Jueul Village
"Run."
Ma Jeonggae whispered softly to Tang Mujin. Even in those few words, the tremor in his voice was unmistakable.
"What about you two?"
"We'll fight."
"Can you win?"
"…That, I do not know."
There was no confidence in Ma Jeonggae's tone. He already seemed to sense defeat.
"What if we all run together? There's an elder in the village they call a Guiyi—he's a martial artist, and supposedly quite well-known."
"That's fortunate. If we gather the villagers and join forces, we might drive these men off. Hurry back to the village and tell the physician what's happening."
Judging by his lukewarm response, it seemed Ma Jeonggae had never even heard of Guiyi's nickname.
It was only natural. He had spent almost his entire life in Jueul Village, with only his disciple Hong Geolgae as a fellow martial man.
"He's not just any martial artist. They say he's a top master. If you can make it to the village, you'll live."
"Physician Tang."
Ma Jeonggae glanced forward as he called him.
The Jayang Twin Killers were creeping closer with their weapons.
"To be frank, with Ju-san and I together, shaking off the Twin Killers won't be easy. Protecting you while fleeing will be even harder."
"But—"
"Physician Tang."
Before he could press further, Hong Geolgae cut him off.
"I've lived off the village my whole life, but I've never felt ashamed. I always knew a day like this might come."
"What do you mean?"
"A Beggars' Sect disciple eats at a village's expense, but the day comes when he must fight for them. That day is now."
With that, Hong Jusan shoved Tang Mujin hard.
"Go!"
Stumbling, half off balance, Tang Mujin was pushed backward.
The action seemed to ignite the moment. The Jayang Twin Killers charged at Ma Jeonggae and Hong Geolgae.
"Run, my ass!"
"Kill them!"
The two elders braced themselves, oak cudgels in hand, standing firm against the Twin Killers.
"You think you can pass so easily?"
The battle erupted. But Tang Mujin kept retreating, step by hesitant step.
It was instinct—survival.
Joining the fight would mean certain death. Running to the village gave him the best chance to live. Overwhelmingly so.
Without realizing it, his backpedaling had turned into a sprint toward Jueul Village.
His heart pounded. His breath hitched after only a short distance. Huff, huff—
Tang Mujin's legs carried him desperately, his mind spinning with thoughts that rose and fell in frantic succession.
'If I run, those two will surely die, won't they? Should I help?'
'But even if I go back, what good would I be? I've never learned a single martial technique. All I can do is breathing exercises. I'd just get in the way.'
'Still… the Twin Killers didn't seem like true experts.'
'No. Don't be foolish. The only chance is to reach the village and bring Guiyi. If luck favors us, we might survive.'
In truth, Tang Mujin knew.
Running to Jueul Village and back would take at least one full shichen.
And a shichen was more than enough time for two old men with wooden cudgels to be hacked apart by steel.
But in this moment, his desire to survive outweighed any concern for them.
'I'm not running out of cowardice. Elder Ma told me to go. It's not an order, but perhaps a dying wish… His final request to save Jueul Village…'
When it comes to what must be done, there is usually only one reason.
But for rationalization? A dozen come easily.
And a dozen reasons will always outweigh a single one.
The guilt of leaving them, the worry gnawing at his chest—those feelings blurred, thinned, dissolved into excuses. Tang Mujin ran on.
After a while, his pace faltered, then stopped.
Huff, huff. Bent over, gasping, he tried to steady himself.
'I've run far enough. Even if they chase me, I'll live.'
Relief swelled in his chest. Tang Mujin despised it.
'I didn't leave home for this.'
He had wanted to see the world, to learn medicine from Guiyi—but more than anything, he had dreamed of martial arts. What man never dreams of becoming a great master of the jianghu?
He didn't need to be like Wudang's immortal true man or Shaolin's divine monks. He just wanted to be someone who could stand against injustice.
But if he fled now, could he ever live proudly again?
No. Once bent, a spine bends again. And again.
Following Guiyi, he might learn to swing a sword.
But his core would remain the same—a man who steps back when danger looms, who bows when fear rises.
No. This was not the time to run.
'If three of us fight, we might win. Numbers matter.'
Tang Mujin clenched his teeth, turned back, and broke into a run upstream.
'Go back. Watch from a distance. If it's over, then slip away quietly.'
The way back felt strangely short.
If only it had been longer. Long enough that the fight would already be finished by the time he returned.
'I don't know if this is the right choice.'
Whatever his thoughts, he did not stop. In the end, action matters more than intent.
Soon, he arrived at the battleground.
'I hear something.'
Hiding behind a tree, Tang Mujin peered out.
In the distance, figures still stood.
Five of them: the Jayang Twin Killers, the two Beggars' Sect men, and Physician Yeom.
