Episode 46. Why Clan Leaders Often Turn Gray
After confirming that the Heukseonbo master was dead, Dokgo-saeng strode toward one of the wounded officers—the one who had thrown a harpoon at him earlier.
The man was clutching the stump of his severed wrist to stop the bleeding when Dokgo-saeng knelt in front of him and glared. Without hesitation, the officer used his remaining hand to slap him across the face.
Smack—!
Everyone expected Dokgo-saeng to kill him. I did too. But after taking the slap, Dokgo-saeng simply chuckled and stood back up. His expression said the man, having already lost a hand, wasn’t even worth dealing with.
Truly a strange man.
Dokgo-saeng turned to me. “Ijah, looks like you’ll have to take over as the next master.”
I beckoned him over. As soon as he approached, I slapped him hard across the face.
Smack!
Dokgo-saeng stumbled backward and fell flat on his back. I grabbed him by the hair and growled, “Why do you keep running your mouth? Want me to send you to join your master?”
We glared at each other like two beasts. But if one of us were to die here, it would be him.
“You killed the master,” Dokgo-saeng muttered. “So what are we supposed to do now?”
Of all the words he’d spoken since I arrived at Heukseonbo, that one shocked me the most.
People should live their own lives. But perhaps he’d spent so long under orders that he couldn’t imagine life without someone commanding him. Even this man, rebellious as he was, couldn’t break free of that mindset.
This clan is seriously messed up.
I let go of his hair and looked around. This is a problem. A big one.
If they’d been like the Black Cat Hall—purely martial artists—I could’ve taken them in easily. But Heukseonbo was a mix of commoners and fighters; you couldn’t even tell which were which. They were too strange a blend to merge with the Haomun.
What to do now? I’d killed their master thinking I’d freed them—but they were slaves waiting for their next one.
That made this my responsibility.
After all, I’d killed the man who ruled over them.
Damn it…
After some thought, I decided to bear the burden.
“Dokgo-saeng,” I said, “gather the remaining captains and meet me in the main hall. Have the wounded elders treated. The ones still breathing should stay that way.”
Dokgo-saeng made a few hand and chin gestures, muttered a couple of words, and waved for the captains to assemble inside.
Fittingly, I sat where the Heukseonbo master once had as the captains entered one by one. Some sat boldly, others hesitated and took seats near the end.
Keeping them alive was the one thing the old master had done right. Perhaps he’d known I’d defeat him—and left with his elders for the afterlife on purpose.
Or maybe not.
Anyway, were they sitting by rank now?
Dokgo-saeng sat to my left.
“Everyone here?” I asked.
The youngest captain at the far end replied, “Yes, all captains are present.”
I exhaled deeply and organized my thoughts. There was only one truth I wanted to tell them: even if I hadn’t killed your master, someday another martial expert would have wiped you all out. But if I said that, they’d just think I was insane. Which, to be fair, I was—but it still wouldn’t help.
So I began instead, “The best outcome here is for me to appoint a new master and bring Heukseonbo under my command.”
No one questioned me—probably because they’d seen me raise hell outside.
I asked, “Anyone here stronger than Dokgo-saeng?”
At once, Dokgo-saeng shot a glare around the table. His temper was as foul as ever. No one dared answer.
“Then Dokgo-saeng will be the next master,” I declared.
He opened his mouth to object, but I pointed a finger at him. “If I tell you to do it, you do it.”
He shut his mouth.
Then I gave my first order. “As your first act as master, gather everyone and tear down that old wall.”
“The wall?” he asked.
How was I supposed to explain this feeling…? I bit back my irritation and asked the others, “Do I really need to explain?”
They answered in unison, “Yes.”
I smacked my own forehead. “That wall’s too confining. You think it protects you, but to real martial artists, it’s nothing. It couldn’t even protect your strongest master. It’s a mental wall—symbolic of how you keep turning inward, binding yourselves with your own rules.”
“Is that… a problem?”
“Of course it is.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t communicate with the outside world! You’re too closed off. You have to understand others to change anything. Gods, this is exhausting.”
I paused to catch my breath, the sour air thick with sweat and blood. Then I smacked my cheek again to stay awake.
“Start by tearing down the wall. Go outside more often. The world’s bigger than this place. And when the wall’s gone, drop the name ‘Bo’ altogether.”
Bo meant fortress—clearly named after the walls. Heukseon referred to its black, fan-shaped layout.
