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“Good morning, Guard Chief.”
“Good morning, Guard Chief.”
Everyone who passed by greeted him respectfully.
Yeon Mujin walked through the manor with the sword Bukgung Yoon had given him at his waist, his shabby clothes stark against its gleam.
People straightened, bowed their heads, and greeted him politely as they passed.
They still remembered him cutting Jeong Yeo-gwang’s throat in one stroke.
If they were deer, Yeon Mujin was a tiger.
But.
“Good morning, Chil-seong uncle.”
“Are you all right from the injury the other day?”
“I heard your son passed the regional exam a few days ago. Congratulations.”
The tiger, un-tiger-like, accepted each servant’s polite greeting.
It stood in stark contrast to the rumors among the warriors that he was a wild brute.
Yes. Yeon Mujin was a rough man, but humble and kind to most people.
He was only unkind to one clear category: those who wielded power and strength.
So he was particularly popular with the manor’s servants and laborers.
“Hey! You stole my candy again!”
“Ack! It wasn’t me!”
“You wanna die, seriously!”
A boy who’d run off after stealing a girl’s candy crashed into Yeon Mujin’s leg.
“Ouch!”
When he looked up, he saw Yeon Mujin.
Yeon Mujin sounded mildly surprised. “You again?”
“Eek! Guard Chief! I’m sorry……”
The boy froze with terror. He’d seen Yeon Mujin cut Jeong Yeo-gwang’s neck and had secretly admired him, but the image of that swing hadn’t left his mind.
“Come here.”
“Eek!”
The boy instinctively stepped back from the hand Yeon Mujin extended. Before he could react, Yeon Mujin’s rough hand was on the back of his neck, hauling him close. The boy shut his eyes tight and opened them to find a glittering silver coin held before his face.
“Buy some and share it with this.”
Yeon Mujin dropped the coin into the boy’s palm and let go.
The girl who had followed panting bowed her head.
“Thank you, Guard Chief! Thank you!”
She poked her friend’s side. “What are you doing!”
“T-Thank you!”
Yeon Mujin chuckled and moved on.
He was headed to the guard unit’s training ground—the very spot where he had cut Jeong Yeo-gwang’s neck.
Warriors had gathered for today’s practice, but the ranks were noticeably thinner than before.
When the men spotted Yeon Mujin, their faces all tightened.
He had received a sword directly from the manor lord and been appointed Guard Chief; now he was their superior.
With his hands behind his back, Yeon Mujin glared at them and scolded, “Can’t you fix your faces?”
They forced themselves to do so.
“Not going to greet me?”
“Salute to the Guard Chief!”
“Good morning!”
Their shouted greetings came out bitter and loud.
“What? You bitter that the latest arrival is your boss?”
“No, sir!”
“If you feel wronged, get stronger. Fight me—if you win, I’ll make you my superior.”
“No, sir!”
They knew Yeon Mujin’s skill. None of them were Jeong Yeo-gwang’s equal, let alone someone like Yeon Mujin, who had slain him in one stroke despite being poisoned.
Of course, judging by you lot, I doubt any of you will ever become stronger than me.
‘Unlucky bastard.’
‘Rude bastard.’
‘One I’d dunk in shit and fry to death.’
Yeon Mujin scanned the thin ranks: exactly nine. Ten including him. This was the entirety of Flying Swallow Manor’s remaining guard unit.
Compared to other manors, this force was barely a handful.
The men who’d been close to Jeong Yeo-gwang left after his death. Many of the internal women influenced by Wang Ga-hwa departed as well.
It was precisely the pruning Yeon Mujin had wanted.
However.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“…What?”
“Aren’t you all from decent families? Weren’t you somewhat notable back home? So why didn’t you leave when some ronin nobody stumbled in and took charge? Why didn’t you get out of here?”
It was true. Pride was one reason men stayed or left. Some couldn’t bear taking orders from a low-born wanderer—their pride as warriors and in their lineage ran too deep.
