Episode 28. Destined for a Moderate Beating
The Black Cat Gang (Heukmyobang).
Wearing a black rabbit mask with only the eyes cut out, the Black Cat Gang Leader sat at the head seat and asked,
“Chief Byuk, any word on the Golden Phoenix Pavilion Lord?”
“We discovered an unregistered hideout he hadn’t reported. Judging by the scene, it seems he was ambushed there during rest and buried in the ground. No other corpses were found, only traces of a battle with a skilled opponent. It appears he barely put up resistance before dying.”
The Gang Leader asked, “And his subordinates?”
“It seems only the Pavilion Lord died.”
“If only the Pavilion Lord died, why hasn’t anyone else returned?”
“The rest were captured by a man named Lee Jaha of Ilyang County.”
The Gang Leader glanced around. “Who the hell is Lee Jaha? Never heard of him.”
None of the executives answered immediately, all bowing slightly as if apologetic.
“Speak.”
“He’s… the busboy of Ilyang County.”
A suffocating silence descended.
“…A busboy?”
The Gang Leader raised his mask halfway in frustration. The executives bowed their heads lower to avoid looking at his face.
“Apologies, Leader.”
The Gang Leader’s face twisted in irritation. “How could an executive of the Black Cat Gang possibly die to a busboy? Are you sure it wasn’t someone else?”
“Unlikely, sir. The brothel owner who tried to establish a branch sect there was also killed by the same busboy, along with all his brothers.”
“So a master from elsewhere is pretending to be a busboy?”
“No, sir. The reports say he really lived there as a busboy.”
“And what was the Golden Phoenix Pavilion Lord’s rank?”
“He was recorded as ninth.”
“Ninth? Not bad for a man who only touched money. Then sending any of you means a high chance of failure, doesn’t it?”
The executives all spoke at once.
“Send me, Leader.”
“I’ll handle it personally.”
The Gang Leader fell silent instead of responding. Meanwhile, the Gold Dragon Pavilion Lord, Shao Junpyeong, sitting at the far end, still hadn’t said a word.
The Gang Leader turned to him. Shao was one of those annoying subordinates who never volunteered first.
The Black Cat Gang was originally a faction the Leader’s master had taken by force and handed to him, so there was little real loyalty between ranks.
When the Leader lowered his mask again, the executives finally exhaled in relief.
One subordinate added hesitantly, “While investigating the Pavilion Lord’s disappearance, we found evidence he had embezzled funds. It appears Lee Jaha seized that money and brought it back to Ilyang County.”
The Gang Leader’s eyes flared with cold fury. “Embezzlement?”
“Yes, sir.”
For the first time, he realized how much his own men had deceived him. He had focused too much on martial training and left management entirely to these fools. A mistake. At this rate, the whole gang might end up being taken back by his master.
The reporting officer spoke solemnly. “Send me to Ilyang, sir. I’ll eliminate the busboy and retrieve every last coin.”
But the Leader’s gaze lingered instead on Shao Junpyeong, who still hadn’t spoken.
“Not you. You, Shao.”
Shao responded calmly. “Yes, Leader.”
“Why do you always stay silent in moments like this?”
“Everyone else was already volunteering, so I stayed quiet.”
“I hear you’ve been training diligently lately.”
“As usual, sir.”
“If you fought the Golden Phoenix Lord—someone you’ve never liked—how many exchanges would it take to subdue him? You’re stronger, aren’t you?”
Shao paused. The man had been a rival, not particularly strong, just influential. Their martial gap was wide. Comparing himself to that money-grubbing fool felt insulting.
By his estimation, defeating him would take less than a cup of tea’s time. But he chose to keep his true ability concealed.
“Hard to say, but I believe I’d have the upper hand.”
“If the stolen funds were taken to Ilyang, then whoever did it must be confident against anyone we send. I’d like to see your strength firsthand. Handle this yourself.”
“Understood.”
“Your opponent is just a busboy. Fail, and—”
“I understand.”
“Kill yourself if you fail. But succeed, and I’ll give you control over Golden Phoenix Pavilion as well.”
Shao raised his head slightly, meeting the Leader’s eyes through the mask. Is he serious? Is he telling me to die?
One look at the Leader’s eyes told him—yes, he was serious.
He struggled to keep his face neutral, then bowed.
“If I fail, I’ll die anyway. So be it, Leader.”
But truthfully, he had no intention of dying.
Just as he thought to confer with his men, the Leader added, “Go alone. No need to make a commotion.”
“Sir?”
“It’s just a busboy. Why bring noise? Unless you’re afraid.”
“No, sir. I’ll handle it.”
“If you fall to him, I’ll personally avenge you. Don’t disappoint me.”
The Leader dismissed them all but continued mulling over the mystery. Could one of the Twelve Divine Generals be toying with us? No… there’s no one who fits.
He scanned the faces of his subordinates. With a sect stolen by his master’s force, building trust with these underlings was harder than mastering martial arts.
