Eyed Tiger, true to his name with bloodshot eyes and a tigerishly sturdy build.
"End it quick. Keep that Yi Gajang punk in mind."
Mae Cheong-ju whispered lowly. Gang Ryong raised his saber high and roared.
"Come on! I'll cut you down in one stroke!"
"...Who says?"
Red-Eyed Tiger charged, swinging his twin swords.
The hairy warrior Gang Ryong (age 28). Only after turning twenty did he leave his remote mountain village for the first time, joining Hwang Sabang by Dongjeong Lake and steadily climbing the ranks to overseer. Even after Yi Jinpyeong recruited him to Yi Gajang, he kept the grandiose title of Dodu—head of the blades...
Pa-pat!
Red blood sprayed. Red-Eyed Tiger's twin swords whipped relentlessly, slicing into his flesh over and over.
'Kuhk!'
He bit his lip to stifle a scream. Lucky it was just superficial cuts. He'd barely avoided fatal wounds...
He'd charged in boldly, but as expected, he was outmatched. At least two or three levels above him. Chwi Hwa Bang, shining in Dongjeong Lake's power rankings around thirtieth place, was no ordinary outfit.
The fight turned grim from the start. He'd only managed defense for a few exchanges. At this rate, his head would roll soon.
But Yi Jinpyeong watched coldly, unmoving.
'Just what I wanted. The path I chose.'
What he truly feared now wasn't death. It was failing to prove himself worthy to Yi Jinpyeong—his new master.
He had a dream once. Immense, once upon a time, but gradually forgotten. Joining Yi Gajang had revived it, but simply being with Yi Jinpyeong wouldn't make it real.
At twenty-eight, it was arguably too late to start anew. Compared to young masters baptized in elixirs and fierce training from infancy, dreaming of greatest under heaven—no, even second under heaven—was laughable nonsense.
Second under heaven? Hell, he might never even sniff first-rate, even in his dreams. But could he give up? Settle for being a mere lackey?
No. He had to advance. Step forward. Prove he was ready to walk alongside Yi Jinpyeong.
'But how?'
Just charging in wouldn't cut it. Brute force wasn't courage. A pathetic defeat would just paint him as an overzealous fool.
He needed to find it. A way to win.
'What did I learn? What did the young master teach?!'
Right. He'd been drilled mercilessly. Maybe there was a clue in reviewing it?
He recalled the past week with Yi Jinpyeong. Push-ups. Long runs. Horse stance endurance. Chopping wood. Cold water baths naked. Lifting stones. Proper-form straight punches, and so on...
'......'
Nothing seemed helpful. A week purely rebuilding foundations. Sure, over years it might stack up, but how was a week's basics supposed to save him now?
Pa-pat!!!
Blood sprayed again. A deep gash in his thigh. Gang Ryong staggered forward, losing balance. Red-Eyed Tiger, who had briefly retreated to widen the gap, now unleashed a furious barrage to end the dragged-out fight.
He blocked desperately somehow, but it meant little. Just prolonging the inevitable.
"You're just stalling pointlessly. Better to give up."
Give up? He wouldn't have jumped in to begin with. Not before meeting Yi Jinpyeong.
'But now... Huh?'
Desperately hanging on, a scene flashed in Gang Ryong's mind.
"....!!"
And he realized. It was the only way.
Dangerous. No guarantee of success. Even if it worked, victory wasn't assured. So what? Even defeat—what of it?
He shouted inwardly. 'Got an alternative?'
No alternatives. Not right now.
Gang Ryong gritted his teeth. Eyes bulging, he stared down the opponent's dancing blades. Red-Eyed Tiger's twin swords pierced his guard once more. Blood erupted from his side with a shwaaak!
But in that instant, Gang Ryong boldly stepped forward instead. Yi Jinpyeong, watching with hands behind his back, felt his fingertips twitch.