Bad Destiny and Good Destiny (2)
When the door slammed shut roughly and the presence of Sima Jian and Cheolwoo completely vanished, a long sigh escaped Gwan-hyo's lips.
"Haa… So it's come to this after all."
"Are you really going to let them go just like that?"
Gwan-pae asked in a rough voice.
"What else would I do if I didn't let them go? His heart has already left. And he fulfilled the promise perfectly. He subdued all ten of the Great Powers of the Demonic Path, and thanks to that, the main clan once again accomplished the grand ambition of unifying the Demonic Path."
"But letting him go like this is far too great a loss. For the sake of our future grand plan, we must not let him go."
Before Gwan-pae could finish speaking, the second son, Gwanjong, shook his head.
"No matter how valuable he is, we cannot afford to take that risk."
"Risky?"
Gwan-pae frowned deeply.
"Hmph! Even if he harbors some dissatisfaction, surely he wouldn't—"
Gwan-pae was absolutely confident that Sima Jian would never point his sword at them.
Gwanjong shouted in frustration.
"He brought his sword with him. The very sword he had never carried until now, despite being permitted to wear it anywhere and before anyone. Do you really not understand what that means? It means that if necessary, he is prepared to swing his sword to force his will through. He already made his intentions clear when he attempted to cut down the Hocheondan Order without hesitation when they blocked his path."
"Hmph! Even so, you and I are here protecting Father. The Hocheondan Order will join us immediately as well. No matter how strong he is, he can't defeat all of us."
At Gwan-pae's confident words, Gwanjong pressed both temples firmly and asked,
"Can you truly be sure?"
"What?"
"While you were living comfortably here, I watched him bring down the Ten Great Powers of the Demonic Path. I saw with my own eyes how he utterly crushed the Northern Heaven Sword Demon, the greatest master of the Demonic Path since the Heavenly Demon Founder. I had to witness the Northern Heaven Sword Demon fleeing for his life, barely clinging to it. If he truly set his mind to it…"
Gwanjong could not continue. It was too miserable to even put into words.
Seeing Gwanjong's furious expression, Gwan-pae flinched, then suddenly raised his voice as something came to mind.
"The Poison Blood Gu (Venom Blood Gu)! Wasn't there a Poison Blood Gu planted in him back at Black Dragon Valley? No matter how strong he is, he couldn't possibly deal with the Poison Blood Gu inside his body. If we use it, we could control him like a puppet—ack!"
Midway through his excited rambling, Gwan-pae screamed as he clutched his forehead. Blood poured down between his fingers.
"You pathetic fool!"
Gwan-hyo shouted angrily after smashing a wine bottle against Gwan-pae's forehead.
"Three years ago, I promised him that if he brought down the Ten Great Powers of the Demonic Path, I would set him free. What he smiled and handed me back then was a withered Poison Blood Gu. You watched it happen right beside me—have you truly forgotten?"
"Ah!"
A short groan escaped Gwan-pae's mouth as his memory finally returned.
"Our ties with him end here. Do not even think of doing anything unnecessary. Gwan-pae, you especially must remember this."
Worried that Gwan-pae might do something foolish, Gwan-hyo firmly warned him. Though visibly displeased, Gwan-pae nodded his head.
"What do you think will happen to the New Demonic Corps?"
After thinking briefly, Gwanjong replied bitterly,
"They'll be disbanded. They'll likely follow him and return to their homeland."
"Do everything you can to stop that. Even if he leaves, the New Demonic Corps is still the New Demonic Corps. Their experience and strength are assets we absolutely need."
"Understood."
Though he answered, Gwanjong's voice lacked strength.
* * *
"These appear to be about thirty pieces of porcelain made in Jingdezhen, along with silk. And on top of that—"
"Enough."
The fan master of Geumho Stronghold, Noyang, interrupted Yukgeum's report while picking his nose.
"So, how much are we talking about?"
"At the very least, they're worth twenty taels of gold."
At the mention of twenty taels of gold, Noyang, who had been reclining, sprang upright. The fat hanging under his chin jiggled.
"Twenty taels of gold? Hahaha! It's been a while since we caught a real prize. Well done."
Noyang's broadly smiling face gleamed with greed.
"We also captured several of the errand boys and porters from the merchant group."
"You captured prisoners? Why bother with prisoners? Just kill them."
Noyang waved his hand irritably.
"We only brought the young ones. If we sell them at the right price, we should make a decent profit."
"Oh? Good. Very good."
As if he had never been irritated, Noyang grinned widely and nodded repeatedly, then asked with a sly expression,
"But were there no women?"
