A Proposal to Join Hands
A moment after the proposal. Their faces were already flushed red from the liquor they'd drunk alone together. Neither had bothered to circulate their inner energy to dispel the alcohol's effects. Clearly, both were far from sober. Nak Pung-hyeon, who had shown up out of the blue demanding they drink on first meeting; Yi Jinpyeong, who had accepted without hesitation and kept going until they were wasted. Because of it, they hadn't even scratched the surface of what each truly wanted or thought.
Leaning back comfortably in his chair, Nak Pung-hyeon spoke in a languid voice.
"Do you know? In truth, as someone whose trade is bound to drink like an industry unto itself, I've rarely ever savored the pleasure of it."
"That's a pity."
"But the liquor we emptied together today was truly delicious. The finest moment I've had in ages, one might say. And not just because it was good booze."
Yi Jinpyeong felt the same. Rather than babbling idle chatter over drinks, this silent communion—focused purely on the aroma and taste of the liquor—wasn't half bad. Strange, though, that it came from a total stranger—a master from some shadowy faction with unknown motives.
"Isn't it about time you got to the point? Unless you've come to drown me in booze, that is."
"Fair enough. You don't look like you're about to drop dead from it anyway."
The two shared a laugh. Tilting his head back to gaze at the sky, Nak Pung-hyeon dropped a remark that came utterly out of left field.
"I've come to propose we join hands."
*
Yi Jinpyeong put his pipe to his lips. He lit the tobacco, drew in deeply, and exhaled. White clouds puffed lazily upward into the sky.
"Keep talking like that, and it'll be a problem. 'Getting to know each other,' 'intimate chats,' 'joining hands'... Surrounded by women in your line of work, has your taste gone peculiar?"
"No jest. My proposal is serious. Yi Gajang and Chwi Hwa Bang. The two factions form an alliance."
It was utterly unexpected. When they'd shared the drinks, he'd half-thought Nak Pung-hyeon might be here to air old grudges and brush them away with booze. Or perhaps to get him drunk enough for an ambush—who knew, some warriors only grew stronger with liquor in their veins. But an alliance? Under normal circumstances, he'd have dismissed it as absurd. No matter the man's skill or his faction's power—some back-alley outfit peddling booze and women, daring to propose partnering with Yi Gajang?
He stared quietly at his empty cup. No need to reject outright. Setting aside motives or status—this man's boldness in coming alone, his personality that skipped pointless prattle—it all appealed to him somewhat. The fine liquor they'd shared might have sweetened the deal too.
"Let's hear it, then. What sparked such a thought?"
"Simple enough. Wouldn't it benefit us both to help one another? Yi Gajang seems poised for a real turnaround with you at the center, but as a whole, your foundation and support are laughably thin. My Chwi Hwa Bang has hit its limit too. Successful enough for a back-alley trade in women and wine, but we've plateaued beyond that."
"Heard you had a knack for business. Not easy, huh? Rivals pressuring you?"
"Precisely. Right next door: Geumrinhoe, Cheol-ah-bang, even Dongjeong Lake Waterway Stronghold. The first two rank in the top five factions around Dongjeong Lake. Massive in scale, brimming with masters rivaling—or surpassing—me."
"...Masters surpassing you?"
Yi Jinpyeong was genuinely surprised. He'd only just broken through to the second stage himself, but the aura radiating from Nak Pung-hyeon was no joke. Even for top-five lake factions, to claim they teemed with his peers—what the hell had been brewing in Dongjeong Lake these past hundred years?
"Indeed. I always conceal seventy percent of my power, so no one's tested me yet. But from what I've observed, that's their caliber."
"Most hide thirty percent, no? You've inverted it."
"Survival in Dongjeong Lake demands it. Geumrinhoe and Cheol-ah-bang are busy checking each other, ignoring small fry like us. But grow Chwi Hwa Bang even a bit more, draw their eye, and we'd be crushed flat. I'm walking a tightrope."
His need for an alliance made sense. But questions lingered.
"Why us, then—Yi Gajang specifically? You hide seventy percent usually, yet you showed me your full strength. Our paths and styles differ utterly from Chwi Hwa Bang's. We're barely established, as you said. Couldn't you link up with bigger factions instead?"
