Chapter 12: Chapter 12
As Jang I-seo scratched the back of his head in bewilderment, the surrounding thugs parted left and right. If the vice boss went down, the boss was next.
“Insistent little punk. You can throw a punch.”
A middle-aged man with a black beard. Yong-tae stepped forward. Alongside the red-haired young brute. The mindless good-for-nothing, Mao.
“So it’s you. Jang I-su.”
Mao’s eyes blazed, his lips stretching wide. Jang I-seo met his grin with one of his own.
“We meet again. Seventh Young Master.”
The two men faced each other.
Mao and Jang I-seo.
Their first formal confrontation.
A tense battle of wills hung between them.
“I was caught up in the moment last time and didn’t properly introduce myself. How’s your body holding up?”
My body? Hah. Mao let out a breath of disbelief. He’d thought himself peerless in arrogance, but this one was worse. The bastard laid hands on him and now asked about his health?
“You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”
“I get that a lot. Anyway, you didn’t gather all these people just to welcome me, did you? Really didn’t have to go to the trouble.”
As Jang I-seo surveyed the surroundings with sly nonchalance, Mao draped his elbow over Yong-tae’s smaller shoulder and spoke.
“The more, the merrier. That’s how welcome parties work.”
“Ah, is that so?”
This insolent bastard. Mao’s eyes narrowed at Jang I-seo’s breezy reply. But it was all bluster. Everyone thought they were invincible until the first fist landed.
“So you want to be my adjutant.”
Mao crossed his arms and asked with triumphant authority.
“Yes. Big dreams, humble birth. Figured I’d grab the rope and climb while I can.”
“Climb where?”
Jang I-seo pointed upward with his index finger. Mao squinted at the sky with exaggerated seriousness.
“You want to go… up there?”
He didn’t understand. Jang I-seo scratched his brow and rephrased.
“I mean I want to ride the Seventh Young Master’s coattails and make something of myself.”
Only then did Mao understand. He exploded into laughter.
“What? Puhahaha! Are you an idiot? What can you do beside someone whose family and the whole world have thrown away? Make something of yourself?”
At least he was self-aware. True enough. A rope so rotten it had been cut and cut again until nothing but frayed threads remained.
However.
“Who said anything about dangling from a rope? I’m grabbing the end of that severed cord with my own two hands. And climbing. Up there.”
Jang I-seo pointed at the sky again. This time, Mao understood clearly. His pupils dilated, shifting left and right. And his chest stirred with an inexplicable tremor.
‘What is this guy? What makes him so damn confident…?’
But Mao desperately buried the trembling in his heart and shouted defiantly.
“Anyone can talk! You’re nothing but a Seventh Grade Ghost! How long do I have to listen to this bullshit?!”
As Mao snarled, Yong-tae beside him snapped his eyes open and ordered his men.
“You heard him. Crush him.”
SHRING! Swords left their scabbards as the thugs advanced slowly.
Jang I-seo snorted and took a step back. Naturally, dealing with these men wouldn’t be difficult. He had more ways to dismantle them than grains of sand in a castle.
But fighting street thugs in broad daylight, knowing full well what he was, wasn’t a spy’s prerogative.
Jang I-seo spoke low.
“You said the more the merrier for welcome parties?”
“What?”
The moment Mao asked back.
Shhh. Shhh.
The bamboo forest rustled eerily once more. If the earlier sound was a breeze, this was a gale.
“What?”
Mao sensed it first and voiced his confusion. Yong-tae and the Black Dragon Faction all blinked in bewilderment.
Then, moments later.
Countless figures emerged through the undergrowth.
Black-clad figures in dark masks. And on their shoulders, two proud characters.
Counter. Espionage.
“H-hiiigh! C-counter-Espionage…!”
The ghosts who hunted spies. Living incarnations of authority. The Counter-Espionage Division had arrived.
And not just anyone.
