Grandpa Has Tried Everything. (3)

Their destination was Sea Dragon Island, off the southern edge of the Central Plains.

To ordinary people it would take tens of days to reach the pier.

But for martial artists with light-footwork skills, the journey could be cut drastically short.

After half a day of nonstop travel they had left Sichuan, crossed Guizhou, and reached Guangxi.

From here they planned to slow down; he wanted to show his granddaughter a different world.

Yu Jinsan himself had never traveled this far south before.

“What do you think? Isn’t it a bit different from what you imagined?”

They entered a nameless southern village.

He expected her to be delighted at finally seeing a village, but Yu Seol’s face remained dour.

“It feels sticky and unpleasant…”

The stifling heat was to blame; humidity shimmered off the ground.

“Grandpa’s fine. What does this kind of heat matter to a martial artist?”

A supreme master whose cultivation left him ‘unaffected by cold or heat’ kept his body at a steady temperature. Neither of them had even broken a sweat yet.

But neither could do anything about the muggy stickiness in the air. Especially Yu Seol — her superhuman senses made her more sensitive. No wonder she was irritable.

“Look. Only we’re dressed like this.”

Yu Jinsan finally noticed the villagers’ dress.

More than half the men had shed their upper garments. Most wore short pants and headscarves against the sun—very lightly dressed.

By contrast, the two of them wore layered robes that covered every inch of skin.

“Our clothes are nicer, so don’t worry. Long sleeves also help against the sun.”

“But why is everyone staring only at us? It’s embarrassing.”

She was right; everyone they passed glanced at them with strange expressions.

“They’re outsiders, or maybe because Seol is pretty?”

Yu Seol wasn’t easily placated.

She grabbed his sleeve and pulled.

“This won’t do. Let’s buy clothes too.”

“Why buy clothes? Why leave these dignified robes to wear rags?”

Despite his protest, she dragged him toward the marketplace.

Fortunately, several clothing stalls lined the street.

“Grandpa, pick something you like. I’ll buy it for you.”

She wore a mockingly generous expression.

Yu Seol had taken the pouch Eun Hwa-rin of the Black Night Clan had handed over, so he had no coin on him.

“How much is in there?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“The pouch the Black Night Clan gave you.”

A meaningful smile crossed Yu Seol’s face.

“Curious? But you said Grandpa wasn’t interested in this sort of thing.”

“When did Grandpa ever say that?”

“You said a true warrior should keep away from wealth. Grandpa’s a warrior, so all of this is mine.”

Yu Jinsan let out a hollow laugh, flabbergasted.

After a moment he resigned himself.

“Fine, do as you please. I’m curious too—when you spend all that money and we’ll end up penniless.”

He intended to hand over control once and watch. It wasn’t laziness; managing funds personally would be a useful experience. There would be no problem.

They stopped at a stall where light, well-ventilated clothing hung on the stand.

Yu Seol picked up a set.

“How about this? Would it suit me?”

It was a cool cotton set—matching top and shorts. The pants stopped above the knee; the top exposed the shoulders.

Yu Jinsan eyed it briefly and tilted his head. It looked like boys’ clothes, but he shrugged; it would do.

Even in the hottest regions women usually wore long skirts or thin trousers.

But so what? They were the Yin Yang Twin Monster; they didn’t care about others’ opinions.

“It’ll suit you perfectly. The size should fit just right.”

“Hee-hee. Wait a bit. I’ll pick one for you, Grandpa.”

She grabbed another set and held it against his frame.

Yu Jinsan looked mildly displeased; it wasn’t his usual style.

“It’s the same as the one you chose.”

“No—the color’s different. How is it? Do you like it?”

He nodded resignedly; the styles were similar anyway.

“Alright, buy that one.”

Yu Seol smiled brightly at the stall owner.

“How much is it?”

The owner, a middle-aged woman with a warm air, answered with a satisfied smile.

“Forty coins, but since you’re pretty, I’ll knock off ten.”

“So thirty coins…? Wait a moment.”

Yu Jinsan craned his neck to peek into his granddaughter’s pouch, curious how much it held.

Yu Seol wasn’t about to show it. Sensing his stare, she turned away, slipped her hand in, and withdrew coins.

“Here you go, thirty coins!”

His plan to peek into the pouch failed.

After the purchase he asked slyly, “How much is left now?”

Yu Seol tied the pouch closed with a coquettish smile.

“It’s a secret. Come on, let’s go buy hats, Grandpa.”

“…Hats? What kind of hats?”

After changing at a discreet spot, they looked at each other.

Finding his new look odd, Yu Seol burst out laughing.

“Puhit.”

“What’s so funny? You’re not exactly tame yourself.”

They both wore straw hats—cheap, flimsy, but enough to shade them from the sun.

Apart from their bundles, they no longer stood out.

Yu Seol beamed, pleased with her new clothes.

“Grandpa, anything you want to eat? Just say it.”

“Hmm. Let’s just look around first.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder.

Being rural, the market felt nothing like a big city’s; it lacked liveliness and felt slightly bleak.

After a while she asked, bored, “Grandpa. When can we see the sea?”

They didn’t know exactly where they were; they’d just been heading southeast without a plan. They intended to check their bearings before leaving the village.

