A Splendid Outing

After parting with Neung Je-gang, Majil spent all the money he had within less than two days. He even blew through his emergency savings to cross the canal. So, by the time he arrived in the famous Hangju, he was a beggar with nothing left except his horse and cart.

“Damn it! That blasted captain, to make me suffer like this!”

With not a coin left to buy even a single meal, what choice did he have? Majil finally sold the horse and the cart.

“Well, I can at least build up my leg strength this way.”

He tried to think positively, but after moving around comfortably in a cart, walking on two feet only irritated him.

What made things worse was that his destination was the Martial Alliance in Zhengju, Henan Province. On foot, it was very likely that Neung Je-gang would arrive first and be waiting endlessly for him.

“If that happens, with the captain’s temper, he’ll never let it slide.”

Majil had suffered too many times under Neung Je-gang’s temper not to know. Just imagining it made cold sweat trickle down his back.

“Fine, I’ll just risk one big job.”

What else could he do? Thievery was what he had learned. It was time to use it.

Majil wandered leisurely through the streets of Hangju, pretending only to sightsee. He even sat in tea houses and wine shops, listening to people’s gossip.

His master Bibun had told him, “If you must steal, at least steal from the wicked.” So Majil was searching for who in Hangju was both rich and evil.

By evening, he had chosen his target and even confirmed the man’s mansion. When he passed by and checked the number of bodyguards, however, he realized it was too much to simply barge in.

Majil was still unsure of his martial strength and faltered at the sight of so many men.

He spent the last of the money from selling the horse and cart to rent a side annex at a guesthouse for the night.

Conveniently, this guesthouse was right next to the mansion he had targeted. Of course, “right next to” meant something different when the “house” was actually a massive estate—the distance was still daunting.

“From here to the main hall, I’ll have to move quickly.”

Majil pried up the blue-stone floor tiles of the annex and burrowed underground. After digging down, he carefully replaced the stone tiles.

“This way, they’ll just think I stepped out. Even if someone comes in, it’ll look normal.”

He busied himself with hands and feet.

After some time, he pulled out the map he had drawn, comparing the tunnel’s length to the mansion.

“Almost there. Let’s check upward.”

He dug up. His hand hit something hard.

Tok tok.

The sound was dull. Either something was above, or it was very thick stone.

He dug sideways and soon hit lighter, thinner slabs—blue-stone flooring, the kind commonly used for indoor floors.

“I’ve got it. Heh heh heh!”

Grinning with satisfaction, he pushed the slab up slightly.

Rustle.

It moved easily.

He peeked around.

The room was unfamiliar. No bedding. No signs of people.

Majil boldly climbed all the way up, replacing the slab.

“Where am I?”

The place he wanted most was a treasure vault, but luck was rarely so kind.

“Damn, is this an ancestral shrine?”

There were spirit tablets—rows of them set upon a three-tiered altar.

“Strange. Why aren’t there incense sticks? Well, better for me, I guess.”

In wealthy homes, the ancestral shrine always had incense burning. Here, only the tablets stood bare.

Sometimes newly rich men who bought noble titles built fake shrines like this, but Majil didn’t know that.

“Well, nothing valuable will be hidden in a shabby shrine like this. I’ll find the inner quarters.”

The shrine was built some distance from the residence, so there were no guards.

He opened the door and walked out. Security always watched for intruders from outside, not those coming out from within.

Majil casually strolled toward the largest building, then returned secretly to the shrine to extend his tunnel. Measuring the distance had been his purpose.

At last, he entered the main hall. Oddly, there seemed to be no guards inside.

The building was completely dark. Majil’s mouth curled upward. The place was as good as his.

“Small valuables, jewelry, or banknotes would be best—they’ll be in a safe.”

He went upstairs, searching for the owner’s bedroom.

Greedy men rarely hid their treasure far from their own reach—Bibun had taught him that.

Majil pressed the couple’s acupoints, putting them into a deep slumber.

“The safe should be under the bed. Let’s see if this one is like the rest.”

He wrapped the two in their blanket and gently laid them on the floor. Since striking acupoints put people in deep sleep, shocks could wake them.

Circling the bed, feeling along, he smirked.

“Here it is. Heh heh heh!”

There was a small door at the headboard.

He opened it, pulled out a chest, and decided to open it there rather than carry it away. If it contained junk, it would be useless.

