Episode 26. The Inn Boy Hides His Martial Arts
When the underworld suddenly rises to become the most feared force in the martial world, there’s always one thing in common:
They call each other brothers.
When a dark sect truly believes in that bond, its power can’t be measured by numbers alone — because when one “brother” dies, the rest fight like demons possessed.
That, I think… is the true nature of the underworld.
Martial strength can be divided into internal and external power, but the rage that comes from human emotion defies all logic. Fortunately, these particular bastards weren’t that kind of brotherhood. Even with their Pavilion Lord dead, none dared move.
I glanced at the table — the food was starting to cool.
“Let’s eat while we talk. Hm. A fine feast, I must say.”
I sampled the dishes with my chopsticks, watching the men kneeling before me.
One of them asked cautiously, “Will you… spare us?”
“That’s difficult,” I said, tearing meat from a roasted chicken with my teeth. “Why should I?”
At the word difficult, several exchanged uneasy glances. I gave them a warning smile.
“You know what they say — even a dog shouldn’t be disturbed while eating. If you make me into that dog, I’ll show you a death even worse than your Pavilion Lord’s. Stay calm if you want to live.”
The men froze, breathless. The same one spoke again.
“Do you have any demands? If you mean to kill us all, we’ll have no choice but to fight to the death. Please… open a way out for us.”
So, a mix of plea and threat.
“Negotiator, are you?” I said. “Then start by introducing yourself.”
A plain-looking man with a topknot replied, “I am Sima Bi, covert inspector of the Black Cat Hall.”
“Sima Bi…”
I sifted through my memories. In my previous life, most of these men had died alongside their Pavilion Lord for embezzlement, so there wasn’t much data on him.
“Tell me, topknot. What do you think just happened here?”
“Something completely absurd,” he said honestly. “Something none of us expected.”
“You didn’t think I could win?”
“We didn’t. To be frank, if you and the Pavilion Lord had been evenly matched, we would have joined in and overwhelmed you.”
“But?”
“It was clear you weren’t even using your full strength, so I stopped the others from rushing in.”
“Impressive,” I said. “The inn boy hid his martial arts, and you saw through it.”
“Hmm…”
I’d always enjoyed hiding my true power — it made things more interesting. Studying Sima Bi’s expression and bearing, I finally said,
“You’ve got the face of a strategist, Sima. I’ll let you live.”
Despite the compliment, he looked worried. “You can read faces too?”
I pointed a chicken bone at him. “You’ll live because you’re the kind of man who reads the room. Congratulations, strategist.”
He blinked. “And the others?”
“Do you think I’ll let them go tell the Black Cat Hall?”
“We won’t! I swear it!”
“Impossible. If the Hall finds out, it’ll be a hassle. Except for you, the rest of you—come at me. All at once.”
I tossed aside the chicken bone, ready to fight again.
“Wait!” Sima Bi shouted. He quieted his comrades and spoke quickly. “If we promise silence, can we not live?”
“How can I trust that?” I said coldly. “I can’t.”
“Then why trust me?”
“Because if you report this, you’re finished too. You’re the one next in line for command, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Then you’d die even if you went back. You’d be branded a coward for surviving without a scratch while your Pavilion Lord was killed. The truth is, none of you will rise in the Black Cat Hall again. You’re all half-betrayers already.”
Sima Bi’s expression darkened. He knew I was right — he’d been turning a blind eye to his superior’s crimes for too long.
When I reached for my sword, he shouted,
“Wait! I have a plan! Please, hear me out before you decide.”
I grinned. “Already? Not bad. Sima Yi and Zhuge Liang would’ve taken longer to think of one.”
“We can steal the Pavilion Lord’s hidden funds ourselves. Make it public — all of us complicit.”
Just then, a cold breeze swept through the lodge. Sima Bi continued urgently,
“There’s a fortune hidden here. If word gets out, the entire Golden Phoenix branch will be executed. We all helped cover it up.”
“And how do you plan to ‘make it public’?”
“Simple. We’ll carry the money ourselves to Ilyang. By moving it in the open, we’ll brand ourselves as accomplices. There’ll be no escape for any of us.”
“If word spreads, the Black Cat Hall will come swarming.”
“That’s the point,” Sima said. “It’s a last stand. And you knew what you were doing when you killed the Pavilion Lord, didn’t you? We’ll join your stand. As long as we keep our mouths shut, we can buy time. It’s better than dying here.”
