Yangso-bang (4)

I was listening to their conversation from outside.

It wasn't like I meant to eavesdrop. I had come to apologize for earlier and pay them a visit, and just happened to overhear their conversation.

This might sound strange, but… I found my mother to be quite endearing.

Though she always acted so fierce and strong-headed on the outside—like a true matriarch—when she was alone with Father, she revealed a softer, more delicate side.

I looked up at the sky.

At first, I thought I had been reincarnated for my sake. Then, I wondered if it was for this Byeok Lidan guy. But now, listening to the two of them talk, I couldn't help but feel that perhaps… maybe Heaven had sent me back for them—this couple.

But… am I really the right person for that?

I, who have lived my entire life never knowing what true familial love feels like.

But… could I really be the one?

I'm someone who can't sleep at night unless I get revenge tenfold for any slight. I've always had a vicious temper.

Click.

Mother opened the door and stepped outside—then flinched in surprise when she saw me.

"Dani? If you're here, why didn't you come in?"

I stepped inside and went straight to the point.

"Please don't sell that. Even if you do, it won't make a difference."

"You heard?"

"Yes. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, so… please forgive me."

"It's all right. But what do you mean, it won't make a difference even if we sell it?"

"I mean that paying off the debt won't change anything."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He's not the kind of man who'll let this go just because he's been repaid."

I turned to my father and asked,

"Am I wrong? Did I misjudge Sect Leader Yang?"

I had seen it clearly in Yang Gicheol's eyes before he left—the deep-rooted malice, the vengeful glare of a man who wouldn't rest until he saw his enemy dead.

It was a look I had seen countless times in my previous life, in the eyes of the wicked.

The silence that followed said more than any answer could.

"I'll handle this matter myself. You take your mother and go stay with your uncle for a while."

As far as I knew, Mother's younger brother lived far away in Anhui. It was clear this was to protect her and me.

Even if he managed to repay the debt, Father must have sensed that Yang Gicheol would still come seeking revenge.

"Do you intend to confront them head-on?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Of course it is. It has to be my concern."

Coming from someone like Byeok Lidan, who'd acted the way he had until now, these words probably sounded hollow. But still—

"This is our family's problem, isn't it?"

At my words, Mother's face lit up. To think a single sentence could bring her such joy… What exactly had Byeok Lidan been so dissatisfied with all this time?

"I said I'll take care of it."

Though I had come to see that my father was a strong man, his kind and upright nature made me wary. The man on the other side was far too malicious for someone like him to handle alone.

"Please let me help resolve this too."

"How can you think only of yourself? Doesn't your mother's safety matter to you?"

"If something happens to you, Mother will be devastated regardless."

"What kind of disrespectful talk is that!"

Father scolded me, but Mother smiled.

"You're wrong. It's not just that I'll be unhappy. It would be a hundred, no, a thousand times more miserable than dying together as a family."

She turned to Father and spoke gently.

"After living with me for so long… do you still not know me?"

Father let out a quiet sigh.

Of course he knew. Better than anyone, he understood that Mother would never agree to leave in a situation like this.

Under normal circumstances, he would have tried to persuade her by saying my life needed to be protected. But now that I was unexpectedly stepping forward on my own, he couldn't persuade her anymore.

"A dangerous situation could arise," Father warned.

Mother rolled up her sleeves.

"Well, it's been a while since things got exciting."

I couldn't help but smile.

Earlier, when I overheard their conversation, she seemed like the devoted, gentle wife… but in moments like this, she was bold—no less than a true warrior.

She turned to me.

"And what about you?"

"I find it quite exciting too."

"Right?"

I felt a little sorry saying this to my mother—but honestly, nothing exciting was going to happen.

Because I would resolve everything before it came to that.

There was no way I would allow trash like them to run rampant in the same space as these two.

"I'll head into the mountains for a few days to focus on training. I'll take Gwangdu with me, so don't worry."

"Alright. Take care, then."

Both Father and Mother readily agreed. Given the situation, they probably would've pushed me out the door themselves if I hadn't said it.

After leaving the room, I immediately went to find Gwangdu.

"Huh!? What did you just say?"

Watching Gwangdu's eyes go wide like that—it was strangely fun.

"I said you're coming with me to the Yang Fire Sect."

It's always satisfying to see this exact reaction.

"Do you hate me that much!? Why would you drag me to such a dangerous place!?"

"There are two kinds of answers: the one you want to hear and the one you don't. Which do you want first?"

"It's better to get the bad news out of the way. Please start with what I don't want to hear."

"This all happened because of you."

Gwangdu lowered his head. He couldn't deny it.

"Now tell me the one I want to hear."

"You're the only person I can trust."

Gwangdu let out a deep sigh.

"How unfortunate. Young master, your social circle is both small and barren."

Despite his words, there was a faint smile at the corners of his mouth. He was clearly pleased at being told he was the only one I trusted.

What a simple guy.

"So why are we going, anyway? It's a mission from the clan head, isn't it? We're just delivering a letter or something, right? Right?"

"If it puts your heart at ease, sure—think of it that way."

"Wait… are you saying—?"

"We caused this mess, so we should be the ones to fix it."

