Black-Clad Men
Tang Mujin moved in the direction of the clumsy mountain dove call made by Hong Geolgae.
Goiyi was already there. He and Hong Geolgae were pressed against a small hut, barely ten feet across, peering through a narrow crack to spy on the inside.
Tang Mujin wanted to look inside as well, but since there was no opening available, he pressed his ear against the wall to eavesdrop instead.
"So, you're planning to drown Nam Ryeonbu and take everything for yourself now, huh?"
"N-no, I…"
Slap—thud!
The sound of a harsh slap echoed, followed by someone collapsing to the floor.
The interrogator's voice was unfamiliar, but the one who had answered—and been beaten—was unmistakable.
Thin and raspy, with a nagging, whining tone. The voice belonged to the very merchant who had guided Tang Mujin's party into the mountains.
"Don't give me that crap! If not you, then who called those men to take out Nam Ryeonbu? I've already heard the story—those you brought along slit his throat."
"It's unjust! Truly, I didn't bring them here for that. I mean—I did bring them, but I had no idea!"
"Oh, so coincidentally the ones you brought just happened to be martial artists, who coincidentally sought out Nam Ryeonbu, and coincidentally stabbed him in the neck? You think I'm an idiot?"
Thump! Again, the dull sound of a body rolling on the floor.
Hong Geolgae whispered quietly.
"That merchant uncle… they think he brought us here on purpose."
"Shh. Quiet. I'm listening too."
The three pressed in closer to catch every word.
"You bastard. You should've been satisfied just getting your scraps from the Oseoksan trade. We knew you were scheming something, but we still treated you decently. Where else are you gonna find folks as generous as us of the Black Wolf Sect? If it were some other gang, they'd have slit your throat before business even began."
"Please believe me! It's the truth…"
The merchant knew his life hinged on proving his innocence, and he pleaded desperately. But the bandit questioning him wasn't buying it. The coincidences were far too many.
"Fine. Keep talking. Soon enough our men will drag those bastards back here. Then we'll see if your story matches theirs."
Thud, thud. More blows landed, followed by groans of pain.
Goiyi murmured in a low voice.
"Seems this whole business—these bandits settling on the mountain—was part of the merchant's plan too."
"But why? It's his livelihood on the line."
"Think about it. Try dredging for gold or iron sand in freezing winter waters day after day. That kind of life turns to hell quick. The pay isn't worth the back-breaking labor."
Just then—bang!—the hut door flew open.
The bandit who had been interrogating the merchant suddenly noticed the three lurking just outside, eyes going wide.
"You—what the—!"
Before he could finish the shout, Goiyi's sword pierced his throat.
The three left the gurgling bandit to collapse in a pool of blood and stepped inside.
The merchant lay there, lips split, face swollen and bruised. Between his puffed-up eyelids, he barely managed to roll his gaze toward them.
His eyes burned with fury. But he didn't dare voice it—he had seen the corpse outside, seen the blood dripping from Tang Mujin's and Goiyi's blades.
Goiyi crouched before him and spoke.
"You seemed familiar with these men. Let me ask just a few things. How many here know how to make Oseoksan?"
No immediate answer. Clearly he was weighing which side he should pledge himself to—the bandits, or Tang Mujin's party.
Goiyi slid his sword point into the stone floor with a hiss. The blade sank effortlessly into the rock.
The merchant knew nothing of martial arts, yet even he could tell Goiyi wasn't just any common fighter.
At last, the merchant opened his mouth.
"To my knowledge, only Nam Ryeonbu of the Namga Clan knew how to make Oseoksan."
"Can we trust that? Sounds like you're just dropping the name of a dead man to save your skin."
"It's the truth. Originally, the Namga Clan Leader wasn't part of the Black Wolf Sect. They pulled him in because they didn't know how to make Oseoksan themselves. Many may know the ingredients, but only Nam Ryeonbu knew how to refine them into Oseoksan and draw out the drug's effects."
"I'll believe you. Where are the ingredients stored?"
"I've heard they're moved to the Namga residence as soon as they're gathered. If they're kept up here in the mountain huts, the damp ruins their potency."
"Hm."
If the merchant was telling the truth, then there wouldn't be much stockpiled in the Namga household either.
Oseoksan didn't take long to make once the process was known—there was no reason to let the materials sit around.
"Looks like that's about it, then."
"Just in case, let's ruin at least their stock of cinnabar."
The exact formula for Oseoksan varied depending on the maker. But one key ingredient was indispensable—mirror cinnabar .
Without it, Oseoksan couldn't induce drowsiness or hallucinations.
"Thanks for your cooperation."
Goiyi rose to his feet and drove his sword through the merchant's heart.
"Guhh…"
The merchant hadn't made Oseoksan himself, but in truth he was the root cause of it all. There was no way Goiyi would spare him.
The three stepped out of the hut.
By now, the darkness in the sky had retreated more than halfway.
The east was tinged blue, and the mountain air carried a faint tang of blood strong enough for even the dullest nose to catch.
"The sun's nearly up. If we're going to deal with the cinnabar, we'd better hurry. Why didn't you ask him where they collected it?"
"I saw the site on the way up. We can stop by on our way down."
They slipped away silently, descending the mountain. Soon behind them, a commotion broke out—the Black Wolf Sect men had discovered something was amiss.
