Chapter 42: Chapter 42
Jang I-seo pointed at Maeng Hwi with his index finger. The boy flushed and grinned.
Mao stared in disbelief.
“What are you?”
“What. You can’t even walk properly.”
“Ao, you little brat!”
“The brat is you. Supreme realm, my ass. Even the Left Emissary is weird.”
“What? Did you just insult the Left Emissary in front of me? Take it back right now.”
“Idiot.”
The two bickered again. Jang I-seo clapped once. Quiet.
“The Azure Dragon Blade stays sealed for now. From this point on, the Seventh Young Master will focus entirely on eliminating the weight of his steps. Every shi, visit three locations: the house, the latrine, and outside the wall. That’s all.”
“Got it.”
Fierce determination filled Mao’s eyes. Now that he, a genius, knew the method, nothing was impossible.
Maeng Hwi likewise steeled his resolve, refusing to be outdone, and looked at Jang I-seo.
“What should I do?”
Why ask me that? Jang I-seo stared at the overly earnest gaze, clicked his tongue, and pointed at the annex.
“Go do your personal training.”
Because you’re in the way.
“Okay!”
Maeng Hwi bolted for the annex.
Somehow, it felt like a pesky animal had attached itself. Must be his imagination.
Anyway, the two boys’ training had begun at the Seventh Small Palace.
* * *
Cheonsan, Don-u Village.
Not far from the village entrance, a group of rough-clothed farmers hid in the brush, pacing with anxious faces.
“Hah, they should be coming out by now…”
The man gnawed his thumbnail while watching the village entrance, legs trembling.
Surprisingly, this was Yong-tae, boss of the Black Dragon Faction, approaching forty. Along with his men.
They should have been in the Wolha Village market alley. Instead, they’d appeared before Don-u Village, one of the most dangerous settlements in the Demonic Cult. In worn, ragged clothes.
The reason was Jang I-seo, who’d visited them a few days prior.
The very day after they’d finished greetings at the Seventh Small Palace.
‘Hey, Big Brother?! What’s going on at the crack of dawn? You knocked so hard… This is killing me with curiosity?’
‘Put the blade away. I’ve got another job.’
‘What kind of talk is that at bedtime…’
‘Advance payment.’
‘What are you doing! Not entertaining guests.’
That was how they’d received a massive commission from Jang I-seo.
Naturally, the job wasn’t easy. They might have to stake their lives. The content itself was simple. Just spy secretly and run one errand. The problem was the target.
“Boss Yong-tae, shouldn’t we just call it off now? The enemy is the Slaughterhouse. The Slaughterhouse.”
Yes. The masters of Don-u Village. The Slaughterhouse.
If the Black Dragon Faction were rabbits playing on a hill, the Slaughterhouse was the tiger ruling the mountaintop.
“GRAAAAH!”
A tiger beyond terrifying.
“Fuck, you scared me! Why’s this bastard suddenly screaming and throwing a fit? Put your nails away!”
“Or go hide somewhere.”
“Think hiding will help? It’ll just make us look more suspicious.”
A rabbit was still a rabbit when it came to brains. Yong-tae cuffed the back of his frightened subordinate’s head and spoke.
“And what’s the Slaughterhouse? At best, assassins who take money for lives. I’m a former Guardian Dragon Hall man who locked up their kind by the dozen. You forget?”
“B-boss…”
“So shut your mouth. Got it? If anyone runs their mouth and screws this up before we even start, I’ll crack their skull.”
“Th-th-that’s not it, Boss, over there!”
“Over there what, you bastard.”
The subordinate’s face had gone pale, pointing at the village entrance. Yong-tae turned.
“Hiiigh!”
His jaw dropped and he screamed.
A murderous horde filled the wide village entrance, marching out. One hundred slaughter demons of the Slaughterhouse.
The Slaughterhouse.
And at the vanguard, three figures.
‘Sa… Sa Do-cheol…!’
Rank one. The Slaughterer. Master of the Slaughterhouse, Sa Do-cheol.
Flanked by rank three, Color Moon Geum Hwa-bin, and the hulking brute rank four, Meteor Iron Hammer Dong-tak.
Essentially the entire Slaughterhouse, minus the second-ranked Sa Ho-jeong, had mobilized.
“B-Boss. Th-they’re coming. They’re coming this way!”
As his men panicked and turned to find their boss.
“Uuuheoo…”
Yong-tae stepped forward with a glazed expression and a groan. His posture was unsteady and weaving, like a thoroughly drunk man.
His men stared blankly. He frantically signaled them to move. They followed suit, groaning and crawling out.
“Uweoooh…”
“Eeeuuu.”
What kind of insane performance was this. They were about to collide head-on with the Slaughterhouse. Sure enough, seeing the bizarre group approaching at close range, Sa Do-cheol halted with a cold glare.
Ready to charge forward and slaughter them all if they proved to be anything.
Geum Hwa-bin leaned in and offered her opinion quietly.
“They appear to be addicts here for drugs. Shall I turn them away?”
The only drug the Slaughterhouse dealt in was the hallucinogen Soul-Befuddling Powder, imported from the Iron Horse Bandits.
Occasionally, addicts wasted away to this state and showed up like walking corpses. If they had nothing to offer, they were sold as slaves or fed to the wolves.
“Uuuh… drug… give… me…”
Sa Do-cheol surveyed them impassively, exhaled in annoyance, and resumed walking.
“Move on.”
The Lust Flower Tower, their headquarters, was closed today. Going there would be a wasted trip. They could wait inside or go home. Their choice. He wasn’t about to let these wretches jinx the operation.