He misunderstood — even if the whole Black Cat Hall came, they couldn’t kill me. But there was no need to brag.
“Fine,” I said. “He’s dead anyway, and the money’s ours. You’ll move it, I’ll supervise. Crime should be shared equally.”
Sima brightened, already slipping into the role of strategist. “There are ways to cover his disappearance — tension with the Black Line Fort, the Twelve Divine Generals…”
“Don’t drag the Twelve into it, strategist. They’re a headache.”
“Strategist?”
“Your surname’s Sima, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re my strategist. Not a Grand Strategist yet, but close enough.”
“…”
In the martial world, there are two surnames perfect for strategists — Sima and Zhuge. Don’t ask me why. It just feels right.
“We’ll reach Ilyang within one watch,” I said. “You lead the front, I’ll guard the rear. If bandits interfere, kill first, talk later. Move.”
“Yes, sir.”
He gathered his shaken comrades. “This is our only chance to live. If another inspector had found this place, we’d all be dead already. Better to march forward than end up butchered like our Pavilion Lord.”
They agreed. Sima Bi himself had been taking bribes from the Pavilion Lord — he had no clean way out.
I left him to oversee the transport while I picked at the remaining food. Spotting Hyeok Ryeon-hong hovering nearby, pale as a ghost, I called out,
“Well, well, our brave messenger. Still alive, I see. Come here.”
“Y-yes…”
He shuffled over timidly. After watching his master die without resistance, the poor bastard was practically trembling.
“Thinking of running?” I asked. “Your eyes keep darting around.”
“No, sir. I won’t run.”
“Good. Don’t. I’m faster than you, and the only place you’ll escape to is hell. But since the weather’s nice, I’ll end things with your boss’s death. Don’t make me show off my footwork again — I might start killing for sport.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“You know, seeing blood right after a meal upsets my stomach.”
His face turned ashen. I sighed.
“This is the best outcome you’ll get. If things go wrong, I’ll kill everyone here. I don’t mind fighting real swordsmen, but slaughtering weaklings just puts me in a foul mood. Don’t tempt me.”
“Understood.”
I’d never cared much for money anyway. The loot would fund new inns and halls — the kind of peaceful places martial artists needed. If there was any left, I’d buy a few cheap elixirs as snacks.
Money, after all, exists to be spent.
As long as I could eat my three bowls of rice soup and beat up a few mad monkeys, I’d be satisfied.
That’s what you call peaceful poverty with joy.
With the dead Pavilion Lord’s treasure and his surviving men, I returned like a conquering hero. Merchants lined the street, watching the procession with awe.
Once the funds were safely delivered to Maehwa House, I said to Sima Bi,
“So. The embezzlement was a success.”
“Yes,” he said. “Now that we’ve all taken part, there’s no going back. Thank you for sparing us.”
“Don’t thank me. I don’t plan to let troublemakers live long anyway.”
“Then I’ll make sure there are none.”
“Good. And figure out what to do with the rest. We can’t have idle hands here.”
“What kind of work do you suggest?”
“This is a trade hub. No need for martial arts or sect work. There are restaurants, forges, inns, and construction crews. But no brothels — too many women, too much trouble. Discuss it with your men.”
“Understood.”
“We have many branches. Eventually, when enough underworld strays join us, I’ll form a new division — the Black Gate. Until then, keep everyone busy. Idle men are useless.”
Even as I said it, I felt a pang of guilt — thinking of Gye-du Noodles.
“By the way,” Sima asked, “you mentioned many sub-divisions. What’s the main organization called?”
I smiled faintly. “We are the Haohmun — the Greatest Under Heaven.”
“Haohmun… I’ve never heard of it.”
“Really? Never?” I frowned.
“Apologies. My knowledge is limited.”
“That’s fine. It’s new — barely founded. The important part isn’t how it started, but that it exists.”
He nodded uncertainly, not quite understanding. “Ah, I see.”
To him, “Hao” meant dirty and lowborn — a strange name for a sect. But he wisely kept that thought to himself.
Seeing his dazed expression, I asked, “What are you thinking so hard about?”
“Ah… you said ‘Greatest Under Heaven.’ I was pondering that.”
“Greatest of the lowly,” I corrected.
“Ah…”
“What? Don’t you fit that description?”
“No, I do. Always have.”
I nodded seriously. “Good.”
Then, after a moment, I added, “You pass.”
Sima Bi, for the first time that day, smiled — just a little — before straightening up again.
“Thank you.”