#44. A First-Rate Martial Artist Who Gathers People (3)
The regions where the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Families held sway were always bustling with crowds, even if they weren't major cities. Whether nestled in the Five Peaks or tucked away in remote hamlets, new cities inevitably sprang up around them.
Oddly enough, the villages surrounding the Jegal family were frequented by scholars and literati. While their prowess in martial studies was debatable, when it came to literary pursuits, no one in the world could rival the Jegal family.
After leaving Akyang and heading for Yungjung Mountain, I rested for a day before making straight for the Jegal estate. It was a grueling march all day long, but ever since I'd purified my body with innate essence at Wolhyang's grave, fatigue barely registered anymore.
"Hoo...."
By the time I reached the Jegal estate at the foot of Yungjung Mountain, the main gate was already swarming with people.
"What in the world...."
I wondered if I'd misremembered and shown up on some anniversary, but a quick mental search confirmed today was just an ordinary day.
"Could it be...."
As I stood there dazed, an old man in front of me glanced my way cautiously.
"Are you here on business too, martial artist?"
"Me?"
"Yes."
"I am, yeah."
"In that case, get in line here."
The old man was dressed in shabby clothes, holding the hand of what looked like his granddaughter with one hand.
"I see. Do you know the situation here well, elder?"
"Elder? Oh, no, no. Just call me Old Man Heo."
The old man startled at the honorific, but his eyes were fixed on my Black Dragon Sword.
"Can't have that. This sword's just for self-defense, so no need to worry."
I said as much, but he remained politely wary.
"I've come to the village a few times over some big trouble. This makes the seventh visit."
"What kind of trouble requires seven visits?"
"An imugi appeared in our village."
"...An imugi?"
"Yes. One showed up a year ago and started devouring villagers. We called in some constables to hunt it, but its skin was so tough, arrows and spears couldn't pierce it."
"Ah...."
"The constables said it was too formidable to kill outright—they'd need to trap it with a formation."
I knew exactly what this imugi was from the old man's description: the Iron-Armored Black Python Serpent. It terrorized Cao County in Huguang Province, wiping out a slash-and-burn village and four others nearby. Its skin was steel-tough, its body massive enough to swallow an ox whole. With strength to demolish a mansion in moments, it was a true demonic beast.
Unlike other beasts, it had no inner core, which was why it evaded capture for so long in Huguang's Cao County. Only after five villages were erased and hundreds slain did the Murim Alliance intervene.
'That time, the Victory Hall Lord and Vice Lord got swallowed whole.'
In my past life, this incident shattered three halls of the Blue Dragon Pavilion, forcing Victory Hall to rebuild. An elite group of masters—not some ragtag band like White Wolf Hall with its street toughs—had been devoured entirely by a single Iron-Armored Black Python Serpent.
"I see. So what did the Jegal family say all this time?"
"They told us to report it to the Murim Alliance and wait for approval before they could act."
The old man clung to vain hope. The Jegal family stepping in meant the Alliance footing the bill—and they wouldn't hire the world's priciest diviners just to save some slash-and-burn villagers.
'In the end, they went out to hunt it themselves instead of sealing it.'
I knew the answer but couldn't voice the harsh truth, so I changed the subject.
"Hope it works out for you. Your granddaughter?"
I gestured toward the girl, but she shrank behind the old man's leg in fear. He seemed unaccustomed to children.
"My son and daughter-in-law were eaten by the imugi this time around, so I took her in."
"Ah...."
I'd meant to lighten the mood, but it only grew heavier. Fortunately, it was his turn. The gate scribe, spotting him, scowled.
"You again! Didn't I say we'd contact you once a decision's made?"
"Sir, it's been half a month, and the imugi struck again—devoured ten more villagers. Please, just let me see the family head once."
The scribe sighed deeply.
"You think the family head's some village fortune-teller? Some hillbilly slash-and-burn chief like you...."
Tsking, he signaled the guards, who moved to drag the old man away. Seeing him hauled off with his crying granddaughter, I couldn't stay silent.
"Hold on."
"What?"
The scribe eyed me up and down.
"He's with me."
The scribe saw through it instantly and smirked.
"I get the sympathy, but don't meddle. He's from a slash-and-burn village."
"And what's wrong with that?"
"...."
