A mountain far from human traffic.
A strangely assorted group was walking a mountain path.
A monk and a beggar and a beggar.
Among them the monk spoke to the old beggar.
“......So how much longer does Senior Tiger Beggar intend to follow this humble monk?”
At that, the old beggar with the coarse beard pulled up a corner of his mouth in a grin.
“Oh ho! Who am I following? I am only looking after our young beggar here, that is all.”
“......You need not look after me, so I shall now be off to Wuhan......”
“Would you look at this! You glare like that, and this lowly student of murim, this beggar bastard, no, this young beggar, trembles all over!”
The old beggar threw an arm over the young beggar's shoulder and declared it grandly.
At this the monk and the young beggar exchanged glances.
‘......My apologies, Sir.’
‘......Think nothing of it.’
Of course, the old beggar did not care in the slightest.
“Gwahaha! They say life is living alone and going alone, but I disagree! How much more enjoyable it is together!”
Watching the old beggar in high spirits, the young beggar squeezed his eyes shut.
‘Boss......! You said you would let me rest after this mission this year......!’
The terms had been so unbelievable that he had reviewed them more than three times.
He had quietly asked acquaintances at the main branch, confirming the Boss' intent again and again.
‘Escort the Young Palace Head of the Southern Barbarian Sun Palace to Xinyang. Once the task is done, you may rest until the new year.’
It was the tail end of summer.
Which meant he could rest for nearly half a year.
The Young Palace Head had set out for Wuhan long ago, and Xinyang sat at the southernmost tip of Henan Province.
Though it was in Henan, Xinyang was closer to Wuhan, the provincial seat of Hubei, than to Zhengzhou, its own provincial seat.
If the Young Palace Head merely reached Wuhan, Xinyang would be no time at all.
......And so he had let his guard down.
Who could have known the Young Palace Head would vanish suddenly when he had all but arrived at Wuhan?
‘I should have gone out to meet him from the start!’
He had tried in a rush to use the main branch's information network, but this old beggar had made it impossible.
The result was precisely this strange companionship.
The young beggar, Bang Si-jeong, let out a sigh and said,
“......Elder Yeom, the sun is setting soon. It would be best if you returned now.”
The old beggar, Elder Yeom.
The seven knots dangling at his waist spoke of his standing.
The Beggar's Gang.
The one Gang among the great sects commonly called the Nine Sects One Gang.
Seven knots symbolize an Elder of that Beggar's Gang.
More than that, this reckless beggar was no ordinary Elder either.
Of the Beggar's Gang's Elders, he was the Tiger of the Dragon, Tiger, Wind, and Cloud, of whom there were only four.
The Tiger Beggar, Yeom Tak-gang.
A beggar of such renown shrugged his shoulders.
“And what does our monk intend to do?”
“This humble monk is still......”
“Heh! Then I am still as well! Si-jeong, we will have to walk a bit more.”
“N-No. There is no need for Senior Tiger Beggar to trouble yourself......!”
“Enough, enough! Come now, let's go!”
The monk who squeezed his eyes shut and chanted sutras was a pitiable sight.
In truth, his own ties with Yeom Tak-gang ran long enough that he had brought it on himself.
But by what sin must a monk of Shaolin's high repute be tormented by this wearisome old man?
He had literally done nothing but happen to catch Yeom Tak-gang's eye a few days ago.
At this, Bang Si-jeong made up his mind.
At least one of them should live.
“Elder Yeom.”
“Hm? What?”
“A word, please.”
At Bang Si-jeong's rather serious request, Yeom Tak-gang matched his pace with a sly look on his face.
“I've thrown up a rough qi barrier. Speak.”
“How long do you intend to travel with us? We have work to do as well.”
“That work doesn't start until the fellow reaches Wuhan, does it?”
“......You lost him, did you not.”
“Kuhuhu! You should have kept better watch, then.”
Bang Si-jeong ground his teeth.
Yeom Tak-gang spread his fingers toward him.
A thick-knuckled index and middle finger wagged.
“However it happened, in the end you lost him. And he was rather an honored guest.”
“......Yes.”
“Now you have two choices left. Either you grind away under me for about four years, or you go quietly into the Heavenly Martial Academy.”
“I have told you before that I dislike both.”
“And I have told you before that you would grind away under me for ten years.”
“......”
Yeom Tak-gang pushed his face toward the disgusted Bang Si-jeong.
The amusement that had been faintly hanging there vanished in an instant.
