I'll Handle That Revenge Myself (2)
“Money really is great.”
All sorts of delicacies from land and sea were being laid out in the courtyard. This was all happening because of one man, Geum Dondong.
The head maid and her maids, who would normally be bustling about preparing everything, were sitting comfortably on the porch, just watching.
“Head maid, is this the power of money?”
Ilhyang felt a sense of ease watching outsiders—precisely, people from the Tianxia Battlefield—do their work in their stead, but she also felt a twinge of unease.
“Who knows. I've never had it, so I wouldn't know.”
Even the head maid, who had devoted her life to looking after Namgung Daeso, felt the same.
“Is it really okay for us to just sit here like this?”
Ihyang found this idleness more uncomfortable than anything.
The head maid deliberately relaxed her tense body and said, “Today, let's all relax. It's the young master's order.”
Samhyang, who had already kicked off her shoes, nodded and teased Ihyang. “Exactly. You're too diligent for your own good, Ihyang.”
“And you're too lazy—that's your problem.”
When Namgung Daeso announced he was throwing a drinking party, they had opposed it. The youngest young master was still too young, after all.
But the youngest young master had made it clear. “I'm just setting the mood. You think the head maid granny would let me off if she found out I drank?”
Still, once things got going, there'd be guys like that tiger-nosed brute pressuring him into a drink...
They had kept opposing out of worry for the old lady's sake.
But with fifty grown men united in their push, even they couldn't hold out any longer.
With one condition, that is.
“If the young master drinks even a drop, we'll report straight to the head maid!”
“Absolutely not!”
“Promise!”
“Got it.”
I was strolling through the courtyard.
Alcohol, huh...
Tasteless and bitter stuff. Yet the folks at the tavern raved about it and guzzled it down.
The drinking setup wasn't even ready yet, but the courtyard was already filled with rowdy chatter as if everyone was drunk.
This place was always so quiet, but this lively atmosphere wasn't half bad.
Except for one annoying thing.
I headed toward the source of the loudest noise.
At the center of the group were two old men.
“You two, go sit at the very end over there.”
I pointed to the corner.
Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja immediately grumbled.
“Are we baggage or something?! You've been too much lately, young man!”
“Right! Money comes from people, not the other way around!”
“If you can't pay, then scram. This isn't on you old timers anyway.”
The money came from our old man, but these two were taking all the credit.
I shifted my gaze to the old man.
As expected!
A man with heavy pockets always finds his way to the center, no matter where.
The old man was already seated at the head table, dignified as he waited for the food to be laid out.
“Go home or sit at the end. Pick one.”
“Amitabha. Over there, you say.”
“Infinite blessings. Nice spot.”
I hadn't spent that long with these two old men, but oddly enough...
They only invoke Buddha and the Primeval Lord of Heaven when it's to their disadvantage.
Tsk tsk. No wonder they got kicked out of their sects.
I still couldn't believe these geezers were the Buddha Venerable and the Taeguk Sword King.
As night deepened...
Darkness settled over the Namgung estate, and lights flickered on here and there.
My hall was no exception.
In my hand was a cup of liquor, filled to the brim.
I raised it high.
In response, all fifty men raised their cups.
I said to them, “Let's have a drink!”
What would later be known as Cheonryongjeon.
The first gathering of the strongest fighting force wasn't all that grand, but it was a fairly bountiful start to their inaugural night of camaraderie.
After the toast, as I was about to sneak a sip, the one-armed old man next to me snatched my cup.
“Hey now. You can't drink.”
“Huh? Didn't you say trying a sip wouldn't be bad? That it's a cure for all ills or whatever—you're the one who said that, you old coot!”
“I said trying it wouldn't be bad. Never said you could drink it.”
I couldn't find a retort and just let him take the cup.
Tch. Thought I'd get a taste after so long.
I turned to look at the maid sisters.
“Heh heh.”
I never knew they enjoyed cutting loose like this.
If I'd realized sooner, I'd have thrown parties like this more often.
Once the liquor started flowing, the maid sisters turned into completely different people.
Laughing, chattering, singing, dancing, mocking me mercilessly, spilling stories of me drawing maps on the bedsheets as a kid, shitting my pants...
Ahem!
Anyway, dredging up memories I'd rather forget...
Thanks to them, the courtyard's energy was through the roof.
Being told I couldn't drink at a bash like this made me feel like the odd one out.
I sat next to the old man and poured him a drink.
“Haha! Pour me a good one, young master.”
“Heh heh, sure thing. Liquor from a young master hits different.”
What?
“Master? I haven't accepted yet.”
“I've already paid up. By the way, today's tab is ten thousand silver taels.”
What...?
Ten thousand taels? Just for a drinking party? That's way more than what I siphoned off from the Tianxia Battlefield goods.
One drink first.
Then forget it all.
“Let's drink!”
I raised my cup to down it.
But Geum Dondong swiftly snatched it from my hand.
“Heh heh, young master. Even a master has rules. I'll be taking this cup.”
Damn! Looks like he'd break every law in the book, but enforces them on me.
Geum Dondong gazed steadily at Namgung Daeso's irritated face.
To the seasoned merchant's eyes, the young man's antics were utterly endearing.
Wonder if my grandson's about this age now.
Imagining his grandson raising a cup to him and calling for a drink, Geum Dondong shuddered and downed the liquor in one gulp.
That's a bit creepy.
“So why do you want revenge on Elder Namgung Cheon, old man?”
Geum Dondong furrowed one eyebrow at Namgung Daeso's sudden probing question.
It dredged up a shameful memory from the past, one he'd hoped to bury forever.
“You wanna know?”