"He's coming in with me. Send word to the family head."
The scribe and gathered guards burst into incredulous laughter.
"They must've been drinking since noon...."
Before he finished, I shoved a draft contract in his face.
"Ha! This scrap of—wha—what the... hu...."
The scribe's mouth snapped shut as he read. Curious guards peeked over, their eyes widening wildly.
"Two... hundred taels of silver!!"
Someone muttered it like a curse, and gasps erupted from family members and visitors alike.
Hiring a Jegal diviner typically ran twenty taels a year. Two hundred could buy ten for a full year. And for sums like that, the Craftsman Hall Chief or family head handled it personally.
"Can we go in now?"
"Uh... y-yes, of course. This way."
The scribe bowed deeply, gesturing with both hands toward the gate.
I turned to the old man.
"Let's go."
# If there's a sect famed for qimen dunjia formations, it's Mosanpa—but they excel more at demon suppression and spirit subjugation. They shine against sorcery and ghost arts used by so-called unorthodox paths.
For supreme mastery of qimen dunjia, it's the Jegal family without question. While most sects profit from trade caravans or mines, the Jegals sell formations to murim factions, amassing wealth beyond the other Great Families.
Formations are finicky to deploy and maintain. Except rarities like the Infinite Buddha's Indestructible Soul Formation, neglect leads to warping over time, opening paths of dissipation.
Thus, sects paid not just installation but endless upkeep fees. Daunting costs, but for factions besieged by enemies, Jegal formations—peerless in efficacy—were essential.
"This way."
The guiding scribe led us to a reception room, drafted the dispatch papers, and said they'd been sent.
"Approval and your meeting may take time."
"We'll wait."
He eyed me warily, clearly uncomfortable with the old man there.
"Won't you meet the family head alone?"
"Didn't I say he's with me?"
"...."
The scribe squirmed; the old man trembled in fear. He'd begged to see the head but never dreamed it possible. Worse, the scribe and guards sneered at him openly. A man who bowed awkwardly even to a youth like me wouldn't endure this pressure easily.
"Elder, it's fine. Don't tense up. We're just here to talk."
I nodded at his granddaughter, wincing from his tight grip. He startled and released her.
"...Aigoo. You okay, dear?"
"...."
She nodded timidly, like her grandfather, and took his hand again.
Moments later, two men entered. One was a plainly dressed middle-aged man; the other, a flashy elderly figure diametrically opposite Old Man Heo—plump, silken-robed, adorned with jewels, fanning himself with a white-feathered fan mimicking Zhuge Liang's.
This was Jegal Jeong, Craftsman Hall Chief and master to the family's diviners and formation experts. Not direct lineage but close collateral, cousin to the Alliance's Chief Strategist Jegal Somyeong.
"Heo Village Chief, I heard about your plight. That imugi terrorizing your village?"
Jegal Jeong rushed over, grasping the old man's hands. Called Heo Village Chief, he gasped.
"Y-you remember me?"
"Of course. We met at Golden Wood Mountain twelve years ago."
"Ahh...."
Heo gazed at him in awe.
"I heard you'd come pleading multiple times without reply—I chewed them out for it."
"No, no, the martial artists bear no blame."
Heo shook his head frantically.
"Truth is, I meant to lead our kin right away to seal that imugi—but formations require Alliance approval; can't erect them willy-nilly."
"Ahh... th-then what should we do?"
"I'll send word at once to get permission before more damage. Worst case, I'll go to the Alliance myself and settle it."
"Aigoo, thank you, elder. Truly, thank you."
Heo wept, prostrating fully. Jegal Jeong lifted him gently.
"Up now. Sun sets early in the mountains—no? Your granddaughter looks exhausted."
"Yes, yes. Of course. Many thanks."
Heo bowed to Jegal Jeong, the middle-aged man, scribe, guards, and even me before leaving.
Once gone, Jegal Jeong and the middle-aged man sat, faces darkening unlike before.
"Jin Sowoon of Tae-eul Gate, right?"
"Pleased to mee—"
"Why meddle needlessly?"
"...Jin Sowoon."
I tilted my head instead of answering.
"Dragging him in burdens our family."
I nodded.
"As I thought, it was a lie."
"What?"
"The Jegal family, with your sky-high fees, wouldn't do charity work."