“If I come back and find you running slave markets or collecting gambling debts, I’ll kill Dokgo-saeng first, then anyone whose face I remember. You can greet your old master in the afterlife together.”
One captain raised his hand. “Could you be more specific, sir?”
“I don’t know, idiot. You’re a captain—figure it out. What’s this fool’s name?”
The others quickly supplied it.
“Good. Ask him for the details, then,” I said.
Given that there were plenty of ordinary folk among them, I had to raise my voice. “Drop the name Heukseonbo and come up with a new one. And don’t use the word Heuk—‘black.’ You black-hearted bastards.”
A dim-witted captain asked, “Then can we use Baek—‘white’—instead?”
I stared at him. “You—don’t talk again until the meeting’s over.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dammit. There went the rhythm again.
“…Are you some kind of Baekdo sect member?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Then shut up. Even naming a group requires sense.”
“Understood.”
I sighed. “Any questions?”
“We only know your name, sir. What exactly do you do?”
I scratched my head. Time to introduce myself to a bunch of crooks. “I’m Ijah, once the inn boy of Ilyang-hyeon. Now master of Haomun. Regular at the Chunyang Tavern. Also passed by the Black Cat Hall. Not a fake executioner, either…”
One captain stopped me. “That’s enough, sir.”
“Alright, fair. So—how many laws do you people have?”
“Over a hundred.”
“Cut them down to three,” I ordered.
“From a hundred to three?”
I glared at him. “Start with three. If you really need more, vote on them after you’ve torn down that damn wall.”
“Understood.”
This meeting was more exhausting than any battle. We really did live in different worlds.
There’s a reason martial alliance leaders often turn gray early. Herding idiots like these could age anyone overnight.
Imagine what the real alliance leader must go through—facing all the self-important sect masters, elders, and strategists each arguing, “I object,” “Please reconsider,” “This may cause problems.”
It’s enough to make anyone want to draw their sword. But as leader, you can’t. So you endure—and your hair turns white.
I muttered under my breath, “This is why martial artists live by the sword.”
The dim captain nodded earnestly. “You’re right.”
I sighed. “…Patience, patience.”
Suppressing my urge to flee, I said, “Remember what I said. Since we’re all here, let’s share a meal before I leave. Go prepare food.”
“The master never dined with the captains,” someone said.
I snapped my fingers. “Good. Then from now on, the captains will eat together three times a day. Abolish tolls. Release the captives. Burn the bounty records. Open the treasury, but don’t hoard the wealth—use it to help those in need. Rebuild your homes properly. Hire outside workers, pay them fairly. Even beggars from the Open Faction live cleaner than you lot.”
As I finished, I realized how ambitious that all sounded—and naturally dumped the responsibility on Dokgo-saeng. “Got it?”
To my surprise, he nodded. “Alright. Makes sense.”
I blinked. “You understood that?”
“It’s the right thing to do. Nothing impossible about it.”
“What, did you reach enlightenment or something? Summarize it for me.”
The other captains turned toward him.
Dokgo-saeng recited gruffly, “Tear down the wall.”
“Good. Next.”
“Go outside more.”
“Correct. Next.”
“Live among others.”
I stayed quiet, watching him. He continued.
“No more slave trading. No gambling. No extorting tolls from other sailors. Live clean. Tear down the old homes and build new ones. Use the master’s hoarded wealth for that. Don’t pocket it.”
The room had gone oddly quiet. He went on.
“Abandon the name Heukseonbo. Choose a new one. Eat together. Reduce your laws. Add new ones only after discussion.”
Still the silence deepened.
“And do all this only after tearing down the wall.”
I looked around. “Nice summary. But why’s everyone so quiet all of a sudden?”
One clueless captain spoke up. “Those are things Captain Dokgo used to say often. Not exactly the same, but similar. Right? We’ve all heard it.”
“Many times,” someone else agreed.
I fell silent, meeting Dokgo-saeng’s gaze. He met mine—anger still burning behind his eyes, but there was more there now. Stories. Memories. Regret.
In that wordless moment, we understood each other more clearly than we ever had through speech.
Our earlier exchanges echoed in my mind—
What’s the mood like in Heukseonbo these days?
What do you think? Full of idiots.
Ijah, I think you should be the next master.
You killed the master—so what are we supposed to do now?
A heavy silence lingered, broken only by a timid voice.
“Should we at least prepare a meal?”
They all looked to me. I sighed and replied, “Forget the food. Bring me some wine.”
Tonight, I needed a drink.