Episode 44. Are You Out of Your Mind?
Just as each person has their own quirks, the Black Path has many kinds as well.
But even among them, I hadn’t seen many who killed their own subordinates so freely.
When I said only one would live, chaos erupted—men slashing at each other in a frenzy. It ended only when Dokgo-saeng killed every one of his men himself. From the bow of the boat, his blood-soaked face turned toward me.
“They’re all dead. As promised, you’ll let me live?”
Even now, he didn’t trust me. The kind of man who’d leap into the river if he thought it gave him a better chance.
His state of mind left quite an impression.
“I’ll let you live.”
Dokgo-saeng finally dropped to the deck, letting out a long sigh of relief.
“Phew.”
“What’s the mood like in Heukseonbo these days?”
He replied sharply, “What do you think? Full of idiots. Can I run now, or do I still have to clean up after you?”
“You’re alive to guide me. Where would you go?”
“Fine. What about those boatmen?”
He pointed his bloodstained sword toward the trembling sailors—asking if I meant to kill them too.
Of course, I shook my head.
“Don’t kill the working men.”
Dokgo-saeng nodded, then stood up as if his break were over and began tossing the corpses into the river.
One splash after another followed.
His strange composure made me wonder aloud, “You said there were six hundred of them, didn’t you? Did you actually think I’d survive going into Heukseonbo?”
Dokgo-saeng threw another body overboard and said, “How would I know? The moment I saw you, I knew you were insane. I figured you’d kill us all. After that? Who knows.”
Indeed, that was the answer of a man who didn’t think ahead.
Not long after, our boat docked near Heuksa Fortress, and only Dokgo-saeng and I disembarked before heading toward Heukseonbo.
Their stronghold sat within the long ancient walls once built by local tribes to resist foreign powers. The old fishermen and sailors of this place, when storms kept them ashore, passed time gambling together. Surprisingly, the Heukseonbo grew out of those small gambling circles. Its first master had gathered fishermen under the pretense of protecting them, but in truth, he built a gambling empire.
The intent—to protect the weak—wasn’t too different from why I had once founded the Haomun.
But what started as gambling soon grew into auctions, betting dens, and control over key waterways where they now collected tolls. So Heukseonbo was both a dark sect and a band of river pirates.
Trace any group that preys upon the weak far enough back, and you’ll find they too were once the weak.
At the crumbling gate, Dokgo-saeng handed his sword to a guard.
“Brought Ijah, the one our master wants. Open up.”
The gatekeeper opened without a word—perhaps Dokgo-saeng had quite the reputation even here.
As we stepped inside the compound, Dokgo-saeng muttered, “How long do I have to stick around? I’d rather bow out early.”
“You’ll stay until I leave Heukseonbo.”
Grimacing, he replied, “Fine.”
Strange fellow—though he feared me, he never used honorifics and always kept his word.
Each time someone tried to stop or question us, he’d raise his bloodied sword and snarl, “We’re busy. Stick your face in again, and I’ll carve it. Move, move, move!”
He cut a straight path through the compound like Guan Yu breaking through five passes.
There were indeed a lot of people inside Heukseonbo. Some shouted “Who are you?” or “Stop!” but Dokgo-saeng’s curses and sword kept them all back.
Six hundred, perhaps—but not all martial men. If they were, Heukseonbo would rank among the greatest of the underworld powers. The number likely included laborers and servants within the compound.
At last, Dokgo-saeng pointed ahead. “I’ll report first. Come slowly. I’m not running. As promised, if you make it out alive, you’ll spare me.”
Whether it was survival instinct or madness, I couldn’t tell.
He quickened his pace, no doubt intending to announce my arrival and then linger nearby.
“Captain Dokgo, what’s going on?” asked a guard at the main entrance.
“Brought Ijah. Tell the master.”
“Who’s Ijah?”
“The guy who killed Captain Wi.”
“Ah!”
I scanned my surroundings and entered the largest building in the compound. Despite the shabby walls, the interior glittered—typical of men who made fortunes gambling. It seemed they’d overcompensated to flatter their master’s pride.
The main hall, however, was bare—like a military command tent. A high seat stood at the head, with rows of chairs on each side and racks of weapons lined along the left wall.
The meeting must have just ended; the senior officers were murmuring among themselves. I looked around and muttered, “So many old bastards.”
Not ordinary officers—elders, by the look of it. One officer sent a subordinate to fetch their master.
“Tell the master to come out again.”
“Yes, sir.”
The bustle quieted quickly; men sat or stood silently along the walls like guards.
I pointed to an officer sitting near the end. “Give me your chair.”
When he just stared at me, I slapped him hard enough to knock him and the chair over. As he scrambled up, I dragged the chair to the center. A man near the head seat barked, “Wait in the back!”