Formations needing Alliance approval? Nonsense—no one reports every setup. Jegal Jeong had just shifted blame to dodge responsibility.
"Brat. Don't get cocky just 'cause you've got coin. We came not for your money, but hearing you aided our close allies, the Namgung family."
"Ah, I see. Would've been better if you'd joined us then. Time didn't align, despite no fee issue, right?"
"...Brat. Here for a shouting match?"
"No. Business, then."
"First—you."
Jegal Jeong pointed at the scribe.
"Can't even fill a dispatch form right?!"
He flung the document; it smacked the scribe's face and fell.
"Target name and duration—basics!"
"B-but he said not to list him on the roster and he'd explain himself."
"Not on the roster?"
Jegal Jeong eyed the wall rack of hundreds of name plaques—active dispatch clients all listed.
"Brat, what do you want?"
I glanced at the man beside him before answering.
"Jegal Cheongi. Dispatch term: five years."
The middle-aged man flinched, staring intently. Jegal Jeong cleared his throat, sensing it.
"No idea how you know the boy, but he's no formal diviner."
"Doesn't matter."
"...It does. Against family rules—"
"Oh, and the two hundred taels I wrote? That's per year."
"...."
Jegal Jeong loved money. After mandatory Alliance service, while others climbed ranks, he raced back to seize control of the diviners—knowing that post paid best.
"Heard you like money."
His face flushed crimson.
The silent middle-aged man spoke cautiously.
"May I ask what for?"
This was Jegal Hyeonun, current family head and Jegal Somyeong's son.
"Speak freely. If the family head insists, folks'll curse me."
"Ahem. Understood. What for Cheongi?"
"Tae-eul Gate lacks defenses. That's his task."
"But... Cheongi's weak on qimen dunjia."
No way. Jegal Cheongi was a literary genius rivaling Yong So-a. He just lacked interest. Even starting now, he'd surpass any Jegal expert swiftly.
"Not qimen dunjia—don't worry."
"...."
"...."
Jegal Jeong and Jegal Hyeonun exchanged glances. Then Jegal Jeong scowled.
"You mean mechanisms? No! Those contraptions harm people."
Mechanisms were dismissed as inferior to formations now. But Jegal Cheongi's innovations would shatter that view.
"He's imprisoned for injuring someone with mechanisms. Absolutely not."
"Injuries in experiments are par for the course. Jailed for that?"
Cheongi had said the family diviners despised his mechanisms, leading to his lockup. I prodded that sore spot.
Jegal Jeong's face soured further.
"Even if casualties arise from his mechanisms at Tae-eul Gate, we'll take responsibility. Contract if you want."
"...."
He eyed Jegal Hyeonun challengingly. But the head seemed sympathetic.
"From what I've heard, as head, I can't refuse."
"Family head!"
"Injuries in trials are natural. The Tang Clan of Sichuan loses dozens to poison monthly. Without errors, we'd stagnate."
Jegal Hyeonun looked at me.
"Testing mechanisms via Tae-eul Gate expands our field. I see no issue... though final say rests with the Supreme Elder. For reference."
'Reference' and 'request' or not, Jegal Jeong couldn't ignore it. The head had given rationale; Cheongi was still his youngest son, despite elders' unanimous lockup vote.
"Ahem...."
Jegal Jeong rolled his eyes, scheming.
"If the head insists. But we only take qualified clients. Tae-eul Gate falls short."
He fanned leisurely with his faux-feather fan. I knew the criterion but asked anyway.
"What's the standard?"
He sneered.
"Existing Jegal clients."
Why the Jegals topped the world: they chose who paid.
"Absurd contradiction."
"Qualified? We'd have sent an invite."
Jegal invites gauged sect strength. This made their name worth more than gold.
"Hm... Tae-eul Gate waits longer, then."
"Over five centuries without one. Future unlikely."
"Fair. Give me a shot, then?"
"A shot?"
"Yes. Accomplish something convincing, and approve Cheongi's dispatch."
"Ha, what could impress me?"
"The Iron-Armored Black Python Serpent? That imugi you lied to Old Man Heo about."
"Eh?"
"If I hunt it, count me qualified?"
Jegal Jeong—and even Jegal Hyeonun's—eyes bulged round.