Wills Are Meant to Be Kept
The short-statured man raised his longsword high. But Yi Jinpyeong took a liking to his bold, straightforward posture.
“Wait just a moment. I'll wrap this bastard up first, then fight you proper.”
Yi Jinpyeong casually postponed the fight with him and turned his head. Toward the Tang Clan punk, whose wrists had been severed, head bowed low.
Gone was the triumphant air he'd had when he first appeared. His pretty-boy face, smooth as a gigolo's, was utterly ruined, and his luxurious silk robe was soaked in blood. With his wrists gone, all his subordinates dead, and even his poison qi drained away, he was little more than a dry, withered stump now.
Yi Jinpyeong picked up the sword rolling on the ground and shoved it toward him.
“Tang Clan scum. What's your name?”
The man, completely broken, answered weakly.
“What good's knowing that now?”
“Why? So I can write your mother a letter. Tell her I've caught her worthless son—come pick him up.”
“You mad fuck.”
He let out a dry chuckle. Not a spark of life in that laugh.
“Here's some advice: just kill me clean and bury me deep where no one finds the body. Don't you know the Tang Clan? We repay favors tenfold—and grudges a hundred times over. No matter how much of a loose cannon I am, my clan won't forgive you.”
“Oh-ho. I thought you were just a filthy rat, but you're thoughtfully looking out for me.”
“You'll live in fear forever. That's how we are. Vicious. Relentless. Run a thousand li, hide ten thousand li—it won't matter. We'll hunt you down and tear you apart. Even if you're innocent, even if it's unfair. Just tangling with the Tang Clan is your crime.”
Yi Jinpyeong nodded. As if he didn't know. What made the Tang Clan more feared than their skills alone was that insane temperament and family creed.
Suddenly, looking at the man with his head bowed, something felt familiar. Jinpyeong finally realized how he'd spotted the clan at a glance. It wasn't just that subtle scent. The pretty-boy face reminded him of that guy.
Tang... Tang-something. Tang Clan, so surname Tang, obviously. Cocky bastard whose name he couldn't even recall. A hundred years back, that one had done the same—head bowed before him, blathering empty threats about the Tang Clan.
He'd said something similar back then, too.
“You're the one who doesn't know Yi Gajang. No matter how much your Tang Clan rages and foams, we reign far above in the unreachable heavens. Shouldn't you have thought harder about why your ancestors left a dying wish: 'Never tangle with Yi Gajang. Stay away from Dongjeong Lake'?”
“Kek. Yeah... that's right. That bastard's last words... that damned will!”
“Now you get it. Wills exist to be kept.”
As he bantered with the Tang punk, Yi Jinpyeong unwittingly glanced back. The heir of a clan ruined by honoring the world's greatest's last words—Yi Jingang—was staring right at him. With an expression oddly proud.
Yi Jinpyeong grimaced inwardly.
'Insist on keeping wills, my ass. Never thought I'd be the one saying it.'
The Tang man flashed a forlorn smile.
“Come on, kill me now. I admit defeat. No reason left to live.”
Hmph. Yi Jinpyeong snorted.
Pulling the manly act now? This bastard had caused him no end of trouble. If the short guy had followed his orders, Jingang might've lost an arm—or died for real.
In battle, he'd have lopped the head off without hesitation. But he had no desire to kill a man who'd lost everything and given up. There was a better end for him anyway.
He stabbed the sword back into the ground.
“Get lost.”
“...What?”
“I'm not like you. No hobby of killing guys who can't even resist.”
“Kill me! Kill me, damn it!”
The man bulged his eyes and screamed.
“Don't you get it? A warrior without arms lives worse than hell. The higher you climbed, the deeper you fall. How could anyone endure that shame and despair?!”
“You know your future well enough. That's exactly what I want. I wanna see you get even more pathetic.”
His face twisted in agony.
“Argh...! Aren't you scared of my clan's revenge?!”
“You struck first. Have some shame—don't talk revenge.”
“Didn't I say? Tang Clan vengeance ignores justice or excuses!”
“I know. And didn't I say? Yi Gajang towers infinitely above your clan. How can we claim world's greatest if we fear a mere Tang revenge?”
“Hah! World's greatest? Pathetic ragtag family that barely numbers a handful! Weaklings except you! Nearly died to my trap alone!”
The Tang punk spat venom.
Yi Jinpyeong thought of his brothers Jingang and Jinun, his still-weak subordinates and allies.