Inside were exactly what he wanted: banknotes, jewels, and gold.

Majil stuffed the notes into his clothes, slipped jewels into his pouch, and took the gold as well.

The chest was left empty.

“Should’ve just carried it all.”

He regretted it too late.

Then—

“Wh-who’s there? Kyaah! Th-thief! Thief!”

For some reason, the mistress of the house had awoken. She shrieked, waking her husband, who struggled to move despite his sealed points.

Shaa!

Rain-like sound. A sharp odor.

The woman’s body trembled violently. Majil realized for the first time that pressing acupoints was useless if the body was forced by natural urges.

“Damn it!”

He had to escape. Going underground would guarantee safety.

But the guards had already filled the hall and blocked the stairs. Outside, blades gleamed under torchlight, ready to cut him down if he leapt from the windows.

Hostages?

He thought of using the couple, but it was too late. The door opened. He was caught at his first burglary, doomed to rot in prison.

“Kill him! Kill him!”

Even that hope vanished. They weren’t going to jail him—they were going to execute him. His only option was to fight and die.

‘Captain! I’m dead. Master! I’m dead. Mother, Father, whom I’ve never known—I’m coming.’

Summoning his last resolve, Majil unleashed the Fiery Essence Technique. Flames burst from his hands.

Whoosh!

Blazing heat surged. Guards staggered back in shock.

Most wealthy families’ guards were not true masters, just men trained to fight petty thieves. Against real martial artists, they crumbled. Life was more precious than wages.

At first, they thought Majil was just another thief. But the sudden flames made him look like a peerless master.

“Argh!”

Majil hurled fireballs.

“Uwaah!”

One guard swung his sword to cut through, but fire was fire—it brushed aside steel and struck his chest.

Thud.

“Ugh!”

Fwoosh!

In moments, the man’s whole body was engulfed. He screamed and ran, scattering sparks that ignited more flames.

“Fire! Fire!”

The mistress screamed again. Money could be earned again, but fire meant death.

Majil stared at his hands, eyes gleaming with reflected flames.

“Heh heh heh! So this is how it’s used. No wonder Master said not to fear swords. I was a fool, trembling despite such strength. But now, nothing scares me.”

Whether the house burned down or not, he was ecstatic—he had discovered his true power.

Later, Majil returned to the inn. Stroking his bulging pouch, he smiled.

“Heh heh! Should I challenge the captain when we meet? But he’s still the captain… can I win?”

He lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in happy thoughts.

“No—maybe even the captain won’t be able to stop my fire. If I just stay far and throw fireballs, what can he do? Heh heh!”

Disaster was bound to come when he next met Neung Je-gang.

The next day, Majil rose late, ate in the inn’s dining hall, and acted with the leisure of a man with money.

“They say the Yu Family Mansion burned down last night.”

“Yeah, a thief set the fire.”

“What thief? I heard from a guard myself. It wasn’t a thief—it was a martial master. He conjured fireballs with his hands like palm strikes. Do you think such a man would bother with burglary? The Yu Family must have framed him.”

“Right, right. They even gave him a nickname already—Fiery Ghost Thief.”

“Fiery Ghost Thief? Bah! More like Flame Palm or Blazing Flame Master. At least give him a name he’d like.”

“Exactly!”

The talk of the town was none other than Majil. Since he had robbed corrupt households, people didn’t condemn him—despite theft and arson.

“But how did the whole mansion burn down? Shouldn’t it have stopped at one hall?”

“Haven’t you heard? The Blazing One said wicked men like the Yu family must be utterly ruined, so he rained fireballs down on the mansion’s heart. But he spared the ancestral shrine, so they could still honor their ancestors.”

“Hah! Ancestors? That Yu scum claimed Emperor Zhaolie was their forebear. Bought-up family records! The Blazing One should’ve burned the shrine too.”

The crowd buzzed so much it was hard to know if they were eating or gossiping. Thanks to them, Majil learned all the rumors over one meal.

Once mocked as “Human-Faced Weasel,” now he was being praised.

The excitement gripped him—different from the thrill of discovering his flames’ power.

Grinning stupidly, Majil headed for the stables. His business in Hangju was done. Now he had to go to the Martial Alliance, where he would meet Neung Je-gang.

He bought a horse and cart and departed.

“Heh heh! Blazing One! Heh heh!”

Riding along, his face overflowed with laughter.