“I thought he was dead earlier.”
Jang Geon, idly steering Jojo across the open plain, turned his head at Yi Hwan’s tossed remark. The boy squinted against the sunlight, jostling with his wounded father behind him.
“Right? What kind of horse sleeps with its tongue hanging out like that?”
Jang Geon gave a short laugh. The kid must have seen Jojo this morning, sprawled on the ground with his mouth gaping open. He tapped Jojo’s neck and said,
“He’s a strange one. Sometimes he startles even me. One of these days I’ll sell him off and buy a proper horse.”
Jojo snorted, as if to say he’d be glad to be rid of Jang Geon. Yi Hwan turned to watch the exchange, then craned back to glance at his father.
“Doesn’t it kind of remind you of Grandfather and Gungun?”
“Gungun? The ox?”
“Yeah. He acted like a person too. Grandfather was always scolding him.”
Yi Yun chuckled, amused at the boy’s memory.
“Your grandfather’s been gone over five years, and you still remember that?”
“Of course. Grandfather and Gungun were so funny together. How could I forget?”
“...Right. Of course.”
They say childhood feels long because what is a short moment for an adult is an entire life for a child. Watching Yi Yun’s faint, bitter smile, Jang Geon sensed that he wanted to bury his memories of the Central Plains. Most who came to the New Continent probably did. To blot out pain and disgrace with new lives in a new land.
And Jang Geon was no exception.
The boy began recounting tales of the old man and the ox as if they’d happened only yesterday. Yi Yun played along with light responses, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach wound, while Jang Geon let his eyes rest on the gentle rise of hills and listened in silence. After a while, he even found it entertaining.
“...So Gungun sat down and bellowed at Grandfather, like telling him to knock it off. Grandfather looked ready to swing the cane right then. I was terrified—what if Gungun got hit? You know how much that long switch hurts. Neither of them looked like they’d back down...”
Jang Geon suddenly pulled Jojo’s reins, stopping the horse. Yi Yun and Hwan rode ahead, unaware, until Jojo let out a long whinny. They turned back, puzzled.
Yi Yun frowned.
“...The village is still a ways off. What’s wrong?”
Jang Geon didn’t answer. He tilted his head, listening. Unease prickled through Yi Yun as he tried to ask again—only to see Jang Geon drop from his saddle, slip off his straw hat, and press his ear to the ground.
Hwan muttered, “He’s going to get dirt in his ear...”
Jang Geon rose, vaulted back onto Jojo, and said flatly,
“Someone’s coming. A lot of them.”
Before Yi Yun could respond, Jang Geon spurred Jojo toward the hill they’d crossed earlier. Yi Yun startled, then hurried after him.
From the rise, Jang Geon narrowed his eyes and scanned the distance. Yi Yun followed, straining to see, but his eyes caught nothing.
“What do you mean, someone’s—”
“There!”
Hwan shot up a hand. Yi Yun followed the boy’s finger and at last spotted faint specks stirring on the horizon.
“You heard that... from there?”
Jang Geon ignored his incredulity, focusing his inner energy into his eyes. The shapes sharpened—riders charging, weapons slung, faces grimy and furious. They weren’t coming with good intentions. Yi Yun’s face drained.
“Could it be those bandits’ comrades from yesterday? If that wasn’t all of them...”
It was possible. Which meant including the dead, the gang numbered close to forty. That was a sizable band for the Unorthodox side, more than the Martial Alliance would normally tolerate—unless they were newly formed.
And among them was a familiar face.
“That bastard...”
A man with his nose wrapped in bandages. Jin Yangseok, the one whose nose Jang Geon had ground into the floor at the inn. His older brother wasn’t visible, but somehow the useless whelp had escaped. Perhaps the branch chief had cut him loose.
“M-maybe they’re just travelers going the same way,” Yi Yun offered, trying for hope as he stared at the distant figures. Jang Geon understood. The man had only yesterday been gutted by bandits. Of course he wanted to see things in a brighter light.
But even young Hwan, hearing the tremor in his father’s voice, darted anxious eyes between them.
Jang Geon chuckled at that clear gaze.
“They’re not fellow travelers. Not with spears and blades in hand.”
“T-then... all of them are...!”
Even at a glance, the specks numbered over thirty. Yi Yun’s face tightened. He knew Jang Geon had felled more than a dozen yesterday, but this was three times that many.
“Then shouldn’t we head for the village...?”