The one who’d lost his chair obeyed and glared silently from the wall.
From my seat, I saw Dokgo-saeng leaning against the wall, slouched and watching.
Soon after, the Heukseonbo master entered—a man past sixty, skin dark, eyebrows white. The officers all turned toward me as he took the head seat and studied me.
“Ijah, you’ve come far.”
I nodded. “I said I’d come later, but your men insisted on bringing me.”
“Who brought you?”
Dokgo-saeng answered from the wall. “I did, Master.”
The master looked at him. “Good work, Dokgo-saeng.”
Surprisingly, Dokgo-saeng replied, “What kind of stupid joke is that?”
The other officers erupted in curses. “That insolent fool—should we tear his mouth open this time?”
The master raised a hand and silenced them.
“Ijah of Ilyang-hyeon is here. Let’s hear your opinions.”
Silence. No one dared speak.
“If no one speaks, I’ll decide myself.”
“As you wish.”
“Ijah, you killed three of our men. I hear you burned their house—true?”
“Probably.”
I barely remembered. Not something worth remembering, really.
“Since our men started it,” said the master, “you’ll cut off three fingers and leave.”
What kind of ridiculous verdict was that?
I raised three fingers. “These were my parents’ gift. I won’t cut them. I refuse.”
The master nodded. “Then pay a hundred gold pieces per finger. From now on, you’ll be under Heukseonbo’s watch until your debt is repaid. That’s final.”
He waved his hand dismissively, like a king ending a trial.
I sighed.
Dear martial world, there really are lunatics everywhere.
The officers accepted the ruling without complaint. “Understood.”
I let out another sigh. “I don’t have that kind of money. And even if I did, I wouldn’t pay.”
The seated officers glared at me again, and even the master’s face darkened.
“Ijah, do you even know where you are?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have come by boat.”
“Heukseonbo always collects what’s owed. If you don’t pay, your family will.”
“I have no family. Miss them, though. Miss a good bowl of noodles, too.”
“Then those in Ilyang-hyeon will be forced to pay. Are you fine with that?”
“Tch.”
I called out, “Dokgo-saeng, get over here, you bastard.”
He frowned. “Why the hell are you yelling at me?”
I reached out toward his sword. “Give it.”
He stomped over, handed me the sword, and grumbled his way back to the wall.
Holding his blade, I looked at the master. “Old man, are you insane?”
“……”
Even I, once the Mad Demon, found these people crazy. I glanced around. “A whole damn group of lunatics.”
The master stayed calm. “It’s been over ten years since my officers or I last saw blood.”
One officer interjected, “Not me.”
“Silence. Still, we’ve never backed away from a fight. If you propose no other way, then we’ll settle it this way.”
Now that I looked closer, every seated officer was over forty, while most of the men waiting near the walls were younger.
Was this a gang of elders who revered age above all? It seemed they had sealed themselves off and made their own laws.
I asked, “How many officers in total?”
Dokgo-saeng answered at once, “Including the master, twenty-one.”
I rose with the sword and said, “Old man, crawl to me on your knees and lick my feet, or all twenty-one of you die. Choose.”
My memory blurred with frustration—back when I was still learning martial arts, I’d heard Heukseonbo had once been wiped out by some great master, but I couldn’t recall who. It wasn’t me; at that time, I was just a troubled student dragged around by my teacher.
They were the sort who deserved annihilation.
Maybe that’s why their ancestors built fortress walls by the river—to keep others out. Their readiness to judge and punish outsiders so casually made them less a dark sect and more a small dictatorship.
I felt like a tourist in a kingdom of madmen.
The master stood, and two aides stepped forward, handing him short sabers.
He clicked his tongue. “Must it really come to blood, young man?”
The rest of the elders rose, moving toward the weapon racks, each grabbing a weapon—sabers, curved swords, spears, iron maces, staves, tridents…
Most picked up strange iron spikes—I supposed they were harpoons.
Dokgo-saeng muttered, “Why fight here? It’s cramped as hell.”
One elder hurled a spike at his forehead. He ducked, and the weapon struck the wall with a deep thunk.
Dokgo-saeng glared. “You damn old fool.”
The elder replied calmly, “Shut up, before I kill you too.”
Dokgo-saeng snapped, “Try it. You’ve only got seven fingers left anyway.”
Apparently, killing another Heukseonbo member cost you a finger. I couldn’t tell if that was justice or madness.
Either way, I was impressed by their lunacy.
“Incredible. Truly insane.”
The master stood still like a general as twenty old warriors charged at me. Blades and spikes came from all directions—curved swords, spears, harpoons…
Ah, forget it.
I swung my sword.