Chwi Hwa Bangju
Yi Jinpyeong smiled.
It had been several days since he'd absorbed the Dan-yak and devoted himself entirely to training after the Pung Gaekru incident. In that time, there had been no word or sign from Chwi Hwa Bang. Not even a hint that they were watching or scouting the market.
Thanks to Chief Steward Gwak's intervention, things hadn't escalated to an extreme, but how many of Chwi Hwa Bang's warriors had Yi Jinpyeong beaten black and blue back then? Compared to that, the past few days had been too quiet. He'd half-expected them to come charging in fully prepared.
Yet here was the leader of an entire faction, strolling into what was essentially enemy territory all by his lonesome?
Ballsy. Does that mean he's that confident?
Chwi Hwa Bang wielded considerable influence in the entertainment district along the southeastern lakeshore of Dongjeong Lake. No one knew who was so diligently ranking these groups, but according to the latest Dongjeong Lake faction rankings that Chief Steward Gwak had updated, they sat at number thirty-two.
Their warriors numbered around a hundred—roughly the same as old Hwang Sabang—but as he'd seen with the Maecheongju crew, quality was a different story altogether.
For reference, Yi Gajang was ranked ninety-eight... Well, scratch Hwang Sabang since they were gone now. Where the hell had that other one snuck off to?
Anyway.
"A guest has come all this way. We should receive him properly. Let's go."
As he started walking, Gang Ryong stuck close to his right rear. The leather wraps on his fists were frayed and tattered. Ever since taking the Dan-yak, he'd been training day and night with explosive momentum. It meshed well with the new techniques he'd learned, so Yi Jinpyeong was confident results would come quickly.
Chief Steward Gwak fell in on his left rear. Yi Jinpyeong waved a hand at the subordinates deep in training, signaling them. They swiftly fell into orderly ranks behind the lead three.
The youngest by far, yet he'd been granted authority and responsibility—and he knew just how to wield it, reining in the organization. A promising one, with a bright future ahead.
Yi Jinpyeong, trailed by some thirty subordinates, passed several halls and entered the outer courtyard.
An empty outer courtyard. There stood a man, hands clasped behind his back, waiting.
That had to be Chwi Hwa Bangju Nak Pung-hyeon. He wore a grayish changpo robe, a sword without any crest hanging at his waist. Average build, neither tall nor short; unremarkable features. A soft smile played on his face as he watched the Yi Gajang group approach, his gaze locking onto Yi Jinpyeong in the center. Ignoring everyone else behind him entirely.
Yi Jinpyeong halted at a suitable distance. The two men stared at each other in silence.
Younger than I thought. Late twenties, maybe.
And...
Strong.
Yi Jinpyeong could feel it. The intense energy radiating from him—like a mountain crumbling down, an overwhelming pressure. As Chief Steward Gwak had said, this wasn't someone meant to lead a mere back-alley gang.
Behind that gentle smile burned ambition and profound inner power. He was hiding far more strength than his reputation suggested. Among everyone Yi Jinpyeong had met since reincarnating, this man was undoubtedly the strongest.
Even Un Sa-nang, locked away in the warehouse as a rare talent herself, paled in comparison.
Yi Jinpyeong was genuinely surprised. He'd pegged the guy as just the head of a third-rate gang, but here he was, emitting an aura on par with Yi Jinpyeong himself—who had broken through even the Cheonryu stage of Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong.
No... maybe even more.
A master confident enough in his own power. Had he really come alone to subjugate this place?
A headache. But at the same time, intriguing.
No one had gotten his blood pumping since he'd awakened to his reincarnation.
Already, battles raged in Yi Jinpyeong's mind. If this guy came at him with killing intent, it'd be a tough fight. At the very least, the man had more accumulated inner energy. Other factors would decide the victor: the breadth and depth of their techniques, weapon compatibility, physical condition, stamina, experience, terrain... and sheer tenacity.
Yi Jinpyeong weighed the pros and cons, applying every variable—then chuckled softly.
Since when did he calculate like this?
It had been the same when he'd first set foot in the jianghu in his previous life. Seasoned jianghu experts and cunning demonic lords had seemed flawless on the surface, none lacking compared to him. But what had become of them? All ended up kneeling before him.
Seeing Yi Jinpyeong smile, Nak Pung-hyeon’s eyes gleamed. He withdrew his energy, clasped his hands, and offered a respectful cupped-fist salute. His composed demeanor and precise posture made it hard to believe he led a ragtag alley gang. He looked every bit the refined elder of the orthodox sects.
"I am Chwi Hwa Bangju Nak Pung-hyeon. You must be Yi Gajang's third young master. I've heard our subordinates caused you trouble."
"Yi Jinpyeong."
"Short and to the point—nice. Pleased to meet you."
Yi Jinpyeong was as rude as ever. But Nak Pung-hyeon didn't seem to mind.
"Coming here alone? You've got guts. Here to settle the score over Pung Gaekru?"
"Settle the score?"
