There Seems To Be Trouble

“It’s a man named Seo Chil. Around here, he’s well known as a Playboy.”

Playboy.

It referred to a rich young heir who dressed extravagantly and spent his days in leisure.

“Others just assumed he was some young lord from somewhere, but no one knew his true origins. And well, that man—”

Noh-sam lowered his body.

Gyo-ha crouched down with him.

Gyo-ha listened intently, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“They say he seduced a widow and ran off with her money.”

“Oh.”

“He approached her intending to swindle her from the start. He even looked the part of a conman.”

Hadn’t they said he was a rare, upstanding young man?

“Anyway, that widow’s late husband was none other than a former local magistrate. His infamy was well known.”

“Ooh.”

Gyo-ha’s rising voice softened.

Noh-sam glanced around nervously before continuing.

“The widow didn’t have a good reputation either. People say she had it coming more than they pity her.”

As the story dragged on, Gyo-ha’s expression dulled again.

Unable to hold back, Gyo-ha spoke up.

“So, where is he now?”

“…No idea. I only heard he fled toward Tanchang.”

“…”

“The widow’s reputation was bad, so the officials didn’t even bother investigating. And with all her property stolen, she couldn’t even hire help…”

They said she’s bedridden now, powerless to act.

When Gyo-ha looked disappointed, Noh-sam patted his shoulder.

“Don’t worry too much. Even if we can’t find him, we can find others.”

“Others?”

“Where are we, after all? This is Mudo. Some wanderers caught the scent of money and went after him.”

No one could sniff out money quite like wanderers.

“If wanderers are involved, they’ll find him soon enough. I also worked as a hunter for a while in the past.”

“Oh?”

Gyo-ha tilted his head, about to exclaim.

What did hunters have to do with this?

Seeing his puzzled eyes, Noh-sam gave a wry smile.

“Hunters don’t always hunt beasts. Sometimes, they track people too.”

Noh-sam’s expression darkened as he said that.

Swindlers, runaway servants.

Of course, such jobs rarely ended well.

When one couldn’t hire openly, they’d employ hunters instead.

“I didn’t work long enough to get good with a bow, but I can still track fairly well. It hasn’t rained in days, so there should be traces left. Let’s pack and go.”

And so, the two got ready to leave.

Once they left Mudo, they began camping.

But this time was different.

“Then, let’s eat.”

Steam rose from the pot simmering over the campfire.

“Wow!”

Gyo-ha clapped involuntarily.

The smell wafting up was extraordinary.

That was to be expected. Pots and spices. It wasn’t common to see such equipment when one camps out.

With money in hand, Noh-sam had invested in better supplies.

Naturally, it wouldn’t have been possible without Gyo-ha’s help.

He alone carried the enormous load that should’ve required a donkey or cart.

Yet Noh-sam’s cooking made the trouble worthwhile.

Whenever Gyo-ha praised him, Noh-sam would smile bashfully and shake his head.

“It’s nothing special. I just pick things up a bit faster than most. Dig too deep and you’ll see how shallow my talent is.”

Noh-sam knew his limits well.

He was only quicker at learning, not skilled enough to master one trade.

“Mmmph, whadaya mean.”

“…Young Master?”

At Noh-sam’s remark, Gyo-ha mumbled and swallowed what was in his mouth.

Noh-sam sighed briefly at the sight.

No matter how many times he told him, it never changed.

At times like this, Gyo-ha truly felt like a child.

“Come on, this is way better than what those street vendors make, Uncle.”

Noh-sam had said his skill was shallow, but it was still good enough to make a living.

“I really mean it. It’s really good!”

“…Thank you.”

Seeing Gyo-ha devour his food with honest joy, Noh-sam smiled faintly.

After the meal, Noh-sam resumed tracking.

But before long, he had to stop.

“It seems the wanderers ran into trouble.”

Gyo-ha could tell even without him saying it.

There were bodies left behind.

Footprints scattered everywhere, half-burnt logs hinting at a campfire.

Gyo-ha sniffed the air. Before Noh-sam could examine the ground, Gyo-ha spoke.

“They’ve been dead for about two days.”

The estimate was narrowed from three to two days..

He examined the wounds. Gyo-ha was more familiar with such things than Noh-sam.

“Hmm. They weren’t attacked from outside.”

“An internal fight, then.”

Saying so, Noh-sam checked the traces.

“Looks like they split into two groups.”

If they’d abandoned their comrades’ corpses, then camaraderie had never existed.

Among rough wanderers, conflicts were to be expected.

Then the sky darkened. Seeing the gathering storm clouds, Noh-sam clicked his tongue.

“Judging from the trail, they should’ve gone this way. But something feels off.”

Noh-sam frowned at the tracks.

If they’d given up, they should’ve turned back, but their trail didn’t lead toward Mudo.

Had they looped back, the two would’ve run into them already.

‘Where are they heading?’

But his thought was cut short.

Raindrops had begun to fall.

At this rate, even the remaining tracks might vanish.

“Let’s hurry. If they’re two days ahead, we can catch up quickly.”

Besides, this wasn’t a good place to shelter from the rain.

But Gyo-ha wasn’t looking at him.

“Young Master?”

He was staring at something beyond the mountain.

Through the advancing storm clouds—

A plume of black smoke was rising—not far off.

“There’s a village… over there.”

