Episode 43. When Bad Thoughts Meet Jeomsoi
I didn’t bother lecturing Cha Seong-tae, who had lost to Sama Bi ten times. After all, Sama Bi had always been the stronger man — his defeats were hardly surprising.
He could either take the defeat as humiliation and wake up to a new self, or accept it with a resigned shrug and remain where he was.
That was Cha Seong-tae’s choice.
If he chose humiliation and then sought to improve, I would help. Until then, I wasn’t going to trouble myself. People change only when they take the first step on their own.
On my way back I glanced once more at Maehwalu from a short distance, then passed quietly near Yongdu Ironworks. While the people of my hometown busied themselves with their own tasks, I turned my steps toward the Heukmyo Sect.
Right now, Haomunju’s business was with the Heukdo — slowly crushing and cleaning out the black-clad forces that had encircled Ilyang-hyeon.
Because of Hong-shin Samae, who’d used excessive light-footed techniques, I walked slowly upon my return. As I entered a quiet path, a dozen or so men from the martial world approached silently from ahead.
They kept their mouths shut and seemed to be moving in the direction I had come from — toward Ilyang-hyeon.
I watched the group, and as we passed, they all turned their gazes to me at once.
The dozen men crossed paths like they were swapping places with me, and after a few more steps…
The group halted first.
I turned around too.
They were all hard-faced men, eyes filled with killing intent.
While I stared at them, one of them took something from his bosom and checked it.
I guessed it was a likeness-tally. As expected, the man who had looked at the tally lifted his head and studied my face again.
“Looks like Ijah.”
A few gathered around the man with the tally to confirm it. The leader of the group, his complexion unusually dark, spoke to his men.
“Is that him?”
“Yes.”
“They said he wasn’t seen in Ilyang-hyeon — so why’s he over there?”
“We don’t know.”
What sort of conversation was this? They were saying the men who were looking for me were heading toward Ilyang-hyeon, where I was not.
I asked the leader, “You lot from Heukseonbo?”
The leader answered my question with a question.
“You Ijah, right?”
Questions clashed but no answer came from either side.
The atmosphere was different from the Twelve Divines’ men. Heukseonbo had its own air — men who’d rotted in gambling dens for days, then grabbed a sword and come out acting like they’d been reborn. Those sorts were usually less refined than Heukseon.
One man asked their leader, “What shall we do? Didn’t expect Ijah to be here.”
I let out a breath without meaning to. Judging from those words, they were moving to Ilyang-hyeon to cause trouble.
The feeling in my chest sagged. After returning, the mania from my past life felt almost gone, as if it had never existed. The mere fact of being back in the past felt like a playful delight.
The group’s leader stepped forward while I watched with a neutral face.
“I’m Dokgo-saeng of Heukseonbo. You killed Neung Ji-seok, Wi Seon-woo, and Gu Yang-su, didn’t you? Our master has placed a bounty — thirty gold pieces. The commissions were placed through Hosobang and the Three Sword Sellers. We were on our way to Ilyang-hyeon to post the wanted notice ourselves; I’ll have one of my men read it aloud.”
At a nod from Dokgo-saeng, one of his men approached and handed me a notice.
It’s proper to refuse what the Heukdo offers.
I refused the notice, and Dokgo-saeng continued.
“Rumor said you disappeared from Ilyang-hyeon, so we were looking for you. If you come to Heukseonbo and face our master directly, the master will pay Hosobang and the Three Sword Sellers a suitable sum and withdraw the bounty. What’ll it be?”
Heukdo’s usual method was to harass the surrounding people so the accused couldn’t escape. These men would likely break into Ilyang-hyeon to cause a ruckus, then post the notice. The bolder the Heukdo, the more they proposed a direct meeting to settle things — just like the time Geumbong Gakju called me and got himself killed.
I counted their men and replied.
“Only eleven. That’s far too many just to go post a wanted notice.”
Dokgo-saeng answered, “We only gathered because we heard you were skilled.”
“Good excuse. I don’t feel like meeting your master right now. I’ll come by later.”
Dokgo-saeng glared at me.
“If you don’t go, we’ll go to Ilyang-hyeon.”
I scratched my chin with a plain expression.
“I said I’ll go later.”
“Better to come with us now.”
I picked at my nose with my little finger and said, “Dokgo-saeng, why bring ten men and go out to die right now? Ask why.”
“You killed Neung Ji-seok, Wi Seon-woo, and Gu Yang-su without permission. How are we supposed to accept that you’ll come later to explain?”
“That’s not the point of this conversation.”
Some days are odd. Some days I could slaughter recklessly and feel nothing; other days I wanted to avoid killing at all costs. Today felt like one of those days. I didn’t know why.
If my actions had been consistent, I wouldn’t have been called the Mad Demon. I lived day to day by feeling, and that was how I had become the Mad Demon. Maybe because I’d often imagined leading the Heukmyo and charging the Heukseonbo, I’d become used to that imagination.
But life seldom bends to your will.
Dokgo-saeng did not fear death.
“Whether you kill us all now and then go find Heukseonbo, or go with us and face Heukseonbo now, it’s the same. The later you go, the more you’ll have to face Hosobang and the Three Sword Sellers first. Either way, it’s a pain. Ijah.”
I made my decision there.
“Let’s go to Heukseonbo.”
A backwind rose inside me.