He was only at Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong's early stages, and yeah, this brat's trap had given him hell today.
But so what? No danger, no growth. They'd learned plenty today—Jingang, and him too.
Step timidly in constant fear? That wasn't the way of the world's greatest clan.
Hands on hips, shoulders back, he declared boldly.
“That's me. Forging my path, fearing no outcome. That's what they call the way of the world's greatest.”
The Tang man fell silent. Jingang nodded warmly. The short guy stroked his rough beard and nodded vigorously.
“Good words. Sounds like something someone once said, though.”
The Tang punk couldn't even die on his terms. Wallowing in despair, he screamed and gnashed his face into the dirt.
“You damned... you damned brat! Graaaah!”
Ignoring the wretch, Yi Jinpyeong turned to Jingang. To his brother, covered in wounds large and small.
Meeting his eyes, Jingang sheepishly worked his lips.
“Sorry, brother. I acted rashly without a word...”
“Nothing happened, so it's fine. And quit with the 'sorry' already.”
“...”
“Spend that time training harder.”
The moment he placed a hand on his brother's gaunt frame to tend the wounds.
The Tang punk, who'd stopped wailing, suddenly giggled.
“Heh... heheheh. Damned brat. Actually, got a gift for you. Forgot about it myself.”
“What gift?”
“Sent Jang Gapae thugs to your Yi Gajang earlier. By now, your subordinates might all be dead. Maybe the whole estate's burned to the ground. Ehihihi!”
Yi Jinpyeong startled. Jingang's face said he hadn't known either.
He whipped his head to the short guy.
“That true?”
The short guy, blank-faced, nodded.
“True.”
“Weren't you the Jang Gapae boss?”
“Just a mercenary who joined recently. Real boss is someone else.”
“What? Why didn't you say something that important?!”
“??? Why would I...?”
Thinking about it, yeah. The short guy had just defied the Tang punk—no ties to Yi Gajang yet.
“Told ya. That guy's a real pain.”
The Tang scum cackled.
Then he launched himself.
“!!!!”
As if gathering strength all along, his movement was terrifyingly swift and agile.
Jinpyeong quickly shielded Jingang. But the target wasn't them.
It was the sword stuck in the ground.
With his mangled, severed wrists, he gripped the blade in his teeth. Then slammed his body down.
“No!”
Too late—Yi Jinpyeong grabbed him, but the blade had already pierced through his throat.
“Guh... grrrk...”
Blood sprayed like a fountain. The short guy and Jingang stared in shock.
The man convulsed with a grin, gurgling at Jinpyeong.
“Grrk... brat... fuck... you... grrk...”
Yi Jinpyeong, utterly fed up, dropped the body.
Was it a laugh or pain? It thrashed for a while, then went still.
The Tang punk was dead. From the moment he lost to Yi Jinpyeong and his wrists, he'd had no will to live. So one of his wishes came true, at least.
Whatever. Dead scum didn't matter.
He urgently asked the short guy.
“When did he send Jang Gapae to Yi Gajang?”
“Right before you arrived, I think.”
Yi Jinpyeong calculated the time. The fight dragged, but his Pungsin Jigyeol speed outpaced any thugs. Full throttle, he could make it in time.
“How many? How strong's the boss?”
“Split forces, so about thirty. Boss is roughly my level.”
Yi Gajang had thirty warriors from Hwang Sabang. Plus Gang Ryong the advisor, Chief Steward Gwak Yeonyong, and Yi Jinun.
Before leaving, he'd told them to prioritize safety. But a sudden Jang Gapae raid? Unknown if they'd escape unscathed. Especially with a short-guy-level leader.
'Close call. They can't hold long.'
Cross-legged, he quickly circulated qi. Emptied from fighting and saving Jingang.
A quick surge restored minimal energy. He sprang up.
Delay, and who knew what'd happen to Yi Gajang.
The short guy, sword raised, asked.
“Hey. When we fighting?”
“...Idiot. Now's the time?”
Short guy had solid martial arts and a frank personality—a real good guy. But sometimes frustratingly dense. No wonder the Tang punk got pissed.
“Brother. I'll go ahead.”
“Yeah. Hurry. Don't worry here.”
“Hey! Brushing me off like that?! When the hell we dueling?!”
“Bring brother to Yi Gajang! Then we'll fight for sure!”
Leaving the awkward duo—who'd just been in a hostage standoff—Yi Jinpyeong vanished with the wind.