"Oh no! Do you even have a plan!?"

"I'll make one on the way."

"What kind of injury does it take for a person to become this positive!?"

"You could end up the same, you know. That place will be crawling with guys who'd love to beat you up."

Was it because I was in a younger body now? Or maybe it was a reaction to the stifling formality I'd been trapped in during my past life? Either way, I found myself naturally making jokes and teasing—something I never used to do.

Or perhaps it was because of Gwangdu. Talking with him put me in a good mood.

Whatever the reason, my heart felt younger.

"Hurry up and get ready. Let's go."

There was a reason I was bringing Gwangdu along.

I planned to make a decision this time—whether he'd stay as just a yard-sweeper… or whether I'd invest in him and take him all the way.

Which path would be better for his life? I didn't know.

I just intended to follow where fate led.

***

"…I'll kill him. I'll tear his whole body apart and feed it to pigs. I'll skin him alive and throw him in a barrel of salt. I'll gut him and—"

The one spewing this non-stop stream of venomous curses was Yang Gigang.

Even though most of his teeth had been knocked out and his words slurred, he continued to spit out endless resentment and malice.

"…I'll snap every joint in his body. He'll be begging and crying like a baby."

Yang Gigang had completely surrendered himself to rage, as if he'd given up on everything.

The servant attending to him beside the bed didn't even dare to breathe loudly.

It wasn't because of the pungent medicinal scent seeping from the bandages tightly wrapped around his limbs.

Nor was it because of the unending torrent of curses and hatred.

There were rumors. Rumors that the previous servant who had been attending to him was killed—had her throat ripped out by Yang Gigang himself.

They said her body was quietly disposed of by the internal guards.

The current servant knew: even a small mistake… no, even without a mistake—if she simply irritated him the wrong way—she could be killed instantly.

She was terrified.

She feared the moment those curses, that venomous rage, would suddenly turn toward her with something like:

"You crazy wench! Are you looking down on me too?"

Fortunately, before that could happen, Yang Gicheol entered the room.

"Leave us."

"Yes, sir."

At the door, the servant offered a desperate prayer:

Please… let him be dead when I return.

But she knew it was hopeless. A skilled physician was treating him with the finest medicine available.

Yang Gigang looked up at Yang Gicheol with desperate, pleading eyes.

"…Father."

But the eyes that looked down at his son were cold—frigid, even.

"You fool. To get beaten by someone like that."

For a moment, Yang Gigang's emotions surged.

"He…!"

He was about to say that the guy was much stronger than expected—but shut his mouth.

Anything he said now would only sound like an excuse.

"Please kill Byeok Lidan! And that wench who gave birth to him—no, just wipe out the entire Byeok Clan Sword Sect!"

In any ordinary circumstance, this would be the moment to scold his son.

But just because they'd returned home, it didn't mean that Yang Gicheol's attitude—shown back at the Byeok Clan—had changed.

"I intend to."

He couldn't forget the look in Byeok Dojun's eyes that day—the scorn, the utter disregard—right in front of his subordinates, no less.

'How dare he look down on me?'

Among all forms of hostility, contempt was the hardest to forget.

'Those bastards! They're not even among the top ten in Shandong!'

Even if his son hadn't begged him, he would've acted on his own.

Even if he couldn't reclaim the money—he would take their lives.

Sensing his father's wrath, Yang Gigang shouted excitedly,

"Send the main sect's warriors right away and wipe them out in one go!"

"You idiot! They'll be prepared too—our main sect would suffer too much damage."

More importantly, they had no justifiable cause to attack. Starting a war over a mere scuffle between boys?

Never mind public criticism—they could even be branded as enemies of the martial world.

As furious as he was, Yang Gicheol still retained that much reason.

"That's why I called someone in."

Yang Gigang's face lit up as he guessed who it was.

"You summoned the Bloodhound?"

Yang Gicheol nodded.

His smile reeked of a low, bloody stench—like the rage of a petty man who didn't even realize he'd already been bested.

"They'll pay for touching me."

***

Gwangdu and I were riding in a rattling carriage, on our way to Dongpyeong, where the Yang Fire Sect was located.

We could've gotten there faster on horseback, but I rented a carriage for Gwangdu's sake—he still wasn't used to riding.

Thankfully, arriving a few hours later than planned wouldn't be a problem in this case.

Dududududu.

(The sound of the carriage wheels rolling.)

The scenery outside the window passed by quickly.

It had been over twenty days since I reincarnated, and yet… there was still no news about my death.

I even checked to see if I had been reincarnated in a different era.

But that wasn't the case. I had reincarnated on the exact same day I died.

Considering how significant the death of the leader of the Martial Alliance was, it was still understandable that nothing had been publicly announced yet.

If it drags on for a month, two months—three, then that would be a problem.

"Do you… by any chance, have some hidden stash of money?" Gwangdu asked.

"Do I look like the kind of person who'd have done that? Like I was secretly saving up twenty thousand nyang from the battlefield?"

Gwangdu let out a sigh.

"Didn't think so."

"Then the answer is no."

Some people might ask:

You lived over thirty years as the leader of the Martial Alliance—shouldn't you have at least tens of thousands of nyang saved up somewhere?

