My Plan Is Like This (4)
Sinui looked at the old man and asked, “Old timer. Is that kid normal?”
Two young men were moving behind a tree. The old man gazed proudly at the sight and replied. In his hand was a sake cup, brimming full.
“He’s not normal. But today the booze tastes especially sweet.”
“Old timer! I told you not to drink! What’s a guy on his last legs doing with booze? Namgung! What’re you doing? Ah damn it, I said don’t pour him more!”
Namgung Hancheol looked at Yi Han and said, “No.”
“Fuckin’ hell. Freeze to death, you Namgung bastards.”
“Tsk tsk. You two are still thick as thieves.”
The old man’s identity was Namgung Ilro, the Namgung Clan’s military strategist and former Murim Alliance tactician, known as Gucheon Noeju. He was the only one in the entire Namgung Clan who didn’t fear Namgung Hancheol.
And for good reason—Namgung Ilro had served since the days of Namgung Hancheol’s father, Namgung Bigwang. He’d been the clan’s strategist when Hancheol was a boy, when he grew into a man, and even now as clan head. To Hancheol, he was practically an uncle.
At over a century old, he was one of the eldest in the entire martial world besides.
“Hancheol, my boy. That your son down there?”
“Yes. So I’ve heard.”
“Ah geez! Old timer, don’t dodge the question. Just three cups, that’s all. And you eating the Yeongsaengdan I gave you properly?”
Yi Han kept nagging from the side. Once he got like this, even Namgung Ilro had to give ground.
“Fine, you rascal. This guy’s nagging gets worse every year. That’s why I told him to get married early.”
“Why bring up marriage now?”
“It’s fun.”
“Indeed it is.”
With even Namgung Hancheol joining in, Yi Han finally shut up. He could barely hold his own against Ilro in a war of words, let alone with Hancheol piling on.
“Spit it out already. I called you here today because of that punk.”
“Heh heh. You mean the vice strategist, eh?”
Namgung Hancheol refilled his own cup. As the real talk was about to begin, he started drinking alone under the moonlight, as was his habit.
Ilro and Yi Han let him be, as always. That’s just how he was, and if Hancheol truly wanted to know something, nothing in the world was beyond him.
Besides, one eager audience was plenty.
“Exactly! That lunatic!”
And if that audience was particularly enthusiastic, all the better.
“Our vice strategist isn’t normal, no.”
“That’s what I’m saying! But why’s that lunatic playing vice strategist? He’s got the momentum to swallow the whole Namgung! Namgung, did you know?”
“Yeah.”
“Figures that bastard’s not normal either. So, old timer?”
Namgung Ilro wanted to say they were two peas in a pod but held his tongue.
“That kid may look like that, but he’s damn good at his job. Lately he’s even taken over most of what I used to handle. A madman’s a madman, through and through.”
“What about his character?”
“Good.”
“Ideology? That punk’s clearly plotting something big.”
“I said he’s good.”
“Good grief. So as long as he’s good and competent, it’s all fine? Even if he flips the Namgung on its head later?”
“Yeah.”
Yi Han couldn’t fully grasp Namgung Ilro’s thinking. The man next to him chatted casually, but he was the sharpest mind in the Central Plains.
But when it came to his close friends, things changed.
“Namgung, you really okay with this?”
“He’s good.”
Namgung Hancheol’s answer matched Ilro’s perfectly.
“I’m going nuts. Who’d guess the Namgung Clan runs like this.”
Namgung Ilro picked up the thread. “It runs perfectly. Our vice strategist handles everything just fine.”
“No, that punk’s head is full of thoughts about overthrowing the Namgung!”
“Heh heh. That’d be fun too.”
And yet they called this the Tianxia’s foremost clan. Incredible.
“Ah! Looks like those two are finally hashing things out. So he’s the youngest young master...”
Namgung Ilro hadn’t attended the welcome ceremony due to poor health. This was his first time seeing Namgung Daeso.
Why is the vice strategist so interested in the youngest young master?
He’d downplayed it to Yi Han, but having someone take over most of his strategist duties was huge. The Namgung was soon to rule the world. Claiming to be its brain meant claiming to be the world’s brain.