Yeom Tak-gang spoke to him as though he were truly pathetic.
“I saw your promise and entrusted you to the Wuhan main branch, and you sprawled out living the good life. Do you think that is why I sent you up there?”
“So long as a beggar begs well, what more must he do well?”
“Begging well, you say? A fellow who can neither weep pitifully nor smile brightly.”
“......”
“Boy, do what you are good at.”
Yeom Tak-gang clicked his tongue.
Bang Si-jeong let out a long sigh.
‘It may be a foreseen course...... but it is a shame.’
Idleness and ease.
Bang Si-jeong had no choice but to admit...... that those were not lives permitted to him.
“......Understood. I will decide before this matter ends.”
“Oh, truly?”
“Yes. In exchange, let the companionship end here.”
“Why?”
“......”
“Nnngh! But aren't you curious? Hm? Aren't you curious?”
Of course Bang Si-jeong was curious as well.
Because the identity of that monk who had been tormented by Yeom Tak-gang for days was hardly ordinary either.
His dharma name was Deok-myeong.
And in the murim he was called by another name.
“Bodhidharma Hall Head. Not just any monk, but the Bodhidharma Hall Head. Do you know how long it has been since the Bodhidharma Hall Head came outside Shaolin?”
“Officially, I understand the last time was when Elder Nun Sang-wol of the Emei Sect passed into nirvana. Fifteen years ago. Unofficially......”
“Ugh, how do you keep all of that in your head?”
“Grrgh......”
In any case, Deok-myeong was a figure whose outside activity was that scarce.
In truth, Bang Si-jeong was just as curious.
But he could not be distracted when he had not even handled his own task properly.
“Should I just ask him outright? He might tell us out of merciful Buddha-heart.”
“......Please do not, and let us stop here as I said.”
“Tch. No fun.”
Yeom Tak-gang waved a hand and dispersed the qi barrier.
He grumbled, but he too was an elder of the orthodox murim.
There was no reason to go out of his way to interfere with something Shaolin was doing quietly.
‘It isn't even the Eight Clans.’
Watching Yeom Tak-gang walk toward Deok-myeong, Bang Si-jeong weighed the days ahead.
He had made up his mind, but the choice still remained.
He was continuing to mull over the next four years when.
HUUUM—
Qi rippled for an instant, and then.
[Follow quietly.]
“......Hm?”
At the single strand of telepathy, he raised his head hurriedly.
Deok-myeong and Yeom Tak-gang, who had clearly been walking ahead, were nowhere to be seen.
***
Jeong I-shin, gazing past the iron bars, tilted his head.
What are you staring at on a first meeting...... was far too rude.
“Who are you?”
At the question that emerged after brief deliberation, one bandit sprang out in front of Jeong I-shin.
“My name is Hwang Gong-mang!”
“No, not you.”
“Yes! Not me. I came forward to tell you about the fellow inside the prison!”
He dropped straight to his knees and pressed his head down.
“......And who are you?”
Hwang Gong-mang.
He was precisely the something-like-a-strategist of the Ink Tiger Keep that Jeong I-shin had been looking for.
He had studied letters at a village school for a full year, apparently.
“......Twenty years ago?”
“Yes! Master!”
Jeong I-shin nodded after hearing Hwang Gong-mang's history.
He could see the bandits around him letting out sounds of admiration.
He was beginning to get a vague sense of the standard of living here, and of education.
“All right, Hwang Gong-mang, greatest intellect of the Ink Tiger Keep.”
“Yes, Master!”
“When I asked earlier, didn't you say there was no strategist here?”
“There is no strategist!”
“What is this bastard?”
At the ‘bastard’ that slipped out of him on its own, the ground gave a THUD!
Hwang Gong-mang drove his head into the dirt with great spirit and said,
“There is no post called strategist! However, since I am the one most familiar with ink, I served as something like a steward!”
Every affair of the mountain keep was decided by the Boss, he said.
A thorough one-man rule.
Hwang Gong-mang seemed to be about the level of a household tool.
Of course, it was not an important fact to Jeong I-shin.
“So what's that, then? Why is he locked up?”
“He is a madman, no, a person, who came to the keep on his own two feet asking for food.”
“What?”
“He had a bout with the Boss, then withdrew in the middle of it saying it was dull. After that he told us to prepare a meal......”
Which meant he had gone into that prison on his own feet as well.
‘What a half-wit.’
He had known the man inside the prison was at about the Boss' level.