He waved his hand. “You may all leave.”
“Yes, Leader.”
When everyone was gone, Shao Junpyeong lingered, glancing around the great hall of the Black Cat Gang.
So this is what they call ‘use and discard.’
He felt like spitting on the floor, but barely restrained himself.
Meanwhile, I was still cooped up in the brothel, continuing my training. Ilyang had been unusually quiet for days—so quiet it almost felt like the calm before the storm.
My days were repetitive: training, meditation, a walk, a meal, more training, sleep, meditation, another walk.
I usually ate at Chunyang Noodle House, so after my evening walk, I went there as usual. It was early evening, and the only customer was a lone stranger.
As Jang Deuksu set a bowl of noodles down for the man, he glanced at me nervously. “Been a while. What’ll it be today?”
“Something spicy, not soup. Make it burn.”
“Spicy, got it.”
I sat down and looked at the man in black clothes. Strange as it sounds, people who dress in all black tend to get beaten by me.
The man, whom I’d never seen before, had laid a curved blade—a hooked saber—on the table.
In a brief glance, I could tell his skill was decent.
Ah…
Then it clicked. I recognized that blade.
I didn’t know the man’s face, but I’d heard plenty about that unique saber.
So it’s him—the “Three Hundred Cycles” bastard.
The nickname didn’t refer to his internal energy but to his sheer stubborn longevity—like the mythical Dongfang Shuo who supposedly lived for three thousand cycles of the zodiac.
He wasn’t much now, but someday he’d be a notorious figure among the Black Path. And yet here he was, casually eating noodles in Chunyang Noodle House.
He slurped his noodles loudly, then called toward the kitchen.
“Hey, innkeeper.”
From the kitchen, Jang Deuksu answered, “Yes, what do you need?”
“I heard there’s a guy named Lee Jaha around here. Where can I find him?”
Deuksu hesitated before replying, “Ah… that guy? Haven’t seen him lately.”
“Why? Something happen?”
“Ah, that punk’s always getting into trouble. Probably ran off somewhere far. Why, are you looking for him? I could ask around for you.”
As expected of a branch head—what poise.
Even with me sitting right there, he lied naturally, saying I hadn’t been around.
I met the stranger’s gaze calmly.
“…”
He suddenly laughed. “A busboy right in front of me, and you still lie to my face. They say Ilyang’s full of lunatics—seems that reputation’s well-earned.”
The kitchen went silent.
Jang Deuksu reached toward the pot lid, ready to use it as a shield if a dart flew his way.
The man—Shao Junpyeong—spoke as he slurped another mouthful. “Busboy, do you even know who I am?”
He clearly expected me to be clueless.
Unfortunately for him, I happened to be the information hub, prophet, and master planner of the Hao Sect—a man who knew the future.
I knew every name worth remembering in the martial world—those already famous and those who would become famous. Even back when I was just a busboy or a gravekeeper, I paid attention to the jianghu.
I replied casually, “You’re Shao Junpyeong of the Black Cat Gang, you bastard. Why are you talking down to me?”
“…!”
Shao’s expression froze, like a thief caught mid-act. Recognizing the Black Cat Gang wasn’t hard—but naming him specifically? That was a shock.
Having been discarded and sent alone to Ilyang, Shao asked with wide, startled eyes, “Who the hell are you?”
I looked at him steadily. He didn’t yet realize he was walking into the biggest crisis of his life. From the way he still glared arrogantly, it was clear he hadn’t figured that out.
“I asked what your true identity is.”
“I’m Lee Jaha. The busboy. That’s my identity. You tracked me down just to ask who I am? Is this a riddle, or are you asking something deeper—like the nature of my existence? If so, I’ll need time to think. Who am I, really?”
“You crazy bastard.”
Even as he cursed, Shao kept slurping his noodles. The world could end, but the man wouldn’t waste good food.
I called toward the kitchen, “Boss, how’s that spicy noodle coming? I’m hungry.”
Jang Deuksu grimaced behind the pot lid. He’s about to die, and he’s talking about spicy noodles?
After a pause, he replied, “…We’re all out of noodles, sir.”
“Boss, you running your shop like this?”
Shao snickered. “What a funny town.”
I corrected him. “This isn’t a funny town. It’s a town where the Black Path won’t set foot ever again.”
Shao rinsed his mouth with water and spat on the floor. “Say that kind of bullshit after you beat me. Boss, the bill.”
Deuksu answered nervously from the kitchen, realizing he might die just by taking payment. “Ah, what bill? It’s on the house! I didn’t realize who you were, so forgive my earlier foolishness. Please show mercy.”
Shao smiled. “No, no, I’ll pay. Come here.”
I scoffed. “Stay in the kitchen.”
“Uh… should I?”
Shao’s gaze clung to me, but instead of pulling a weapon, he reached into his robe and placed money neatly on the table.
At least he paid for his meal.
Little did he know—because of that single act, his fate changed from beaten half to death to merely beaten just enough.