Bancheol Gudun
Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae stepped into the cave.
Its width was just enough for two people to pass side by side, and its height allowed even a grown man to walk with his back straight.
Mujin, struck by how unnaturally uniform the cave seemed, examined the walls. As expected, he saw the marks of pickaxes. The cave had been widened by human hands.
Walking beside him, Hong Geolgae muttered:
"Those pirates… will they die?"
"The one with the broken leg will live if he's found in time. The scarred one? Nine times out of ten, he's finished."
Mujin answered indifferently.
Though it felt unpleasant to use medicine as poison to harm a man, he felt no regret when he thought of the crimes they had committed.
Especially the scarred one, who had bragged openly about his own atrocities—he was a villain who deserved death. Mujin even wondered if he should have just cut his head off outright.
The cave ran deep. They walked for what seemed a long while, yet no end appeared.
Moisture from the damp weather seeped into their torches, sending thin smoke curling upward. The acrid smoke and stench stung their eyes.
After some time, the path split into two.
One path was lit, with several unlit torches stacked along the wall. The other was shrouded in darkness, and carried a faint stench.
"Which way should we go?"
"Want to split up and take one each?"
"Not sure splitting up is wise."
As they hesitated, Mujin suddenly sensed movement behind them.
"Wait. Someone's coming."
Hong Geolgae immediately lay flat, pressing his ear to the ground to gauge the number by the footsteps.
Sweat dampened Mujin's grip on his sword. This was nothing like when they faced the pirates earlier. Then, even if things went wrong, they could break free and escape.
But here, they were inside the cave. With only one entrance, if the pirates realized their presence and blocked the exit, there would be no way out.
Mujin looked to Hong Geolgae, hoping for good news. But his companion's expression grew darker by the moment.
Suppressing his unease, Mujin asked:
"How many?"
Hong Geolgae gave a helpless laugh as he rose.
"So many footsteps… it sounds like a pounding mill."
"Ah, damn it."
If it had been one or two, they might have hidden and launched a surprise attack.
But this many meant their presence had been discovered beyond doubt. They couldn't ambush, and they were outnumbered.
"What do we do?"
"I don't know. What do you think?"
Question answered with a question. Mujin thought for a moment, then set his hand on his sword's hilt.
"What else? We'll just try to drag as many as we can with us."
Neither of them intended to grovel for their lives. Perhaps it wasn't courage, but the reckless bravado of youth.
The two steadied their breathing, waiting for the pirates. Their minds raced with tactics, but no solution came. Not every moment in life has an answer.
Before long, the pirates arrived. Mujin counted more than twenty at a glance, and who knew how many more lurked out of sight.
One pirate with an eyepatch swaggered forward and sneered:
"So that's why the numbers didn't add up—you fools crawled in here without fear. Who the hell are you? Where are the patrols and the men resting inside?"
"No need to ask me. You'll find out soon enough where they are."
Mujin lowered his torch and spun his sword in a flourish.
The move had no practical use, but he thought it made him look stronger.
A foolish thought—but effective. A few of the pirates flinched at the sight.
The eyepatched man clicked his tongue.
"Idiots. Clean them up before the Lord comes!"
So he wasn't Jang Sangchae, but from his air, he must have been a bu-chaeju (sub-lord).
The pirates charged. Mujin and Hong Geolgae stood shoulder to shoulder, swinging their weapons against the oncoming horde. Fighting together wasn't comfortable—they distracted each other—but it was far better than being isolated and overwhelmed.
"Hrrgh!"
"Bancheol Gudun !"
Mujin swung his sword, and Hong Geolgae filled the brief gap that followed. Then Mujin covered the weakness left by Hong Geolgae's strike.
Their movements intertwined, closing each other's openings. It was the result of more than a month sparring together.
It was perhaps the most basic form of a cooperative formation. All cooperative battle formations must have begun like this—two fighters back to back, or a handful standing shoulder to shoulder against a tide of enemies.
"Bu-chaeju! These bastards are stronger than they look!"
"Don't let them rest, you fool—keep pressing!"
It didn't take long before five pirate corpses lay at their feet.
Mujin and Hong Geolgae bore minor wounds—slashes grazing ribs, blades nicking ears, shallow cuts across their arms—but no fatal injuries.
With luck, if they could keep fighting like this without tiring, they might even survive.
Just as Mujin thought that, the atmosphere among the pirates shifted.
From the rear, shouts rang out:
"He's here! The Lord is here!"
"Step aside!"
The pirates broke off their assault and pressed against the cave walls.
A narrow passage opened, reserved for one man alone.
Mujin and Hong Geolgae steadied their breathing and looked across the passage. A massive silhouette was approaching.
"That face looks like the strongest under heaven."
"One look at those eyes and you know he's mad."
They tried to sound flippant, but the tremor in their voices betrayed them. Jang Sangchae looked that formidable.
He was half a head taller than the other pirates.
Beneath thick brows, his fierce eyes burned with a savage light.
Yes—one glance at those eyes was enough to know. This was a man who had killed countless others. His very face seemed to reek of blood.
Jang Sangchae tilted his head as he strode forward.
In his right hand was a hand-axe. But even his empty left hand looked just as threatening. His massive fist, twice the size of a normal man's, resembled a heavy iron mace.
"There have been plenty who tried to take me down until now."
