Chapter 143

Hanan Province, Xiping County.

At a gambling ring that had swelled over three months, local players had flocked in and gambling was in full swing.

On every table, drinks and women, brass cards and money, and curses never ran dry.

What set this gambling den apart from others was that everyone seated at the table carried a weapon somewhere on their body.

It was not an unusual sight in the Central Plains.

Where martial men gathered, commoners rarely came and went.

Whether inns, watchtowers, or gambling dens—any place was the same. The more martial men gathered, the more stabbings and innocent casualties occurred, so ordinary civilians avoided such places.

Because civilians stayed away, martial folk gathered in increasing numbers, and the more they gathered, the fewer civilians came…

Though they lived under the same sky, the Central Plains of martial men and that of commoners were different worlds.

They existed in different realms, like water and oil.

“Hey! Fuck, is this for real!”

A one-eyed man sitting at the gambling table sprang up and shouted.

Those nearby parted as if this were commonplace and watched the one-eyed man with curious eyes.

“What do you mean it’s not fair?”

“How could I possibly get this shitty hand seven rounds in a row!”

“Maybe you’re just unlucky.”

“You bastard cheated me, didn’t you? This is a rigged game!”

“What are you talking about, you one-eyed bastard…”

“What? One-eyed bastard?”

The one-eyed man drew his blade first.

Then the lanky man seated at the table also drew his weapon.

The two others gambling at the same table drew their weapons and pointed them at the one-eyed man.

In an instant it was revealed that the three had been running the game together.

“You… fuckers…!”

“If you have neither luck nor money, get lost. Or try it three against one.”

The one-eyed man, trembling with anger, suddenly broke into a smile.

Just as someone thought he had been driven mad by the money, a warrior playing at another table stood up with three others.

“Try five against three. Or return double—my money plus yours.”

Immediately it was the gamblers who had been setting the tables who found themselves at a disadvantage.

The lanky man’s group, sensing the mood, put down the stakes and began to withdraw slyly.

There are two kinds of people who take money from this game.

Either they had nerve in spades, or they had connections in heaps.

“That’s right. Sure, you can sit another round, but you only have one life, right? Quietly put it down and go. Heh heh heh…”

The one-eyed man licked his lips as he looked at the mound of silver coins spread on the table.

The lanky group, who were slowly backing toward the exit, failed to achieve their aim.

A martial man was blocking the gambling den’s entrance.

“W-what? They’re handing over the money and leaving, aren’t they?”

The lanky man who was trying to clear a path froze when he saw the characters emblazoned on the warrior’s chest.

Namgung.

Anyone who frequented gambling dens, even those from prestigious sects or clans, did not wear uniforms that revealed their affiliation.

What good would it do to parade around a gambling den wearing that?

“Why on earth is the Namgung family here?”

The lanky man who had let slip a word immediately shut his mouth.

Because, led by that man, warriors wearing the same Namgung uniforms began to surround the gambling den.

“What is this?”

“The Namgung family?”

“What is the Namgung family doing here?”

Even those enjoying the gambling sensed the unusual atmosphere and began to stand up one by one.

In an instant the Namgung warriors split left and right, and a man walked in slowly.

“Hmph!”

Those who knew the man’s face gasped in surprise, covered their mouths, and swallowed saliva, and even those who didn’t know his identity quietly hid their weapons at the force he exuded.

“We are looking for someone, so put down your weapons and cooperate peacefully.”

“Who are you to tell us to cooperate or not?”

Namgung Geom shot a glare at the man who had spoken and answered.

“I am Namgung Geom.”

“…Sword Lord Namgung Geom!”

“One of the Three Lords…!”

The man who had asked the question fell silent and hid among the crowd.

“If anyone refuses our search…”

Thud!

Namgung Geom drove his sword into the floor with its scabbard on.

People felt as if a blade had brushed across their throats.

“I’ll show you why they call me Sword Lord.”

Similar scenes were unfolding around Mount Cheonjung.

Pingyao, Zhongyang, Xingcheng, Runan County….

From the southeast Namgung warriors with swords swept in; from the north Shaolin fighters; from the southwest the shaman sect’s swordsmen—each stopped passersby and interrogated them one by one.

Those who resisted in the process were mercilessly subdued. The pursuers showed no mercy.

For they were facing the Three Evils, whose reputation rivaled that of the Three Lords.

“This is more serious than I thought. Not just the Namgung clan, but Shaolin and the shaman sect have gathered as well. What on earth did they do to cause such a stir?”

Shapeshifter Demon, who had been watching the town’s situation, returned, took off his hat, and said.

Raging Evil had a coarse cloth wrapped around his chest and was chugging liquor straight from the bottle.

At that rate, it was hard to tell whether the man was drinking the alcohol or the alcohol was consuming him.

“Ugh.” (a belch)

Shapeshifter Demon frowned at the long belch.

He felt he’d seen such an ill-mannered fellow not long ago…

“What did you do to have orthodox sect warriors spread out in all directions? And what’s with your chest like that?”

“The wound on my chest is a warrior’s pride.”

“Stop talking bollocks and answer me.”

“I had a scrap with the Sword Lord.”

“The Sword Lord? The Namgung Sword Lord? One of the Three Lords of the world?”

Raging Evil nodded and opened the stopper of a fresh bottle.