“So this is the Seventh Small Palace. Must not cost much in upkeep. Tsk tsk.”
Shoulder-length curly hair, an aura that radiated raw tiger-like intensity.
A middle-aged expert with a golden belt at his waist.
Counter-Espionage Division Commander Gyeom Sa-ik.
He had come in person.
“Counter-Espionage Division Commander Gyeom Sa-ik, greeting the Seventh Young Master.”
“Greeting the Seventh Young Master!”
Clack! The entire division prostrated themselves in unison.
D-Division Commander! Seeing this, Yong-tae’s soul departed his body. Mao’s chest tickled with a strange thrill, his lips going dry at the sudden turn of events.
Counter-Espionage Division Commander Gyeom Sa-ik. Even Mao had heard of him.
His sister Sa Hae-ryeong’s former teacher. One of the few powerhouses who met directly with the Cult Leader.
And a figure that colossal had come to find him, a discarded outcast, and knelt.
“Why is the Counter-Espionage Division here…”
“Once family, always family. If the boy leaves home to make his own way, the least I can do is check that he has a decent roof over his head. Tsk tsk.”
Then that bastard is Counter-Espionage Division…?!
‘I’m fucked.’
All color drained from Yong-tae’s face. The Counter-Espionage Division. Demons who dragged in even high-ranking officials if the evidence was there. Their tight-knit bonds were legendary within the cult.
And the Division Commander himself being here meant real power among real power.
His extremities went cold. His mind went blank.
And Jang I-seo put the period on the sentence with a cold glare and a casual remark.
“You’re still here? Show some manners when your betters are speaking.”
“Hiiigh!”
Yong-tae swallowed hard, signaled his men, and they flooded out of the forest like fleeing refugees.
“Hey, where are you going? Hey!”
Mao called after them in panic, but it was hopeless.
A profound sense of betrayal and emptiness filled his hollow eyes.
But this was reality.
He had nothing left but the name Seventh Young Master. A lonely, pitiful good-for-nothing whom everyone abandoned at the slightest pressure.
This was exactly what Jang I-seo wanted to show him. That the relationships he’d built amounted to nothing, crumbling at the first sign of external force.
“Hmm. So this is why you announced your start date. I thought it strange that a man who’d normally say nothing bothered to send a word. But to suppress your own master’s momentum on day one.”
Gyeom Sa-ik rose from his kneel and leaned in to mutter by his ear.
Always sharp.
Jang I-seo replied with cold detachment.
“If you’re done sightseeing, please leave.”
He’d set this in motion, but he didn’t want it turned into a spectacle.
“That was the plan.”
Gyeom Sa-ik nodded without hesitation and turned to leave. He tossed his words over his shoulder like scattering petals in the wind.
“If you can’t hack it, come back. Your seat will be waiting.”
Looking back, the Counter-Espionage Division vanished into the undergrowth the same way they’d come.
Rustle…
The once-raucous Seventh Small Palace returned to tranquility.
Now, at last, the two of them were alone.
“What… are you?”
Mao asked.
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m going to hold the Seventh Young Master’s future and steer it.”
Jang I-seo pointed at the sky with his index finger.
“Where. Where the hell are you going with this?!”
Mao clenched his jaw.
Then Jang I-seo smiled broadly and spoke with genuine sincerity.
“Young Cult Leader.”
Thump, thump.
“I’m going to make you one.”
Young Cult Leader.
The little master of the Demonic Cult.
The one who would one day become Cult Leader and command the world.
Even someone as simple and ignorant as Mao understood the weight of those words. His heart was already pounding. It felt like a mountain had settled on his shoulders.
Which was why the current situation made no sense.
Make him Young Cult Leader?
“Are you…” Mao twirled his index finger around his ear. The universal gesture for insanity.
“No, I’m not.”
Good, answer quickly. The crazy ones weren’t him. It was the Hidden Pavilion.