Shouldn't there be at least one secret account in the Continental War Treasury?

To answer plainly: no, there wasn't.

From a young age, I was obsessed only with martial arts.

Fighting and winning, getting stronger—that was my only joy.

Compared to the thrill of becoming stronger, gold was no more valuable than a pebble.

And once I became the leader of the Martial Alliance, I didn't really have a need for money.

What would I buy? Clothes? Meals?

If I ever needed anything, the Finance Hall would bring it to me without question.

If I'd seriously tried to hoard money back then, I could've pocketed not tens of thousands, but even millions of nyang.

But I didn't.

In fact, I carried a sense of debt toward the Martial Alliance.

As leader, I had received immense investment.

Just the elixirs I consumed alone were worth amounts that couldn't even be measured in gold.

Of course, those were strategically given by the Alliance in order to defeat the Thirteen Black Factions and the Blood Heaven Divine Sect.

Whatever the reason, thanks to that, I was able to attain the tremendous inner power of the Fourth Level of Grandmastery.

And to me, that was enough.

"By the way," Gwangdu said, "what's that book you've been reading this whole time?"

He seemed curious about the text I had open during the carriage ride.

I held up the book in my hand to show him the cover.

"White Moon Sword Technique (Baekwol Geombeop)? Whoa!"

Startled, Gwangdu leaned in and whispered in shock.

"That's the clan leader's personal martial art, isn't it?!"

I lowered my voice along with him and asked,

"Yeah. But why are you suddenly whispering?"

"Because it's a precious technique! What if the coachman outside overhears?"

"Don't you think whispering like this makes it look really suspicious?"

"Ah."

This time, Gwangdu said it loudly enough for the coachman to hear from the driver's seat.

"Haha, the White Moon Sword Technique is just an ordinary sword style, nothing special!"

"I'm telling Father about this."

"Ugh! What are you doing, sir! Clan Leader! The White Moon Sword Technique is the most excellent sword art in the world!"

"You keep changing your tune—you're definitely acting suspicious."

"What do you expect me to do?!"

Here's my honest assessment of the White Moon Sword Technique:

'Not bad.'

It's not that I'm looking down on it—it's just that the level of my martial understanding is already so high.

If I had to rate it, I'd say it's an upper-mid-tier technique.

Still, the reason I'm bothering to learn a family technique like this is to conceal my original martial arts.

"But… is it really okay to just carry something that valuable around so casually?" Gwangdu asked.

"It's a handwritten copy. The original is kept separately."

"No, that's not what I meant…"

"What if someone steals this manual and learns the technique?"

"Yes, that! Exactly that."

"Without the internal energy cultivation method specific to the White Moon Sword Technique, this manual alone is useless."

"Ah, I see."

When I asked Father for the handwritten copy, claiming I wanted to review it during training, I also took the chance to read the internal cultivation manual.

Of course, I'd used the excuse that I just wanted to take a proper look at it.

But even from a single read, I was able to memorize all the core formulas.

My memory had become abnormally good, and the contents weren't particularly difficult.

Normally, practicing two different internal energy methods is taboo.

If you're not careful, it could cause an internal energy deviation, or even drive you mad.

But that applies to ordinary martial artists in the murim world—not to me.

Unless it's a supreme-level cultivation technique on par with my own, the Heavenly Martial Heart Sutra, I can absorb and use something like the internal method for the White Moon Sword Technique without any problem.

In any case, at least for the time being, I'll use the White Moon Sword Technique when others are watching.

"You look so unfamiliar when you're reading something, Young Master. The only reading you ever did in your life used to be bar menus and courtesan rosters."

Looking at him over the secret manual, I asked abruptly,

"Do you want to learn martial arts?"

Gwangdu flinched.

"No."

"That answer was a little slow."

"No, I mean… Someone like me learning martial arts? That's ridiculous."

"What's so ridiculous about you? Even a guy like Yang Gikang gets to learn martial arts."

"Well, that's because he was born into a good family. He probably had a great master from an early age."

"Family background or a good master aren't what's important to becoming a martial artist."

After a moment of silence, Gwangdu asked,

"Then what is important?"

Since I didn't answer right away, he began listing things on his own.

"Innate talent? Bone structure? Or maybe willpower? Ah—effort, right? It's effort, isn't it?"

"There's something even more important than that."

"So what is it, then?"

"Fate."

"What kind of fate?"

"A connection with the martial world."

Gwangdu's eyes widened. He blinked a few times, then stuck out his lower lip.

"Aw, come on. If you don't want to tell me, just say so."

Gwangdu grumbled as if I were just giving a vague answer to an unanswerable question—but I had spoken in all sincerity.

For someone who wants to become a martial artist, I believe the most important thing is fate.

Without a connection to the martial world, you die early. If you don't have a bond, then at least you need a grudge. If you have neither and still jump in, you'll end up like a background character—or meet an unexpected, tragic end.

After quietly staring out the window for a while, Gwangdu asked,

"How do you know if you have that kind of fate?"

Beyond the rapidly passing scenery, the sky was glowing with a rosy sunset.

"I don't know either."