Even the Mushin Namgung Hancheol couldn’t manage that. Beyond genius, beyond prodigy—something more.
Frankly, you had to be mad to even attempt it.
Everyone in the Namgung knew it. Everyone acknowledged it. If anyone could take the strategist role, it was that madman.
Some factions within the clan were already wary of Namgung Je-cheon. If he set his mind to it, he could truly shake the Namgung to its core.
But Namgung Ilro, once called Gucheon Noeju, who had orchestrated the world’s affairs, knew better.
Bending the world to your will sounded thrilling... but.
It’s boring.
People always seek the new. What’s novel becomes commonplace with time, then trite.
The world had become that for Ilro. Was being too smart a curse?
Everything unfolded within predictions, never exceeding them.
When the Demonic Cult appeared one day, the world briefly sparkled again. But that shine faded fast.
Extreme boredom drives men mad. Ilro would have gone mad too without new amusement.
But he found it: Namgung Bigwang and his son Hancheol.
Beings who transcended human cognition. Monsters who shattered even the most airtight plans, down to the last ant.
Vice Strategist Namgung Je-cheon must have found the world boring too, until now.
Ilro pitied him but couldn’t intervene. The boy had finally found it.
The world’s thrill! An ideal being to realize what his own mind deemed impossible.
Namgung Ilro watched Namgung Je-cheon with warm eyes.
Disciple, what do you see in the youngest young master?
* * *
Beside the massive tree in the courtyard. Namgung Daeso and Namgung Je-cheon hid behind it.
This was a blind spot from the maids’ side.
“Young master! What did you want to say? Have you already devised a plan to overthrow the Namgung?”
I couldn’t fathom what swam in this lunatic’s head to spout such nonsense without hesitation. And I had no desire to understand—hell, it was a miracle he was still alive.
If asked if he was that competent, I’d honestly say no.
“Hey!”
“Yes!”
“Why’re you sticking to me like glue? I told you, I’m leaving the Namgung.”
My instincts screamed this guy was dangerous. No immediate threat yet—but no! He’d tried something today, but quick action saved me.
Still, he could drag me back into peril anytime.
“Isn’t it obvious? I hate this Namgung full of idiots, you hate this Namgung too. Who’s the enemy of my enemy?”
“An ally?”
“As expected of the youngest young master! Brilliant!”
I stated clearly, “I don’t hate the Namgung.”
“What do you mean? You said this cramped Namgung doesn’t suit you, so you’re leaving to overturn the world!”
Was he insane? I swear I’d never uttered the word “world.”
“I like the Namgung.”
This was truth. What I hated was the future Namgung who’d punch a hole in my gut. Without that, no reason to leave.
“Then why leave?”
I had to choose words carefully. This madman had turned my ten years of goodwill with the maids and head maid into his allies in a single day. Hate to admit it, but vice strategist wasn’t a seat won by luck or connections.
I needed to know exactly what he was thinking.
“You—what do you want to do with me, exactly?”
“Overturn the world.”
“Rejected. Something else.”
“Namgung Clan upheaval plan.”
“Rejected. That’s no good either.”
“Mushin’s downfall?”
“Yeah, something else.”
“Very well. Let’s start small then. Shall we topple Shaolin Temple first?”
“Why not just join the Demonic Cult?”
“Hasn’t it already collapsed?”
“Might find remnants if you look.”
“Looks can be deceiving—I’m righteous faction to the bone. Don’t mock my pure path of justice.”
And this guy talks about crumbling Shaolin, the righteous core?
“You’re completely nuts.”
“Thanks for the praise.”
“Not praise.”
In that brief exchange, I got a rough read on him.
Yeah. This lunatic was a revolutionary.
In an era of chaos instead of this peace, his talents would shine brighter. He might even be acting on those wild words with that cunning brain.
But this era was peaceful. Fights only flared between similars.
With the impregnable Namgung—untouched even by the Demonic Cult—standing tall, who’d dare stir trouble?
You’d have to be mad. Like this guy.
“Got a plan?”