Many nursed grievances about Yeon Mujin’s unorthodox fighting style that trampled their egos.
Bukgung Family, Flying Swallow Manor, guard unit—this place had once been a quiet refuge away from the storms of family lord contests, where neither wind nor rain blew.
That peace shattered with Yeon Mujin’s arrival.
For those who came merely to loaf away time, his appearance was a bolt from the blue.
The Flying Swallow Manor guard unit had become a gathering place for washouts—washouts with strong pride.
“You worthless stems.”
Yeon Mujin’s words stung.
They’d expected at least some praise for staying.
‘That bastard.’
‘Should’ve just quit.’
‘What are you staying here for—chasing wealth and glory?’
Just as regret flickered, Yeon Mujin spoke again.
“Dongnyang.”
“Why! No, yes!”
“Why did you stay?”
Even Dongnyang—Yang Gwan-wol—hesitated.
“I stayed because of a promise.”
“A promise? What promise?”
“Didn’t we promise to help the Guard Chief put Flying Swallow Manor right? I stayed because of that promise.”
Right before the duel with Jeong Yeo-gwang, several martial men, including Yang Gwan-wol, had warned Yeon Mujin. They’d promised then to side with him and change the manor together.
Many of those who remained were the same men who’d gone to see Yeon Mujin that day. The others remembered Yang Gwan-wol’s words.
With his hands behind his back, Yeon Mujin looked each man in the face. There were youthful faces and faces prematurely old like Yang Gwan-wol’s. Some bore weapons; some did not. Proud washouts stood in a line before him.
“Fools, all of you.”
After a moment, he continued, “It’s better to give you fools a name that suits you. Flying Swallow Manor’s guard unit—just looking at it, it seems a group of washouts, right? Even if that’s true, you shouldn’t appear that way here.”
“What name will you give us?”
“Wait and see. I’m thinking.”
Other manors had armed contingents with names—some splendid, some odd, some trash. A name gave people a sense of belonging. Without it, they didn’t bind together.
The men of Flying Swallow Manor were simply called the ‘guard unit’—a name without flair or belonging. They were lumped together but not comrades. Such people were not what Yeon Mujin needed.
“Let’s see… you there, what’s your name and origin? Why did you come to Flying Swallow Manor?”
He pointed at Seo Nak-il, the manor’s only spear warrior.
“My name is Seo Nak-il. My hometown is Suzhou. With just a spear I made a decent name for myself around Suzhou.”
By Yeon Mujin’s observation, his spear skills were good—impressive for his age.
“Then why did you run away from home? You seem well-born; couldn’t you have lived comfortably with your family?”
“Well, actually……”
Seo Nak-il scratched his head.
“My family’s place is called Single Life Clan.”
Several men gasped.
Single Life Clan was a well-known sect in the murim world; even Yeon Mujin had heard of it.
“Yes, it’s one of the Eight Sub Clans of Shaolin. So while I may not be great with a sword, I’m decent with the spear…”
The men laughed at his modesty. Seo Nak-il’s face reddened.
“Who just called me a little worthless bastard!”
“It was me. Get in there, you worthless bastard.”
Yeon Mujin grabbed his head and smacked it.
“You?”
Yeon Mujin singled out the man standing next to Seo Nak-il—a fair-skinned, close-cropped young man whose eyes shone with fierce determination.
“My name is Yoo Sae-gwang. My family has long been civil officials. My father currently serves as the Minister of Rites in the central court.”
There were gasps—another notable family.
“A high-ranking noble indeed.”
Yoo Sae-gwang bowed slightly, embarrassed. “But I like punching. If I don’t punch, I can’t live.”
“What?”
Yoo Sae-gwang grabbed Yeon Mujin’s hand. “Guard Chief, the swordsmanship with which you cut Jeong Yeo-gwang’s neck was truly beautiful. I’ve never seen such a splendid sword. As someone crazy about boxing techniques, I even wanted to take up the sword. I admire you, Guard Chief!”