Tang Mujin's group moved quickly, using lightfoot techniques.
As they made their way down, Hong Geolgae pulled out a flat, fist-sized chunk of ore from his robes and handed it to Tang Mujin.
"Is this stuff worth anything?"
Tang Mujin took the ore.
It felt heavy like iron, rough to the touch, with jagged protrusions across its surface—as though pure metal was mixed with clinging rock.
Raising it to eye level, Tang Mujin examined it carefully under the rising sunlight.
Where the rock didn't cling, the metal glowed a sooty gray rather than silver or white, and it was easily a third heavier than ordinary steel.
He had never seen it in person before, but he knew what it was.
"Where'd you find this?"
"Picked it up while rummaging through the huts. What is it?"
"Sky iron."
"Sky iron? That's valuable, right?"
"Of course. It's hard to forge, so they must've just stored it away. And the amount's awkwardly small."
There was barely enough sky iron here to forge a single dagger—perhaps even less, depending on purity.
The simplest way to use it would be to mix it with ordinary iron to create a high-quality blade. While not all sky iron was equal, in most cases it surpassed even a hundred-times refined steel blade.
Black-Clad Men
Yet in truth, few ever mixed sky iron with common steel when forging. The thought of diluting such a precious metal with ordinary iron felt too wasteful.
The Black Wolf Sect men must have thought the same.
Someday it'll be useful, Tang Mujin thought, and naturally tucked the sky iron into his robe.
Hong Geolgae didn't find the act strange. Greedy for food he might be, but he had little desire for wealth—especially for items he himself couldn't make use of.
The group hauled an armful of branches into the cave where mirror cinnabar was mined and doused them heavily with poison.
Tang Mujin's own supply of poison was modest and weak, but Goiyi had absorbed so much over the years that his was overwhelming and vicious.
Though it hadn't even touched his skin, Tang Mujin couldn't endure it and had to stumble out of the cave, choking.
Finally, Goiyi and Tang Mujin rolled a few large boulders into place, sealing the cave entrance as best they could.
Unless someone could withstand the venom long enough to clear the branches, no ordinary man would be able to remove the stones.
Unless many years passed, no one would be mining cinnabar from that cave again.
"Let's go."
The three walked for about two hours before stopping to rest.
The sun was high overhead. Ordinarily, it would have been the time to move busily.
But having gone sleepless through the night, they were weary.
They set a watch rotation. First Hong Geolgae kept guard, then Tang Mujin woke to watch the surroundings, and lastly Tang Mujin roused Goiyi to take the final watch before falling asleep himself.
In the midst of deep slumber, Tang Mujin felt Goiyi nudge him awake.
In a drowsy voice, he asked:
"Someone's coming?"
"Yes. They're coming. And unlike the riffraff we saw before, these ones aren't amateurs."
The seriousness in his voice banished the last trace of sleep.
Tang Mujin had traveled with Goiyi for quite some time, but this was the first he'd seen him openly acknowledge an opponent.
Unlike the night before, Goiyi didn't bother hiding behind a tree. He judged this was not an enemy who could be caught off guard.
Moments later, three men appeared, each wielding a massive cleaver more suited for slaughtering livestock than for battle.
All three wore fur garments with the pelts still clinging, and their burly builds left no doubt—they were mountain bandits of the Green Forest.
Among them, the one in the middle was especially massive, his limbs so thickly covered in hair they seemed more beast than human.
The giant stepped forward and spoke.
"So it was you who stirred up trouble here, Goiyi. What possessed you?"
"Does a physician need a reason to drive out disease?"
"Disease?"
"When meridians are clogged with foul qi and the skin rots away, what else would you call it but sickness?"
On the surface, the exchange sounded casual. But Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae were tense as bowstrings.
Every man who had recognized Goiyi up to now had reacted the same way—by turning tail and fleeing at once. That was the weight carried by a supreme master's name.
Yet this bandit did not retreat.
"Well, well. Who would've thought the Giant Tyrant Blade Akhui would stoop to playing with Oseoksan peddlers? How far you've fallen."
"It's not as if I serve them. They wanted the mountain, and if you want to settle here, you have to pass my eyes first."
"Then be gone. I need some sleep before moving on."
Goiyi let his sword hang loosely, showing no intent to strike.
But Akhui hefted his massive blade.
"Can't do that. I've already taken their protection fee."
"Protection fee?"
"Of course. To collect money, you need an excuse. Rarely does it come to actually drawing weapons."
Goiyi tilted his head, then raised his sword once more.
"You'll regret it if you lose your neck just to earn your pay. Don't you think?"
"Even so, I've no choice. In our line of work, the price we command is set by our reputation. Mounting your head on a stake will raise my tolls."
Goiyi chuckled faintly.
"I've found that beasts who linger long in the mountains often grow spirit cores. I wonder if cutting you open will yield one too."
Akhui laughed savagely, then charged forward with a speed that belied his size.
Steel met steel—the clash of Goiyi's sword and Akhui's massive blade so fast the eye could scarcely follow. Shockwaves of qi rippled out in all directions.
It was the first time Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae had ever witnessed a true life-and-death battle between masters of the pinnacle.
But they had no time to watch.
The two other bandits, clearly experts themselves, had already rushed in at them.