"I understand your suspicion."
Nak Pung-hyeon nodded.
"To convince you, I suppose I must share some history. Mind if I do?"
"History?"
"More precisely, a tale from my youth."
"...Dredging up the past over drinks. Feels like it'll drag on ominously. Your face is awfully red too."
"It's essential. I'll keep it brief."
"Please do. Three sentences, ideally."
Gazing into the distant sky, Nak Pung-hyeon began. Regrettably, his tale was anything but short—despite Yi Jinpyeong's earnest plea...
As everyone knows, I was born and raised in the back alleys of the pleasure district. Like any alley rat, I knew my mother but not my father. When even she succumbed early to a vile illness, I—a six-year-old brat—was left alone in the world.
I slaved unpaid at the shop where she'd worked. The owner beat me all day for eating too much; passing customers struck me on whims. Anyone bored enough hit me; anyone annoyed cursed me. Bottom of the barrel in the lowest neighborhood.
The guard dog got better treatment. At least it had a purpose.
Then one day—God knows why—I got beaten half to death. The most wretched day of my short life. I fled the shop to survive, bolting blindly into a remote alley where I ran into a young man. A warrior, sword at his side, body covered in wounds and bruises. No grave injuries, but...
He was crying. Pitifully. I'd never seen a grown man sob like that—before or in the twenty-plus years since.
Spotting me mid-wail, he cut off abruptly. I startled and tried to flee—felt like I'd glimpsed something forbidden. Folks always beat me for catching their shame.
But not him. Seeing my ragged state—mirroring his own bruises and tears—he beckoned me over. Too scared to run; he had that sword, after all.
He rummaged in his bosom, then gave a sheepish look.
"Sorry, lad. Nothing decent to share."
I bowed in gratitude. First time anyone spoke to me so kindly, even empty-handed.
Overbold, I blurted: "No, sir. I'm fine. Whatever happened, don't take it too hard. Life's fortunes shift—who knows when good days come?"
I barely knew what I said—mimicking drunks dragged from gambling dens or brothels. He stared oddly, then pulled a booklet from his chest and handed it over.
"Come to think, one thing remains to share. Take it. Useless to me. Might fetch a coin or two for you..."
A worn, frayed volume, its seams meticulously restitched by hand.
Nak Pung-hyeon's tale held no thrills. Yet listening...
Yi Jinpyeong felt a chill in his chest. Why tell me this, and why now? Who was that man weeping wretchedly in the alley?
Nak Pung-hyeon drew a slim booklet from his bosom. Tattered and aged, but its binding freshly sewn with care—evidence of tender handling.
"This is the booklet that man gave me. No clue why, but flipping the first page hooked me completely. Despite barely knowing letters. Never dreamed of selling it. Stayed up nights memorizing; puzzled out unknowns by spying lessons day and night. This made me who I am."
Yi Jinpyeong recognized it instantly. How could he not?
It was none other than the martial arts manual penned by Yi Gyeol himself—the world's greatest—left for his descendants.
"Learned late it came from Yi Gajang's young patriarch. Desperate to safeguard his ancestor's will and arts, but mocked and abandoned by brothers, kin—even fled. That day in the alley, perhaps, when I met him sobbing. Thanks to that, I got this."
"Heard soon after he'd passed, leaving three young, foolish sons behind. I kept tabs on Yi Gajang, but survival in this warzone buried old ties. Carried only the debt of someday repaying..."
"So when word spread you'd escaped your madness. Crushed Jang Gapae's thugs. Shattered even Chwi Hwa Bang's warriors... How do you think I felt? Arriving here, facing your extraordinary aura—what do you suppose stirred in me?"
The long tale ended. His story; the father of Yi Jingang, Yi Jinun, and Yi Jinpyeong's; a saga of Yi Gyeol's descendants...
Nak Pung-hyeon extended the booklet.
"Now you see why I tell this. Why I came alone in secret. Why I propose alliance."
Yi Jinpyeong replied curtly.
"Sorry. Proposal rejected."
Nak Pung-hyeon's eyes widened round. The drunken haze had utterly vanished.