That unwillingness to kill was being suppressed and heated until it felt like a smoldering fire. I was fickle like that — one moment the leader of a Heukmyo gang with a mask, the next, the Mad Demon without it.
At Ilyang-hyeon I was Haomunju, but the farther I moved from home and the more I faced Heukseonbo’s men, the less sane I grew.
When bad thoughts and Jeomsoi Ijah combined, the Mad Demon emerged. It was a sad thing.
I’d carried a lot of sins in my former life, but I didn’t know how to atone for the sins of this life. A nameless man I suspected was trapped in the Heavenly Prison flashed through my mind. I guessed that the cell next to his would become mine.
What a guilty man I was. Most of my attempts to protect the weak ended up killing people. I understood why the Martial Alliance had hated me so much in my past life.
We reached the lower reaches of the Chilryong River and boarded a boat. Watching the river’s rolling waves after a long time, I waved at the shrinking form of Ilyang-hyeon in the distance.
“Farewell, my hometown. I’m off to make money. I’ll come back successful — when I do, welcome me warmly.”
As I waved and babbled toward my hometown, the Heukseonbo men scowled and watched me. Their thoughts seemed like a chorus of hallucinations.
‘Is he a madman?’
I regarded their lackeys one by one with an indifferent face and said, “You men are all ugly. I wonder if you do ugly things because you look ugly, or if the world made your faces ugly. Either way, it’s strange.”
“……”
No one answered, but I continued as I pleased.
“But I’ve known handsome men who do perverted things, so face and wickedness aren’t that connected. Even so, how did you all come to look so foul? Maybe it’s from rotting in gambling dens. I’m sure you didn’t look like this as kids — the awful things you saw around you must’ve left marks. Slave auctions, that sort of thing.”
One man who’d been holding back his temper snapped at me.
“Could you shut your mouth and stop?”
I sized him up and replied, “Why don’t you have eyebrows? You look like a rat. Your eyes are dull, your skin’s like a battlefield, and when you open your mouth there’s rot. Why stick with Heukseonbo? If you want to eat, do honest work, you bastard. What do you think looking at slave auctions makes you feel?”
The man answered, “It makes me think I should buy a slave when I have enough money.”
The Heukseonbo lackeys burst into laughter together.
“Hahahaha.”
I glanced at Dokgo-saeng. He hadn’t smiled at all.
“Dokgo-saeng, why aren’t you laughing?”
At my question, Dokgo-saeng barked curses at his men.
“Shut up. You crazy bastards — before I kill you, don’t mock our guest. Anyone who keeps jabbering until we arrive will have his arm cut off.”
Under the threat, the lackeys closed their mouths.
Dokgo-saeng addressed me.
“Keep talking. You’ve got a pleasant voice.”
I nodded and asked him, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Married?”
Dokgo-saeng sighed.
“Married? What marriage? I live with the Heukdo.”
He meant, why ask about marriage when you might die tomorrow. He wasn’t right in the head either.
Sure enough, Dokgo-saeng suddenly lost his temper and spat curses at me.
“How old are you? Why ask about marriage, you crazy bastard. Why did you kill those three? Why go and kill people and make everyone’s lives a pain? You think you’re that good at fighting? You’re insane. You could kill all our morons here and me too, right? I understand. But why go and try to take on the whole Heukseonbo alone? You lunatic. Do you even know how many are in Heukseonbo?”
I answered briefly.
“How many?”
“I don’t know, you brat. Over five hundred.”
A man next to Dokgo-saeng butted in, “More than six hundred.”
Dokgo-saeng seized that man’s head and pummeled it without a word, pounding until the fellow’s face was a bloody ruin, then said, “Speak so I can understand. I told you to shut up, didn’t I?”
Suddenly Dokgo-saeng grabbed the now-bloody man by the throat and hurled him into the Chilryong River. The splash echoed and the man cried out.
“Captain! Save me. I can swim…”
Dokgo-saeng shouted, “If you can’t fight, you die, you bastard.”
We watched the man flounder in the water.
The river looked deep.
I regarded the drowning man with little pity.
“Fish gotta eat too. Good luck ascending, you cold-hearted Heukdo bastard.”
I was too lazy to save him.
Dokgo-saeng asked his men, “Anyone else wanna yap?”
I answered for him.
“Anyone?”
I sighed and watched the river roll by.
“Ah — I should’ve stormed Heukmyo with force and finished it cleanly. Or joined with Daenachal and gone after Yangpa-gusang. In the end, things go like this. You never can predict people.”
Dokgo-saeng pulled out a small pipe — whether it held Mangucho (Worry-forgetting Herb) or Hwangakcho (Hallucination Grass) I couldn’t tell — lit it skillfully, and took a puff.
White smoke from his mouth drifted over the Chilryong’s ripples and scattered like nothing. After a few deep draws and exhales, Dokgo-saeng asked me.
“So, Ijah, will we spare him?”
He took another long drag, waiting for my answer. His question, his tone, his actions — they didn’t fit together, as if he had expected this outcome since our first meeting.
“I asked — will you spare him?”
I shook my head and watched the rippling river, forcing the bad thoughts away to quell the mania inside me. If people were to change, they had to take the first step themselves. I answered as if promising not to live like the Mad Demon of my past life.
“I’ll spare one who survives. That’s my promise. You decide among yourselves.”
It meant: kill one another.
Think that’d work?
No sooner had the words left my mouth than Dokgo-saeng and the rest drew their blades, each aiming to slay his comrades.
That was the Heukdo for you.