The Unknown Ruffians (4)

Contrary to the old man Kang’s expectations, no starving predators appeared, and no beasts attacked the party. Taking that as a blessing, they pressed on at a steady pace.

“In about half a day we should reach another Miao village, but they may be hostile because of the fire.”

“Would they know we caused the fire?”

“Likely not. But they’ll at least know the Miao didn’t start it. To them, anyone not Miao is an outsider. So even if they don’t know who set the blaze, if you’re not Miao you’re as good as the arsonist.”

“Then should we skirt around the village?”

Neung Je-gang had no objection to that. They didn’t need directions from the Miao to keep moving anyway.

“Our food? We’re nearly out, aren’t we? Water we can catch from the rain, but we still need to resupply food.”

The old man Kang saw the party’s situation at a glance.

“True. Then we’ll visit the village. If we watch their attitude, we can respond appropriately.”

“Best avoid bloodshed.”

Resigned, the old man turned his steps toward the Miao village.

Just then—

Slaaap!

A sharp crack echoed.

“You filthy son of a dog! I’ve been waiting for this moment, you bastard!”

Go So-jeong, eyes blazing, slapped Song Seok-jin across the face.

Everyone’s eyes went round. No one expected such magnificent cursing to come from the usually reserved Go So-jeong.

Majil was the most stunned of all—he froze solid.

Neung Je-gang rubbed his forehead. He recalled telling Go So-jeong not long ago to act according to her temper; she must have been waiting for this chance since then.

As for the slapped Song Seok-jin, it was much the same. He first stood there in disbelief; then, realizing he’d been struck, he slowly turned a glare tinged with anger on Go So-jeong—before exploding.

“You damned wench, who do you think you’re hitting? Want to die? Want to find out right here and now?”

“Yeah? Kill me then, you son of a cur!”

Go So-jeong drew her weapon, a dagger. Song Seok-jin, flustered, also pulled his sword. It looked like steel would be bared any second.

“Hey now! What are you doing? Easy, hold it.”

Bae Ji-sang stepped in front of Song Seok-jin to stop him. Majil—who had been unable to move—also slipped between them, determined to prevent a fight.

“You heard that slut’s mouth, right? You want me, a man, to swallow that from a woman? Huh? After being slapped, I don’t get to pay her back in kind?”

Song Seok-jin shouted to Bae Ji-sang, playing the aggrieved victim.

“You bastard—does a man stare that hard at a woman’s backside and still call himself a man?”

With Go So-jeong’s words, the reason came to light.

“So a guy can’t even look at the person walking in front? Damn you—didn’t you stare at Secret Shadow’s backside? You did, and yet you hit me for it?”

Go So-jeong’s face flushed red. Their quarrel was turning into a bizarre round of exposures.

Neither she nor Song Seok-jin noticed Majil’s expression changing as he tried to mediate.

“You dog! At least I didn’t drool over it, you dead man walking!”

All sense of propriety went out the window; curses flew.

If drool had indeed been involved, Song Seok-jin had nothing left to say to that.

In the end…

“Go down the mountain, you hag! There are plenty of women with prettier asses than yours. Yours isn’t much, and it won’t wear out just because it’s looked at. If you don’t like it, walk in the back yourself.”

Song Seok-jin smirked, deliberately provoking her.

“You—! Die!”

Go So-jeong exploded again. A storm of killing cold seemed to billow from her.

Thud!

“Gah—!”

But the fight swerved unexpectedly. From the middle, where he’d been trying to intervene, Majil’s iron-hard fist smashed Song Seok-jin’s jaw.

Majil had thrown the punch with full intent, channeling Adamantine Metal True Energy into it. It was no different from being hit by a steel sledgehammer.

“—!”

Neither Neung Je-gang, nor the fighting Go So-jeong, nor even Bae Ji-sang standing next to Majil sensed the ambush.

Thud—thud—thud!

And Majil didn’t stop there. Straddling the seemingly senseless Song Seok-jin, he pounded his face again and again. With each blow, Seok-jin’s head lolled uselessly to the side.

Bae Ji-sang lunged and shoved Majil away—if this kept up, Seok-jin would die. Majil stumbled up and, this time, began stomping and kicking Seok-jin’s torso.

Through it all, Majil didn’t say a single word.

Neung Je-gang clutched his head with both hands. He sensed Majil’s old temperament had erupted—the vicious streak they’d thought long buried.

“Enough!”

Bae Ji-sang spread his arms wide in front of Majil. If Majil wanted to hit Song Seok-jin again, he’d have to hit Bae Ji-sang first—and that was a line Bae Ji-sang wouldn’t allow to be crossed.

But Bae Ji-sang didn’t know what Majil could do.

Thump. Thump.