“With numbers like that, they’ll just overrun a small village.”
“...Then let’s run. The distance is big enough—we can shake them.”
“Not with you in that state. Ride hard and your wound will tear. We couldn’t stitch it properly without needles. Start bleeding again and you’ll die.”
Despair washed across Yi Yun’s face. Jang Geon might cut through the horde, but he and Hwan wouldn’t survive a stray strike.
His expression said as much. Jang Geon found himself smiling faintly—Yi Yun’s face showed every shift of thought.
“You two head for the village. I’ll draw them off and follow.”
“Alone?”
“I was alone yesterday too. Just go.”
Yi Yun faltered.
“But it’s dangerous! There are so many—”
Jang Geon tilted his hat back down, hiding his eyes.
“Take care of the boy. Find a physician in the village.”
Yi Yun hesitated, then tightened his hold on Hwan and tugged the reins. His horse plodded slowly, wound dragging him down. Then he stopped again, turned back.
“Why not just run? You’re fine. You could outrun them.”
“Didn’t you say there’d be payment if I delivered you? Stop dithering and go.”
“...I’ll wait ahead, then. I’ll prepare food and a room. Please come quickly.”
He spurred on, this time faster. Hwan peeked over his father’s side, staring back at Jang Geon standing tall against the blue sky and wispy clouds. In that figure he felt both loneliness and unshakable resolve.
When they were far enough, Jang Geon raised his head. The riders had closed the distance. They slowed when they spotted him atop the hill.
One middle-aged man urged his horse forward and shouted up,
“Greetings!”
Jang Geon held Jojo’s reins in silence. The man bellowed again,
“I am Gam Sangcheong! I’ve a question to ask you!”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
“We’ve been tracking the fiend who killed my brother! And it leads straight to where you stand! How should I take that? If you know something, speak now!”
His voice rang with rage. Jang Geon barked back,
“Your brother’s name Gam Soon-deok?”
Gam Sangcheong’s eyes widened. Behind him, the bandits whipped out their weapons.
“...How do you know my brother’s name?”
Jang Geon untied the bundle lashed to Jojo’s saddle and tossed it downslope. The cloth-wrapped head rolled to Gam Sangcheong’s feet. He leapt down, unwrapped it, and froze at the sight of his brother’s blue, lifeless face.
Silence stretched. The bandits glanced at one another, then at their chief. One edged closer.
“...Captain. It’s him. What do we do?”
Gam Sangcheong said nothing. Then the man with the bandaged nose slunk up.
“That’s him. He’s the one who ambushed my brother.”
The bandit nodded.
“He dropped Jin Cheongseok in one strike?”
“If not for the ambush, my brother would never have—”
“A loss is a loss. It means he wasn’t worth much.”
“Y-yes. That’s true.”
Jin Yangseok shrank back. Freed by the branch chief’s deal, he had gone to the Red Sand Brigade, contacts long cultivated, for revenge on Jang Geon and to wipe out the branch office. They’d assembled quickly—and now stumbled on Gam Soon-deok’s death.
Gam Sangcheong carefully rewrapped the head and held it close.
“Second Banner Captain.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Don’t kill him. Bring him to me alive. I want to hear who’s behind him before he dies.”
The Second Banner Captain drew his sword and roared,
“Brothers! Avenge the Third Banner Captain and our fallen!”
“Waaaa!”
The bandits spurred forward, blades flashing, voices raised in fury. At the front, the Second Banner Captain leveled his long sword, its edge glimmering red-black with inner energy.
From the hilltop, Jang Geon drew his own blade in one smooth motion. Jojo reared and screamed, then thundered downslope like a boulder breaking free. Horse and rider slammed toward the bandits.
The Second Banner Captain sneered. So the man thought felling the Third made him bold enough to charge? Of the three, the Third had always been weakest, his demonic arts slowest to mature.
The Captain’s eyes gleamed blood-red. He swung his sword, shouting,
“Fool!”
Steel rang. A straw hat tumbled skyward—followed by the Captain’s head.
The bandits’ eyes went wide. They saw Jang Geon pass through, only a small cut across his brow, while their Captain crumpled, headless. Before they could react, Jang Geon and Jojo burst clean through their ranks.
“...What?!”
“Where’s he going?”
They blinked, stunned, as he galloped on. Gam Sangcheong, clutching his brother’s head, finally roared,
“You idiots! After him!”