Reincarnated Sword Ghost

Chapter 92 : Iron-Blood Gate

Iron-Blood Gate

"You're blaming the food and drink? And you attacked him after hearing that?"

The top floor of Divine Wind Pavilion, the fifth floor.

Among them, the largest room. No matter how many guests there were, this was the best room never given up. This place was never handed over regardless of the crowd.

It was because it was the favorite of the real owner of Divine Wind Pavilion, Neung Ji-seok, the Gate Leader of the Iron-Blood Gate.

And right now, Neung Ji-seok was sitting at that seat of honor. He had come in person upon receiving a report of commotion.

Divine Wind Pavilion was one of Iron-Blood Gate's main sources of revenue.

He always told his subordinates to take special care of it.

But now, there was a bloody mess on the very top floor of such a place.

Even worse, the ones who shed blood were his own subordinates.

Some punk came and swung a sword out of nowhere, and his men were helpless, unable to even kill or capture him.

"He, that is... He didn't just complain about the food and drink, but spewed words insulting us, Iron-Blood Gate. Since it was the room right next door, anger boiled up..."

"So you smashed through the wall and attacked, only to get beaten instead—is that it?"

"I sincerely apologize."

Neung Ji-seok glared at the subordinate in front of him, suppressing his seething anger.

The man was kneeling, his head bowed, one leg wrapped in a bandage.

Perhaps because of the uncomfortable posture, the wound had reopened and raw blood was seeping through the bandage.

'Pathetic fool.'

At least, this guy was the sole survivor. Without even this one, there would have been no clue as to who dared to cause such a scene.

In a way, he had to consider it a blessing in disguise.

They couldn't just let such an incident slide. Others around might look down on them and be quick to instigate trouble.

Especially now, when they were fighting for the successor's seat of the Musan Group.

They needed to repay the insult in kind. This was not a time to show even a single slip.

"What kind of punk was it?"

"He was very young. Didn't even look to be of age."

Neung Ji-seok's expression twisted as he shouted.

"Are you saying I should kill every kid underage in Kaifeng?"

"N-no! He said his name was Dong-ryong."

"Dong-ryong?"

As Neung Ji-seok furrowed his brow and tilted his head, the subordinate hastily continued.

"He was very handsome. From his appearance, he was surely the child of a prestigious martial clan, but I've never seen his face in Kaifeng."

"A guy like that showed up out of nowhere and started swinging a blade?"

"Yes. Complaining about the food and drink was just an excuse; he obviously came to provoke us. I heard that he gave the attendant a hard time and insisted on taking the room next to ours on purpose."

"......"

Neung Ji-seok frowned in silence. There were more than one or two suspicious points.

A noble-looking guy from a martial clan comes alone to pick a fight?

That was unheard of in Kaifeng.

Even as far as martial families in Kaifeng went, their numbers were limited.

Half of their sons were acquainted with each other. Even the rest, faces were familiar.

Above all, even those people would never dare touch the Iron-Blood Gate lightly.

Iron-Blood Gate was one of the three pillars of Musan Group. Everyone knew the District Head had their back.

That's why they spent enormous amounts of silver coins at the government office every month.

'And even so, this happened?'

He couldn't guess who the hell this guy was. On his own, he killed four people with martial skills.

An unheard-of name and outstanding looks in Kaifeng.

But his actions showed he clearly knew Divine Wind Pavilion belonged to Iron-Blood Gate.

'This is suspicious, extremely so.'

Neung Ji-seok rolled his eyes, lost in thought. There was a saying in Kaifeng's underworld: "You'll be betrayed three times a day."

Neung Ji-seok, one of its principal figures, was already past forty.

For a martial artist, and especially one who had survived this long in Kaifeng, it meant less that he was strong than that he had a keen eye for people.

In his youth, he had scraped by reading faces at a stall.

In a dispute with a customer, he killed for the first time.

While on the run, he happened to come across a low-level secret manual and forged his dantian, changing his fate entirely.

Even after becoming a martial artist of the underworld, he trusted his own acuity.

With those eyes, he sorted who could be provoked and whom never to cross.

He survived a long time without effort, for those above would end up dying on their own. The result was his position today.

By then, Neung Ji-seok believed he had eyes that saw the future. If he felt unlucky when he woke, he wouldn't leave the house.

On those days, he avoided meeting others.

In truth, it was more baseless intuition than prediction, but he trusted his gut completely.

When he met people, he'd talk about misfortune that would soon befall them.

Sometimes, upon seeing a face, he'd suddenly say, "You'll die in a few days."

The underworld martial artists of Kaifeng were terrified to hear such a thing from him.

That was because after hearing such words, they would be stabbed to death by someone.

Rumor had it that Neung Ji-seok was the one who had arranged for the killer, but everyone kept that to themselves.

'Not a good sign. But...'

Normally, he would have locked his doors and disappeared. But now was a bad time.

The Musan Group's leader position was at stake.

The Musan Group leader had already long since passed fifty.

At that age, death was near, not because someone was after them, or because of illness, but simply because martial artists of this land usually died by then.

Cause of death wasn't all that important.

If word spread that Divine Wind Pavilion was attacked and they couldn't do anything, it would be fatal in the succession struggle.

'I can't just let it slide.'