"There were none."
"Tsk. Can't be helped. Still, let's change the women we have here. Sell off a few and bring in some new ones. I'm sick to death of seeing the same women every day."
"Understood."
Yukgeum bowed his head, hiding his contemptuous gaze.
"Oh, and dispose of today's loot as quickly as possible. The chief—no, the stronghold master—contacted us again saying he's short on funds."
"If we rush the sale, we may take a loss."
"That's fine. This is a critical moment that determines whether we secure a seat among the Eighteen Green Forest Strongholds or not. We can't afford to mess this up over a lack of money. Even if we take a small loss, sell it quickly."
After hesitating briefly, Yukgeum nodded.
"Understood."
"Is anyone outside?"
"Yes, Fan Master."
The door opened and a shaggy-haired man rushed in.
"Prepare a table of drinks. Bring all the women in the stronghold as well. They're about to be sold anyway, so I should enjoy them thoroughly one last time."
"Yes, Fan Master."
The man disappeared like the wind.
"You can leave too. Ah, if you feel like drinking later, stop by."
Noyang waved Yukgeum away as if swatting a fly.
"I'll take my leave."
Yukgeum bowed and left the room. Noyang watched him with eyes full of mockery.
He had always found Yukgeum's arrogance—strutting around just because he could read a bit while staying by the stronghold master's side—utterly unpleasant. Being able to control him with a single finger now was deeply satisfying.
"Heh heh heh! Never forget the difference in status between you and me."
Hearing the sneering laughter from the room, Yukgeum unconsciously clenched his fist.
'That damn pig bastard.'
It was infuriating that the stronghold master had entrusted everything to the greedy, incompetent Noyang and left the stronghold.
'Just wait a little longer. Bloodline or not, I'll make sure to crush you…'
Just as Yukgeum was grinding his teeth with venomous eyes, a massive impact suddenly shook the entire stronghold.
The windows rattled, and dust poured down from the ceiling.
"What's going on?"
Noyang flung the door open with movements that didn't match his bloated body.
"It seems like an earthquake."
"An earthquake? Then this is no place to stay!"
Pale-faced at the thought the building might collapse, Noyang bolted out of the room and started running.
It felt strange to call it an earthquake, but there was no other explanation, so Yukgeum hurried after him.
With a single punch from Cheolwoo, the main gate of the stronghold shattered into pieces, and with successive kicks, even the massive stone wall collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Several bandits on guard duty were crushed under the falling rocks. Bandits who rushed out in shock at the sudden tremor screamed as they watched their comrades fall, their fury erupting.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Heukwang, a mid-ranking leader of the stronghold, appeared with his subordinates.
Heukwang was the largest and ugliest man in Geumhochae Stronghold, and the facial wound he'd suffered earlier that morning during the attack on the Sanghwapyo-guk Escort Agency made his already nasty appearance even more vicious.
"He's big. I didn't expect someone your size to be in a place like this."
When Sima Jian expressed surprise at a build comparable to Cheolwoo's, Cheolwoo laughed mockingly.
"Boss, that's an insult to me. That's just a fat pig."
"You worthless vermin!"
Enraged by their conversation, Heukwang charged forward, swinging a blade as large as his body.
Cheolwoo didn't dodge. He thrust his fist toward the blade flying in to cut his neck.
The collision between an enormous sword and a bare fist—anyone would have called it madness.
Heukwang was dumbfounded. Using a sword against such a fool almost felt embarrassing.
"You bastard! I'll tear you to pieces!"
He abandoned the idea of beheading him in one strike.
He would crush that insolent fist first, then hack the body to bits and turn it into pig feed.
Just as Heukwang poured more strength into his sword arm—
A heavy sound rang out, and an unexpected shock traveled through his hand.
"Guh!"
Heukwang let out a confused groan.
Staggering back, he stared at his broken wrist in disbelief.
"This can't be—"
The impact that struck his sword hand had come from Cheolwoo's fist.
But instead of Cheolwoo's fist being crushed, the blade that struck it had snapped clean in half. Before the stunned Heukwang could finish speaking, Cheolwoo's brutal fist smashed into his face.
There was no scream.
With his facial bones caved in, his body shot into the air and flew nearly thirty feet before crashing down. Whether he died instantly or not, there wasn't a single twitch.
"Next."
After ending Heukwang's life in a single exchange, Cheolwoo went on a rampage.
There was no particular form or technique. He simply swung his arms wildly and lashed out with kicks, slaughtering his enemies. At a glance, it looked like a street brawl, but the sheer overwhelming power left even the battle-hardened bandits of Geumhochae Stronghold helpless.