“My chest still aches whenever I sleep. I’m going mad. Isn’t there a better medicine for a pierced chest?”

“Why were you cut by the Sword Lord?”

“I burned down several buildings of the Namgung clan.”

The utterly ridiculous claim was beyond comprehension.

“What on earth…”

“Ah, shut your chirping. Stop asking. Want to die?”

Flames flickered in Raging Evil’s eyes, but Shapeshifter Demon didn’t even flinch.

“Fine. Kill me. Kill me and let you be captured and die by those warriors too. I have no regrets—let’s die together. If one of the Three Evils is my traveling companion to the afterlife, I won’t be lonely.”

Raging Evil engaged Shapeshifter Demon in a brief stare-down and then snorted a laugh.

The Raging Evil she knew wasn’t truly angry; he was good at pretending to be. Inside, he was calmer and more cynical than anyone.

Shapeshifter Demon knew well that Raging Evil wouldn’t actually kill him.

“Someone from the Namgung clan’s household paid a lot of money to buy one of my paintings.”

“You still haven’t given up that painter’s trade?”

“Shut up. A painting is my soul.”

“And?”

“That Namgung Family Lord tore the painting I sold to shreds and threw it away. Worse, he hung the shredded pieces on the Namgung gate as if to show me. He dared to say the daughter of one of the Three Lords bought the Three Evils’ painting.”

“From the Namgung Family Lord’s perspective, he’d have reason to be angry.”

“Right. He’d be angry… what did you say?”

Raging Evil looked at Shapeshifter Demon with a stunned expression.

“You should stand up for someone who’s been hurt!”

“I’m sick of watching you play the painter. You scribble a few strokes and want to pocket hundreds of coins. If that’s not the mindset of a thief, what is? I’d tear it up myself.”

“Not hundreds of coins—thousands.”

“What?”

“It’s not too much for the value of my artistic soul.”

Shapeshifter Demon clicked his tongue and dismissed Raging Evil’s words.

“That’s bullshit. So?”

“So? I pasted ‘Blue Goblin flowers’ all over the visible Namgung buildings. If the Sword Lord hadn’t shown up at that moment, I could’ve burned the entire manor to the ground…”

“Then you’d have burned it down and died there.”

Raging Evil shook his head.

“It was the perfect punishment for one who tore my soul to shreds.”

“Hearing your story finally makes my mind up. I won’t dance to that mad tune.”

“With your skill, whether hundreds or thousands are waiting outside, getting out would be child’s play, right? If you get me out safely, I’ll reward you handsomely. Any painting you want?”

“Hmph!”

Shapeshifter Demon snorted.

“I’m not interested in your paintings.”

“Each one is worth thousands of coins. Want me to paint an erotic picture? A Raging Evil erotic painting is rare—if I stamp it with my seal, it could fetch tens of thousands of coins.”

“That damn erotic picture talk…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Raging Evil stared at Shapeshifter Demon for a moment, then said bluntly.

“You’ve changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t even drink the liquor you loved, you don’t use your reversing horse tricks… Old man, they say when a person starts acting out of character it’s a sign they’re about to die.”

“Judging by how you look now, you’ll die long before me.”

Thud.

Shapeshifter Demon said as he opened the bundle of goods he’d brought.

Inside the bundle were the tools of the reversing-horse trade he bragged about.

“The Namgung clan is to the east, the shaman sect to the south, Shaolin bastards to the north. Let’s head west.”

A ridge near Mount Cheonjung.

The pass was named Kkaltak Pass because travelers’ breaths heaved and panted as they crossed it.

There were so few passersby that only two Namgung warriors were stationed to guard the path.

“Hey, you with the sword. Come here.”

“That one?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can see traces of martial training.”

Namgung Ji-eon and Namgung U-rim, guarding Kkaltak Pass, watched each passerby like a steel net.

Even though it was a minor checkpoint, they could not be careless—this was the solemn order of the Namgung Family Lord.

“…They’re completely different from the usual martial appearance.”

“You can even see the calluses unique to someone who wields a sword.”

“You may pass.”

“…?”

At that moment, a boy struggled up the slope pushing a cart.

Pushing a cart up a slope that’s hard to walk up naturally meant he had little speed.

“…Well now.”

Unable to bear it, Namgung U-rim went down to help push the cart.

The load inside was fairly heavy, whatever it was.

“Hold on a moment. Wait. Where are you headed?”

The boy was frightened at once and glanced nervously at the Namgung warriors.

“I’m going over the pass to a post house.”

“What business do you have there?”

“I’m on my way back home…”

“Where did you come from?”

“From Pingyao.”

“You pulled this heavy cart from Pingyao to Zhongxing?”

The two men sensed something suspicious.

Namgung Ji-eon grabbed the boy while Namgung U-rim seized the cart.

“No! No! That cart—don’t!”

“Stay still. Stretch out your hand.”

Namgung Ji-eon snatched the boy’s hand to check if there were signs of martial training.

…It was clean. Apart from the reddened hands from long pushing of the cart, there were no marks.

“What’s inside the cart?”

Namgung U-rim lifted the tarp covering the cart, and a person appeared inside.

“…Heung-jin, are you already here?”

She was an ancient old woman, barely able to open her eyes.

She clutched a bundle in both arms and called for her grandchild.

“No? I don’t think everyone is here yet.”