'No one's dead yet.'
But Ma Jeonggae and Hong Geolgae were in bad shape.
After countless blows had landed, their clothes were stained red in many places.
At least Hong Geolgae still had a weapon in hand, but Ma Jeonggae was barehanded. His oak cudgel lay on the ground in two broken pieces.
The Jayang Twin Killers, convinced of their victory, circled them lazily, like cats toying with mice.
The axeman twirled his weapon idly and sneered.
"Your vision must be going dim by now. How about you give up?"
"Nonsense!"
"Even if you don't, the end is the same. You'll just die more painfully."
The axeman swung at Ma Jeonggae. He rolled across the dirt, throwing himself sideways again and again to evade the blows.
"Tch. Pathetic old man."
The axeman pressed the attack relentlessly. He struck, and Ma Jeonggae twisted his body desperately to dodge. It was no longer a contest—just one-sided abuse, with not the faintest chance of reversal.
But suddenly, Ma Jeonggae lunged straight into the axeman's arms, as though abandoning his senses.
He locked both arms around the man's torso from behind, clinging tightly, then wound his legs around the man's to bind him in place.
"What the—are you insane?"
The maneuver restricted his movement but didn't stop him completely. The axeman could still swing his arms, at least enough to strike.
So the answer was obvious—he began hacking at Ma Jeonggae's back.
Thud!
The axe bit into his flesh, spraying blood with a wet crack.
In a duel, Ma Jeonggae's move would have been the worst of blunders.
But—
"Hong Ju-saaaang!"
Vomiting blood, Ma Jeonggae bellowed his comrade's name.
At once, Hong Geolgae abandoned his duel with the swordsman and charged toward them, cudgel raised.
"Damn it!"
The Jayang Twin Killers understood instantly.
If things went on like this, both Ma Jeonggae and Hong Geolgae would die, while the Twin Killers walked away unscathed.
That was why Ma Jeonggae had chosen his path—sacrificing his life to drag one enemy down with him.
The cost: his life, and likely Hong Geolgae's too.
Two lives for one. A losing bargain by any measure—but better than none at all.
"Die! Die, damn you!"
The axeman smashed his weapon into Ma Jeonggae's back again and again. His yellowed robe was soaked, crimson through and through.
Yet Ma Jeonggae did not let go. He clamped down harder, gripping with the strength of a man who no longer feared death. With his shoulders locked tight against the foe, even swinging the axe became difficult.
"Aaaaahhh!"
Hong Geolgae's cudgel came down in a two-handed swing, full force driven by his charge. Its target—the axeman's skull.
But would it land in time?
Behind Hong Geolgae, the swordsman's blade arced toward his neck. Would his cudgel smash first, or would the sword sever his head first? By the look of it, Hong Geolgae would fall just a heartbeat sooner.
Then—a stone, fist-sized, whistled through the air and cracked against the swordsman's skull.
"Ugh!"
The sudden strike staggered him. In that instant, Hong Geolgae's cudgel connected squarely with the axeman's head.
"Blow to the Crown!"
Crack! Something broke—bone, perhaps, or the skull itself. The axeman's neck twisted at a grotesque angle, and life drained from his eyes.
The swordsman whipped his gaze toward the source of the stone.
There stood Tang Mujin, awkward, half-crouched, arm still extended from the throw.
"The hell—you didn't run away?"
"A man of the Tang family does not flee!"
"Yeah? Then don't run—wait right there!"
The swordsman lunged at Tang Mujin.
'Not Hong Geolgae—me?'
Tang Mujin hadn't thrown the stone thoughtlessly.
First, cut down their numbers. Then, while Hong Geolgae kept the swordsman occupied, he might find another chance to strike.
But the swordsman judged it simpler to cut down the weakest first.
Tang Mujin panicked, scanning frantically for a weapon. No stones, no branches—nothing.
His hand darted to his chest. His needle case.
'Could… could needles be used as weapons?'
He grabbed a fistful of them. Maybe, just maybe, with enough, he could wield them like a dagger.
The swordsman was nearly upon him. Terror clawed at Tang Mujin's chest. His head wanted to turn, his eyes wanted to squeeze shut.
But he forced them wide, staring straight at his foe.
The gap in skill was already overwhelming. If he closed his eyes now, he would die without so much as flinching.
The sword swung for his chest. Tang Mujin stepped back desperately—
Clang!
Steel met steel. Another blade had intercepted the strike from beside him.
'Who—?'
Tang Mujin turned his head.
Guiyi stood there, face calm, almost casual.
"So, this is where you wandered."
"Elder!"
"Blood splatters. Best step aside."
Guiyi pushed Tang Mujin back.
Then his arm flashed white—and the swordsman's head flew into the air.