When Cheolwoo finally stopped moving, more than twenty bandit corpses lay scattered around him.
Without a single exception, Cheol-woo cut off every last one of their lives. He didn't shed even a drop of sweat, nor did his breathing grow rough in the slightest.
"Good grief. To think they had nothing but this trash-tier level of skill."
Having fought brutal battles day after day while unifying the scattered Demon Cult, Cheol-woo couldn't help but scoff at the fact that bandits who couldn't even withstand a single blow had been swaggering about under the banner of the Green Forest or whatever they called themselves.
"There should be a few who are at least worth dealing with further inside."
Sima Jian lightly tapped Cheol-woo on the shoulder and started walking deeper into the stronghold. Just as Cheol-woo tried to take the lead, thinking he hadn't even properly warmed up yet, Sima Jian stopped him.
"That's far enough. I waited twelve years to settle this debt. From here on, I handle it."
A faint crimson light flickered deep within his eyes. Knowing better than anyone that this was the moment to lie low, Cheol-woo didn't argue and halted immediately.
"Stop them!"
Pan-gak, one of the two main pillars of Geumhochae Stronghold alongside the Black King, shouted to his subordinates.
More than thirty men charged at Sima Jian all at once. Pan-gak's expression as he watched them was anything but good.
For an intruder to have reached this far inside the stronghold was impossible unless the Black King had already fallen.
The Black King was one of the top five masters of Geumhochae Stronghold—strong enough that even Beon-gak himself couldn't look down on him.
Damn it. Of all times, the stronghold lord had to be away.
The lord of Geumhochae Stronghold, No Geumhochae, was a renowned master even among the Green Forest. Though Geumhochae lacked the influence to earn a place among the Eighteen Green Forest Strongholds, the lord's personal strength was second to none.
Moreover, his direct troops and bodyguard unit were elite beyond comparison with the men now charging forward in desperation. The problem was that neither the lord nor his guards were present.
"Uncle Beon, you said there were intruders? What kind of lunatics would dare attack the main stronghold?"
No Sa-mun arrived late with a few subordinates in tow, swaggering as he spoke.
"I don't know yet, Young Master," Beon-gak replied, shaking his head, his face reddening.
Seeing No Sa-mun—the butcher of Geumhochae Stronghold—disheveled in appearance, his face flushed as if he'd just crawled out from a woman's bed, irritation surged uncontrollably.
You vermin.
If he weren't the lord's son, Beon-gak would have liked nothing more than to lop his head off on the spot.
"Are those the guys?"
No Sa-mun asked, pointing at Sama-geon and Cheol-woo.
He remained disturbingly calm, as though he hadn't even noticed the heads of their men flying through the air.
It was only then, upon seeing the glassy haze in No Sa-mun's eyes, that Pan-gak realized he was under the influence of opium.
A tiger for a father, and a dog for a son. No—worse than a dog, a mongrel.
Before Pan-gak could stop him, No Sa-mun rushed straight toward Sama-geon.
Screaming like a beast, No Sa-mun charged ahead, and the men accompanying him cackled as they followed. They had clearly all been smoking opium together.
With an indifferent expression, Sima Jian was calmly cutting down bandits when he twisted his lips at the sight of No Sa-mun charging at him, drool dripping from his mouth and madness blazing in his eyes.
Fragments of the past turned into reality before him.
He could never forget the face of No Sa-mun mocking him behind iron bars, splashing him with urine.
As Sima Jian moved his sword, one arm flew up into the air.
Despite what must have been unbearable pain, No Sa-mun didn't seem to care. Instead, he howled and thrashed wildly.
Confirming that No Sa-mun was clearly not in a normal state, Sima Jian frowned and swung his sword again without mercy.
The remaining arm and both legs were severed almost simultaneously.
Each time No Sa-mun's limp body twitched on the ground, bright red blood sprayed in all directions.
"He seems to be drugged. Stop the bleeding and make him come to his senses. It'd be a waste to just let him die."
Having entrusted No Sa-mun's life to Cheol-woo, who stared down at him with disgust, Sima Jian swung his sword once more.
The heads of the men who had followed No Sa-mun charged forward at the same time, flying into the air. Their headless bodies staggered a few more steps, unable to overcome their momentum, before collapsing lifelessly.
Sima Jian's gaze turned toward Pan-gak.
His eyes shone coldly.
Despite the depth of his hatred, he hadn't fixated solely on No Sa-mun—because Pan-gak was still there.