Noh-sam’s face stiffened.

That wasn’t the smoke of cooking fires.

Having grown up in the mountains, he knew it better than anyone.

Wanderers weren’t part of any proper group.

They swung their blades for coin.

Such men often turned to banditry.

“Uncle, I’ll go on ahead.”

When Noh-sam turned his head, Gyo-ha was already gone.

There was no need to ask where he was headed.

Not a trace of hesitation in his movements.

Noh-sam hurried after him.

At the end of his path, smoke was rising.

The tavern at the mountain’s foot was lively as ever.

Travelers from Hanzhong to Ryeonggang had to pass through here, so it was always crowded.

But today, it was noisier than usual.

A storyteller was among the guests tonight.

Those who sold stories for coin.

Even a common tale sounded different when told by them.

“So that magistrate just vanished without a trace, right? Later, one of the guards claimed he saw a white fox leaving the office.”

“Oh? You mean that courtesan was the fox?”

At their chatter, the old storyteller stroked his beard.

“I wouldn’t know. I just tell it as I heard it.”

“It must be divine retribution.”

“Oh, come on. Who still believes that nonsense these days?”

As soon as the storyteller finished, the tavern grew noisy again.

Everyone began arguing over the tale he’d told.

“Old sir, don’t you have another story?”

At someone’s question, the tavern fell silent. All eyes turned to the storyteller.

Feeling their stares, the storyteller cleared his throat and rubbed his neck.

“My throat’s gone dry from all this talking…”

“Bring him a Bamboo Leaf Wine! One Bamboo Leaf Wine!”

One impatient man shouted to the tavern keeper.

The tavern keeper, who had been listening too, hurried over with the wine and set it before the storyteller.

But the old man didn’t reach for it.

“It’s getting late. I have to leave early tomorrow morning.”

He wasn’t actually tired.

If he were, he wouldn’t have mentioned his thirst.

“I’ll pay.”

A merchant inside handed his purse to his attendant.

“I heard you’ve earned quite a bit today. But take care—greed brings misfortune.”

It was a warning. Take the money, but don’t push your luck.

The old storyteller coughed lightly and nodded.

Having traveled from village to village, he knew how to read such warnings.

“Then, before this old man retires for the night, one last tale. Recently, a young martial expert appeared in Mudo.”

Everyone leaned in to listen.

A story about a new young master. Such tales were a tonic for weary lives.

They gasped when he fought a tiger, and the battle with Iron Tyrant Staff was said to be astonishing.

“And so he even defeated Iron Tyrant Staff. That’s how he came to be called the Battle Wolf.”

Fierce Wolf had become Battle Wolf.

And it suited the young man the storyteller described.

Those unfamiliar with Iron Tyrant Staff tilted their heads, while those who knew him gasped in shock.

“Wait—Iron Tyrant Staff? One of the Seven Fiends of Shaanxi? You’re saying he lost to a young man?”

The Seven Fiends of Shaanxi.

Most didn’t recognize the name, but a few nodded knowingly.

It referred to a group of notorious heretical figures from the Shaanxi Province.

“That’s right. I heard he killed a disciple of the Wudang Sect and fled.”

“The Wudang Sect?”

Even those who didn’t know Iron Tyrant Staff knew the name Wudang.

The listeners widened their eyes, having never heard such a thing.

“Even for one of the Seven Fiends, to challenge the Wudang Sect…”

“That’s why he ran.”

“Still, killing a disciple is killing a disciple.”

As the murmuring grew, the storyteller cleared his throat.

“Now then, that concludes…”

“That Battle Wolf—where did he go?”

The storyteller’s words trailed off.

Because an ominous stranger was standing inside the tavern.

Not only was he dressed in black martial robes—his very presence was dark.

He looked as though he had stepped out of the shadows themselves.

His skin was pale like a corpse, but his eyes gleamed with a chilling light.

Yet something else drew the eye.

The scabbard at his waist.

It was covered in scraps of something. At first glance, they looked like old cloth, but on closer look, they were not that.

Talismans.

Those who recognized them gasped.

There was only one man in Shaanxi known to wear such things.

Ghost Evil Blade, Moon Ryang.

Like Iron Tyrant Staff, he was counted among the Seven Fiends.

The people quietly moved aside.

A path opened between Moon Ryang and the storyteller.

Moon Ryang walked down it naturally and stopped before the old man.

“Where did he go?”

“H-he went to Tanchang, looking for someone, or so I heard.”

Moon Ryang listened, then reached into his robe.

The storyteller flinched, but what came out of Moon Ryang’s hand was silver.

“Good. I appreciate it.”

Moon Ryang turned to leave.

But then—

He stopped at the doorway and turned back.

Had he changed his mind?

The storyteller and every witness held their breath.

But Moon Ryang’s gaze was fixed on a corner of the tavern.

After staring there for a while, he finally left.

Only after he was gone did the people let out a sigh of relief.

“But why do you think he asked about that young master?”

One of the patrons spoke up.

“What else? They’re both one of the Seven Fiends, aren’t they? He’s after revenge, obviously.”

At the blunt remark, others nodded in agreement.

Some even clicked their tongues and pointed.

Only the storyteller who had started it all couldn’t take his eyes off the silver on the table.

And from the shadows, more than one pair of eyes watched the storyteller—and the silver.