So he had been curious how on earth they had caught him, and it turned out he had walked in himself.
‘All right! Let's just ignore him.’
Having decided cleanly, Jeong I-shin said,
“For now, call every man who uses a blade.”
“Yes, Master!”
Hwang Gong-mang was quick on the uptake.
He seemed to have a fair amount of say as well.
Thanks to that, before long every villainous-looking man was gathered in one place.
Even the ones who came in scowling somehow turned meek-eyed once they arrived.
Sturdy men knelt in a single row.
Standing before them, Jeong I-shin said,
“If you go down along that mountain path there'll be quite a few corpses. Go collect them and bury them.”
“Yes!”
Hwang Gong-mang did not ask why.
“Is there anyone disloyal among these?”
“There is not!”
“Really? You're all bandits.”
“The Ink Tiger Keep was originally a small keep that collected modest tolls. The tone changed after the new Boss came, and everyone who eagerly followed that tone was, just a moment ago......”
“They died.”
Probably by my hand.
“Hmm.”
Of course Jeong I-shin did not believe Hwang Gong-mang's words.
It was said the unorthodox and heretical would lie first even with a blade at their throat.
They lied out of habit, then thought about the consequences afterward.
‘I meant to stay a few days and dig up information.’
The structure of the jianghu's forces, which he had studied so hard.
How much of it had changed.
Whether the old men's sects were well.
And...... what that damned traitor bastard was doing.
There was much to look into step by step.
But at this rate it would be difficult to stay here with a settled mind.
The bandits' martial prowess was not threatening, but their numbers were too many.
If he was not going to kill them all, he had to control them.
“Hmmm......”
It would be good to have someone to control them in his place.
Should he pick a new Boss? Hwang Gong-mang was too weak.
It was the moment he thought that.
SCREEEECH—!
The sound of metal twisting.
At the sight his eyes turned to instinctively, an outrageous scene met him.
CREEEAK— CRUNCH!
The prison.
The man who had been lying inside was prying the iron bars apart.
When he rose on both feet, his frame was truly immense.
He wore a sleeveless vest-style martial arts uniform.
The bronze forearms tearing the bars apart were taut enough to burst.
“Uh-uh......! M-Master!”
Hwang Gong-mang edged back behind Jeong I-shin.
The man finally came out of the prison and strode this way.
‘Five times Heo Ung...... six times?’
From the bearing he showed, he could not be certain.
That was the nature of the power called inner arts.
Qi was impartial, but inner arts were not.
‘Yang qi?’
While he was thinking that they were distinctive inner arts.
The man stopped in front of Jeong I-shin.
He was a head taller. A huge frame recalling the Boss.
He spoke with blazing eyes.
“I am Nam Tae-gang of the Southern Barbarian Sun Palace.”
“I am Jeong I-shin.”
“I request a spar with you.”
“Yeah. Declined.”
With that firm answer Jeong I-shin turned around.
Hwang Gong-mang, standing right behind him, had his mouth hanging open.
“S-Southern Barbarian!”
“What are you doing? Have the men gone to fetch the corpses?”
“Y-Yes, yes! I sent them!”
“And the people who were brought here as captives?”
“Th-They are doing odd jobs all over the keep......”
“Is that so? Hmm...... is there anywhere to rest?”
Hwang Gong-mang answered haltingly, glancing behind him again and again.
At the same moment he let out a shriek and sank down, a shadow fell across the ground, and.
THOOM!
Something dropped straight out of the sky.
Unlike the shrieking Hwang Gong-mang, Jeong I-shin's eyes were indifferent.
Nam Tae-gang, who had thrown himself down to block his path, said,
“I request a spar.”
“Declined.”
“I request a spar.”
“Declined.”
Nam Tae-gang's thick eyebrows twitched.
Lips shut in a firm line and cheeks trembling.
Everything laid his feelings bare without concealment.
‘He holds it in well.’
Even so he did not raise his momentum.
He was plainly keeping to a line.
At that, Jeong I-shin said,
“If I do it.”
“Hm?”
“If I spar with you, I mean.”
“Name anything. So long as it does not sully the Palace's honor, I will do whatever lies within my ability.”
The corner of Jeong I-shin's mouth lifted slightly.
He pointed at the trembling Hwang Gong-mang and asked,
“Can you look after these people for a while?”
“Governing the weak is the duty of the strong.”
“Good.”
Waving Hwang Gong-mang away, Jeong I-shin said,
“Come at me. Acting Boss.”