“Heh heh, of course. Just give the order, my lord! I’ll sweep Shaolin clean in a day.”
So he’d plotted it all out. Would’ve been nice if it was just delusion. Holding back this long was impressive, really.
No— he’d probably blabbed his ideals everywhere, but everyone ignored him. Come to think of it, his survival was the real mystery.
“And I’m not your lord.”
“You are, starting today. If you say die here, I’ll fake it convincingly.”
“But not actually die?”
“Once a worthy successor appears.”
Not dying, then. Folks like this were called loyal retainers.
History showed they caused most problems. Overzealous loyalty—the most infuriating cliché.
“You’re misunderstanding. I wanna live long and thin. Like I said before, if you wanna flip the Namgung, stick to my eldest brother—it’d be faster.”
“I can’t believe it! I see—you mean he’s still a hidden dragon. Understood. You’re telling me to lay low for now.”
“No, that’s my honest dream! Go somewhere with nice mountains and rivers, farm and live out my days!”
“I get it. So you’re under surveillance right now.”
“No one’s here.”
“Nice mountains? Conquer Hwasan, Wudang, Shaolin. Nice rivers? Claim the Yangtze, Yellow River. Noted.”
Words weren’t getting through. His eyes sparkled.
“Bold plan to seize land and water routes at once. Oh~ as expected of my lord! So bold. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Not your lord!”
Yeah. Madmen can’t be controlled.
Best get a firm promise then.
“Wait just one year.”
“It begins at last?”
“Yeah.”
“Overturn the world!”
I’d clearly said no earlier. Whatever.
In a year, whatever this nut plotted, he’d achieve nothing.
And then he’d realize I fell short of his expectations.
“But uh...”
He suddenly asked creepily.
“What?”
I instinctively stepped back.
“Mind if I grab one more bowl of rice before I go?”
Our head maid’s cooking was killer. And I was hungry too.
“Sure.”
* * *
The next day, I took the farthest corner of the training hall as planned and swung the Samjae Geombeop.
A month passed. I swung Samjae Geombeop in that corner every day.
Namgung Je-cheon, thankfully, stayed quiet as promised. Though his nightly visits and chatter were a pain.
But he always brought weird meds or whatever, delighting the head maid and maids. Couldn’t tell him not to come.
Three months passed. A rumor finally spread through the hall.
Samjae Byeongsin—Three Talents Cripple. From trash to advanced trash; felt oddly proud.
Six months in. Swinging Samjae Geombeop all day built some internal energy. Then suddenly it scattered through my body.
Pathetic amount anyway, so I ignored it. But after, my body felt oddly refreshed.
Ten months. The lunatic somehow scored five Yeongsaengdan pills. Asked from whom—Shaolin’s abbot visited yesterday and gifted them, he said.
Ten months in, I finally felt his vice strategist cred. And he grinned, calling his “cripple” lord “my lord.” Thick-skinned bastard.
That day, I, the head maid, and maids took the pills. Head maid’s wrinkles smoothed a bit. Maids got even prettier. Might have to marry them off soon.
And weirdly, my energy scattered again. Should’ve been curious, but since I wasn’t seriously training, I shrugged it off.
Just felt twice as refreshed, strangely.
Finally, my promised year was up.
The clan buzzed unusually. The nightly lunatic vanished lately.
Head maid and maids looked listless. Nut or not, he knew how to liven things up.
Hated admitting it, but nights felt a tad empty.
Now everyone in the hall called me Samjae Byeongsin. Plan on track.
Year-end evaluation arrived.
Fifty trainees headed tensely to the grand sparring ground.
Amid their nerves, I felt calm. Planned to lose every match today.
While others learned Namgung specialties, I’d stuck solely to Samjae Geombeop.
Entering the ground, crowds filled the seats. Trainees’ tension doubled—I felt it beside me.
Without past experience, I’d be sweating blood too.
Scanning the room, way more people than expected.
That’s weird?
Seemed like every major clan figure was here. Big event, sure, but not this big...
!
Then it hit me.
I stared at one spot.
Why’s that guy here?
Mushin Namgung Hancheol.
My father, after a full year.