“Make way!”
“Uhh… move… let’s…”
As the Slaughterhouse resumed marching, Yong-tae and his men limped aside and opened a path.
Only after the horde had vanished and a long time passed did Yong-tae and his men slowly straighten their hunched postures and speak firmly.
“Let’s begin.”
“Yes, Boss!”
* * *
– Mahe Mountain, Guardian Dragon Hall.
The Hall Master’s office, carpeted with a massive tiger pelt.
The size of the pelt alone conveyed the beast’s living majesty. And rightfully so. This was the very tiger that had left the scar on Ji Dae-ho’s shoulder.
Yes. Ji Dae-ho had personally hunted this tiger and tanned its hide.
Killing a Cheonsan tiger barehanded was a traditional rite for every new Hall Master.
Ordinarily, no one else was permitted to sit on the seat of honor atop this pelt. It was the Hall Master’s pride.
But this once, there was no helping it. Ji Dae-ho had even served tea and courteously yielded his seat.
The guest warranted it.
A long, sorcerer-like hat. Loose, pure white robes. Face powdered ghostly white, not a trace of hair. Like a demon.
The being who effectively governed Cheonsan on the Cult Leader’s behalf. An omnipotent authority.
First Grade Ghost. Radiant Left Emissary, Baek-ya.
“Is the tea to your liking?”
At Ji Dae-ho’s blunt question, Baek-ya wordlessly raised the cup he held with both hands, took a brief sip, and nodded.
In appearance, they seemed of similar vintage. But the age gap between them could have been that of father and son. Naturally, the Left Emissary was far older.
“What brings you all the way here?”
Frustration laced Ji Dae-ho’s voice. The situation demanded it. An urgent report had arrived: the Slaughterhouse’s Sa Do-cheol had mobilized every assassin and taken to the road.
They were fully armed. Clearly bound for major violence.
The Hall Master responsible for internal security couldn’t simply stand by. Moreover, their destination was painfully obvious, making his impatience worse.
But.
“Desist.”
“Sir?”
The Radiant Left Emissary took another sip and replied in a thin, measured voice without so much as a glance.
“I said, desist.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Surely someone as clever as you understands.”
Ji Dae-ho’s face contorted like an enraged tiger. He understood. How could he not? It was an order not to interfere in the Ma family’s affairs.
In short: watch the Slaughterhouse rampage and do nothing.
This wasn’t the first such interference either. It was the second since the incident where all of Mao’s household had been killed.
“That I cannot do.”
This time, Ji Dae-ho firmly refused. Unfortunately, when the Slaughterhouse had killed before, the victims had been Ninth Grade Ghost servants. And the deed was already done.
But this time, the target was a Third Grade Ghost adjutant, and the attack hadn’t happened yet. It was entirely preventable.
This was a matter of the Guardian Dragon Hall’s pride.
However.
“Family matters are best resolved within the family. Don’t create unnecessary conflict.”
The Radiant Left Emissary showed no inclination to yield either. Ji Dae-ho voiced his frustration without filter.
“Why? Why must I? No matter how powerful the Ma family is, this is wrong. This is an insult to the Cult Leader, the master of Cheonsan!”
“An insult, you say.”
“Yes. Or is it not? If you insist on stopping me, as Hall Master, I’ll petition the Cult Leader directly.”
No matter how mighty the Ma family, could they surpass the Cult Leader? Could they outrank the Left Emissary?
This wasn’t even the family head Ma Il-seong. It was his son, Ma I-sin, leading assassins on a rampage.
It should have been corrected immediately.
But seeing the Left Emissary’s impassive expression, Ji Dae-ho’s heart sank. Surely not?!
“It is the Cult Leader’s order.”
THUMP! The shock numbed the back of his skull. All this time, the instruction to stand down had come directly from Jin U-gwang himself?
Why on earth?
“…Did the First Elder request it?”
“An unusually foolish question for you. A request? Would the Cult Leader humor such a thing? They’d be lucky to keep their heads.”
Sip. The Left Emissary sipped his tea and snorted.
True. Jin U-gwang was not a man moved by petitions. Still less by a subordinate’s leverage.
“Then why…”
“Why indeed.”
“Sir?”
“He is an heir, is he not?”
Ji Dae-ho’s eyes wavered violently.
“How can one who cannot even govern his own household rule all demons? Whether by persuasion, by embrace, or by devouring. He must handle it himself. That is the posture an heir must demonstrate.”
Ji Dae-ho’s mind went blank. Was that it? Not because of the Ma family’s influence, but because the Seventh Young Master was an heir. That was why they’d been watching all along.
“And there’s no need for you to worry.”
“What do you mean?”
“Good tea.”
The Left Emissary flicked the teacup with a ping as his final word. The cup drifted lazily through the air and landed softly on Ji Dae-ho’s palm.
Looking down at the empty cup, then raising his head…
“He’s gone…”
The chair where the Left Emissary had sat was empty.
Huu. Ji Dae-ho exhaled a deep sigh and turned. He called for his adjutant loudly.
A man as burly as a tiger entered, head bowed, and answered.
“You called.”
Ji Dae-ho fell into brief contemplation. Finally, his mouth opened.
“Cancel… the mobilization.”
The adjutant’s eyes widened. But he bowed again, gave a short answer, and departed.
“Command received.”
This was no one less than the Cult Leader’s order. Nothing could override it.
“Adjutant Jang. I pray you survive.”
Only Ji Dae-ho’s sorrowful voice echoed in the room.