Jang Sangchae spoke in a low voice, but there was an odd pleasure in his tone.
"And all of them died. Thanks to that, fewer and fewer dare to come after me. A shame, really."
From his voice alone, Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae felt the presence of inner energy. For a man's voice to carry inner strength—at the very least, he was no ordinary fighter. Surely a first-rate master, if not higher.
Reading the tension in their bodies, Jang Sangchae smiled with satisfaction.
"And you two—you're no mere petty thieves. You've trained in martial arts. What greater joy could there be!"
He let out a booming laugh, brimming with genuine delight. His exhilaration and killing intent radiated in waves, pressing against their skin like needles.
"Damn it, enough jabbering!"
Unable to endure, Hong Geolgae charged. He had little choice—stand idle any longer, and Jang Sangchae's crushing aura would freeze his body in place.
"Balgu Jocheon ( Kicking the Dog Toward the Sky)!"
His staff shot upward from below, aiming for Jang Sangchae's jaw.
But the pirate lord easily brushed it aside, pushing the staff with his left palm. For such a massive body, his movement was swift and precise.
"Do you take me for some lowly hack? You shout out the name of every strike before using it!"
"So what if I do!"
Jang Sangchae's axe came swinging immediately after, grazing Hong Geolgae's shoulder. Had it been a hair deeper, his arm would have been cleaved halfway off.
Tang Mujin leapt in, sword flashing. The pirate lord blocked the blade with his axe while simultaneously batting aside Hong Geolgae's staff with his free hand.
Jang Sangchae handled both of them with ease. The difference in skill was overwhelming.
At least first-rate, Mujin thought grimly.
Every time their weapons clashed, Jang Sangchae's inner strength flowed down Mujin's sword.
Remembering what Gwai-ui had taught him, Mujin shortened every contact, deflecting or parrying the axe before it could press in.
Even so, thin threads of Jang Sangchae's energy seeped into his body, twisting his insides until nausea rose in his gut.
Keep the clash short. End the fight fast.
But there was no fast ending here. Against an equal, perhaps—but against a master, a quick resolution was impossible.
The fight dragged on. Mujin and Geolgae's clothes were torn and bloodied. Their wounds multiplied, yet none were fatal.
That wasn't their skill—it was Jang Sangchae's choice. He toyed with them, wounding but never killing, fighting leisurely as if savoring the struggle.
Tang Mujin, normally calm, felt rage boiling inside him.
Even as a healer and blacksmith, the pride of a martial man had taken root within him.
"Die already!"
Mujin unleashed technique after technique, but each stroke was stopped, his blade halted just shy of striking home.
"Damn it!"
Hong Geolgae fared no better—if anything, worse, beaten down more brutally than Mujin.
The reason was obvious.
"Dangdubonggal ( Head-Cracking Strike)! Balgu Jocheon! Bongdoraegyeon ( Staff-Lifting Mangy Dog)!"
He kept shouting the names of his techniques.
The names revealed the form and intent of each strike. Against a master like Jang Sangchae, that was no different from announcing where and how he would attack. No matter how many times he struck, his staff would never land.
Mujin's blood boiled. If only that damn mouth would shut… With a little more distraction, he might at least land a single decisive blow.
"Kuhh!"
Hong Geolgae was sent rolling by a brutal kick.
Coughing blood, kneeling half-collapsed, he still surged up again, charging with reckless persistence.
And his mouth still didn't stop.
"Dangdubonggal!"
Head-Cracking Strike. Instinctively, Jang Sangchae's left hand rose toward his head.
At that instant, Mujin saw the faint smile at Geolgae's lips. He understood.
He lied.
Instead of striking the head, Geolgae hurled his staff aside and hurled his own body forward.
"Majongaee!" he shouted.
The pirates blinked in confusion. Majongaee? Beanfield beggar? What kind of technique is that?
For the briefest moment, Jang Sangchae's left arm faltered.
But Mujin understood.
Majongaee—the beggar from the beanfield. Throwing one's body to create a single chance.
"Damn—!"
When a lesser fighter faces a master, sooner or later, they must gamble everything on one ploy.
Hong Geolgae had thrown the dice in Mujin's place. The stakes: both their lives.
At such a moment, hesitation was death. Mujin poured every shred of his strength into his blade, striking at Jang Sangchae with all his might.
But the pirate lord's axe came even faster, streaking toward Mujin's waist. This time, he meant to end it—the blade of the axe reeked of murderous intent.
At this rate, Mujin would die before his sword ever reached its mark.
Yet he neither flinched nor withdrew. He trusted Hong Geolgae to block that fatal strike.
Lowering his body, Geolgae drove his shoulder into Jang Sangchae's abdomen.
The pirate lord barely budged. Instead, he snapped his knee upward, slamming it into Geolgae's chest.
"Ghhhk!"
Blood burst from Geolgae's mouth, but he did not let go. Arms locked tight, he clung to Jang Sangchae's torso.
Then, following the principle of Biseojang—the creeping vines technique Gwai-ui had taught—his arms wound upward, climbing the pirate lord's frame like ivy, tangling around him.
Still unsatisfied, Geolgae's hands reached for the axe itself, gripping the steel blade without hesitation.
Madness—but it worked. The axe's trajectory bent.
Instead of cleaving Mujin in half, it grazed his side.
And in that same instant, Mujin's sword bit into Jang Sangchae's neck.