Resolved, Neung Ji-seok opened his mouth.

"How high were his martial skills? Explain precisely."

"T-that is... We rushed in recklessly while drunk in a cramped space, so I think part of it was that we were caught off guard..."

"Really?"

At Neung Ji-seok's question, the man shrank and minimized the truth.

It wasn't for anyone else, but entirely for his own sake.

He wasn't bold enough to admit that five men couldn't handle a single youngster.

His superior was a ruthless man. Hearing such things, he might just lash out with his sword in a rage.

Even if one were lucky enough to survive, he might be deemed useless and kicked out of Iron-Blood Gate.

The fate of an isolated martial artist of the underworld was obvious. He, too, had made many enemies that way.

"I see..."

Neung Ji-seok stroked his goat-like, sharp beard and slowly continued.

"He said he'd come again tomorrow morning? Are you sure?"

"Yes. He said he'd definitely come back tomorrow morning."

"That arrogant bastard. Go-ho!"

Neung Ji-seok called for a subordinate outside the door. A swarthy man entered and bowed his head.

"Close up shop earlier than usual today. Not too early, or there'll be rumors, so close two hours ahead."

"Yes."

"And tell all the men outside to gather here until tomorrow morning."

"Understood."

As Go-ho was about to leave, Neung Ji-seok added,

"Oh, have Jodal come as well."

At those words, both the beaten man and Go-ho flinched.

Jodal was the top expert of Iron-Blood Gate. He wielded a massive iron mace like a light fan, and he was infamous around here as a lethal killer.

His reputation as one who had made a pulp of a few self-important orthodox types was already well known.

"Jodal is probably out on the task you ordered last time..."

"Tell him to drop it and come immediately."

"Understood."

Go-ho quickly left the room.

Neung Ji-seok felt his heart sink for some reason at the sight.

'That cocky bastard. Dare to mess with us?'

Events always tended to explode suddenly. The key was how to respond.

Though he was surprised at the news that several subordinates had died, thanks to his usual preparations, he could give instructions smoothly.

Jodal was a trustworthy expert.

He still remembered vividly how Jodal had stomped a few self-important orthodox types to death.

In terms of pure martial skills, jodal was probably stronger than himself.

However, he was dull-witted and by nature preferred to serve under others.

'Could he be someone sent by another sect?'

His thoughts naturally led there. It was a plausible guess.

The checks from Black Hand Gate and Ghost Face Gate had reached a peak recently.

It was something they were quite capable of.

'But would they bring in an unknown master from outside?'

Affairs within Musan Group were traditionally dealt with internally.

This incident couldn't be taken lightly. They must thoroughly investigate who hired him and properly pursue accountability.

Neung Ji-seok ground his teeth.

'... First things first.'

He decided to deal with the punk who had shown up without knowing better.

* * *

The market street at dawn was comparatively quiet.

A few hours ago, the street had been boiling over with all sorts of drunken crowds.

Now, the air had settled cold and heavy, as if all those people had vanished.

In the middle of it, Jeong-un was walking. He was on his way to Divine Wind Pavilion as soon as day broke.

Early vendors preparing their stalls cast glances at Jeong-un, then quickly averted their eyes.

Nothing good could come from making eye contact with a martial artist at this time.

They waited for the boy to pass, then simply looked over his back in silence.

'What kind of people will be waiting for me?'

He had made quite a mess, so it was certain they had prepared thoroughly.

Ideally, someone of high status would be there. Since the group was sizable, the Gate Leader himself probably wouldn't step forward.

Six days left.

A day had passed, so he had to finish everything within six days.

He felt some anxiety, but forced himself to walk leisurely.

Right now, Jeong-un was acting out the demeanor of another.

As a martial artist who had dared to set foot in Kaifeng's underworld.

Very aloof, but with an uncontrollably free spirit.

Jeong-un mixed together the behavior of various martial artists he had seen until now.

At last, he arrived before Divine Wind Pavilion.

Unlike yesterday, only one man stood there. His face tense, clearly waiting for someone.

When he spotted Jeong-un approaching from a distance, his expression hardened.

As he saw Jeong-un, the man muttered,

"I've been waiting."

"......"

"Follow me."

There was an underlying hostility in his blunt tone.

He'd already heard the story of how his comrade died at Divine Wind Pavilion last night.

Seeing the perpetrator, his anger flared.

He glared at Jeong-un for a moment, then reluctantly turned around.

Whoosh!

He hadn't even taken a single step when his upper body was jerked violently backward.

Then, he was forcibly spun back around.

"...?"

He looked confused for a brief moment.

Realizing that it was due to a hand grabbing his nape, his face distorted—but only for an instant.

A palm came flying at his face.

Smack─!

A crisp, explosive sound echoed through the quiet dawn market.

At the same time, his body, unable to withstand the blow, rolled onto the cold dirt ground.

"Keugh!"

His cheek, reddened beyond swelling, burst and bled.

Blood pooled at the corners of his mouth, the inside torn to shreds.

The man, overwhelmed by shock, didn't even register the pain but blankly raised his head.

In his vision was the boy's face looking down at him.

Dong-ryong spoke coldly.

"If you glare at me with those eyes one more time, I'll gouge them out."

"...!"

A chilling shiver ran down the man's spine.