What Happened in a Tavern in Henan Province (1)
Thud!
Silence swept through the room in an instant.
No one had seen Jin Yigang throw his punch. He'd been hidden by his own massive frame, and while it had happened in the blink of an eye, missing it entirely made no sense.
Sam Gwang-ho, a full head taller than Jin Yigang, had been launched a good ten feet into the air.
And now Sam Gwang-ho wasn't moving.
Word was he'd been knocked out cold.
So he did complete the Giant Spirit Demon Art… but that bastard never gave him a chance to draw it out.
Namgung Won-mu clicked his tongue.
But the thought lasted only a moment before a cold shiver ran down his spine.
If that punch had carried even a shred of internal force, Sam Gwang-ho's skull would have shattered like a dropped melon.
Carelessness invites defeat.
It was a moment that reaffirmed one of the martial world's unwritten laws.
Just then, the innkeeper arrived with liquor and food.
"Would anyone happen to know how to use Ice Technique?" he asked, looking around the group.
"I do."
Xuanhuan Byeok raised her hand.
"Freeze this for me, would you?"
Jin Yigang held out a bowl of water.
"What for?"
"I'll show you myself. Just freeze it first."
"Fine."
Xuanhuan Byeok took the bowl in both hands and poured her inner energy into it.
Crack!
The water inside froze solid in moments.
"Thanks."
Jin Yigang took the bowl and struck it with the sword he'd received from the old woman.
The ice split into fine pieces.
He scooped the shattered ice into a liquor cup, filled it to the brim, set it beside the bottle, and poured the drink over it.
"That…"
Ji Yak-ran stared at the cup in astonishment.
"Drink it like that and the flavor doubles."
Jin Yigang broke into a wide grin and raised his cup.
"Ahh! This is art."
Just then, those who had stepped out earlier came back inside.
Namgung Ji-yong was first, pressing money into Namgung Won-mu's hand, which Namgung Won-mu promptly tossed into the center of the room.
One after another the rest filed in, until twenty million nyang and the map lay heaped on the middle of the table.
"Isn't it about time you delivered the Imperial Decree?" Jin Yigang asked, looking at Yul Han-cheon.
"I shall deliver the Imperial Decree now."
Yul Han-cheon sprang to his feet and drew out the Emperor's edict.
"All Kings, receive the Imperial Mandate!"
At once the Nine Kings rose and knelt where they stood.
Jin Yigang knelt down along with them.
Yul Han-cheon read the decree aloud.
You have labored long in devotion to the Empire and its great cause.
When word reached Us that the map leading to the Invincible-King's Great Land had surfaced, We deliberated—for it was obvious the Central Plains would become a battlefield of contention.
That you would stand at the vanguard of that war goes without saying.
And so, after much thought on how to minimize the bloodshed, We have decided to send the Devil Sword Barrel.
First, settle the matter with the Barrel.
Once a victor is decided, the defeated shall devote themselves wholly to aiding the winner on the journey to the destination.
Bear this in mind: should the winner fail to reach the destination—should he be slain along the way or lose the map—the responsibility shall fall upon the defeated, each and every one.
Good fortune to you all.
"That concludes the reading."
When the recitation ended, the group rose and returned to their seats.
"Take one each."
Jin Yigang kept a single sheet of silk for himself and passed the rest down the line.
"What's this for?"
asked Jeok Sa-in, seated beside him.
"Just pass them along."
"…Understood."
Jeok Sa-in kept one sheet and passed the rest on.
Soon everyone held a piece of silk.
"Now for the second condition. The second condition is the position of the muzzle."
Jin Yigang pulled the Devil Sword Barrel toward himself.
"You mean to press it right against the heart?"
Namgung Won-mu asked.
"Cowards, the lot of you…"
Jin Yigang smirked.
"Then what?"
"You all know the world is unfair.
No—come to think of it, you'd have no idea, having lived your whole lives at the top.
Anyway, the world is unfair.
My take? Unfairness is simply the way of nature.
Being born to an emperor or a tycoon? Jackpot.
Born to parents too poor to feed you rice gruel? Total bust.
And worse than that, being born a slave's child.
But there's exactly one thing that's fair.
Death.
Rich or poor, everyone dies.
No amount of money, no depth of martial power changes it.
Nobody lives forever.
Sure, good medicine buys you a few extra years—but that's all they are, a few years.
Death is guaranteed.
And that death is the second condition."
"Death…"
"Death?"
"Death is the condition?"
The Kings tilted their heads, unable to fathom what death could possibly mean in this context.
"The muzzle doesn't stop just short of the heart.
It goes in your mouth—right up against the back of your throat."
"Gah!"
"Ugh!"
"Hahk!"
The Kings cried out before they could stop themselves.
Inside the mouth.
If the Devil fired from the throat, it would punch straight through the four lethal points at the back of the neck—instant death, without a moment to react.
Inside the mouth, even the Indestructible Diamond Body was useless.
Death was certain.
Their eyes darted between the Devil Sword Barrel, the money on the table, and Jin Yigang.
"The—the Life-and-Death Sword Judgement!"
Yul Han-cheon breathed the words like a groan.
Suddenly a scene from the past flickered through his mind like a lantern show.
It must have been a tavern in the slums of some pleasure district in Henan Province.
He couldn't remember why he'd gone inside.
In a den reeking of poppy smoke and stale drink, two men sat facing each other.
