Chapter 43
Chapter 43
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Black-Clad Men
-----------------------------------------------------------------
When Dang Mujin returned to the spot where he had first encountered the black-clad men, the freak and Hong Geolgae were already back, waiting for him.
Hong Geolgae looked at Dang Mujin and said,
"You're the last one?"
"I had a little business to take care of."
From Hong Geolgae's expression, he seemed proud of having dealt with his black-clad opponent and returned faster than Dang Mujin.
However, Dang Mujin felt no sense of defeat whatsoever. Unlike Hong Geolgae, who had beaten his foe to death with a club the moment he got the chance, Dang Mujin had granted his opponent a painless death and even roughly buried the body before coming back. Had he simply beheaded the man with a single stroke, he surely would have been faster than Hong Geolgae.
Of course, Dang Mujin didn't bother explaining any of that in detail. He knew that spelling it out would be the least cool thing to do.
Dang Mujin flashed a meaningful yet slightly obnoxious smile that hinted at some backstory.
Seeing this, the freak clicked his tongue.
"Quit messing around and take off their masks. We need to see where these bastards are from."
There were two corpses with sword wounds lying at the spot. One was the guy who had been slain by the freak at the start, and the other seemed to be the one the freak had pursued.
"What good's seeing their faces? It's not like it'll say what group they're from."
"It will."
"Huh?"
"It will. Guys shady enough to wander around in masks always have a tattoo somewhere on them."
Dang Mujin hesitated but removed the masks from the masked men.
And just as the freak had said, their necks bore crude tattoos. In sloppy handwriting: a wolf (狼).
"Looks like some low-rate Black Wolf Gang or Mad Wolf Gang."
"Are they famous?"
"Nah. Black Daoists all name their groups in pretty much the same cheesy way, so I'm just guessing."
"Why get tattoos? Doesn't seem like they have any upsides."
People never looked kindly on tattoos. They were strongly associated with punishment.
Unlike the Central Plains dominated by the Righteous Sects, the Beggars' Sect members in Chengdu, where Dang Mujin had lived, accepted all beggars as one of their own.
Yet some beggars couldn't blend in with the Beggars' Sect and lived in even more wretched conditions. Most were thieves caught stealing from other beggars due to sticky fingers.
Among them was one beggar rejected by the Beggars' Sect despite clean hands—because the character for rape (姦) was tattooed on his forehead.
Of course, there were those who got tattoos without it being ink punishment. Soldiers dragged to battlefields or sailors might ink themselves praying for survival.
But people didn't look fondly on those tattoos either. Dang Mujin was no exception.
"They call it a sense of belonging or pride, but that's just talk to lure in idiots. In reality, it's to trap the members so they can't start a new life."
Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae didn't quite get it. The freak clicked his tongue again and continued.
"Imagine you're the leader of these masked goons. Would you rather work with guys who could bail and go straight anytime it suits them, or guys forced to stick with the group whether they like it or not? Which sounds better?"
"Probably the ones forced to bury their bones in it."
"Just give 'em a tattoo, and they can't live normal lives anymore. Foolproof."
A chilling thought. Once you joined the Black Dao, you were Black Dao for life?
"Anyway, they're not a big sect?"
"Nope. Bundling four second-raters as pursuers? Doesn't scream large or tough. And parading around in masks? Not professional assassins."
Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae were shocked by that.
"Second-raters?"
"What, you thought you beat first-raters? Big dreams."
"No, I figured third-raters at best. They were easy from start to finish."
Dang Mujin glanced sideways. Hong Geolgae hadn't seemed to struggle much either.
The freak twisted his face oddly and replied.
"Look at you beating around the bush. Just come out and say you want praise."
"That's not it! If we took down second-raters that easily, doesn't that make us first-raters?"
As a martial artist, Dang Mujin's goal was first-rate. Among the martial folk he knew even slightly, the highest was Jin Song, the chief instructor of the Qingcheng Chengdu Branch—a first-rate expert.
In Chengdu, Jin Song was a martial artist second only to one. Aside from his master, the Qingcheng Elder, Jin Song didn't need to bow to anyone.
Sure, some minor sect leaders were said to be stronger, but Jin Song didn't bow to them either. His attainment wasn't far behind, and his backing from the Qingcheng Sect outshone any minor sect leader.
Dang Mujin had thought it'd take years of grueling training to even challenge first-rate, but he'd already reached it? His shoulders rose involuntarily.
What would people back home think if he returned like this?
To those shady warriors trying to haggle medical fees by flashing scars, showing off first-rate prowess—what a thrill. Dang Mujin was ecstatic.
But the freak's words crushed his fantasy.