Majil stamped the ground in fury.

Everyone but Bae Ji-sang saw it—the soil beside the fallen Seok-jin leaping up with each stamp, cascading over him.

They stared at Majil, horrified. It wasn’t hard to guess—he meant to bury the man.

Beating him and then burying him—over a squabble?

While everyone thought the same, it was Go So-jeong who grabbed Majil’s arm.

“Stop. He’ll really die.”

She believed Majil would listen to her—after all, she assumed his anger was on her behalf. In any case, it wasn’t something to kill over.

But—

Majil shook off her hand.

The situation flipped. Now Go So-jeong froze at his reaction.

“You be quiet too. One more word and I’ll bury you with him. Understood?”

His eyes devoured her as he spoke.

Nod, nod!

Crushed by Majil’s aura, Go So-jeong nodded. When not only Neung Je-gang but even Majil got angry, it was terrifying.

Thus the quarrel that had started over whose backside got stared at seemed to end—after everyone learned just how ruthless Majil could be…

“Is that all?”

Neung Je-gang lowered his hands from his head and spoke quietly.

Whoosh—

Majil’s face and body snapped toward Je-gang so fast the motion was a blur.

The group worried the two men were about to clash again.

“Chief, heh-heh! I shut him up. Let’s go.”

As if he hadn’t just raged, Majil grinned at Je-gang.

“Sigh… were you planning to kill him?”

“Chief, he keeps causing trouble. Can’t we just bury him for good this time?”

“Dig him out. We’re not killing him with our own hands.”

“Got it.”

Dig him out?

Only then did Bae Ji-sang realize Song Seok-jin was already covered with soil.

“Ah!”

Before Majil could move, Bae Ji-sang scraped away the dirt and brushed Seok-jin’s face clean.

He checked the pulse. Thankfully, he wasn’t dead. Bae Ji-sang pulled a random pill from his robe, shoved it into Seok-jin’s mouth, and poured in some water.

They were mostly bruises; recovery would be quick. Eating would be troublesome with a split lip, but there were no fatal wounds.

“Whew.”

Bae Ji-sang exhaled in relief, then shot an angry look at Majil.

But what could he do? Song Seok-jin had been in the wrong first—and behind Majil stood Neung Je-gang, who might be even scarier.

“Let’s go.”

Neung Je-gang addressed the old man Kang, who had been staring blankly at the scene.

“Uh, yes? Right, let’s.”

The old man came to, and the party left the commotion behind and set out again.

Bae Ji-sang had no choice but to bring up the rear, hauling Song Seok-jin over his back, his face sour.

The Miao village they struggled to reach, thankfully, did not treat them as enemies. The old man Kang spoke with them and explained—word had spread that at the first Miao village they’d treated the chieftain.

They had no idea these travelers had anything to do with the fire.

What’s more, the Miao who had fled during the battle spoke well of the party—saying they had fought the truly bad men.

They spent a day there. By then, Song Seok-jin still hadn’t woken. The first blow seemed to have rattled his brain.

Whether he woke or not was just a matter of time.

“Can we leave him here in their care?”

Unconscious, Song Seok-jin was dead weight. To be honest, he had been even before—at least then he could walk on his own. Now he truly was a burden who couldn’t move at all.

When Je-gang asked, the old man explained the situation to the Miao chieftain. Even without a common tongue, expressions and gestures said enough.

The talk went well. The Miao agreed to care for Seok-jin until the party returned from Heavenly Poison Grove.

After thanking them, the party received food from the Miao in exchange for the heavy layers they’d worn at the start—now just extra baggage. The old man had insisted they not throw the garments away; he’d said they could barter with the Miao—and he was right.

They spent a day in the village and set out again. Fortunately, once they left Song Seok-jin behind, nothing hindered them and their pace quickened.

It was proof of how much he had been unknowingly dragging them down.

After several days, at a certain spot where the trees thinned and the clouds peeked through, the old man Kang looked up at the sky.

“The place you wanted to reach is just there.”

A peak veiled in wisps of cloud and mist could be seen—appearing and disappearing—yet it didn’t look so far to the eye.

“Three days more, perhaps, and we’ll arrive.”

At his words, the party’s spirits rose. The end was finally in sight.

Three more days, and the seemingly endless hardship would be over. None of them thought about the fact that the return would also mean crossing this murderous jungle again.

After a short rest, they moved on.

By now, the second wave should have set foot on the mountain.

Je-gang did the math. The Lord of the No-Poison Sect had likely led his warriors into Mount Aenae a day or two ago.

‘If I’m to secure Banwon before they descend upon us, we need to hurry.’

Je-gang’s aim was the same—capture someone who could name the mastermind. If that someone was Banwon, so much the better.