“You won't let me drink, so spill the story at least.”
From the side, the two looked like a grandson sweetly begging his grandpa for an old tale.
If this weren't a drinking party, that is.
“Don't wanna? Then give the cup back.”
Geum Dondong tilted the cup.
Tonight's brew was...
Sweet.
Geum Dondong looked up at the sky.
A full moon hung there, stars twinkling.
A refreshing breeze blew, and slurp.
Liquor was sweet as ever.
Today, even voicing those old memories wouldn't leave a bitter taste.
“Young master, have you ever had so much money you couldn't even count it?”
I was all set to enjoy the tale when I stared blankly at the old man.
“If I had, would I be living like this?!”
“Heh heh, true. With that much, you wouldn't be scraping by, watching everyone's faces.”
This geezer...
Liquor's making him poke at my nerves.
“One day, I came to and realized I had an endless pile of cash.”
I tore into a pig's hind leg and shoved it in my mouth.
Never been into hearing others brag.
My stomach hurt.
Not the bottom one—the top.
“Once I realized that, the world felt boring.”
Uh...
Sounds familiar. Who told me something like that? Can't recall.
“So? Did you go on a money rampage?”
“Heh heh, I did. A total shitshow.”
For real? Just tossing it out there.
Anyway, why'd it get quiet all of a sudden?
I glanced around.
Sure enough, everyone had gathered around us, ears perked.
With the old man pausing, shouts erupted from all sides demanding the next part.
“So what happened?!”
“Ah, I'm dying of curiosity! Hurry!”
“Gold King's cup is empty. Someone fill it quick.”
“You do it, you bastard.”
“Should I?”
Once the cup was refilled, Geum Dondong downed it smoothly and continued.
“That's when I thought—maybe because I was a merchant. Merchants always have to watch the martial artists' moods.”
Even now, he wasn't sure why he'd done it back then. Inferiority complex, perhaps.
“I'll flatten their noses with money! Back then, I believed nothing couldn't be bought.”
“So you hired ronin?”
“Or famous martial artists?”
“Some hidden master?”
Questions flew before he could continue.
“Nah, that's not a money rampage. I did that stuff all the time anyway.”
Geum Dondong added.
“This is why beggars are...” Tsk tsk.
“...”
The beggars all shut up.
“So, what did you do?”
I subtly prodded him.
Honestly, I hadn't asked directly, but I wondered the same as everyone else.
A regular guy without martial arts had few ways to take on martial artists.
“I bought 'em. Money's power to buy, after all.”
A few who already knew what he'd bought sipped their drinks and spoke up.
“Heh heh, madman.”
“Only the War Ghost could think like that.”
It was Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja.
In return, they got a wave of complaints.
Because Geum Dondong had clammed up.
“Argh! If you're gonna mooch, eat quietly!”
“Right! Don't interrupt, let's drink!”
“If only you guys know, that's unfair. We're curious too!”
The two old men protested innocently.
“Why pick on us?”
“Am I the only moocher?! Damn it.”
Feeling better at their grumbling, Geum Dondong grinned and spoke.
“I bought up all sorts of legendary treasures. Legendary armor, legendary swords, legendary hidden weapons, legendary... anything slapped with 'legendary,' I snapped it up.”
Armor of the Dragon Scale made from the scales of a jiao dragon.
Undergarments from thousand-year silk.
Poison fireworks crafted by the Tang Clan's founding master.
Dragon-Slaying Sword twisted from dragon tendons.
Venom-coated Dragon Killer from a snake that slew a dragon.
Full-body guard of a hundred layers of thinned millennial cold iron.
Golden Dragon Helm worn by a great general who conquered the north.
Each one could spark a war if revealed in the martial world.
Treasures beyond any price tag.
“Bought 'em all with cash. My endless fortune started running dry. Then I went hunting.”
Gulp.
Swallows echoed everywhere.
If this guy weren't the Gold King, they'd be spitting and calling bullshit.
But the Buddha Venerable and Taeguk Sword King had vouched for it.
It started as a casual question with low expectations.
“So! What happened?!”
Now everyone wanted to know—I voiced it.
“Fought martial artists.”
Could a regular beat a martial artist? Impossible.
What about one with a peerless treasured sword? Still no.
What if not just one, but covered head to toe?
“Of course, I didn't start with the strong ones. Began with third-rate rogues.”
Found some local thugs, fought and won.
“Then second-rates.”
Won just as easily.
“Figured with all that gear, it was natural. Next, first-rates.”
Now it was different.
Third- and second-rates weren't much above normals, but first-rates earned the 'martial artist' name.
“Couldn't see the punches coming. Froze in terror for the first time, just shut my eyes.”
Opened them, and it was over.
The second-rate's fist that hit the Dragon Scale Armor was bent at a weird angle; he was foaming at the mouth, out cold.
“Confidence built. Went after first-rates.”
In the martial world, only first-rates and up are called experts.
“Sword gleamed. From the side it's one thing, but head-on, my legs shook, pissed myself a bit. Still, with some experience, I drew and swung.”
Treasured sword or not, swung by a normal's strength.
Sword bounced off; the expert's blade grazed me.
Unimaginable shock hit my body.
“Thought I was done for, then the ten million tael Nine Heavens Poison on my elbow tip grazed him. Dumb luck.”
That ended it.
“Realized then—even martial artists are just flesh when poisoned.”
Peak experts and super peaks too—hard to apply the poison, but winnable.
“That's when I met that bastard Namgung Cheon.”
Geum Dondong, mid-story, reached for his cup—empty.
Pat pat.
Someone hurried to refill it.
Gulp!
He downed it refreshingly and continued.
“A real monster.”