When Yeon Mujin flustered, the men’s laughter burst louder than before.
“I’ll follow the Guard Chief and learn!”
“What a bunch of lunatics.”
Yeon Mujin went down the line, asking each person their origin and why they’d stayed—reasons they couldn’t return, didn’t want to, or had to. Finally,
“I am……”
“Dongnyang, you’re done. Go in.”
“It’s not Dongnyang, it’s Center Beam Divine Blade.”
“Your skill is closer to being called Dongnyang.”
With Yang Gwan-wol scowling, Yeon Mujin finished hearing the men’s stories.
One name came to mind.
“From now on, drop that lousy name ‘Flying Swallow Manor guard unit.’ You’re not mere guards. Each of you will be the sword, the spear, and the fist that protects the manor lord.”
The men watched him. He was solemn in a way they’d rarely seen—light one moment, heavy the next.
“And you’ll become weapons that can be swung at enemies when the time comes. Did you come to Flying Swallow Manor to bide your time? To live like ghosts so no one notices? Not anymore. Now that I’m here, Flying Swallow Manor will become a storm.”
They’d already felt a small storm with their own bodies.
“From today onward, the Flying Swallow Manor guard unit will be called External Protection Troops. You will call me captain, not Guard Chief.”
The ‘Kang’ in External Protection Troops was the character for ‘outer shell’—it literally meant worthless stems, washouts.
The name pleased the nine men.
Ten External Protection Troops members in total. An embarrassing number even to call a ‘unit.’
“Throw away your family, names, pride. If you throw them all away, I’ll give you a new pride and a new name. From now on, your pride won’t be your illustrious families but this External Protection Troops. I’ll make it so.”
Listening, something solid swelled in the men’s chests.
They were proud washouts. There were reasons those who’d left good families had done so. Yeon Mujin was giving them a reason to put down roots here.
“I will make the manor lord the family lord of the Bukgung Family. External Protection Troops will become the personal praetorian force of the greatest family under heaven. Are you ready for that?”
“…What if our skills are lacking?”
Someone asked. Yeon Mujin fixed him with a steady look.
“Do you think I’ll leave it like that?”
They all shook their heads.
Yeon Mujin would never leave it at that. They knew it.
“If you follow me, I’ll make you so. I’ll make you the head of a dragon, not the head of a snake. Trust me.”
A strange trust formed, despite their low birth.
“These ten External Protection Troops are effectively the future family lord’s guard. For that, strip the Bukgung Family—the world’s foremost—clean! Go to the markets and buy every high-quality iron sword, spiritual pill, and martial arts manual you can! If skill lacks, throw money at it; if effort lacks, throw money again! Why? Because this is the Bukgung Family! Kawahahaha!”
Yeon Mujin laughed toward the sky.
What was there to worry about? They had the Bukgung Family—an endless spring of money where gold rotted away.
Of course their opponent would also be the Bukgung Family… still, Yeon Mujin was confident he could use household funds wisely. After all, he had seven experiences of regression.
Now that they’d taken Flying Swallow Manor and Bukgung Yoon’s resolve blazed, the family lord’s seat looked theirs.
“Kwahahaha!”
“Um……”
“What is it, Dongnyang?”
“Captain, don’t you know?”
“What?”
“We right now… aren’t in a position to do that.”
“…What?”
Yeon Mujin blinked like an ox. Had he heard wrong?
It seemed not.
“They say we must tighten Flying Swallow Manor’s finances. The servants have heard the rumors too. They say we might go bankrupt soon……”
“So what is that supposed to mean?”
“Simply put, there’s no money. In Flying Swallow Manor.”
“No.”
So,
what on earth,
does that mean?
“What kind of crazy talk is it to say the wealthiest family in the world has no money?”
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