Between them lay a Devil Sword Barrel, and beside the barrel, two nyang of silver rolled loose.
And on the table directly in front of each man, a single character had been carved: Life and Death.
Both men's hands were bound to either side of the table.
On the right, gamblers crowded around placing their bets—a wager on which of the two would survive.
"Rinse!"
The man seated before the character for Death said. His hair was a filthy tangle, but from his voice and the face showing through the strands, he looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties.
What's a young pup like that doing here?
Someone muttered, clicking his tongue.
The man beside him poured a yellowish liquid and held it to the prisoner's mouth.
After rinsing, the man shouted "Seven!" and spread his jaws wide.
The others crammed the Barrel's muzzle deep into his open mouth—so deep it nearly triggered his gag reflex—and waited.
The gamblers on the right began laying down their money.
In moments, thousands of nyang had piled up, a staggering sum compared to the two nyang sitting beside the Barrel.
"Insertion."
As the shout fell, the room went quiet.
One man took up a Life-and-Death Sword and stepped to the front of the barrel.
He glanced briefly at the man holding his mouth open, then drove the sword into the seventh lethal point.
Not a flicker of hesitation.
Click!
The sound that decided life and death slipped out of the Devil Sword Barrel.
"Yeahhh!"
"Damn it!"
One side erupted in cheers while the other spat curses—the cursers being those who had bet on the man who'd just bitten down on the fourth point, the losing side.
The Barrel moved to the man across the table.
Before him sat the character for Life.
His hands were bound too, and with a cry of "Three!", the muzzle entered his mouth.
Click!
The Life-and-Death Sword slid home.
Thwack!
Blood burst from the back of the man's neck.
The winners' cheers and the losers' howls crashed over each other.
The survivor scooped up the two nyang—enough for an ordinary man to live ten days on—and left with a parting word: see you in ten days.
"Let's begin, Deputy Minister Yul."
Jin Yigang said.
"If the others could share their—"
"The game started the moment you read the decree, Yul.
No opinions needed.
If death scares you…"
Jin Yigang looked each King over in turn, then murmured, low as a whisper:
"just curl up quietly and drop out."
"You seem to think you can weasel out of the first round yourself."
Eum Gu-yeo said, eyes boring into him.
"Nobody's forcing you to play.
I said it before: if you don't want in, quit yapping and step aside."
"Tae-wang!"
Eum Gu-yeo called to Namgung Won-mu.
"We gave our word to play.
We cannot renege now.
And I refuse to accept that that man has more nerve than I do.
I will play."
Namgung Won-mu declared his participation.
"Will the rest of you state your intentions as well?"
Yul Han-cheon asked, looking around the group.
"I shall play as well."
Gul Han-so raised his hand.
"Me too."
Jeok Sa-in's hand went up after Gul Han-so's.
"I'll play too."
"Me too."
"Count me in."
Ji Yak-ran, Dang Chwi-ryeo, and Xuanhuan Byeok joined in.
"No choice, then. I'm in."
Eum Gu-yeo raised his hand.
"Same here."
"Me—me too."
Xuanhuan Man-so, then even the half-conscious Sam Gwang-ho raised his hand.
"Heh!"
Jin Yigang grinned, flashing white teeth.
His smile had a bite to it, like a snow-covered field in midwinter.
"Now, each of you carve your number."
"Four's mine."
Jin Yigang claimed first.
"So you believe the old saying—that choosing an ill-omened number improves your odds of survival."
Sam Gwang-ho said, eyeing him.
"Lose to me one more time and you call me hyung-nim. Got it?"
"…"
"You've lost twice already, you bastard."
"Next time, I'll kill you for certain."
"You'll call me hyung-nim, right?"
"If I lose, I will."
"Everyone here heard it.
Break that oath and I'll shove a rock up your ass—no wait, straight into your skull.
Remember that."
Jin Yigang drew his knife and carved a character into the table.
But what he carved wasn't the number four—it was the character for Death.
What—?
Yul Han-cheon's eyes went wide as he stared at Jin Yigang.
It couldn't be…
Suddenly, the shaggy-haired man he'd seen in that shabby tavern eight years ago superimposed itself over Jin Yigang's face.
"Long nights make for long dreams. Let's start."
Jin Yigang said.
Yul Han-cheon rose to his feet.
"We will begin with the ten-sword barrel first.
There are ten lethal points, and one of them will fire—without exception."
Yul Han-cheon retrieved the Devil he had loaded earlier and seated it again.
Then he set out two dice and a dice cup.
"Does anyone wish to throw?" he asked, setting the dice down.
"No."
"Proceed."
"Very well."
Yul Han-cheon dropped the dice into the cup and swirled it around.
The cup itself resembled the Devil Sword Barrel in shape.
"The dice will now determine a number.
They are specially made, marked only from zero to five.
The sum of the two numbers thrown becomes each player's designated number.
Whoever is called must choose which lethal point to drive the Life-and-Death Sword into.
Is everyone ready?"
Yul Han-cheon looked across the Kings.
Gulp.
Someone swallowed hard.
"Let us begin."
Namgung Won-mu said.
Tension was written plainly across his face as he regarded the Devil Sword Barrel.
One of ten.
Going first meant the lowest odds of the firing point falling on you—an advantage.
"I'll throw."
Whoosh!
Yul Han-cheon hurled the dice onto the board.