“You’ll probably see it in a few days.”

“That long?”

“Well. We’ve come this far—might as well take our time and look around a little.”

“Watch a fight?”

He wondered where that came from, and soon understood.

Rounding a corner they found a murmuring crowd—on closer inspection, the people were all martial artists.

“Looks like a duel is about to take place.”

“They say the one in white is the challenger. Want to go see?”

She must have overheard—their ears were astonishingly sharp even from thirty meters.

“They’re just country bumpkins from the frontier. What spectacle could there be? Grandpa isn’t interested in other people’s fights.”

“But we have to pass that way anyway.”

The tallest pavilion, an inn, stood there, and they had no choice but to pass that way.

As they approached, the commotion grew louder. Two men stood at the center, swords crossed, ready to duel.

The swordsman in white pointed his blade and shouted, “Gu Yang-ho, you bastard! Today this Humble One Sword, Im Pyeong-su, will cut off your evil deeds!”

His opponent wore black and looked fierce.

He remained composed, sneering as he lowered his blade. “What a joke. You’re dead today.”

As the two took their stances, the surrounding martial artists watched with bated breath. The men seemed to be respected warriors in the region.

Hushed voices drifted to the pair.

“Can warrior Im win?”

“He must. He’s the last righteous warrior left here.”

“If even he loses, there’s no hope left.”

There was clearly history behind the match.

The street was tense but not exactly thrilling. Both fighters, at a glance, didn’t seem to be at their peak—perhaps that was inevitable on the frontier.

They weren’t particularly interested, but they had to wait; spectators blocked the inn entrance.

As the fight began, Yu Jinsan murmured, lost in memories. “To think there’s still someone called a chivalrous hero in this day and age. It brings back memories.”

“Grandpa, were you a righteous warrior when you were young too?”

“Yes. Though some now mistake me for a thug, there was a time I was called the Number One Spear of Shaanxi.”

Yu Seol narrowed her eyes. “Number One Spear of Shaanxi? Oh come on… that’s a lie, right?”

“Oh? Didn’t you see me at the spear tournament? If you don’t believe me, ask the Black Night Clan later.”

The epithet wasn’t fabricated, though its origin had caveats. Many warriors in Shaanxi had been stronger than Yu Jinsan; the nickname arose partly because few used the spear as a primary weapon. Still, it was a proud memory for him.

Yu Seol linked her arm with his and rested her cheek against him, trying to cheer him.

“As expected, our Grandpa is so cool~”

“And didn’t you say you didn’t believe me?”

“Hee hee hee.”

Then—KWAANG—someone’s body sailed through the air with a dull crash.

It was the swordsman in white, Im Pyeong-su.

That single blow decided the match; he flew and lost consciousness midair.

His body passed exactly between the two of them. Yu Jinsan twisted his torso to dodge, but Yu Seol didn’t flinch. The flying man landed as if a butterfly alighted; Yu Seol’s palm came to rest gently on his back.

Gasps poured from the crowd.

“Th-this can’t be.”

“Even warrior Im was bested…”

“Damn it.”

Gu Yang-ho, clearly pleased, scanned the crowd and growled, “Shut your mouths. Before I kill.”

Silence fell instantly. No one dared meet his eyes—his martial presence was overwhelming.

Yu Jinsan clicked his tongue and watched with detached interest. ‘The Murim Alliance’s or the Evil Sect Alliance’s influence doesn’t reach here. No wonder thugs run rampant.’

He had no intention of intervening in matters that didn’t concern him.

As the crowd quieted, Gu Yang-ho raised his blade and approached the unconscious Im Pyeong-su.

“You didn’t know your place and dared oppose me—you’ll pay the price, right?”

He meant to kill.

Typically there were two reasons for such behavior: a deep vendetta, or deliberately building a vicious reputation.

The onlookers murmured pity, but nobody stepped forward.

Except one. Under her straw hat Yu Seol’s eyes blazed.

“Isn’t this too much? He already won.”

Gu Yang-ho’s gaze filled with killing intent. “If you don’t move, I’ll cut you too.”

He seemed determined to kill Im Pyeong-su outright.

“No.”

The blunt answer shocked him.

“This is your last warning, so get lost. I don’t cut slack for kids.”

Yu Seol wasn’t the type to be bullied—she glared back.

“And you, mister, don’t boss me around. Got it?”

As the atmosphere thickened, Yu Jinsan stepped forward.

“Why are you trying to build such a reputation? The match is over—stop. If you want to end it here, we’ll leave and not interfere.”

Yu Jinsan’s rebuke seemed to anger Gu Yang-ho; his brows twitched menacingly.

“…Where did these brats appear from?”

His palm shot for Yu Jinsan’s cheek like lightning—delivered to an untrained man it would have broken his neck.

But the palm stopped midair when Yu Jinsan seized his wrist with a solid thup. Gu Yang-ho’s face registered disbelief.

“I thought you were someone with experience, but you’re just a clueless brat,” Yu Jinsan said in a low voice.

A groan escaped Gu Yang-ho as Yu Jinsan tightened his grip.

“Have you heard the saying? In the murim world, be wary of women, elders, and children.”

Gu Yang-ho blinked.

“You just provoked all three at once.”