Nak Pung-hyeon laughed.
"What’s there to settle? No one was seriously hurt, and Pung Gaekru's owner just cleared a debt that predated our alliance."
"Then?"
"I just came by to share a drink with you. Get to know each other a bit."
A drink? Now? Yi Jinpyeong frowned.
"Two guys getting to know each other over drinks? That's creepy as hell. Never heard anything scarier in my life."
"What are you imagining? Don't misunderstand—it's just a drink, nothing more."
Nak Pung-hyeon unclasped his hands from behind his back and extended one forward. In it, he held a gourd bottle.
"I heard the details from Pung Gaekru. You seem to know your liquor. This is Cheonjong Samju, a rare brew made from heavenly ginseng from beyond Changbai Mountain. Got it by chance recently, but haven't found anyone worth sharing it with. Care to taste?"
Cheonjong Samju!
Yi Jinpyeong's mouth watered. He knew it well—of course he did. Nak Pung-hyeon made it sound precious, but even that understated it. Production was minuscule, and officials snatched it up at the border, leaving none for the market.
As the head of the world's greatest clan, he'd only tasted it twice.
Strange, though. This guy should be itching for a fight—yet here he was, offering to share something this rare. Unreadable intentions.
But Yi Jinpyeong loved his liquor. Thoughts of battle vanished; now saliva pooled in his mouth.
"Just the one bottle, right?"
"Indeed."
"Tight squeeze for two of us."
"You know it."
"Gang Ryong, Chief Steward Gwak—you two, stand down."
"Young master."
"No worries. Keep up your training."
No further objections. At Chief Steward Gwak's order, a few warriors quickly set a table, chairs, and cups in the middle of the compound. Movements swift, as if rehearsed.
Nak Pung-hyeon sat. He watched the subordinates bow respectfully and withdraw with interest.
"Hwang Sabang guys, eh? Ran into their boss Seo Dongrip a few times. Heard he vanished overnight and all their assets got liquidated. You kill him?"
Yi Jinpyeong nodded without denial. Nak Pung-hyeon didn't seem surprised.
"Big ambitions for his skill level. Greedy to a fault, too. Treated his men rough—organization was a sandcastle waiting to crumble. Thought his underlings were the same, but seeing them today changes my mind."
"Good lord helps."
"Could be."
He nodded seriously.
"Anyway, smart not to smash or annex Pung Gaekru by force. If you had, I'd have mobilized troops en masse—considering my own men's eyes and the surrounding factions. Leading a group means that kind of calculus. We wouldn't be chatting cozily like this, right?"
"Your word choice sucks. Can we drop 'cozily'?"
Nak Pung-hyeon burst out laughing. He brimmed with leisure in word and deed. He'd gauged Yi Jinpyeong's level, yet remained utterly relaxed.
"Enough chatter. Let's taste this liquor."
His expression turned solemn, like he'd come solely for the drink. He carefully uncorked the bottle, poured a third into a cup, and downed it in one go.
Eyes closed, savoring—then he refilled his own cup to the brim and offered it to Yi Jinpyeong.
They barely knew each other. A gesture to dispel any poison suspicions.
"Careful. I sealed the aroma tight, lest it escape."
Yi Jinpyeong took the cup and peered in. Sure enough, the deceptively still surface swirled fiercely. He'd infused inner energy while pouring.
How'd he pull that off in that split second? Tilt it wrong, and it'd overflow spectacularly.
Even without the warning, Yi Jinpyeong would've noticed—but the heads-up meant it wasn't a test. Pure concern for the aroma.
At his fingertips, he gathered a thread of Mok-gi. Thin roots seemed to seep into the cup's surface. The energy spread like spring water, halting the swirl until it calmed, the fragrance rising gently.
Then, in one gulp down his throat.
The intense flavor and aroma exploded within.
"...Mm."
Perfect. No fake imitation—the real Cheonjong Samju, just like in his past life.
Nak Pung-hyeon watched closely as Yi Jinpyeong slowed the liquor with his qi and downed it. Seeing a fifteen-year-old boy handle such potent brew with a satisfied smile, he marveled.
"Truly astonishing."
Yi Jinpyeong didn't ask what was.
"My turn to pour."
He took the bottle, filled Nak Pung-hyeon's cup to the brim, and handed it over.
A glint in Nak Pung-hyeon's eyes. No artificial flow from inner energy, yet no aroma escaped. None at all.
He realized: a faint breeze hovered over the cup, perfectly containing the scent.
"Ah."
Mouth agape, admiration escaped him. Meeting Yi Jinpyeong's eyes, he tilted the cup. The breeze dispersed on cue, the Cheonjong Samju's fragrance blooming explosively into his nose.
His throat bobbed with a gulp. Eyes stayed shut far longer than after his first solo sip. A different reaction entirely.
He murmured softly.
"...Good. So very good."
He offered the cup back to Yi Jinpyeong. They downed shots in turn.
Without another word.
Until the bottle ran dry...