“Then are you an assassin sent by my family? Here to push me into a death trap?”
“No.”
“Then what. Are you a spy?”
That one’s accurate. Jang I-seo stared at him wordlessly. Mao shook his head and laughed.
“You’re just a loudmouthed idiot. Make me Young Cult Leader? A nothing Seventh Grade Ghost squad leader like you? Hahahaha! How. With what.”
“Just… well, it’ll be tough, but we’ll manage.”
“Hey, you shit! Explain yourself, step by step!”
“So you’re interested?”
“No! I’m asking because your act is funny!”
“Well, first… we’d need to fix some relationships. As you saw today, the Seventh Young Master’s social ties are a mess. Sect relations are a mess. Family relations are…”
As Jang I-seo turned his head and began listing problems, FWISH! A gust of wind erupted from directly ahead. Mao lunged like a tiger.
“Shut up!”
A fist loaded with fury and internal energy.
But Jang I-seo didn’t flinch. BZZZT! The Thunder Circulation Method activated.
Lightning qi coiled through his entire body. He raised his hand lightly and caught Mao’s fist.
FWAAASH! The shockwave ripped through the bamboo forest behind him like a gale-force wind.
Yet Jang I-seo didn’t yield a single step. He stood rooted like a pillar. Then he gazed at the startled Mao and continued where he’d left off.
“Your martial arts. And your dignity. All of it, a complete mess.”
“You…!”
Mao ground his teeth and lunged again. Jang I-seo glanced down at the large fist caught in his palm, gave it a gentle twist, and pushed it forward.
“Urgh!”
It wasn’t a powerful force, but Mao’s ears rang. His mind spun between sky and earth. He stumbled backward five, six steps until his back struck the gate. Only then did he stop, barely catching himself from falling on his rear.
“What… was that?”
A sensation he’d never experienced before.
At Mao’s current level, he couldn’t comprehend it. But this was the essence of overcoming hardness with softness, the foundation of Wudang Sect’s philosophy.
Jang I-seo regarded Mao’s dazed expression and delivered his lesson in a stern voice.
“Do you understand now? How insignificant the power you currently hold truly is. I will change that. I will make them acknowledge you. But first, you need to start acting like a…”
“UWAAAAAAAH-!”
Mid-sentence, Mao let out a feral scream and charged like a thundering naked beast.
Going again? Idiot.
But just as Jang I-seo hardened his eyes and began circulating his internal energy, FWISH! Mao blew past him and bolted into the bamboo forest.
Jang I-seo turned in disbelief, but Mao was already gone. He stared at the empty space and muttered.
“Bastard walks off while his big brother is talking…”
He’d thought speaking sincerely might get through, even a little.
“Well. First day and all. Still, one thing’s promising.”
Jang I-seo smirked and examined his palm. Red and stinging. Without the Thunder Circulation Method, that could have been dangerous.
He turned to survey the bamboo forest behind him. Leaves littered the ground in every direction, scattered like autumn foliage.
The aftermath of Mao’s single punch.
No proper technique. Pure internal energy and raw muscle alone.
“They said his dantian is the finest in the Demonic Cult. They weren’t kidding.”
Honestly, letting talent like this rot was the bigger mystery.
The Cult Leader could be excused for being hands-off, choosing from seven children. But the Ma family? He was still their blood, bastard or not.
“I’ll understand once I meet them.”
Regardless, Mao’s potential exceeded imagination. Late start notwithstanding, with proper training, his growth would be limitless. He might even become an absolute master beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.
Of course…
That assumed the guidance of Jang I-seo. The Hidden Pavilion’s finest operative. The greatest prodigy in every field except the dantian.
“Then for today… let’s start with those disloyal social ties. The Black Dragon Faction, was it?”
Jang I-seo turned and headed into the bamboo forest.
CRASH!
Leaving behind the shattered gate, which bore the faint imprint of a taiji pattern before crumbling completely.