"First-rate? Standards vary, but neither you nor Hong Geolgae qualify yet."
"Why? We beat second-raters easily!"
"Standards differ, but the most common way to gauge skill is qi flow. True first-rates have internal energy naturally matching every technique without conscious effort. You're not there yet."
Not just Dang Mujin—even Hong Geolgae, listening quietly beside him, looked dejected. The freak added one more thing.
"Don't fixate on first-rate or second-rate labels. They're arbitrary human measures. Countless experts have died to nobodies. Doesn't matter if it's a sword laced with qi or swung wildly—slit the throat or pierce the heart, and you're dead."
He'd still wanted to hear he was first-rate. Dang Mujin nodded, feeling a twinge of regret.
"Anyway, are these the Black Daoists the merchants mentioned on the mountain?"
"Pretty much certain."
There was about a year between the Black Daoists settling and the Oseoksan trade starting, so the merchants hadn't connected them to the South Gia Manor Lord. But assuming the manor lord was in cahoots with the Black Daoists made everything fit perfectly.
Cut off the mining village's lifeline by seizing the mountain, gather Oseoksan ingredients from it, and have underlings peddle the drug.
Then use the starving villagers to sell Oseoksan, and the Black Daoists rake in easy money.
It was damning enough already, but the Black Daoists showing up as pursuers right after killing the manor lord sealed it. Undeniably the same gang.
The freak pondered briefly before speaking.
"Guess we should head back and check out that Black Daoist crew. Now that we know, can't just leave the Oseoksan makers be."
It was expected. The freak acted on whims, but his principles were simple.
Reduce the suffering from disease. That was pretty much his only guiding rule.
"What can three of us do?"
"No need to worry. They won't outnumber us much."
"How do you know?"
"Their pursuers were low-level, and they're leeching off merchants in a small village. Plus, this is Henan, heart of Righteous martial world. Grow too big, spread too much word, and hunters will come running—not just one or two. Beggars' Sect headquarters and Shaolin Temple are both here."
At the mention of Beggars' Sect headquarters, Hong Geolgae's ears perked up. Maybe a chance to meet one of the Six Revered Elders, like the Wandering Immortal.
"No need to wipe 'em all out. Kill a few higher-ups who might know the recipe and bail, or pour oil or poison on their ingredient warehouses to ruin the stock. Do that a few passes, and they'll slink off seeking easier pickings."
"Hmm."
Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae nodded.
They'd been feeling uneasy about it anyway.
*
After parting with the merchants, the three arrived near the village and headed toward the mountaintop.
"Whereabouts, you think?"
"They said Black Daoists blocked gold and ore mining, so let's follow the stream upstream first."
Suddenly, memories of Zhuul Village surfaced. They'd followed a stream upstream then, too.
The ankle-deep water gradually deepened to knees and thighs. The current was brisk enough. The gold-panning spots the villagers mentioned had to be around here.
Relying on moonlight, the three scanned the surroundings. A bit away from the stream stood a neatly built hut.
"That it?"
"Seems so."
There was more than one hut. Several stood scattered at generous intervals.
Yet no sentries patrolled the perimeter.
"Guys like this won't have tight security. Let's first check where they stash the ingredients."
As the three pushed through waist-high weeds toward the huts, something squishy gave under Dang Mujin's foot.
"Which son of a bitch..."
A man grumbled awake from sleep. Looking down revealed a darkly tanned face—probably dozing outside due to the heat.
Dang Mujin eyed the man's neck. Sure enough, a tattoo.
As Dang Mujin reached for his sword hilt, the freak charged in and stomped the Black Daoist's throat.
Crunch.
"Gahk."
Before the Black Daoist could writhe, the freak plunged a knife into his heart. The man gurgled, bled profusely, and went still.
"No need to check tattoos one by one. Making it this far means they're all in on it."
"Got it."
The freak glanced east. The sky was lightening faintly. Sunrise in about one or two ke (quarters of an hour).
"Spread out and scout. Signal if trouble."
"Signal?"
"Mimic a bird call or whatever. Figure it out."
"Right."
Dang Mujin crept low, inspecting huts. It was nerve-wracking work. Guys slept scattered on the paths.
He considered leaving them be but decided to follow the freak's lead. Better to eliminate future threats preemptively.
Like the freak, Dang Mujin crushed a throat with his heel and stabbed the heart. He'd coated the blade tip with paralyzing poison just in case, so the Black Daoists barely resisted, just twitched and died.
Unlike killing the earlier black-clad man, offing helpless sleepers felt off.
'No choice.'
After disposing of two sprawled on the path and peeking into one hut.
An awkward mountain pigeon call came from Hong Geolgae's direction.